History of Reece Morimar

I barely notice the sound of my own screams. They are drowned out by the sound of the skin on my cheek cooking. I almost grin as I realize the sound is not unlike bacon sizzling in a pan. And despite my actual guilt, being branded as a criminal is coming as a bit of a surprise to me. After what seems an eternity, the orange brand is removed from my face, and the floor rushes up to meet me. My eyesight tunnels and the cool stone floor sooths me into oblivion.

Thinking back on the events of my life, I have had few regrets.

My parents, Clio and Silas Morimar, had been adventurers in their youth. My mother was a master pickpocket and my father a blade master. They spent almost 10 years adventuring together as friends with and adventuring group called The Warders of the Realm. Like most adventurers, they were unaware that their retirement was near.

Their last adventure took them to a city called XXX. The city itself held little significance. However, it was significant in the fact that it was the nearest place to supply before heading to the lair of a dragon. In true fairytale style the dragon was slain and The Warders were victorious. But there was a price to be paid for their victory. Only half of them survived the encounter and the rest of them were badly wounded.

This encounter was the most serious of their careers and made Clio and Silas realize that what they really wanted was to start a family. So they took their share of the treasure and opened an Inn in Arabel. It was called The White Sands Inn and they were famous for their entertainment. The tavern was very large and had a stage that took up an entire side of the room. They spared no expense to bring the best entertainers in Cormyr to The White Sands.

After a couple of years they gave birth to my older sister Shea. Two years after that I was born.

As I grew up, I spent a lot of time at the Inn. I was fascinated by the performers, and would watch as often as I could. I would even sneak out after I had gone to bed to watch the performances. When I got older, my parents had me running errands for the performers. I was so glad to be around them that I fell all over myself trying to do what they asked. Some of them would work with me during the day while preparing for that night. I learned how to tune a lyre, sing warm-up scales and even minor slight-of-hand moves. I soaked it all in.

When I was about 8 years old, I convinced my parents to let me sing on stage to open up for a magician. I had spent weeks practicing a drinking song called The Dwarven Blessing. Every table was full that night and despite the size of the crowd, I wasn’t nervous at all. I got up on stage and belted out this drinking song with all I had. I had never known a rush like having a crowd in the palm of my hand like that. They were hanging on my every word. It was a well known drinking song and the crowd soon joined in. I had repeated the song 5 times and the crowd stayed with me the whole time. More drinks were purchased during my little recital than at any other time that night. The attention and cheering of the crown filled me with a new sense of purpose.

After my initial success, my parents were easier to convince, and I was performing as often as I could. The more I performed, the more I realized I could affect the mood of the crowd. When I sang a cheerful song, they crowd would cheer. A sad song and even grizzled old shopkeeper would shed a tear. Once I even sang a lullaby and every eye in the place was drooping by the end. I knew this was what I wanted to do.

When I was old enough, I went to Bard College, and excelled. While I was there, I worked on building my slight-of-hand skills as well as my singing skills. There were two things I discovered while at school. The first was that I could sing the correct note to break glass. This is a neat trick that not all Bards can do and is one of my signatures. I have used this trick to open up nearly all of my solo shows over the last 3 years. The second was that I possessed a talent for magic. The world of magic was new to me, but as my eyes opened up to it, the possibilities seemed enormous.

I graduated from College at the top of my class. And to be honest, and with no conceit whatsoever, I knew I would be a successful Bard. I knew because I was so much better than everyone, and graduating at the top of the class required very little effort. These were the thoughts that filled my head as I packed for a trip south to Suzail. As much as I loved working the crowds at The White Sands, I wanted to make it on my own. My family wished me well and sent me on my way.

The road south was not without danger. I hitched a ride with a caravan returning to Suzail after delivering much needed supplies to Arable. I was very thankful that a man named General Marcus Carson was leading the guards. The General was a cunning warrior, a selfless leader and he saved my life along the way south. Some bandits set upon the caravan, and not being much of a fighter, I stayed with the wagons. As the battle progressed, the bandits got closer and closer to the wagon I was in. Eventually a bandit made his way towards me, or at least my wagon. But all I could do was gape at him as I didn’t have so much as a knife to my name. Things looked very grim for me when suddenly the General rolled out from under my wagon. In a flash of steel, he made quick work of this bandit and moved along to the next.

Time moved like a blur and before I knew, the battle had cleared and the General made his way back to me. I thanked him for saving my life with very simple and inadequate words. Instead of making light of it, he made it seem like it was a very big deal that he had saved my life. But he said it in such a way as to seem genuine. He wasn’t seeking gratitude or reward, but he wanted me to understand a lesson I had not learned at school: Life is a most precious gift. Someone who saves your life is owed a debt that can never be repaid and should never expect to be repaid. If your life is saved or you save a life, life itself is the reward for both.

His profound words inspired me and I immediately took to quill and parchment. The General was willing to tell tales of the adventures he had seen, and I took notes. I spent the rest of the trip capturing every detail of his stories. Rich full tales that could easily be put to song, poem or fairytale.

As we neared the end of the trip, the General asked me if I had ever held a blade in my hand. As I had not, he took one of the short swords off his belt and handed it to me. He spent the rest of the trip showing me how not to hurt myself, and that the pointy end go into the other man. We got along so well, he even asked me to adventure with him for a time. It wasn’t that he was interested in my retelling his stories, but more that if he didn’t help me learn to defend myself, I would not survive long as an adventurer.

When I met his group, The Red Blades, I really felt small. As a group, they were not hurting for a strong blade, powerful magic or skilled healer. The group doubled up in many areas of skill and took on some of the most daunting tasks they could. They all took me under their wings and taught me what they could and looked out for me during the heat of combat. One battle turned into another and so on, and I quickly learned to handle a blade to defend myself.

One of the other fighters in this group was a weapons master named Akira. This large man was never without a blade or other sharp implement. If he only had a way to make his weapons into his armor, he would always be ready. Akira had a look of gratification on his face when he watched me fight. Despite my appearance and admitted weakness in combat, he could tell I was really trying to learn. After the General would teach me something sword to sword, Akira would apply that lesson to a variety of different weapons. I still used the Short Sword, but he would use different types against me. I would defend against an unending rain of blows from Short, Katana and Bastard, swords. Never would I be anywhere near as skilled as Akira, but I wouldn’t be helpless either.

After almost a year of adventuring, I had my fill. I really enjoyed the adventure, but I wanted to perform full time. I said my goodbyes when we returned to Suzail, and set out on my own.

Probably the biggest shock I had when I made the decision was how difficult it was to get work. There were more Bards than I thought, and most of them were more seasoned than I was. I had more pure talent, but I quickly found that talent wasn’t enough to become a famous Bard. There were a lot of Bards who didn’t want to be paid by the tavern they worked. They wanted to be paid through donations from the crowd. They often made 10 times the fee that way as opposed to being paid by the establishment. The places that did pay a decent wage hired only the best. I had no reputation yet, so it was hard to get a gig.

For months I struggled to make a living. I had some gold from adventuring, but I knew that wouldn’t last me long if I couldn’t find work. So I came up with an idea. There were several Bards that were in my same situation, and I rounded three of them up and proposed that we work together as a vocal quartet. It seemed to me that the level of music we could perform was higher and more complicated. The Demitri, Collin and Dutch all agreed and we hoped to have enough of a hook to break in to the professional Bard business.

We practiced day and night to prepare ourselves. We rewrote music from solo to quartet, and even added some choreography. It wasn’t enough of a hook. At least not right away. No one wanted to give us a shot. I still believed we had a great idea, and we weren’t prepared to give up. So performed on the street corners and begged for what we could. However it really wasn’t enough to get by. The Bass of the group was named Demitri and he suggested that we all had other skills we could use to get us by. Not a change of profession, but just a means to an end until we got a break. We all agreed that it was a great idea, and we started to break in to the homes of the wealthy to get us by.

After a few weeks of practice, begging and small heists, we decided we needed to find more profitable jobs. We cased a large home that had a single guard. That meant the owner had enough wealth to protect, but not enough for a large guard patrol. We went in at dusk through an open ground floor window because no one was home at that time.

We started to go through the house for valuables when we were caught by Isaac Holister, the master of the house. He had been home the whole time, and the crossbow in his hand meant business. Thinking fast, I made him believe we were sent here by one of Isaac’s rivals. He was just paranoid enough to want to believe it. I was vague with the details long enough for him to start guessing who it could have been. When he said one name in particular, Thomas Horne, I made an obvious reaction, but pretended to cover it up. That convinced him that Thomas had sent us. I didn’t have a clue who Thomas was, but the longer I talked, the greater chance we had of making it out.

Isaac called his personal bodyguard into the room and laid a proposition at our feet. He would not call the guard if we returned all the items we had taken. Additionally we would agree to do a job for Isaac and take a particular item from Thomas. We would even get a small amount of coin for our trouble.

My initial reaction was one of mistrust, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. We agreed to do the job, returned all that we had taken, and discussed the details. It seemed that Thomas was at about the same station as Isaac, and his security would likely be about the same level. We were retrieving a pipe that had supposedly belonged to Elminster and was on display in his study. Our job was to retrieve it and leave a different pipe in its place. Not a copy, but the cheapest piece of junk we could find in the market.

A couple of days of planning and we were ready.

Later that night, when I found myself at the tip of a dagger, I wasn’t so sure stealing was the right thing for us. The woman in front of me was called Kara Glendale, she was Thomas' bodyguard and she was prepared for us. It turns out that our problem wasn’t our skills, but loose talk by Isaac. He had bragged to someone, etc, etc, and the word made it back to Kara. Instead of keeping us out, she let us in, with a proposition of her own.

First she told us that the pipe was a fake. She had obtained it for him and knew it to be a fake. If we took it and gave it to Thomas, it would obviously be identified as a fake, and her deception would be revealed. She suggested that we take something else that Thomas did value instead.