I'm in a place, a dark place, which may or may not lead to my end. It's always good to keep hopes strong for I believe I won't be here forever, the drudgery of the darkness has left me with spare time however, often seldom had up above. I've decided to ink my memoirs.

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Entry one:

My Parents died before my fourth summer and my memory of them tends to be hazy at best, brigands tend to be ruthless to any and all along the trade ways of the sword coast, even towards simple pilgrims of Chauntea blessing would be farms for prosperity. My parents met their end this way while I was in the care of my Uncle, I'm not sure why they deemed it fit or safe for me stay with Uncle Taldor in Baldur's Gate, he was a horrid drunk and even dangerous to be around at times, though he did have some heart to him, he was even set to teach me how to be a right fine porter like himself caring to the warehouses down by the docks. Alas things don't often go as one intends and old Uncle Taldor found himself in the River Chionthar after an excessive consumption session at the docks, his drowned body wasn't found until 6 days later, one can thank the smell for that.

When family die one often finds out about wayward relations all too eager to scoop up what little is left behind. As was the case with my alleged harlot of an "aunt" Claudette, such a black hearted bitch one will be hard pressed to find. I've no doubt that Claudette was surely just a random, claiming to have recently wed Taldor but in all likelines only knew the good uncle between his drunken bouts and his search for whores. At the age of 7 one often has disadvantageous and I had little say in the matter, she did however most graciously say she'd care for me, though when the cat gets a better meal than yourself one tends to harbor resentment. The woman did near anything for coin often blatantly in front of my eyes. I'm quite sure she wasn't beyond strangling the old codger foolish enough to invite her into his home. She always had coin enough to spare for a spice habit but little for anything else.

Time away from Claudette was time well spent and I found myself spending far more time on the streets than in her now den of depravity. I even had child hood friends, street urchins and rats the lot of us, the Blue Dodgers they named us because of our tendency to idle outside of the Blue Stag Tavern run and owned by Old Gam Winters. A few of the boys stayed within a house near the Stag, I'll not forget its appearance old, large, and rickety, unwelcoming to be blunt like so many of the houses lining the dock ward. The boys who lived there often spoke of Lesk a fence and a loan shark who sheltered them while setting all to work, they were even payed little by little. Lesk wasn't anyone normal, everyone spoke of him having fiend blood down the lines and an association with the alleged guildmaster Ravenscar.

They say that fate is inevitable, others say that fate is for those too weak to determine their own destiny. Seeing Claudette being dragged out of Taldor's old adobe half naked and evidently spiced up beyond sanity, was definitely her destiny and a situation that determined my fate. I still remember the crackle of the old place burning as the sailors she was apparently keeping occupied dragged her outside dumping her before fleeing the flames. I think this was the one and only time I ever felt pity for that wretch of a woman. With no home and near everything lost to the flames Claudette left my younger self on the streets, alone but not afraid. Lesk wouldn't you know it was all too happy to take me in, putting me to dodging right quick and was a more smooth and subtle person than I expected, it turns out I don't have the most ideal hands for a pick pocket though, chunky and brash they say. Sharp eyes and keen ears go far though and there is no lack of information among the alleys that people often think are secluded and safe. I snitched, I sold out, and I misled for Lesk and his crew and it kept me safe and warm, it even led to my learning to read and write so I was able to better serve and send missives to and fro, unfortunately time didn't permit much delving into Faerunian lore and knowledge.

Life during these times sure wasn't bland.

Curtis Crawford

Entry 2:

When night settles on Baldur's Gate you'll find the streets often more alive than during the days. Business definitely isn't closed to the nefarious type and trade is nearly welcomed by all sorts, darkness is as fine a cover as coin paid off and glimmering in officials pockets.

The years passed by quickly, though my innocence did not fortify with each turn of the summer. One does survive though and survive I did. It didn't really take a bright man to see that Lesk was holding back on whoever sent the monthly thugs over to skim off the top of his earnings. He had more hidden caches than one could remember, Old Gam was in on it also, late night hauls to the Blue Stag were common, I suppose it was only a matter of time until they were found out.

I remember the raid on Lesk's rickety house, a most gruesome affair, barging in the door, daggers and blades in hands they went to work. I didn't hang around long, but long enough to see Lesk bleed out as he fumbled for his blade, he gargled as they cut him from ear to ear, not something an early teen should be witnessing.

The morning after was misty and chilling. It wasn't easy stumbling back to the old house to see what had transpired fully. The attackers taking what they will set it ablaze, it was but ruins. The Blue Stag on the otherhand was eery and empty, I take it Gam Winters seeing what was happening across the road made his best efforts to flee to his shanty a fair ways away. I still don't know how I missed the two thugs waiting at the scene though, maybe it was the shock of the previous night, but as fast as my legs were back in the day they couldn't outrun them long. The pummeling was bad, I've never gotten use to blows to the face but this was a ruthless beating, it put the fear into me. I remember sobbing as I was dragged away for all to see. I thought it was the end.

Curtis Crawford