I really don’t remember much as I was but a child when it happened. Well, as much as I can tell I was a child at least. I remember no names, no faces, no light from the “upper world”. I have grown up only to know this place, to understand this place. This place that can only be one of the many circles of hell. “A slave through and through” as the older women in the encampment used to call me. The life of a slave is all I know.

I imagine I was taken as a child. Most likely kidnapped if I had to offer up a guess. My poor mother and father probably awoke one morning to find me gone and no clues as to my whereabouts. If only I could find some way to get word to them. Some way to let them know that I am alive…

Oh, but why bother. What’s the point. I wouldn’t even be able to recognize them if they so happened to be standing right in front of me. I’d even guess they wouldn’t be able to recognize me either. By now, I imagine they have moved on. They’ve probably had more children, formed a real nice happy home. Who am I to break up a happy home. After all, I am but a slave girl.

Plus, to have them see me like this. All beat, scared, pillaged. No, not like this. They couldn’t see their little girl like this! Nobody should have to see a “loved one” in such a state as this. “Loved one”. I use that term loosely and hopefully. How do I know they love me? How do I know that they didn’t in fact sell me into this lifestyle?

I don’t. I don’t know at all! I believe it though. I believe it with all my heart. It’s the basis for my faith. My parents do love me! They do miss me! They do want to see me and be with me once again! They do spend their days searching endlessly for me! Yes, I believe. I have faith.

Why you ask? What not I ask you! What the hell else do I have to believe in down here? What else do I have that will give me a reason to awake each new dark, damp day? I am a dam slave! What else do I have but this dream I ask you!

I am sorry. A bit off topic here. Please forgive me for snapping at you like so. Back to my story. Where was I…oh yes. Helm. In camp, the older slaves, the women; they would sit us down each night and speak to us about Helm. It was there I came to learn his beliefs, his teachings, his philosophies. Ok, yes, it’s true. At first I spit upon his name. I mean, would a God allow for his people to be slaves I ask you! Oh, I wanted nothing to do with that type of God.

Yet, as time went on, I grew to understand Helm more and more. His being helped to me give me strength. The strength to believe in something. The strength to have faith. Even as a slave, this strength was not something that could be taken away from me. Lets be honest here, it was the only thing that couldn’t be taken away from me.

I cannot tell you how long I was a slave. Heck, I can’t even tell you how old I am. As a slave, the hours turn to days, the days turn to weeks, the weeks to months, and so fourth. What I can tell you is that I have been free now for one week, three days, and nine hours! How you ask? Well, an entry into this journey for another time.

I will say this though. I won’t go back. Dam right. I won’t go back! Not alive anyways! I’d be willing to wager they are hunting for me right now. Right now as I write these here words on these here pages. But you know this now: I won’t go back!

I am sorry again. I digress. Off topic yet again. Where was I? Yes…how am I free? For now I will tell you just that it was Helm who allowed me the opportunity to freedom. In return, I will learn the profession of the paladin and forever stand by his side.

If I had a coin for every time I have embarrassed myself in the last few weeks, I’d be willing to bet that I would one of the richest former slaves in all the land. It is a good thing that I am still uncomfortable removing my helm and showing my face in public else I would probably be banned from many establishments already I’d guess.

There is so much to learn and I am already so far behind in the course. I talk to fellow paladins who tell me they always knew or felt their gifts. “Even as a child”, they would say. Not I. My gifts are new to me. Brand new to me in fact. And boy does it show.

Twice now, yes not once but twice, I have “misread” my gifts. I was approached, once by a seemingly harmless dwarf and another time buy a most extravagant woman. Both times, I mentally said a short prayer to Father Helm in an attempt to tell if the person before me had a pure heart. Both times I “misread” what Helm told.

I pulled my sword and my shield and I slowly backed away. I made a scene, making sure that the both of them did not take a single step towards me. I wanted to flee, to get myself away from such an evil as I did not wish for it to infest itself upon me.

I understand mind you that a paladin does not back down from a fight; even more true when the fight is against a great evil. The very being of a paladin is to stand against evil. I, however, also understand that without a full mastery of my gifts, fighting said evil at a time such as this would be most unwise on my part.

And so I then tried to flee. Tried to rescue myself from the evil that stood before me. Only, in actuality, both were not evil. In fact, their hearts were as pure as my own. They attempted to tell me this. I would not listen and called them liars as I know that evil will say anything to gain an edge.

They both pursued me, offering to show me proof of their kind hearts. I would not allow it as I thought this to be another ploy. Maybe even a ploy to take me back. That part of me is dead now, the part of me that was a slave. There is no taking me back to that life I assure you!

In the end, however, even against my will, they were able to show their proof. I felt horrible for how I had publically wronged them. I begged and pleaded for their forgiveness. For their pity on me as I try to learn my gifts.

I have much to learn about my gifts and my desire and passion to learn is of the purest form. I know I will master it someday, if my failed attempts do not kill me first.

For now, I will live with this embarrassing shame...