View source for Bree of the Lightfoot

==About==

Bree is a lightfoot halfling warlock who doesn't have time for your bullshit.


Bree possesses [[Bree's Book of Shadows]] and the [[Rod of the Pact Keeper]].


==Backstory==
Bree comes from a small village named [[Bogdown]] where her clan had lived for generations. She lived in a house with her immediate family, but her extended family was present in and around the village. Everyone in her village knew everyone else and she could likely trace her extended familial relationships to close to everyone in the village. Not that she ever did, because the exercise would have been rather exhausting. Plus, what was the point? What's the difference between a local villager and an extended family member when everyone is in the same tribe. Everyone has festivals together and everyone knows what everyone is doing at all times. Gossip abounds.

Bree grew up listening to the old ones tell their tales and attended small local outdoor classes like most rural halflings. From an early age she loved performing. She loved being onstage and having the eyes of the audience on her, the attention was electrifying and intoxicating.

Her stealing began out of this empowerment, or maybe its arrogance. At first she was careful, taking a handkerchief here, or a pipe there. She would take things and hide them, only to be found again by their owner. Or take things from those she didn't like, or who had wronged her. It was a game and she felt impervious to its consequences. Eventually it became habitual, and that's when she got sloppy.

Then of course she was caught, promised not to do it again, then caught again, etc... We know how this ends.

The final straw was her getting caught stealing from her immediate family, her own parents. As the elders gathered to discuss her fate she wandered out of the village to a nearby wood glade where she often retreated to think. She knew that exile was a distinct possibility for her crimes, and was beginning to imagine a life where she would no longer have the support of those who had nurtured and supported her for her entire life. She had betrayed the only village she had ever known, every person who meant something to her now thought of her as an immoral bandit. They would never understand that she couldn't stop, that it was somewhere in her head that she had to take things that weren't hers.

The worst thing they could do was forgive her, because she knew she would steal again and that would only hurt her and those she loved even more. At that realization she knew she had to leave. Regardless of what the elders decided, she must go into exile.

Immediately after this realization came to her, as if it had been listening to her inner-most thoughts, a tiny dragon-like flying  beast appeared above a nearby bog in a puff. It immediately coughed and a putrid waft of smoke smelling of centuries old decaying plant matter rushed across Bree.

"Don't despair little one! [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Dungeons_%26_Dragons_fey_deities#Nathair_Sgiathach Nathair Sgiathach] has a new path for you. He understands you may need one, seeing as you're soon to be without a people."

Bree, taken aback if only by the smell, took a minute to compose herself before responding. 

Her retort finally came, "Who the fuck are you? And how do you know of my plight?"

"Nathair Sgiathach knows much about your predicament. He knows much about many things and knows many of those who know quite much. He bestows gifts upon those he finds funny and sees promise in."

"Is this your way of saying I've been chosen to receive magical powers from some creepy God-thing?"

"Yes."

"Then do it! I've heard of these meetings before from the tales of the old ones, and I've got nothing to lose at this point."

At this, Bree felt a surge of power flow through her. Her hair stood on end, she began crying uncontrollably, her bowels loosened and she levitated off the ground for a short minute before returning to the earth, shaken, stirred, wet and flimsy. Again she took a moment to compose herself, wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve, grumped at her wet trowsers, and then finally spoke.

"What just happened?"

"Nathair Sgiathach has bestowed upon thee the power of the Warlock. Go forth and fuck shit up! But keep it interesting. Should Nathair Sgiathach discover you only aspire to live a life of dulldrum you may find this gift no longer gives."

"I get it you weirdo, I'm not allowed to be a farmer. Which should be easy given that I'm going into exile, which you know because you can read my mind. And I would be a lot more comfortable with you reading my mind if you didn't constantly refer to yourself in the third person. It's super creepy, but thanks for the powers I guess."

"So be it." And with this Nathair Sgiathach disappeared leaving behind another butt of foul smelling smoke.

This would not be the last time Bree would encounter her patron, Nathair Sgiathach. Nor would it be the last time she would be left in a state of bemusement by the experience. However, on this occasion she had little time to consider the ramifications of what had just transpired. She knew she had to leave the village, and she knew she had to do so without raising too much attention. She would not wait for the judgment of the old ones, she would leave on her own.

She slept in the glade that night, waking before dawn to sneak back to her house while her parents still slept. She left them a note saying she had to leave, and that it was best for everyone. She took only what she needed, leaving behind even her surname. From henceforth, she would be known only as Bree.