I come from a rich family, my father was an entrepreneur ahead of his time, and was the owner of a shipyard. He'd often spend his free time inventing, or at least trying to, usually ending in failure.
This did however give me the luxury to pursue my dreams growing up, such as playing the Lute. When I was young, my parents had come to witness my first lute recital. It went as well as it could, the other students were good, I was better, and my parents were so proud of me.
When the concert finished, it was late and I convinced my parents to take a short cut home as we were quite tired. After cutting through a couple alley's to get back home we were abruptly stopped in the middle of one.
A thug appeared before us with a hand crossbow, pointed at my mother demanding she hand over her jewlery and my father give up his coin purse. My father, unwilling to give into the demands of the thug refused and took an aggressive stance, to which our assailant responded with force.
I'm sad to say both my mother and father died before me, and had he the extra arrow I fear I may have perished that night as well.
I vowed I'd get my revenge one day, so I temporarily gave up my instrument in exchange for training.
I learned to use a sword masterfully, and shoot a crossbow with the utmost accuracy.
A few years later, on the anniversary of their death, I was reminiscing in my father's lab where he used to tinker. I hadn't touched it in years, I tried to leave it exactly the way he had, all the gadgets and tools unspoiled, when suddenly I spotted a moth.
Irritated the bug may be disturbing my father's lab, I swatted at it, missed, and knocked over one of the vases on the table. To my dismay, it didn't fall and shatter but instead leaned over with a clicking sound. Curious, I pushed down on it, as it continued to click, so did the nearby bookcase begin to move.
A hidden entrance! Quickly realizing what this lever was, I pushed it all the way down and entered the hollow opening in the wall where the bookcase once was.
Inside were some stairs, not many, but as I walked down them I soon realized they led to another room, a vast chamber where my father had stored all his failed inventions.
Most noticeably however, a podium near the entrance where sat upon it a lute with a note, I ran upstairs to grab a torch and back down so I could see better and read the note,
"Dear son,
Your mother and I love you very much. Congratulations on your mastery of the Lute, we had this hand crafted by Hemmer VonLutevagon, one of the most renown instrument makers in the land.
We know you will go on to do great things, and remember that we'll always be here for you
-Mom & Dad"
I tried to hold back the tears, as I grabbed the lute and gave it a strum. It had been years since I played, but it was just like riding a horse, you never quite forget.
I lamented and played a sad tune before returning upstairs, but when I reached the top I had left the sadness below and knew what I had to do. I wouldn't seek vengeance on the thug who took my parents from me,
instead I'd dish out justice on behalf of all those who had their loved ones taken away, I'd stop corruption and wipe out villains. I knew what I had to do, but more important I knew who I was.
I
Am
Bardman