Tl;dr age 27 I joined Passertref’s republican guard, age 35 I had proved my skill to enough to be assigned field work. I met a loud and wholly obnoxious dude named Steize at a bar who I reluctantly made friends with. Over the next couple of years he became my drinking buddy before he disappeared out of the blue. I was assigned to retrieve a magical artifact that had been stolen from the Passertref archives, and left with my squad. We found the thieves encampment a few miles outside the city and began the raid. I had been tasked with retrieving the macguffin, and upon finding procuring it found myself surrounded. I threw it over my adversaries heads to my longest standing military ally, Doliss. Despite having vowed over the years to never leave a man behind, once they had the artifact they retreated and left me to my death. The thieves, however, did not kill me. They found me more valuable as a hostage until one of them recognized me. He revealed himself as Steize and offered me a job in order to gain my freedom. They explained the macguffin was the key to a wizard’s tomb, who sealed the magical items he created in his life with his corpse. They were unsure what protections it may have, so they wanted a bit of a guinea pig. We went to the tomb I entered first and found the magical items and called in the band of thieves. They brought in their most magically adept and spent a few hours probing for magical traps and identifying the items. Everyone took one for themselves, and out of the leftovers I was given the opportunity to pick from the cheapest. I selected what was called a “Ring of Soulsight”, hoping to use its ability to never risk betrayal. Upon my selection, Steize kept true to his word and allowed me to leave. As soon as I crossed the burial chamber’s threshold with the ring on my finger, the ceiling began to quake and collapse. Maybe I could have go back to save Steize, but I just kept running until I was out of the tomb. I was done working for a people who functioned under the facade of justice and purity. I would no longer trifle with those whose motives I could not clearly understand. I made connections with Lyndack the Red, a man who I knew wouldn’t claim to be a man of lawful intentions, and would make no mistakes about trusting. Or I suppose, not trusting. Regardless, the predictability of a criminal’s motives comforted me more than those who claim to be good. Exercising skepticism and minimal personal ties in my mercenary work for Lyndack proved successful for years, with my most recent assignment being to escort a group of adventurers to Silver City.