Erin Walsh

Erin's family lived in a crowded, bustling city in basically the poor district. There, they were taxed heavily by the government, strongarmed into paying "protection" fees by the organized crime syndicates, and gouged for supplies at every turn by merchants. Life in the poor quarters was almost, by design, impossible to crawl out of. The rich preyed upon the downtrodden because they couldn't fight back and spread the notion that the wretched deserved their social status to keep the sympathy of the common man, ensuring they'd receive little help. Erin, who was orphaned from living in pestilence, grew up with a band of other misfits that called themselves "blood brothers" (the fact she was "the girl" of the group had no baring on this moniker).

The Brothers had decided to devote their time pilfering, snatching, and sneaking off with whatever they could from choice targets: rich merchants, peddlers, and other low influence targets that would otherwise not miss the money. They kept very little for themselves, just enough to survive, and gave the rest to those even worse off than they. Over time, they got good at what they did, and Erin found herself a good niche by being just pretty enough to divert attention from her friends and help them get away with their schemes (and it helped that she could pick a lock better than anybody they knew), making her something of their mouthpiece, and the peacekeeper among them.

Eventually however, they got greedy. An extravagant trading caravan had come into town, and it was said they had magical items among their wares. The job was simple, the boys would create a ruckus while Erin picked into the back of the wagon and snagged whatever she could. When she got in, the first thing to catch her eye was a silver lockbox emblazoned with all kinds of religious symbols she didn't recognize. She managed to grab it before the shouting outside turned to screaming.

The guards had never shied away from roughing up those that disturbed the peace, but on this day, one of them decided to take it too far. One of her brothers lay dead, beaten savagely at the center of the market square as a guard sat clutching a fresh knife wound, likely from one of the boys trying to defend himself. "Find them, kill the rats!" the guards were not happy, to say the least. Abandoning the mark, Erin managed to sneak away to the group's hideaway... But none of them made it. One by one, her brothers were caught and killed. Everyone knew she was among them, and there was no love for the poor in this town, much less those seen as a criminal. Left with only the various knick-knacks and savings the group had managed to abscond with over the years, Erin was forced to flee her home.

Days into her journey to nowhere, Erin had reached the end of her rope, low on supplies and her heart heavy from the loss of everyone she had known and loved. Knife in hand, she was ready to take her own life... And would have, were it not for one last curiosity, one final burning itch that demanded to be scratched. The lockbox, having yet to be opened, beckoned to her. If there was one thing Erin was good at, it was picking locks, surely one last job could give her the last quantum of solace she wanted. After several tries, she found herself unable to pick the box. Distraught, she sat it down and once more grabbed her knife. As she placed it before her own heart and plunged it deep within her. Soon, all was dark...

And then she heard a voice, "You, who had naught in life, yet strove to enrich those with even less... Do you yet seek to help those who even now cry out for aid?" it was an odd question, but she found the answer in her heart of hearts, a resounding "yes". Moments later, she awoke, the lockbox open as the last flicker of a bright light vanishing from it. To her amazement, her wound was gone, and in its place a scar shaped like the symbols on the box. She stood, looking at her hands in amazement, which now shone with a similar light. She didn't realize it at the time, but in her final moments of desperation, Erin had sworn a pact to a higher power, a promise to try to aid those in need.

"I won't waste this gift."