[Bertram Anders]

Journal Entry: 1

*The following is written in a leather bound book. There is a medium sized spade centered on the cover. The front page has the Brandon Baxter written in cursive, rather fine cursive at that.*

I guess that you could say that I’ve never been the most fortunate of people. I was born Brandon Baxter, son of Andrew and Bethany Baxter. We lived in a small shack in one of the most uncouth villages on the border of Luskan. Being one of the lower class families we had few material possessions, and our meals were few and far between. We had so little in fact, that my parents were forced to abandon me at the age of 4. Now you may ask how I know so much since they abandoned me at such a young age, well they left a letter with me, and I discovered more knowledge pertaining to the situation later in life, but that is a tale for another time. I was found in a back alley of Luskan by a group of kind individuals, who just so happened to be members of a thieves guild. They began to train me to be a skilled pick pocket, but eventually abandoned their endeavors when I turned out to be quite unsuccessful at anything that required subterfuge. Despite that, they found other uses for me, such as: guarding the guild house, or being a lookout during house raids. The tasks were monotonous albeit needed. When I was a boy of roughly 12 winters, I met some sell-swords through guild connections, I convinced them (a few well-placed coins go a long way) to train me to become a swords-man. They were untactful in their mannerisms, but they knew their way around a long sword!