My name is Ledda – Barbarian by birth, Rogue by right.

I was born Ledda Etaven Bloodblade, but please call me only Ledda. It is not my custom to tell my full name to anyone – as the life of a thief does not always promote many allies. My father was a great Barbarian warrior, Biadan Bloodblade. He met my mother, Etelith, when she attended his wounds after a battle near Halas.

Mother always claimed it was love at first sight. Though that may be the case, that love was nothing in comparison to the love my father felt for adventuring. When I was only three, he left us for the first time to return to the life he had always known. Family life was not for him – and I have to agree with him on that. I remember father fondly, even if he was never around much. He always came back to visit for a few weeks with wonderful treasures and exciting stories. He sent us money as often as possible – when father was alive we never wanted. His expeditions made him very rich.

When I was seven, word arrived that my father had been killed on a dragon raid in Kunark. Mother was devastated – she always was a fragile thing; crying most of the time. Even before Father’s death, she spent many evenings at the local pub – but afterwards, her time there grew even greater. In the meantime, I was left to my own devices and found many friends in the back streets and alleyways of Halas.

My crowd was known as the common "street urchins" – most of them were homeless or came from homes like my own that were mostly unoccupied. It was growing up in this environment that I learned the crafts of picking pockets and the like. I was good. I could sneak like a cat in the shadows – and relieve anyone of the weight of their pockets without their ever knowing any better. Ah, life was fun. We ran the streets – we were free.

By time I was twelve we had run out of money – Mother had spent it all on her poisons. We were broke. It was the first time in my life that I began to use my skills as a profession – a way of survival. Mother never asked where I got the money from, and I didn’t tell.

Around this time I met a young man slightly older than myself by the name of Ferrgus. We became close friends, and he taught me a few new tricks. He called himself a "Rogue" and I loved the title. I learned near everything I know now from Ferrgus. He, too, left for life outside of Halas, and asked me to go with him. We were young – and very much in love. But I felt I must stay and take care of my mother. She was a wasted drunkard who could no longer take care of herself. I do not know what became of him.

My mother passed away when I was seventeen and finally I felt I could return to the freedom of the streets and concentrate my time on the profession I had chosen as my own – that of a Rogue. I hope to someday travel Norrath like my father, and see the wonderful things he described to me on his visits home. At present, that is where life is taking me...