The Journal of Tatiana Schuyler
I was not born in Neverwinter. The little village, which was the place of my birth, means nothing to me, although it was the place of my birth. Neverwinter was my new beginning, a second chance, and I would defend the place that had welcomed me with my very last breath.
I don't know how I came to be a rogue. I suppose it was always going to happen; a fourteen year old orphan had to learn to survive alone in the world. I am seventeen now, and I miss my father dearly. He raised me so that I was always aware of the culture of humans, whilst teaching me of my elven heritage from my mother, so that I could live in either. He underestimated people's hate for those different from them, and so a half-elven girl can never be accepted by either parents' race. Even if I was a model citizen, I would still be treated with hate and fear by some, but I am not upset by it anymore. I know that they simply do not understand, and there will always be kind people who are kind and considerate. Many have even been kind enough to compliment my exotic looks, and it is always nice to be told that you are beautiful! It does help me when trying to persuade others to my way of thinking.
At the Academy, everyone is equal, from the halfling rogue to the elven cleric; we are all here for a common goal in our individual fields. We must save Neverwinter from the Wailing Death, and those who caused it. The tasks that I have been asked to do are tediously simple. The only thing that stood between me and my graduation was a picked lock, disabled trap and sweet talking an assistant. But now, I have finished my training and am ready to live my life and face my fate. Although I am concentrated on my task, I will allow myself a little excitement at the prospect of meeting Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande. The ceremony is tomorrow, and I will finally meet the woman who I look up to; my hero, you could say. I wonder if she is as strong an dinteresting as they say? I hope that she will like me... even if I am a half-elven rogue.