He sought out, not Waithvine, but the kobold he traveled with. The young man, finding them along the trail, carried with him a basket of fresh fruit, fresh breads, dried meat, and sweet-filled pastries. Once he saw her, looking to the three travelers, the bugbear, the kobold, and the elf, the youth held out the basket to her, bowed and said softly, "Thank you." For he never forgot how she undid his bindings, and stopped him from ending his own life that terrible, lonely, night. -- Anon Guest
At last. He had found her. Beeyo checked the Basket of Preservation to be certain everything inside was intact. The spellwork was still secure. Everything in there was as fresh as the day it had been placed there. This was important. They say, "No good deed goes unpunished," but because of her impact, no good deed should go unrewarded.
On a dark night, a terrible night, so many years ago... Back when she was only known as Thief... a Kobold had crept past a boy in chains, and stopped to stare. Beeyo hadn't had a name, then. Property didn't often get names. He hadn't cringed, hadn't feared for his life. In fact, he had been trying to saw his wrists away with a moderately sharp rock. The only escape he had been capable of at the time.
Until a monster turned her lockpicks to his shackles, gave him a leaking waterskin and half a hub of stale bread and whispered, "Run." That night had changed his life. A pair of kind hands had changed his life. Made it one day longer. A Cleric formed the next pair of kind hands, taking in a lost and starving child and altering his path. Change for the better. Beeyo had never forgotten the monster that chose not to be monstrous, and paid the favour forward.
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