Born in the distant and merciless north, Skartalla survived by her quick wits, honeyed tongue and silent steps, picking locks and swindling fools. One day she ran out of luck and ended up in a Skandaharian slave caravan, bound south. Somewhere along the way, she managed to shook off her chains and slip into a merchant ship. Stowing away until she thought she was far enough from her captors, one night she slipped out, stole the kit and coin of the ship captain and disembarked, ready to start a new life in this land they called Blackmoor...