In Fiore’s early days helping out one of the local Blacksmiths in Baldurs Gate, one of his most treasured memories was when he was left alone in the forge. Him and his trusty friend Rek, the raven, would spend hours upon hours working away. Tinkering with different metals and materials.

Rek took a liking to the shining bits and pieces, much to Fiore’s amusement and light hearted frustration. As Fiore was tediously working away, making sure every detail on this piece was perfect, Rek would steal precious metals and tools alike, jolting Fiore out of his work and into a tiff with his feathered friend, until Rek gave in and dropped what was clamped in his beak.

Fiore adored the bird with his whole heart. Rek equally showed that love back, in his own curious way. At first Fiore would attempt to shoo Rek away, but the more time they spent and the more the bird insisted on expanding his collection, Fiore got it down to a look most times, lifting his eyes to meet the bird just before his antics ensued. Other times it was a raised eyebrow. Then once his focus moved back to his task, Rek would snatch it away eventually.

Other times, more peaceful times, Rek would perch on Fiore’s head or shoulder as the half elf worked. Skwaking tips at Fiore and pointing out his favourite details of the etch work in the metal. Fiore didn’t have much but he had Rek, a roof, a job and a bed.

He didn’t mind the bed being the back of the Forge on some sacks. He was used to that life, growing up on the streets of Baldurs Gate, he was happy he had a place, and a purpose. To be involved in work and blacksmithing for the city, as little or big as his contribution was, he was grateful. Wandering the streets with no aim, ending up being captured by the guards more than once, it was no life to live, just survival.

He’d heard tale of a Ranger in town and was hoping to cross paths with them soon enough in some way shape or form. He always dreamed of adventuring but never really had time to chase it. He’d been working tirelessly at the blacksmiths now for years, but the work was enough to cover food, and the rest was a free place to sleep. He wanted and needed more. Surely there was more out there, and he could make a real difference. Help people like his mother did so long ago.

He took up the task of carefully crafting an arrow head, engraved beautifully with swirls on the edges, sharpened to perfection. Fiore held it up in the light to admire his craft. Then looked at Rek with a nod, Rek nodded his little head back at Fiore with an encouraging skwark.

He’d find that Ranger and offer them a proposition.

“For all that was said

Of where we'd end up at the end of it

When the heart would cease

Ours never knew peace

What good would it be on the far side of things?

It was too soon

When that part of you was ripped away

A grip taking hold

Like a cancer that grows