RobynHyde

Robin had heard tales of his grandfather’s prowess in the traveling circus for years. Many a night his grandfather told him tales of his travels, and the young halfing hung off of every word. Not only was his grandfather his hero, it’s safe to say the young halfling’s yearning for an adventurous life was born from these tales.

His grandfather had retired from the circus life and come home to stay after an accident led to a broken leg and a permanent limp and need for a walking cane by his grandfather.

Growing up the son of two timid halflings, I didn’t get to see or hear about much of the world outside the confines of our comfortable home, Hupin Holler. Not much interested the folks of the Holler other than eating, smoking, sharing the latest gossip and growing ever older and rounder.

From an early age I loved stories about grand adventures, not that I got many from my folks Betta and Trina. No, my love of adventure came from my grandfather, Ronnin Hyde. Unlike most halflings, he had been consumed by a desire to explore all around the world.

From the snowy peaks of Agroh Crag to the swamps of Muckmire, the singing dunes of the Sandcrawler Desert to the crystal shores of the Comman Sea, he had seen it all. He was a performer by trade, and he was a major attraction at a world-traveling circus known as the Seven Wonders of the Whirled.

Grandfather Ronnin worked with ropes and high wires. He could show off his skills climbing, walking the tightrope or swinging on the trapeze. He was known for being utterly fearless. No matter the stunt, he never wavered. He soared through the air like he had aarakocra wings with no safety nets below.

When he wasn’t performing, he was out on the town, searching for interesting fellows and ladies to share a drink with and spin a yarn or two.
He loved hearing stories from adventurers on how they had slain the local mythic beast or overcame that mindbending puzzle in a dungeon.

In his curiosity, he grew secondhand knowledge about a great many things, from how to skin a tabaxi to killing multiple birds with a single stone. As fate would have it, an accident on the high wire one night caused a fall. Grandfather survived but was left with an injury to his leg that never healed well enough to let him continue with the circus.

So, since he was newly retired, though not by choice, he decided to return to his childhood home in Hupin Holler and settle down. He soon found a wife, Letha Hyde, and had a son, my father Betta. Unfortunately his wife passed away of the Kelnorian Night Ripples before I was born.

Eventually my parents met, later had me, and my grandfather lived with us. That suited me just fine. I would spend hours on the floor of the den as grandfather tended the fire. I would beg him to recount stories of his adventures, and with a twinkle in his eye, he would spin a take that would leave the world’s top bard weeping or laughing.

His favorite story to tell me was one of a famous knight he had met named Sir Gruffalo Sabre. He was a musketeer in the employ of the noble House of Hawntud Hill. He had dashing good looks, a master swordsman and a mind and tongue sharper than the rapier strapped in his belt.

Sir Sabre was a lover and great patron of the arts, along with many members of the house. He was particularly fond of my grandfather due to his performance and fearless nature.
Every time the circus was in town, Sir Sabre would seek out my grandfather. They became fast, though unlikely friends, and they shared “many a tale over a nice pint of ale” Grandfather would say.

Eventually I tried to emulate a few of his skills with rope and tumbling, but I didn’t get far. Despite his coaching, my parents would have none of it. They wanted me to stay home and live to a ripe old age as a well-respected and boring Holler halfling. Still, I learned much from my grandfather’s tales, and the more I heard, the more I yearned.

Unfortunately, my grandfather’s time on this plane has ended. On his death bed, he told me he knew I was not bound to turn out like my parents. He knew I had the itch for adventure like him, and among his final words to me were to be brave, follow my heart and forge my own path. What my parents wanted did not have to stand in the way of what i wished.

So, a few months after my grandfather passed away, I could bare being cooped up in the Holler no longer, and I decided to set out as an adventurer, forge my own path and see as much of the world as possible.