Summary

While it’s true that his family has made quite a name for themselves, there've always been those skeptical of their heritage, speaking in hushed tones when any of them walked by and some even going so far as to make holy symbols in the air. Weretouched, the most polite moniker. Beast or mongrel, when they were feeling brave. As his family’s wealth (and as a result, power) rose, however, it became easier and easier to see their insults for what they really were: jealousy. Kit’s mother had created quite the vineyard on her own and when his father was finally able to join her, they had become near unstoppable. Their family flourished, and while the eldest siblings learned about the bookkeeping or the physical requirements of the work, Kit was left almost entirely to his own devices. He was the youngest of seven, and as a result almost entirely removed from any semblance of continuing the family name. A wild, untameable youth, he was often found running through the vineyards or the kitchens, or hiding in tiny cupboards for hours on end. Had his circumstances been shifted even a fraction, Kit likely would have ended up in some type of thieve’s guild or, quite possibly even dead. Instead he was afforded the comforts of luxury in a modest town, with a pleasant enough family that allowed him the freedom withheld from his older siblings.

With his freedom, however, came a lack of focus that plagued him into his teenage years. His life was easy, and admittedly quite boring. This was only exacerbated as his siblings matured and settled into their various new roles and had less and less time to put up with his games. Kit, then, turned to some more unsavory habits and activities, furthering the rift between him and his family. Eventually, they all but disowned him, and after several years he had to finally admit he was lost. Embarrassed, afraid, and uncertain, he turned to one of the few places he had actively avoided his entire life: the local Temple of Lathander. The clergy were quick to welcome him on his path to recovery and Kit found great solace in the teachings of the Morninglord. After some time, he began to feel comfortable in a way he had never quite felt before -- and so he stayed. Long enough for him to feel a calling, at least. A gentle tug on his heart. A comforting whisper at the edges of his consciousness. Visions, sometimes, at night when he was asleep of far-off places and faces that were almost familiar -- and so he left.