People always ask where I'm from. I usually just point in a vague direction and say, “That way,” then change the subject. Truth is, I don’t really have a “from.” Been wandering since I was barely tall enough to peek over a windowsill. That's where the "Rover" comes in. Slept in barns, under porches, inside a flour barrel once. Took what I needed, gave back when I could. 

I got caught stealing once—just once, mind you—when I was a kid. Reached for the shiniest apple you ever saw and bit into what turned out to be a glamoured beetle. Nearly threw up. The gnome who ran the stall laughed so hard he gave me two real apples and let me help him sell trick dice and disappearing ink for a week. Taught me a lot, that one. 

After a lot of stolen scrolls, I figured out reading. Now I grab any book not nailed down, and a few that are. I like maps. Adventure stories. Weird recipes. Once found a journal full of insults in fourteen dialects. Still have it.

I’ve got a staff taller than me—The Whistler. Carved it myself. It whistles when I spin it, which is useful and fun. There’s a little blade tucked inside, just in case someone mistakes me for harmless. That happens a lot. I don’t mind. It works to my advantage.

I travel with a paladin who makes more noise than a temple bell, a wizard who dresses like laundry day, and a scruffy fighter who says about twelve words a week but means them. They're good people. I trust them. That’s a weird feeling, but I’m working on it.

Also, there’s Pickles, my crow. Not a pet. Just… a freelancing friend. Pickles likes to bring me glass beads and once dropped a frog on a knight's head - just at the right moment. Pickles may not be a fighter, but the occasional chaos comes in handy.

I’m not brave, not really. Put me near deep water and I’ll freeze up like a statue. But if someone’s in trouble? I’ll run headfirst in. I’ve seen what happens when no one helps. I won’t let that be me.

So yeah—Effie Rover. Thief. Reader. Occasional do-gooder. I don’t have a grand destiny or some tragic prophecy hanging over me. I just want to see the world, find a family that sticks, and maybe—maybe—leave things better than I found them.

Also, I like beads. Like, a lot.