Well, I'm flattered that you'd like to hear my story.
Let's see, 'twas 30 years ago a young halfling and his gentle wife gave birth to their first son. They'd just started a family and were doing fine, all things concerned. He was a carpenter and his wife a nurse, though for the moment she was a mother and he a father, and there was little else they could think of but the shear possibilities that this tiny lad had before him.
It was arrived at that they would name him Yorg (that's me), for the sole reason of him looking the part. Over time Yorg grew taller and rounder (when the proper age came) the tuffs grew on his feet, he was a fine young Halfling. He'd learned the trade of carpenter from his father, Mendel, and began the task of taking over the family business.
It was during this time that events culminated in the eventual meeting of you and I here on this Lok'groton island. The materials Yorg used were gathered from a nearby wood in which Yorg and his father were on good terms with the wood folk. He would take only what he needed and they requested that he fell no living tree and do what he could to prevent others from doing so.
It so happened that his empirial worship, Mobius, of which we're all too familiar, felt it time to go holidaying, and as fate would have it his eventual choice led straight through the forest near Shainum (Yorg's home shire). This, of course in the emperor's special way, deemed the construction of a new road and the probable felling and burning (how wasteful) of many trees and shrubs and homes of the forest folk.
Yorg upon the discovery of these plans headed to the wood to warn the forest folk, and prepare them for fight or flight, though he'd no formal training in either...what with life in Shainum being somewhat quiet.
To his horror he found the project had already begun and arrived at the first blood shed, a few of the empirial guard had set fire to a shanty town of badgers and when the residents fought back several were slain.
Yorg went blind with rage and charged the guards, he had little idea what he was doing and less about what he hoped to achieve. The outcome being the incarceration of Yorg and inevitable pleasure cruise to Puddleby.
I've no idea when I arrived seeing as there are no real seasons here, but since then I have wandered a bit, fell often, met many folks I call friend and found my life as a healer.
It's a short tale and not very interesting to many, it suits me fine but then I have a vested interest in it, /action chuckles.
If you'd like I've a self portrait I painted one evening, when studying became dull.
I recently found a scrap of paper in my logbook that places my arrival on this island at: Lundi, the 53rd Day of Winter 538, some time in the morning. Well now I know my Exile Day, maybe I'll throw a shin-dig.
Tale of Yorg