Hob started out like many halflings, fat, pink and happy. It was a good life, nurtured by loving parents and doting grandparents, and kind neighbors both near and farther out on the edges of the shire. His family was content, at least until his younger brother Nib came into the world that is. Nib was a force for chaos from the moment he first drew breath, at least in Hob's memory, as that was when his world changed. Not for worse, but it did change.
His younger brother Nib was 5 years younger than him, so naturally Hob felt protective of his younger sibling. Even as a baby, Nib was always getting into trouble, so as expected, Hob was very busy. Nib walked and ran earlier than any other halfling in the shire, according to Old Nan, and Hob was never far behind his swift little brother.
For years Hob smiled whenever he heard a crash of pots, or a door slam, or even a cat screech, because he knew it was likely Nib behind the racket. Nib was always happiest when he was running, jumping, singing, or dancing, and heaven's forbid he be told to sit still. The brothers were inseparable. They played together, laughed together, hunted together and eventually started traveling together, because Nib had the wanderlust greater than any the shire had ever known. Hob promised his mother and father he would do his best to look after Nib, for everyone knew that Hob was level headed, even tempered and calm under some of the most extreme conditions.
Now Nib was a fiddler, and his music was rapid, fun and often intense. He made up his own tunes, which suited him just fine, but it wasn't always something people wanted to hear, as he didn't know any of the finer songs a minstrel was expected to know. When the brothers reached an inn on their first time in a city, the locals were far from ideal in patience and temperament . It was hard won, but eventually the crowd came to accept Nib's frenetic music and dancing was had by all. All but one. Unbeknownst to the brothers, a dark figure in a far corner seethed at the sound of revelry and merriment. The dark figure, cloaked in shadows by flickering candle light, noticed the brothers though.
The next day, the brothers left the inn to explore the city, full of sights and sounds larger than either had ever imagined. It was a grand day, filled with smiles and laughter, no small amount of running and jumping, and at least one screeching cat.
This was the life for the next week until the two finally left the city, for Nib had heard a tavern tale of a hidden treasure in the nearby hills. Not one to turn away from the idea of hidden treasure, Nib pleaded with Hob to go on what promised to be a great adventure. Hob could do little more than smile and agree, for he loved his little brother beyond measure.
The rest of the story is too dark and bleak to tell here, but suffice to say, Hob was soon changed, more somber in his tone, and he was once again, an only child. Soon after he took up the following of Iomedae, swearing to rid the world of evil wherever it crossed his path. He only returned once to the shire, kissing the tears of his mother and father way, before leaving for good, bow and sword at the ready. No longer a child of the shire, Hob Cottonleaf had been forged by blood and sorrow into a champion against evil.
