Ben was born in the Warrens of Kaer Maga and promptly abandoned at Mother Millie's orphanage, a silver ring concealed in his swaddling- either as a memento or payment for taking the child. While the old orc that ran the orphanage wasn't too cruel (at least, by orc standards) she was thoroughly unsettling and gave a lot of special attention to the large number of kids with odd birth defects. Ben's webbed toe just wasn't enough, so he never received any preferential treatment. Mother Millie had promised to sell him the ring once he got older and had payed her back for things like years of food and lodging... Ben, being a rather bright kid, knew that was more or less impossible. Once he reached the age of ten, he had swiped the silver ring back from where Ol' Millie had been keeping it and took off to live on the streets.
Life was rough, but he taught himself to pick pockets, beg effectively, run and hide when neither worked out. By thirteen he was running with a small gang of orphans and halfling kids, sticking together for mutual protection. It was at this time he made the acquaintance of Cold Helda and Fleinn the Swift- a witch and a branded thief from the Land of the Linnorm Kings set up in the Warrens after being run out of the Thanelands. For several years Ben and the gang pulled simple jobs for them, sometimes placing odd little objects into this person's pocket or under another's market stall. The pay was fine enough and the work was easy... but after a little while, Ben got curious. Putting the pieces together, he learned that the whole thing was an elaborate protection racket- the target's luck would turn sour for a few days and Fleinn would show up, offering to put everything right for a hefty fee. Fleinn would pocket the charm after burning some incense or saying magic-sounding phrases and suddenly the merchant's luck would turn.
Ben was fine with it at the time- sometimes that's just how business goes in Kaer Maga- but the rest of the gang decided that since they knew the grift now, they deserved a bigger cut. When Helda and Fleinn balked at their demands, his comrades made good on their threat and alerted the temple of Abadar to the source of the merchant's plight. Helda and Fleinn made themselves scarce for a while, but not before working some kind of hex on the whole of the group. Formerly accomplished pick pockets, suddenly their fingers weren't so nimble and their marks were much more attentive. It was getting tough to make a living and the gang was weighing some difficult options- try to strike a deal? Kill them? Ben though it best to try and talk things through, so he arranged a meeting to try and smooth things over and renegotiate. Unfortunately, things escalated beyond his control and a battle ensued. While Fleinn, Helda and their thugs were dealt with, many of Ben's friends were grievously wounded. With her dying breath, Helda pointed her finger at Ben Shrike and said,"In Winter's Heart your fate shall be sealed and may all of your toil come to naught but snow stained with blood!" A chill came through the young man and he left the battle haunted by the curse levied upon him.
With what he could scrape together, Ben found a troll augur in the markets and sought advice on how to counter the curse. Thinking for a moment, the troll asked for Ben's most precious item and he offered the silver ring. Taking his ceremonial knife, the troll cut open his own stomach and hacked off a piece of intestine. Shoving the ring within, it sewed together the ends to make a sausage- like pouch. The troll told Ben to keep the lucky sausage with him at all times to ward away the witch's curse.. but it also told him to go north and meet his fate rather than running from it.
Well, he took the grotesque charm at least....
The next day, Ben gathered up his things and took off with the first caravan going south. From there, he's sold his skills as a scout (or made his way as a pickpocket) from Varisia through Cheliax and Andoran, finally landing in Taldor where he's found himself in the pleasant village of Heldren.
