My character background PART FOUR OF TEN

And he reached for a magic staff by the wall.
He must be a cleric, thought Sparrow curiously, and then she noticed the eladrin was clasping his staff, which was slowly starting to glow. Sparrow deflated.
Ah.
"FINNBAR!" He said in a tremulous tone, holding the staff outwards menacingly.
Sparrow, who had been ready to do a double somersault to avoid whatever spell the newfound cleric was about to perform, paused.
"FINNBAR!!!" The cleric thundered again. Sparrow frowned, confused. That didn't sound like a spell.
Then she realized the cleric wasn't casting a spell, but rather trying to revive the sleeping halfling brute snoring in the corner.
Except he wasn't snoring anymore. 
Time to go.
Sparrow seized the sword, rammed it into it's sheath, tucked it under her elbow and ran to the door.
It had locked.
She wondered if she could take the cleric. Her fighting skills were advanced, a strange combination of deadly martial arts practiced among the avengers and assassins of Charr, taught to her as a youth; and of vicious pub-brawl kickboxing she picked up in the alleys and streetsides of the slums. Still, he was a cleric, which meant that he was quite likely to hex her if she came too close.
But he was drunk.
Whipping an arrow from her quiver fast as a whip, she drew it back and with a twang it shot toward the cleric. He froze it in mid-air about a foot from his nose.
Sparrow was just thinking of her shirikins when she found she couldn't move. Her feet were rooted to the floor.  She struggled on the spot, growling, and narrowed her eyes at the cleric.
He smiled drunkenly. "My sword."
As he moved toward her, Sparrow had an idea.
She raised the sword above her head in both hands, holding it high above him. Sparrow, being abnormally large at a height of over six feet, was no match for the reach of the eladrin, who besides being at least a foot shorter than her, was too drunk to even consider knocking her unconscious. Instead, the exhausted drunk jumped up once, jumped up again.….and passed out.
Well, that's convenient, thought Sparrow. Amazed by her own luck, she snatched up the staff and the sword, plus the purse, and a collection of shiny gold talismans, before climbing out the window, up to the roof and away.

Back on her favorite rooftop, which also doubled as her lodging; Sparrow examined her loot curiously. The magic staff was definitely worth something. She'd never seen anything like it before, in all her 18 years. It was large and made of what looked like white gold- a thought which excited Sparrow immensely- and had a large shiny blue gem- pure as snow and as clear as a bright spring day- caged in silver at it's top. The staff was interwound with sterling silver leaves and was VERY heavy. Sparrow decided not to sell it immediately, but to take it to a nearby city; a city called Fulcrest.
This was her first mistake.