As a young boy, I was raised by a very powerful gentry family in the large city of Neverwinter. My mother was an elf, and my father was a human, and despite the relationship between elves and humans, my mom and dad got along fine. The story I’ve been told is that a godlike figure brought them together and said that this was a destined meeting. They got married two weeks later and began preparing to have a child. The life that was provided to me as being the only child of a noble family was one of time and freedom. I was able to pursue whatever skills I desired. I quickly picked up on the art of social manipulation and economic theory, which lead to my outstanding abilities as a merchant, and conman. One day, however, our manor was raided by bandits and chaos was sewn throughout the lands we owned.
Goblins stormed through taking what they could whilst the hobgoblins slaughtered our people. A force unknown to me guided me out of the Frey and into safety. The entity revealed itself as our family patron, and it had found its way to me because my father, the previous warlock, had fallen. I was overcome with sadness, but the patron said that I would soon learn that death is a necessary component of one’s fate, and it may even occur multiple times. I screamed that fate was just a lie used by things like you to get what you want and I would have no part in this relationship. I left the manor and headed for a city.
I used my skills that I had learned as a child to gain quick success in the world of rich, yet idiotic people. A merchant to the middle and lower class, to the high class, a dirty charlatan. I sold anything that I found on the streets to the rich and made a good living off of that, but I also used the money to purchase legitimate goods to sell to the common folk. I also played concerts for people with my fiddle every seventh day of the week, just to help relieve the stress of work and life. Now, I met the love of my life when I was 18 years old. She was a mighty pretty lass, real kind too, her name was Edith Lestrange.
For years I honed my skills of charisma by constantly tricking the guards and staff for more privileges, until one day a man of whom I’d sold something to came back furious. He was upset that his quarterstaff didn’t shoot fireballs like I’d said. I told him that he was crazy and I’d never said such things. He unslung the quarterstaff from his shoulder and swung at my head. I drew my rapier and parried his strike to the side and said, “Wow, look at that, I’ve blocked your big stick with my spindly little sword, now get out of my face, kid.” The man was blasted back, and upon recovering, ran as fast as his legs would carry him away from the town.
Around this point Edith and I were dating for a year and we were debating marriage when one day, without warning, she disappeared. Asking around, a good halfling friend by the name of Falric told me he had seen a drow in a red cloak leaving our home, but he could not tell me where.
So, I was a 19-year-old half-elf with a broken heart. I wanted to search for her, but I had no idea where to look and I had to keep myself alive. I left that town soon after to find my fiancée. All of the evidence that I’ve found has led me to the Neverwinter woods. The path there was strewn with dead goblinoids, but I had a feeling that there would be a lead in the woods, so I forced myself forward. So begins my tale of adventure.
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