Just who is the powerful and intense young man that has been stalking the Dog Leg Gang, once saving them from assassins, at other times keeping watch from afar?
Late at night, he sits under a tree in the University Gardens and with the gentle strumming of a late-night minstrel's lute in the background, he laments to a young female student of evocation, who listens intently, in awe of his raw magical power....
"I hail from Westsea, my mother was the daughter of a poor dairy farmer. The farmer, my grandfather died when marine dragons plagued the town, swooping in to raid for cattle and human flesh. He was one of the victims of their terrible breath weapons of lightning and ice that ravaged the town. My mother was left to fend for herself and my grandmother, with only a few beasts left, she barely scraped a living as a milkmaid.
"The dragons were vanquished soon enough by great heroes mounted upon griffons and pegasi, and this brought some stability to Westsea, which in time would become the home of Prince Cal. There were still problems with raiding wolf pirates and aquatic beastmen from the depths. The heroes had long since gone, and without the challenge of mighty dragons to face, there were none to help the town from these perils. Soon the people would surely be slain or enslaved.
"One such terrible raid took place on a hot summer eve. Pirates landed on the beach and set about pillaging. For hours they carried on, with none able to stand up to them. Westsea was a lamb to the slaughter.... until the sorcerer appeared. My mother said he was tall and handsome. My grandmother said his eyes flashed with the fire of the gods. The sorcerer let forth the power of flame and storm, and destroyed the pirates utterly, their boats burning in the summer night.
"The sorcerer took up home in the village, and although more a deity than a man, he found comfort in the arms of a humble milkmaid. A year later, the kuo-toa attacked, and the sorcerer drove back into the sea, my mother told how their scales burned with acid and white-hot fire as they fled from him.
"A few months later, my mother knew that she was with child, but the sorcerer was troubled. What vexed such a mighty Arcanist? My mother begged him to tell her, but the sorcerer did not want to burden her with his wisdom that went beyond the stars. He told her only that there was a evil beyond evil that had awoken, and that the greatest warriors of the land had set out to vanquish it, but without a master of elemental magicks and sorcery, their quest was a doomed one. The sorcerer told her not to worry, and that he would soon return. And he left.
"I was born the next Spring, and my grandmother told how a mighty storm appeared from nowhere the night I was born, lightning and fire split many trees in the village. It was clear I was the true son of the sorcerer, and the midwife said that truly the blood of the dragon had been passed into my veins.
"Years later, the sorcerer returned to see me. Although overjoyed to see his young son, he was a changed man. His quest had been brutal and deadly. He had seen things that even such a magus would be haunted by. He told my mother a little of what he had seen, and where he had been. He stayed a few weeks, and then told my mother that he was due to leave for the magical city of Klef, with new powerful warrior friends with whom he had faced deviltry and shadow, but who would not be welcome in Klef (athough the sorcerer would be feted like a king). Again the sorcerer left. He never returned.
"I remember only a giant man whose eyes burned like dragonfire, and whose fingers rippled with lightning. A year later, I felt the power of the sorcery for the first time, and knew him truly to be my father.
"Afraid that I would leave her to seek him out, although my mother told me many stories of him, she never spoke of his companions. Finally, on my 15th birthday she told me that they were heroes of great renown, and they were Lords and Sages that had vanquished some of the Legendary Evils of the land. As bards had sung no songs of the sorcerer, and there were no tales of him at the Royal Court with the others, she feared that he had perished, no doubt in some deed of inhuman courage and sacrifice. She told me the names of his companions, and knew that I would leave to seek them out.
"I am Drachor Flameblood, son of the sorcerer of Westsea. My father was made of ancient inferno and the winter storm. His gift to me was his immortal and unearthly power. I watch over his companions as he once did, and soon I shall ask to take his place among them, such is my destiny...."