Ooooooooookay.
Meklok is a Shoanti-born young man, born to a family known for its predilection for sorcerous offspring. His gifts manifested early, though with no great regularity, and were tolerated as a harmless and, one day, possibly useful quirk. Of course, they weren't nurtured, as standing from afar and throwing arcane missiles is no job for a true warrior.
So it went for the first 16 years of the boy's life. Though never a greatly talented warrior, he was brave and endured the trials of life on the Storval Plateau as stoically as the other youths of his clan. Until he turned 16.
From that point, his powers manifested more powerfully. The coloured lights that he often playfully sparked at his fellow youths never did any damage, but on this occasion, tragedy struck. The lights burned into the other boy's chest, hurling him backwards, never to rise. Meklok was beaten for his recklessness, but it was plain this was an accident. The clan accepted, after a long few days of punishment, that he had paid his dues.
One year later, however, his latent arcana manifested itself in a manner the tribe could never countenance. In a typical youthful fight over a particularly buxom girl, Meklok struck his rival across the face. The blow knocked the larger warrior lad to the floor. When he rose again, deep gouges crossed his cheek where a bruise should have been. One glance at Meklok's hands showed horrendous talons curving out where his fingers should be.
That night, as the clan leaders debated what to do with the wayward boy, Meklok was confined to his tent and charged upon his honour not to leave it. The debate was not straightforward. Though a direct and sometimes brutal people, the Shoanti recognised that these things were not by Meklok's design. Could they allow the boy to live whilst also assuring the safety of their people?
They never got the chance to decide. Convinced he would be killed, his mother (who carried a faint Abyssal taint herself) slit a hole in the back of his tent and spirited him away to her birth tribe. From there, she gained supplies and mounts before fleeing for the lowlands, always only hours ahead of the spreading news of her demonic child.
Eventually, they settled in Riddleport. Here, where sensible men don't ask about backgrounds, the mother and son survived and, to an extent, prospered. Meklok learnt to use his gifts with more precision, moulding his coloured lights into effective weapons. Though safer than back on the plateau for the family, power groups in the city soon started attempting to coerce the young sorcerer into serving their interests.
The answer to how his mother had been earning money to feed them both (a topic avoided in the family hovel) was answered when she was found dead, murdered by one of her clients. Now 22 and devoid of any reason to stay in the city, Meklok struck out for the south, to Chelian-owned territories, reasoning that Magnimar was the closest place to find both a living and an arcane mentor for his now-slowing progress. When he passed through Sandpoint, he learnt of two intriguing things; the upcoming Swallowtail Festival, and the presence of Brodert Quink, an eccentric academic reputed to know tales of the sorcerous empire that onces covered Varisia.
