I was born and raised in a now destroyed village called Halab, which sat on the river between Driftwood and Yavipho. I was the shaman's apprentice, and I worked hard to meet his and my father's expectations.
When I was only just reaching age, my village was raided by dozens of Gnolls, who slaughtered and enslaved my people without care or concern. Thanks to my master's sacrifice, I managed to escape and live on, but the scene has haunted me ever since.
I wandered the wastes and the desert as a nomad, finding comfort in solitude. I would enter the cities and towns only when supplies demanded it, and I left as quickly as I could when Gnolls strode with their slave lines, and nobles looked at me like a gutter rat.
Some time ago I was hired for an escort mission into the desert by treasure hunters and explorers. I hesitated on the offer, as escorting can be risky for all parties involved, but the coin was in desperate need. Thankfully, they turned out to be reasonable people, even likeable, despite how strange they may be. I decided to join them on their adventures, for coin… but now I have more coin than I really know what to do with. But I have resolved to remain with them, until the wind shifts.
Once we ran out of food and water during a voyage across the desert. I managed to save everyone with shrewd survival skills and some handy spellcasting. It wasn't pleasant, but I was glad to of helped.
Once when I was alone, I was walking through the desert when I was ambushed by three Gnolls. Instead of running, I stood my ground. Their singed fur and charred skin was incense to my mind.
My father was Braham, a stoic, very proud man. He was fair, but when I disappointed him his rage was uncontrollable.
My mother was Sa'ara, a beautiful woman who confided in me that she was once a slave, and fled here to hide. She was pregnant with my sister when the Gnolls attacked.
