It’s like a gnawing feeling at my core. Not like hunger. More like something is missing, empty. It grows hour after hour. I become irritable, or angry. I shut people away. I try to ignore it, for as long as I can. But the Lord of Flames cannot be denied. I draw on his power and it’s like a soothing drink of water on a hot day. Heh. HE would hate that analogy. But it is apt. I am quenched. I don’t feel good, really… just whole, relieved. Normal.
I know not why Kossuth has granted me this power. I know only that I must use it. The few times I have waited too long in trying to avoid him, the power came out at the wrong time. Innocents were hurt. I am not evil. I will go north until the people aren’t cramped so close together, and where there may be more creatures deserving of being on the receiving end of the fire. The Firelord may demand that I use this power, but I will choose how.
As far back as Tyrek can remember, he was a nameless slave... no... prisoner of of the Thayan House, Quantoul. His master, Ikar Quantoul had acquired a rare specimen indeed in the young fire-haired northern child. The Illuskans north of the Spine of the World had a reputation for being exceedingly resilient. Ikar would honor both his family and the Lord of Flames by learning what the child could endure, and what came of drawn-out exposure to magic and fire. The child spent the majority of his waking hours burning. The Thayan used some minor magic to keep him from burning badly enough to die, and he was careful to protect the boy’s face in case he had to sell him, but still, it was torture, plain and simple. And after many months of tedious, methodical torture, the boy began to exhibit minor magical effects, on top of the obvious physical ones. It seemed he could channel a small amount of fire himself. The torture continued for years, and over time, the power increased very slowly, but surely. Little did the boy know, his response to the torture saved his life. The Thayan wizard would have cast him aside long ago had he shown no response to the exposure.
Little did Ikar know, the boy was holding back, denying the power.
And so the experimentation continued into and past the boy’s adolescence, and through it all, the power rested inside him. Somehow, it kept him sane in the face of near daily torture, for years. And eventually, it freed him from his cage.
Ikar was getting old, sloppy, complacent. And the child was a man now. All it took was one mistake and the power pushed out of the slave and the Thayan was burned alive. The slave had nothing to do with it other than being a conduit. Perhaps Ikar had been lax in his prayers and service to his Lord as well. In any case, the slave fled. He took the name Tyrek for himself and got as far away from Thay as he could.
Tyrek spent a few years learning to get along in society and learning to safely channel his power. There are more than a few settlements in the south where he is a wanted man due to his antics.
