Shoqz Full Origin

Born into a family of scholars, I've led a rich and splendid life and have become quite learned. I do have some traits that make others want to shun me, but, I can't say it's hurt me all that much. Once I moved on from my home, I was lucky to come across a group which taught me the importance of preserving knowledge in its fullness, and travelled the land visiting many libraries.
In time, I grew weary of long travels, leading to my investigation of a teleportation spell. Unbeknownst to my colleagues, I attempted this spell, intending to travel to a nearby cloister, which I knew had a teleportation circle. It did not work as intended…
I’m not sure how, probably because I’m not a wizard, and my magic is more natural in origin, but I found myself in a dark area, unable to see anything around me. I promptly felt the hands of another upon me and fought back without thinking. I soon toppled to the floor under the weight of more than one individual, unfamiliar words being shouted, and an odd feeling of worry welling up from deep within me. I focused hard on my surroundings in that moment, finally catching some details – a throne, some banners, a very weak glint of a crown (glinting off what?) – I was in a palace of sorts. The beings accosting me I recognized more quickly; they were the dreaded Drow. How had I ended up in the hands of the Drow? Was I in their realm when I should be at the Cloister’s library in Chessenta? A strength unlike any I’d had before overcame me, and I threw off my attackers. As I tried to make my getaway, though, I was tackled back to the ground, this time bound up in some sort of oily rope.
I was then carried away to a cell where I was tortured and imprisoned, despite not knowing their language. What did they even expect to get out of me? I did not know, but they seemed sure they would break me. Over time, I started to pick up on some of their words, from the conversations they would have when they didn’t think I was conscious, the words exchanged between guards changing shifts outside my cell as I awaited the next torture session, and those torturing me… The day soon came when I could actually understand some of the words my tormentors and it became apparent that they wanted to know how I had infiltrated past their magical wards. Fuck if I know, I would think to myself. I'd deduced I must be somewhere near a place called Gracklstugh. At least, that's what I assumed when one of them boasted about the "samman" they had gotten when visiting there; must've been some sort of bar.
At first, I still had some fight in me, and would spend what little unsupervised time I had trying to replicate my original spell which brought me here; just hoping to return to my home cloister, this time. I could never seem to get my magic to work, though, and despite being in otherwise decent health (minus the welts and bruises from my interrogators). As it approached what I felt to be almost a year, I lost the will to go on, turning down the meals they had been feeding me and simply retreating into my mind’s inner depths during sessions.
It was shortly after giving up that I starting noticing little flickers of my magic returning, and I gathered up the courage to try one more time to escape…
In a flash, I found myself at another cloister, lying on the floor with a group of others looking down upon me in shock; although, I only know this because of witness accounts. After so long in the dark, I felt almost blinded by the light. It took some time to get used to the light again. Upon speaking to my colleagues, I determined that they had only marked five weeks since my disappearance…
Given my nature as a sorcerer and fighter, I was dispatched when word came that Xanathar had attacked our cloister in search of some of our darker, restricted tomes. I intended to do some reconnaissance in Waterdeep, but managed to get myself captured instead.