My Background

Pizora was born on the night of a new moon. While most children born on this day are thought to be a bad omen, his family believed that he brought hope to that night despite the moon.
 
 
They were wrong.
 
 
At his birth, on the outskirts of Qeynos where his family lived, they hid the process away, keeping it secret, hoping to prevent others from knowing the actual date of birth. Yet, the servants of Terris Thule know such things, and so, the night did not go as expected.
 
 
Shortly after the birth, the servants of Terris Thule, led by the kerran priest Alanta Shahs stormed the house with intent of taking the child. Luckily, Pizora’s father was more than a little skilled in the blade and laid them low, but he died in the process from having his mind sundered. His mother, with child and gathered goods, then fled.
 
 
She ended up in High Hold, many miles away. High Hold is tucked into a mountain pass and is a place where neither The Alliance of Light or The Ebony Compact have hold. It is there that she met a nanny that helped her get on her feet. She and Pizora were welcomed in High Hold, and a new life began.
 
 
Pizora was a moody child, and his mother knew it was tied to the moon cycles but it was years before she explained that, and their past to Pizora. How and why the connection existed frustrated him, for he sought answers that would not come.
 
 
What did come were the priests of Terris Thule. In their relentless pursuit for “The Dark Child”, or so they called him when in High Hold, Pizora’s mother was slain for her recalcitrance. Pizora, outranged, struck out against the priests. Two were felled, but the now aged Alanta Shahs fled.
 
 
As a consequence of High Hold being a neutral zone between the forces and light and darkness, Pizora was banished for his deeds. Having nothing to his name and not knowing where to run, he went north seeking the warm and welcoming halflings of Rivervale. Their hospitality is renowned around the realm, and it was well known that they were aligned with the alliance. Perhaps there, Pizora thought, he could be rid of his hunters.
 
 
On his journey, he arrived in The Misty Thicket, a dense forest with an ever present fog lying lightly upon it. He traveled for some time, longer than expected, for Rivervale was not to be found. And then one night, on the night of a full moon, the fog parted and a trail of moonlight lit the way. Within hours, he was at the border of Rivervale.
 
 
It was good news, the best in a long time, but before he parted with The Misty Thicket, he was approached by a stranger in silver armor, trimmed with light blue etchings that glowed in the night. Upon his side, two matching swords.
 
 
“Pizora” he said, “You have not found yourself here by chance. It is the by the will of Luclin that you live and will now thrive. Your life and it’s many cycles have been a point of interest for our goddess, and now, in return for your safe arrival Rivervale, it is time for you take an interest in her.” And with that, Pizora felt power wash over him. He was invigorated with energy and knowledge. His eyes beamed with lunar fire as a moonbeam shined down upon him.
 
 
Accepting the gift, body, mind, and soul, the stranger kneeled and before him offered one of the swords on his side. The sword, long and curved, looked like the cross between an elegant rapier, but it was curved, almost like a scimitar. Pizora took the blade in his hand, and realized it could be used with one hand or two. With both hands, he held the blade over his head and when he did so, the moonbeam bent and swirled around the blade. In a moment of silence, there was a bright flash of lunar light and then it was gone, as was the stranger.
 
 
Pizora made his way into Rivervale, where he took up residence at The Fool’s Gold, the village inn. He spent days there wondering what was next, for nothing came to him. There was no temple or servants of Luclin here, and the knowledge that was invested in him did not include a path forward