Atka eyed her new employer with intrigue. So, she thought, I am to protect and serve this man for the foreseeable future? Lord Dagult was not an impressive man to her...yet, but this haughty, young tiefling would grow with every mission's challenge. His ambition, charm, and faith in her reminded her that perhaps she could do something more significant than just be an ornament in someone else's life. There was not one moment or conversation that drove her to adventure (except perhaps the initial springboard of Lord Dagult intercepting her at the Ring of Dex...). However, over time, from 14 years old to her current age of 34 years old--she served, adventuring and protecting this one "unimpressive-to-start-and-captivating-now" man for 20 years.

"What do they want?" his wife asked as they hid inside their meager shelter. The young girl in her arms held her sobs, little Zora doing her best to be brave as her mother and father had instructed. Nomad stroked her hair as he observed the angels approaching. Two of them, maces in hand. Lesser celestials, but they'd followed him here regardless of their rank. It didn't matter if they were defying orders or not. He knew their intentions. He could smell the hate in the air; taste its presence.   "No matter what happens, keep her safe," he told Orianna, then kissed Zora's forehead. "You take care of your mother, all right my Silver Star?"   A tear slid down her cheek, but Zora nodded after holding another sob within. Nomad kissed his wife one more time, then cinched his buckler in place and drew his sword. He stepped out from their shelter in full view of the angels, both of whom stopped at once when they saw him. Their hatred remained. There would be blood this day.   "Who's orders?" he posed to the duo.   Neither of the angels responded. Instead, they parted, both circling to opposite sides of him. He growled, tensing his body as he ignored the voice in his head urging him to kill. To relish in the massacre that they both knew was inevitable. He'd not spilled angelic blood since his escape from Hell, but he knew they would always hunt him. He'd been able to evade them since finding Orianna. Until now.   "Don't make me do this," he warned them again.   Still nothing from the pair of angelic hunters. Their wings heaved, both of them closing in with weapons raised. Nomad was turning, his own, corrupted wings now manifested in a blink and lashing out, the limbs weapons in and of themselves now infused with infernal power that could tear life from any creature. He shielded himself first, taking a hard strike to his side as an errant slam broke through his defense, but then broke free, his weapon biting deep into the belly of one angel. Already past his first enemy, he turned, intercepting the pelting strikes from the next attacker and leveraging his shield against the last strike. Both wings lunged forward, piercing his foe's shoulders before his sword ripped through the angel's chest. He tore the blade free, spinning on his wounded adversary and ready to rend him limb from limb. The angel clutched his stomach on the ground as golden blood poured from the wound. Nomad stalked forward, ready to claim another soul, but he saw the eyes watching him from the hut beyond. A moment was all that was needed. With his family's help, his senses returned, and he stifled the savage urges within him instilled by the legions of Hell.   He approached the wounded angel, weapon at the ready, but his eyes meeting his foe's. "Who ordered this?"   The angel cringed, his breath faltering. "Celestia did. You will pay for your crimes, Fallen."   Nomad sighed, then growled as he gripped his sword tighter. "Is there any way I can convince you to stop?"   "No."   The cut was quick and clean to the angel's neck. The celestial died moments later, Nomad stepping between him and his family that they might be spared the grisly spectacle. All the while he ignored the laughter in his mind, though doing so took nearly all the restraint he had left within him, his body trembling from the effort. Another sigh, then he clutched his side and noted the blood forming there. He planted his sword in the ground, knelt, prayed, and offered the symbol of the Triad to the fallen as his wounds healed. Then he walked back to the hut and hugged his family.   "We have to leave," he told Orianna after she and Zora were comforted. "Pack your things, Zora. Your mother and I will help you if you need it."   Yet again, the little girl put on a brave face, sniffled once, then did as she was told. Orianna watched her for a moment, stifling her own tears that were threatening to fall, then turned back to her husband.   "We've only just started over," she lamented, grabbing his hand.   He huffed, taking a seat and wincing from the lingering pain in his side, though that was small compared to what he felt for putting his family through this again. And this time, it wasn't fiends. Angels. Heaven's retaliation would be swift and harsh. There was no other choice but to leave, but he didn't expect them to understand.   "Now you see what I am," he replied. "They'll always hunt me. Heaven and Hell. I'd just hoped we might find some peace before they found me."   She knelt before him, her hand cupping his face as she assumed a stoic demeanor for both of them. She held his gaze with hers for some time until he squeezed her hand in his. "We'll find it, my love. And I've always known what you are."   He managed to grin at that before they gathered their things. When they were ready, he had Zora and Orianna stay outside as he dragged the angels' bodies into their former home. When they were far enough away, he struck the flints together over yet another home that was now lost to him, burning the evidence and honoring the fallen in his own way. He just hoped his actions hadn't condemned the angels' souls to the 9 Hells as his had been. The deed wasn't done with the cursed blade, so there was hope. He made his way back to his wife and daughter before long, the two of them ready for his return with another embrace.   "Any ideas?" he posed to his wife.   "Orion is in Neverwinter," she replied. "Whatever life we start again, it could start there."   He nodded, then slung his daughter up and over his shoulders. She giggled as he did so, smiling for the first time in hours. The moment was short-lived, Nomad soon burdened with the truth that unless something changed, he and his family would always spend their days on the run. When he looked to Orianna, ready to speak the words, she was already speaking herself.   "You have a rare gift, my love," she told him as they walked side by side. "You know what it is to fight and not lose your way. And you're good at it."   He nodded. "Maybe. What's your point?"   "I think there are places that could use a warrior like that. People who need someone noble to stand against the monsters of this world, whatever form they take."   "That kind of work would take me from you," he replied, his eyes holding hers as they walked.   "Then come back to us," she replied, offering no more.   Her words and the events of the day were all he could ponder as they wandered toward what he hoped would be their new life.

After Kal’s town was attacked and overrun. Nathaniel, his best friend at the time, saved the town by using his powers over devils and demons. Kal was surprisingly unfazed, it's as if this was not unfamiliar to him. He was only worried about his friend Nathaniel. As he searched the town for his whereabouts among the carnage he saw him. Standing prideful and content a top a mound of bodies. His smile back at Kal gave him peace. Kal knew in that moment his life would change forever.

Sadachbia's defining moment happened in the recent past. His path for adventure really started the night he was beginning his own research. This is all detailed in my backstory as well, but without that event happening, Sadachbia probably would have lived out his days with the Stargazers instead of in the Feywild and, eventually, in Waterdeep with the group. He was forced to change his trajectory after the accident and his life was thrust forward 100 years. It's also when he "changed" and started to get those strange feelings like he wasn't alone.