I was born in the year 725, the eldest son of the first family of the freehold of Greyhawk. We were second only to the house of Gasol within the walls of our city. I grew up in the faith of Tyr, and was educated in the ways of our nobility, the ways of the knight. My life was planned out for me from the beginning, I was to spread the faith of Tyr, and one day rule the city, for Nerof Gasol had no heir. All these plans came crashing down one faithful day in the year 746.

I had been out of Greyhawk on church buisiness, and had met Sean Cambridge and Manara, a traveling warrior and a ranger respectively. We had ran into some trouble on the road, and were returning to my home for a rest. Upon arriving at my manor, we discovered that my weasel of a younger brother had killed my mother, and was involved in a plot with the barbaric Graywolf clan to supplant Nerof Gasol as the city's ruler. I was ambused and captured while confronting my brother, and would have been killed had Cambridge not came to my rescue. He held off Christian Graywolf for a few crucial minutes while we escaped and alerted the temple what was going on.

Seeing the jig was up, Christian called for an all out assault on the city by the mercenaries he had been smuggling inside the walls for months. The temples attempted to fight back, but Tyr in his infinite wisdom abandoned us in our hour of need, and the Graywolves succeeded in sacking the city. We held out long enough to get Cambridge then escaped to the outside.

Once outside, the priests of Tyr chose to retreat to the west, to the Norse homeland of our forefathers, and bade me to join them, but I, seeing Tyr for the disloyal bastard he was, renounced my faith, and swore to see Greyhawk free from Graywolf hands.

I was a dispirited wretch as Cambridge and I made our way south, seeking a way to finance an army (at least I was, Sean was seeking finance period). We met a couple of women near a city on the outskirts of the Black Forest (Helga and Martika), and agreed to travel with them to an ancient crypt that Martika had discovered. We survived the rigors of the underground tomb of the ancient Dragonlords, and returned richer and more experienced. I also acquired the full plate Dragonlord armor that became my trademark.

We continued south, heading towards the Mordensian duchy of Andora, and along the way, I met a traveling priest who introduced me to the faith of Horax, god of vengence. This, I thought, was a god with a theology I could agree with, payback. Here was a god who would not abandon his followers in their hour of need (or so I thought). I converted to the faith, and quickly resumed my priestly studies, all the while still seeking a way to free my homeland.

Helga, Martika, Sean, and I spent some time in Andora, where I hired a squire, Hogun, and met another woman who joined our band (and me in bed), Freyla. After some time in Andora, we ended up in the twin cities of Zorn and Arions. Zorn was the commoners city, seperated by stout walls from the city of Arions which was reserved for the nobility and their retainers. Though I was nobly born, I had no status in Mordensia, so we took lodging in Zorn in an inn called the Green Griffon.

There, I met the proprieter of the inn, a man named Rocky Guandu, who was very helpful in introducing me to Thom Cleveers, the son of an important Mordensian Count. I told Thom my story, and he agreed to set up a meeting with his father for me. I had by this time realized that I would not be able to raise the money to save my city alone, and the Mordensians (being the largest and most powerful empire on the continent) were my best hope for seeing my city free of the Graywolfs before they destroyed it completely.

More to come. Return to the Hall of Lords