Rise of the Rude Lords
An elven sorcerer with a questionable lineage.
Plagued by nightmares since childhood, Variel was always a bit off. Among the elves of Sovyrian, he was an oddity. He was an orphan, left in his village by a mysterious hooded figure.
He saw life a little differently from the rest. While in conversation, he would become distracted, sometimes wondering off muttering to himself. Despite lack of attention to his studies, and his inability to retain much of what he was taught, he excelled at the arcane.
Convinced that this was the path to understanding his nightmares (and maybe even his parentage), he dove headfirst into all things magical. Unfortunately, he could never get the hang of wizardry. Until the day he shot acid from his fingertips in the middle of the market, that is. Unfortunately, he had no idea what spell he had just cast, and it certainly wasn’t in any of the scrolls or spellbooks he had read. Nonetheless, his magical powers began to take form, as if the spells he could cast were a part of his body, and not his mind.
While learning about the magical history of Varisia, Variel discovered that a small town under Magnimar’s rule had a shop that contained a special book. Not knowing how or why, he convinced himself that this book was another piece of the puzzle that was his past. And so, without saying a word, he set off for Sandpoint.