Okay, in very brief point form.

Child of average lower class family. Father died in war when I was 9. Mother raised us on his pension and some sewing work in one of the lower areas. 2 sisters and 2 brothers, though both brothers (older) also dead in war.

When I was 16, sent and signed up for the Breland military. Showed aptitude with magic so was enrolled in Breland battlemagic academy.

Showed incredible promise, especially with Evocation and specifically the para-element of lightning, but was held back some by lack of previous education and impatience to join brothers on the front.

Eventually was attached to 23rd light infantry platoon, known informally as the Rapids in reference to both their swift savagery in combat as well as a certain wildness and what some would call lack of discipline.

Served 18 months with the rapids gaining in experience. As all specialists (Wizards, War Priests etc) I was technically an officer, however unlike most war wizards I was given a field promotion to the rank of lieutenant as I had a good head for tactics and wasn’t stuck up like most specialist officers. Became very close with many of the men, including the husband of one of my sisters, who transferred to the unit to “keep and eye on me” for my sister. Earned the unofficial nickname Sparky because of my fondness for lightning spells.

About a year before the official end of the war, there were many minor increases in hostilities; partly just people getting their last shots in. We were patrolling the Thranish border on a gloomy foggy day, separated by about 1km from the main company when a Thranish company with a weather witch decided to have some fun with us. The fog was thickened into a soup and the Thranes started ambushing our platoons up and down the riverbank.

Long story short, after a brief but bloody skirmish, we all got turned around. We started off at a quick pace to try and rejoin the main company…in the wrong direction.

By the time we got clear of the weather and got our bearings, we realized we were 100 men, give or take, about 10 clicks inside enemy territory; likely with an enemy company between us and the border. We decided to head further inland and try to work ourselves around.

It didn’t work out too well. Dodging larger bodies of troops, and taking out scouting parties as we moved erratically around the countryside took its toll on everyone. Every time we got close to the Breland border, something would happen to drive us further back into Thrane. Weeks turned into 6 longs months.

What happened next was purely chance, though it wasn’t spun that way. We finally managed to make a clean break back towards the border. When we passed back into Breland we though it was all over. Our scouts however, reported that in the valley just south of us, a small fortified border town was being besieged by a company from Thrane. Their thick walls and terrain were holding back the Thranish for now, but the Thranes had two war wizards and a small company of warforged at their core; it was only a matter of time before they got through.

We didn’t know why there were no Breland troops there, or if there were some coming, but the way those wizards were working on the walls around the portcullis, flaming any archer silly enough to take a crack at them, it was only going to be a day or two before they got through. Scouts estimated the town had maybe 3000 people in it.

Understand, we weren’t looking for death per say. We were just all worn a little thin of running and hiding, and there were a whole bunch of people going to die tomorrow or the day after if we didn’t do something. So our Captain gives us his plan at night, big group meeting, which was weird. After we heard it, we were all silent for a long while. Eventually, someone got up and started getting ready, and that was that.

It wasn’t much of a plan really. The Thranes were all clumped together near the walls of the town, seeing as how the town had no wizard. They had scouts, but they were watching for reinforcements to come from Breland, not the Thranish hill behind them.

We didn’t go for honor either. When we confirmed the wizards and the Thranish Major were tucked in their tents, we crept up to the edge of their camp and I lofted a lazy ball of lightning into the center.

That’s when things got a little crazy.

To the Thranes credit, it didn’t take long to get organized, but a few balls of lightning can kill a lot of folk when they happen to be clustered close together to ward off the evening chill.

The rushed up the hill. We fought like demons. The town garrison to their credit launched a sorti from behind when they saw what was happening. It was still about 8-1 odds, even after I ran out of lightning to throw around.

We were butchered to a man, holding the higher ground, trying to make it count. I still remember with vivid clarity the warforged fist that crashed into my skull, killing me. Or maybe it was the sword in the chest. Whatever.

Later I learned that we had in fact, done enough. The Captain who was next in line to the Thranish Major panicked, thinking we might be an advanced guard and beat it back for Thrane. The townsfolk proclaimed us heroes and sent our bodies back to Sharn with word of what happened.

The Breland military elite didn’t want to look like they were caught with their pants down; plus there is always the need for heroes in a war weary land. There was parades, speeches, heartfelt and grandiose statements about the greatness of the Breland military and courage of the small unit who volunteered for a special black ops mission to safeguard the border from an insane Thrane Major out for blood.

Yeah, I almost laughed when I heard it too.

Anyway, as a special reward to these heroes, there was a big ceremony where Phthaso, the waddling high priest of the Host tried to raise the Captain “mastermind of victory” and his “storm of justice” (that would be me) from the dead. Understand it wasn’t really expected to work. Usually even if Dol Dorn comes to an understanding with the Keeper about these things or however that works, veterans don’t usually want another crack at it. The Captain sure didn’t. I don’t think I did either to be honest, but then last thing I remember before waking up was feeling like I was riding one of my own lightning bolts, and not by choice either.

After the shock wore off, they gave me a medal and a huge reward, most of which they quietly took back later to pay for the components of the spell they used. By that time, the war was basically over.

Fastforward.

My sister hates me, at least sometimes. She blames me for her husbands death; I guess she was just sad I was dead too until I had the gaul to be raised from the dead. She is trying to raise my neice on her owe, but has no source of income except her husbands pension. I take care of them as best as I can.

Work is hard to find for a veteran these days. I’m not really strong enough for heavy labor. I can’t even learn most of the spells I could charge for these days, charms and illusions always being beyond me. Plus I’m a little bit..twitchy.

Ever since the 6 months from hell and my subsequent resurrection, I haven’t been quite right. Sometimes little sparks dance across my eyes. It looks strange and blurs my vision for a second when it happens, which is not unfrequently. Those lines of lightning sometimes go across various other parts of my body too, making me twitch a bit. ‘Course, I’m also just regular twitchy.

About a month after I came back to life I ran out of money. I tried to get work various places, but my physical twitches and lack of skills other than frying things made it tough. Eventually a tavern owner gave me a bouncer job on the thought that prevention was better than having to throw people out.

I could say I had one too many (which happened not infrequently those days), or that it was too loud and crowded, or that I though he was reaching for a knife, but the truth is I just flipped. See there was this tough guy. Young. Had definitely one too many trying to get a little to fresh with a serving girl. I told him to push off. He asked me what I would do if he didn’t. Sneering at me. Followed that with a comment to his buddy about how all vets he had seen around here were pussies. Next thing I know he is against the far wall, a smoking hole in his chest. I look down and see the lightning still around my hands.

I spent about a week in the clink. Officials weren’t sure what to do with me seeing as I was a war hero and all, so they just sat on it. Looked like they were going to sit on it forever.

Scum walked in; that’s what I call him in my head. Pimp, extortionist and general bad guy. Had a thing for hiring veterans as his tough guys. Said he could spring me legally if I agreed to work for him. Implied what might end up happening to my niece and sister if left to fend for themselves. Offered good money. What else could I do.

So that’s where I am now. I do sorta bad things for a bad guy (though he knows better than to ask me to kill or maim someone decent, I’ve been in a few scrapes with not so decent sorts). Mostly I’m just for show anyway. Lightning, evil grin etc. Pays the bills okay and lets me keep my niece in food and cloths.

Just trying to piece my life together. Lonely without the boys I had come to know as family. Future doesn’t look so bright, but you hold on to what hope you can and look to the future…after all, maybe I’m here for a reason.