Tezio's story is... peculiar. One would expect a half-blood from Elbion to have deep-rooted, swelling resentment for those that resented him first, but he doesn't. He's often surprised himself when trying to recall his earliest memories, already knowing how fundamentally different he was from everyone else and how futile it was to swim against the current. The only saving grace this green-skinned, knife-eared babe had was his father. His one and only family member. The Sir Rowan Sanger.

His father had a monumental affect on him. He was one of the few that looked at Tezio with kindness, eyes shone with understanding and compassion yet firm-handed in punishment and correction. The old and grizzled knight had been a former guard captain before his gallantry and decades of loyalty earned him knighthood from one of the lower houses. Despite how low his notch was on the totem pole, this reward filled Rowan with fulfillment, and little Tezio couldn't help but mimic that.

But where was mom? Tezio's father was an honest man, but he never told the truth when it came to her, if the half-blooded kiddo could even get him to talk about her. Sometimes it was a dismissive reply about clinging to her primal roots; the call of the wild forests too strong to contain her within Elbion's walls. Other occasions the question was met with a somber gaze, with Rowan ushering the boy to continue his drills. Still, it was Sir Rowan's insistence that Tezio cling to his mother's clan name. Gomst. Something to never forget.

Tezio had always wanted to be like his dad. The training came easy to him, especially after he'd been sharply kicked out of Elbion College due to a lack of magical prowess - something that still strikes a nerve with him to this day. Afforded a fairly peaceful upbringing and hardship unknown to most of Elbion's denizens. While other boys and girls collected their books and headed to school, the young half-Orc giddily tagged alongside his father as an unofficial squire; drilling in the House barracks with other guardsmen, earning more bruises than he could ever imagine and still showing up the next day with a smile.

If being a knight was good enough for dad, it was good enough for him.

His playthings were wooden swords and shields. His friends, and bullies, wore shining armor. His classroom featured straw dummies and warhorse-filled stables. His lessons were stories of legendary battles and tales of Arethil's greatest warriors. This was his life. This was what he was meant to be.

That is, until he had to kill a man. A caravan escort that was supposed to be a cakewalk, at least that was how his father made it out to be. Bandits and thieves were supposed to be greedy and callous, but never well armed and well organized. It was through their prideful arrogance that allowed them to lower their guard. Tezio can still recall the startled screams of merchant-lords as arrows zipped through the air and deafening cries of wounded plow-horses.

When the startled defenders rallied to engage in melee, the battle had already been lost. Only two souls charged into the fray, Tezio and his father. They screamed, swung in methodical, carving arcs to tear their assailants asunder but there were too many. Too chaotic the battle was that Tezio lost his focus, failing to parry a strike aimed directly at his father.

Sir Rowan Sanger lost his leg that day. A gory, painful affair that flung the half-Orc knightling into the darkest pit of enraged hatred he'd ever experienced. What followed was hazy and difficult to remember past the pounding of his own heartbeat and his father's labored breathing.

Somehow Tezio had managed to pull himself and his dad out of there, bloodied and battered beyond belief. A hastily fastened tourniquet had managed to save Sir Rowan's life, but his son was a mess. It was no wonder that the defenders of Elbion's walls met the wounded pair with such caution, especially Tezio who was covered in more blood than a butchered pig.

Despite making it out of there alive and saving the life of his own father, the Eleven's court was not convinced with the story of what transpired outside of their walls. Only two survivors and an entire caravan and its precious spoils lost to mere road-men. When Tezio expected them to discriminate against him, he found himself disappointed when they didn't. It was a matter of honor. House Knights retreating?

They deemed Sir Rowan's injury punishment enough for the failure of his duties in safeguarding and recovering precious cargo. Tezio, on the other hand, was dismissed. Not an exile so-to-speak but a firm gesture nontheless. If a knight could not be trusted to carry out their duties, they were not wanted here.

So Tezio left with nothing but the clothes on his back.

The following decade and a half were disappointingly uneventful. After his first battle, something within him changed. It hardened him. The road itself and Arethil's surprisingly treacherous expanse matured him into a well-spoken and honed warrior. He took upon countless odd jobs to earn coin and survive, got shuteye wherever he could, and did his best to treat others with the same compassion that his father had.

What's his goal? What's he searching for? Will he ever return home to see his father?

Let's find out together.