The memories of my youth and past are obscured behind gates that cannot open. For in many, we have secrets kept in heart and soul, that ever waits. And for me, it is the same, the journeys of yore kept in the abyss of the mind.

But it is said, and it is true, that I came from the Borderlands. A village of minor import near Fal Dara Keep. But the wounds have not been healed by time, and so I shant speak of the trials there, for they fester and burn like an infection.

But one night, a man came riding through Amador's North Gates. That man was me. My life left behind, all remnants kept as far as the land would allow. That man came with the bandaged stump of a right hand, blood still crusted around the wound. The name he took Quorin Raisse, a new avatar of his being, but he also found the name Halfhand from those he met.

And thus Halfhand was born from the Mists, and he found an obscure life in Amador. The time was crossed with healing and living, but much of those memories are doused in an untouched moment.

Till days or years have past, the man that was I drew closer to the bastion that loomed from Amador proper, the Fortress of Light. And in time, I found, or perhaps I shalt say refound, the Light. And in the Light, I was whole once more.

I was reborn into the Light, in the war of Andor and the Children of the Light. And to that moment forth, I knew...know...with lucid clarity, I am a Child of the Light