Kirklan Trem was raised on the streets of Bleakbourne, an uninteresting trading town on the coast. His mother raised Kriklan and his brothers on her own, and the family often relied on theft to keep food in their stomachs. However, Kriklan suffered from a hunger beyond food. He craved knowledge in all its aspects, and as a child was known for stealing any and all books left unguarded. He taught himself (and any other vagrants who would listen) how to read and write, and was often seen with a small following of younger urchins for whom Krik was their only teacher.
One day, Krik attempted to steal a particularly impressive looking tome from a wealthy merchant, unaware that the merchant was brother to the local guard captain. When Krik was caught red-handed, he was thrown into a small foul-smelling cell to rot. However, Krik had only been there for a few days when his liberator arrived.
Elenthil Nornan, an affluent noble with a respectable magical prowess, had heard from his shining estate far from the dark and polluted streets of Kirk’s birth, of a thief who chose knowledge over wealth. With a few words whispered in the right ears and a fair amount of gold, Elenthil freed Krik from his imprisonment, and he took Krik and his entire family to live on his estate, on the provision Krik become his ward and student.
Krik spent the remainder of his childhood in Elenthil’s vast library, devouring book after book on every imaginable subject. And when a book’s information was lacking, Krik set up strange and arcane experiments to further his knowledge.
When Krik came of age, and with a small loan from his benefactor, he set up his own shop of magical curios in the town. While it was not particularly impressive a shop, the workshop behind it provided Krik with space for his various and complex experiments.
And that is how things remained for decades. Krik’s emporium grew in both size and renown, becoming a regular stop off for adventuring parties to stock up on potions and magical knickknacks. However, Krik’s thirst for a deeper understanding of magic led him to carry out increasingly dangerous experiments.
One night, a particularly poorly thought out spell resulted in an explosion that levelled Krik’s workshop. Krik himself was the only survivor, losing a couple fingers on his left hand before he was able to shield himself from the blast. The resulting blue-green fire engulfed the town, and hundreds perished or were forever scarred by chaotic magical effects as the weave itself was stretched to breaking point. When the angry mob turned up at Krik’s in the morning, the wizard was long gone.
Krik walked the world for years, searching for hidden knowledge and lost lore. With the dreadful events of Bleakbourne constantly on his mind, he seeks safer paths to his prize. Now, he travels to Obsidian Bay, following stories of strange goings on and mysteries just waiting to be solved.