Irizati ibn Irilan ibn Iridis ibn Irizan ibn Irilas, descendent of the line of Iri the Seeker – Great Hero of the Northern Reaches of the All-Powerful Padisha Empire of Kadesh – was born where the mountains meet the desert, and the temperature can go from boiling to freezing and back within the cycle of the sun in the sky. A place where only the strongest of men survive.
The son of a Keleshite prince and a pale princess of the North, Irizati carries within his veins the blood of kings, princes and emperors. Surely, he will one day cause the sun to pause in the sky, the very earth to shake, and all men to bow in respect of his august person.

At least, that’s what was said at the announcement of his birth. But, as Irizati has discovered, Keleshites have something of a fondness for overstatement when it comes to one’s position in life.

Irizati’s mother was the 4th wife (of five) of Irilan, a fourth son of a second wife of a noble of Qadira, who was, himself, the third son of the sixth wife of the third cousin of the current Satrap’s father. He counts himself roughly one thousand seven hundred and sixty-second in line to the throne of Qadira. In approximately a year’s time, if the three weddings and twenty-six births that are expected come to pass, he’ll drop to something like two thousand nine hundred and fifty-seventh. His claim is further weakened by the fact that his mother was not Keleshite, and died a few months after his 9th birthday, having borne her husband no other children that lived.

Had he stayed in Qadira, Iri was unlikely to ever be more than a half-breed son of a minor noble. While there is a certain meritocracy in the military, the truth was, even if he proved to be the best warrior ever produced in Qadira, it was unlikely that Iri would ever rise beyond command of an outpost somewhere – at best.

But this other place – the place his mother came from – this… Lambreth, of the River Kingdoms, or even this Brevoy place were her family – his family – lived, there, in those places, he might yet make something of himself. Free of the influence of his father’s family (though never free of what it means to be Keleshite – and never wishing to be), Irizati would stand or fall on his own merits.

Packing his beloved camel, “Masoud” (“Lucky,” in the common tongue), Iri set out to the West. His destination lay North, but Iri was wise enough to know that even a half-blood Keleshite would be unlikely to be allowed free (or safe) passage through the lands of the Teldarans. West it was, and then North. His travels have taken him the better part of five years, and included the markets of Katapesh, the deserts of Osirion and Thuvia, a brieft visit to Absalom, and then to Andoran. North through the Chitterwoods (and some goblin hunting), and into the Five Kings Mountains, where a particularly nasty blizzard forced him to winter over with the dwarves (the quality of their ale, as well as the depths of the snows made for a winter that lasted closer to six months than three). From the Dwarves to the rivers of the River Kingdoms. Fortunately, by this time, Iri had gained enough information to realize that bypassing his mother’s homeland and heading to Brevoy was a much safer option. So that is what he did.

Along the way, Iri has picked up some companions, and a few of the group have traveled together for years, finding adventure (and trouble) together. The most recent trouble they found was in the wilderness of the Stolen Lands, having been attacked by bandit raiders a few months ago. A little intelligence gathering revealed that bandits have been becoming quite the problem in the area, and so the group decided to do something about it…