Charsel never believed her mother’s stories about her conception and birth. She always thought that it was a fairytale that she told her to hide the fact that her father, whoever his was (is?), had abandoned her because he could care less about her.
Stories of being gently caressed in her sleep by a figure that seemed to walk out of the cooking fire, sounded to be too far fetched for her. That is saying a lot, given her Tiefling heritage, one built on the premise that tieflings are the product of humans mating with demons. Ridiculous!
But then it happened. Charsel had been having recurring nightmares of her body enveloped in flame. Searing heat licking her skin. Her pulse would quicken adn fear would overtake her. She would wake up screaming, her bed aflame, her hands covered in fire. It was hard to deny the truth of her mother’s story.
She showed her mother her newfound power and proceeded to interrogate her mother for everything she could remember about her elemental lover - determined to find him - to meet her father of flames.
She got on a ship heading to The Crag, a deep gash in the earth that touches the very heart of the world, the molten core of creation, the realm of fire.