Born 1356 DR the year of the worm, Clyve Pearce was the product of a veteran soldier and a fest hall girl's union, ultimately unplanned for and unwanted by either. This was of little incident however as His father met his demise during Lashan’s War and his mother died just after childbirth, leaving the Infant Clyde to be raised and cared for by the Essembran orphanage. His stay there was brief however as when he came to the age of 10 he was sent off to work as a page under Lord Ilmeth Wyvernblade who had assumed stewardship over battledale following Aencar the mantled king’s assassination. Clyve was a diligent servant of his lord, perhaps feeling he owed him a debt of fealty, for it was at Ilmeth's behest a young Clyde was taught to read and write, of history, figures and etiquette. As Clyve came to an age where it was no longer appropriate for him to act as page, it was requested by Ilmeth that he become an enlisted man in 'The Lord's Men', the local Essembran Militia. Clyve secretly held the hope that for his years of service he would see a steady rise through the ranks, eventually earning a place among Lord Ilmeth's personal guard. These hopes lessened over the years as he was repeatedly passed over for promotion and retained the lowly rank of Private throughout his entire career. This however was the only calling Clyve had ever known... service, and at the very least it kept him fed. After finishing a shift one evening Clyve as he so often had done, was heading to The Watchful Eye, a local tavern which was commonly a haunt of enlisted men in the hopes of grabbing a quiet meal. As he strolled a dense fog rolled in so thick was it Clyve could scarcely see a hand in front of his face, and like so many of the core's inhabitants he found himself here after his wanderings. His time in this world thus far has been spent coming to terms with the fact that he no longer wears the mantle of service, his life being for the first time, his own.
