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Shamir was born to a Thayan slave girl named Nefertari. His father was a powerful Thayan mage, a
powerful member of the School of Evocation. Such a union’s child was doomed to death or life as a
slave, unacknowledged by the father lest he showed some aptitude for sorcery. As such, fathers who
themselves were maages were often present at these births to see what merit the child might have for
them. Sadly for Shamir, his birth was to not only be one of disappointment but disgust. Not only did the
child not exhibit any sort of aura for magical aptitude at birth, but his physical frailty and weakness was
apparent to all. In a fit of anger, his father ordered that the “failure” be disposed of and that all involved
remain silent of his humiliation under penalty of death.

Weakened though she was from his birth, his mother cried out for mercy for her child, but it fell on the
deaf ears of his father. Fortunately for her, however, the midwives present were moved to sympathy and
preceded to throw only the wadded and stained bedding to the flames of Kossuth. The midwives hid the
child while they nursed Nefertari back to health, and the eldest of them concocted a means by which
mother and son might escape Thay Mount. The midwife’s grandson was a smuggler, who sometimes
ran goods too and from Thesk and Aglarond down the waters of the River Umber. Arrangements were
made to take Nefertari and the newborn Shamir out of Thay, and soon the two began the perilous
voyage.

Along the way, the smuggler’s boat was accosted by a giant river serpent, and capsized near the
Dragonjaw Mountains in the Tannath Gap. The mother and child would have died along the muddy
banks of the Umber had they not been saved by a passing dragon. Many dragons dwell in the nearby
mountains and the silver dragon Hunzetilscamydion-“Hansel” had spotted the two as he flew back to
his lair from a hunting excursion. He dropped the still unconscious duo off at the Monastery of the
Illuminated Hand; a citadel where monks of Shining Hand, a monastic order devoted to Azuth dwelt.
Revived by the curative magic of the monks, the two finally found a safe place they could settle.
Nefertari began raising her son, helping out as she could in the monastery, and eventually becoming a
sister there herself.

Young Shamir was the only child among the monks, the brothers and sisters there having sworn oaths
of celibacy as long they lived and trained at the monastery. Many of the monks dotted on the boy, and
though they tried as they might to cure his great physical frailty, their potions, prayers, and poultices all
proved ineffective. The child’s mind proved as keen as his body weak, and even as little more than a
babe he consumed all the tales and knowledge the monks saw fit to teach him. His greatest weakness
was his fear, and he was plagued by nightmares even as the monks struggled to teach him the mental
discipline to overcome them.

As the child grew, the head monk, an old master known as Blue Fire, ordered he be trained in the art of
wizardry and arcane learning, reasoning that if his body could not be made strong, than his mind might
prove all the more formidable. Shamir began formal wizard training when he was but five years of age,
an act all but unheard of, and the monks began to wonder if the child was not a sign sent by Azuth
himself.
All went well with the young prodigy for three years. At age 8, the boy had just formed his first cantrip
when a great power erupted from him. Within moments the entire monastery was blanketed in
nightmarish illusions born of the inhabitants own suppressed fears. Several monks were badly injured,
and many shaken despite their great discipline before Blue Fire and the senior monks destroyed the
phantasmal landscape and reached the crying child at its heart. It was apparent now that Shamir had
been born a sorcerer, his power seeming strongest in illusions. His great talent and early training
prematurely caused his power to surge forth uncontrolled.

In response to the child’s outburst, his training was modified and intensified. Great efforts to instill in
him a sense of self control and discipline were made. The monastery had trained countless wizards, but
very few sorcerers, and certainly none that manifested as dramatically as did Shamir.

The boy struggled for the next four years. It became apparent that his powers lay in the dark depths of
magic, the manifestations of which both fueled and were in turn fueled by his terror, a horrifying
feedback loop developed. When he turned twelve years old, a time most sorcerers first blossom into
their might, his powers flared once more. This time two monks were killed by the ensuing horde of
nightmarish illusions; his own mother gravely injured and driven to near madness. When he was at last
subdued and the terror of what he had done sank in, the boy fled the monastery. The monks searched
for him, for they knew he did not act of malice, and could become a great threat to himself and others,
yet the whispers that fueled the boy’s fears and terrors urged him not to return to them.

It was the last time he ever sat foot in monastery of the Illuminated Hand.

After he departed the monastery, a strange thing began to occur. As he huddled starving in the caverns,
the whispers and voices he had heard became clearer, their message more distinct. They were not the
urgings of some terrible darkness, but cries for help. The boy had a vision, a vision that shaped the man
he was to become. In it he saw a great darkness creep over the world, and many people crying for help.
Colorless flames burned all creation, but then the darkness receded. A gentler more comforting
darkness came, one that sent the shadow back to its proper place, allowing the people to see the light
once more. The flames extinguished, and the world was safe. He had a vision of cavern deep in the
mountains, and knew he must go there.

For many weeks searched for the way to the cavern among the roots of the Dragonjaws, steered by
whispers and visions. They guided him not only across the dangerous mountainsides, but steered him
clear of danger. Sometimes he was cloaked in mist, other times he became completely invisible. He
lived on the fungus, berries, and other food stuffs the voices led him too; sometimes catching small
animals and eating them raw.

At last he came the cavern mouth from his visions. He descended into the darkness, led on by the
shadows which seemed to twine about and embrace him. Down into the roots of the mountain he went,
until he came at last to a place where strange creatures dwelt. This place was Leirtolvindolia, a
svirneblin city devoted to the deity Leira, a human goddess long thought dead. Here among the deep
gnomes the boy at last found his place and his purpose. He was to become the herald of Leira, the Lord
of Illusions; and usher her back into the living world.
Shamir is searching for the Phantasmagoria, a puzzle box that holds the trapped goddess Leira. Her
entrapment was caused by her mother Shar who desired her daughter’s power over illusions and secrets
for herself. She trapped Leira inside a mystical puzzle box crafted by Gond, and then split that box into
3 pieces scattering it across Faerun. Shamir has 1 piece of the puzzle box obtained from the gnomes of
Leirtolvindolia, and is currently attempting to obtain a second piece from the Elven Queen of the
Yuirwood.