Lucky may be a "wizard" on paper but he acts more like a bard. And doesn't really know how spells or the gods work. He knows what works once and practices that to perfection so he can never forget it. Writing down the process into his journal. Lucky is often just that, lucky; to run into something nice, get away with things when he shouldn't, or live to see another day. He doesn't understand how these things happen just like his ever present isolation or the spells that activate when he calls. He's just that, lucky. That all anyone ever called him anyway.

In his past he has worked as a tavern keep but often times he finds the taverns moves on without him or he just wakes up one day and everyone else is gone. He's grown accustomed to this lonely life the only way he knows how, selling drinks to the next bloke he finds in front of himself. He took to adventuring because it pays bar tabs, buys wine, and offers a chance at his next, ever moving tavern visit. There are two things he knows go wherever he ends up, even when items and gold disappear. His lucky stone hanging around his neck and the shirt on his back, have never left without him.

Gildas, as far as he knows is his birthplace. But often he feels he has drifted to the land of dreams and nightmares, drakkengrim. A place he's only heard story of. Yet something deeply rooted in him is drawn to this place.