The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myths are long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Fifth Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above the the town of Sorsogon. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

The Gambler was born and raised in Sorsogon. Being branded as a bum, he learned to tell stories at an early age, when it became clear that he needed an alternative to getting caught and punished for all the "stuff" he did. He was further encouraged by friends who practiced a kind of conversational Darwinism, where the weak and the slow were gleefully torn to bits by the sharp and the strong.

He is currently the Commander of the Shen an Calhar - The Band of the Red Hand, an elite military organization whose sole purpose is to rid the world of the Forsaken, Darkfriends, Trollocs, and other creatures of the DarkOne. He is also a Mage-type mobile Pilot, a Ta'varen, a freelance writer, a wielder of the One Power, an Ashan an Asha'man [High Guardian/ Sword of the Guardian] and a fellow student of war who lives with two beautiful screenpal pets named MakMak [cat] and BadzMeru [penguin?], and two psychotic herding dogs. He longs for the days when writers were paid by the word,or at least, he wishes he had a dime for every time his friends had asked, "Are you still talking?"