Post by kff on Aug 3, 2006 7:10:57 GMT -5
A young and brash wizard, Zarlon was born and raised in Marsember. At the age of 14 he became a tailors apprentice. Always thinking what he was meant to become more than a simple tailor, Zarlon spend most of his leisure time at the docks admiring the royal army's grand fleet.
After almost two years under the tutelage of the tailor Gregor, Zarlon came to realize that Gregor was also a mage of minor power. Begging Gregor to teach him the secrets of the weave, Zarlon soon learned his first cantrip. Thus began the first steps towards understanding the full meaning of the weave.
The next seven years, Zarlon studied magecraft, but not at the rate other mages would. His master was not an experienced wielder of the arcane arts, and thus could not teach Zarlon what he needed.
One evening they both sat down enjoying supper, when Gregor asked Zarlon what he wanted out of life. ".... I want to sail with the fleet." Zarlon replied with a mumble. "Serve the crown... and the people of Cormyr" he added.
Gregor took a deep breath. "then my teaching is not adequate" he replied. "eat your meal, lad. for tomorrow you set out in search of your goal. I can teach you no more."
Zarlon looked at his old mentor. "but..." he began, but soon realized to truth of it. "....i understand"
That evening none of them spoke a single word to eachother. Not because they were angry, but because no words where needed. They both knew that if Zarlon was to serve the crown, he could not stay in Marsember.
Early next morning Zarlon and Gregor stood infront the Gregor's shop. "Search out the war wizards, lad. They can teach you far more than i would ever be able to." Gregor said with a whisper, while laying a comforting hand on Zarlon's shoulder. "... and who knows, one day you might join them" he added with a content smile.
Zarlon adjusted his bags, looked up towards the clouded sky and nodded. "i promise, i will serve the crown and Cormyr. And who knows... you might even be proud of me"
With that, the two, master and apprentice, said their goodbyes.
After almost two years under the tutelage of the tailor Gregor, Zarlon came to realize that Gregor was also a mage of minor power. Begging Gregor to teach him the secrets of the weave, Zarlon soon learned his first cantrip. Thus began the first steps towards understanding the full meaning of the weave.
The next seven years, Zarlon studied magecraft, but not at the rate other mages would. His master was not an experienced wielder of the arcane arts, and thus could not teach Zarlon what he needed.
One evening they both sat down enjoying supper, when Gregor asked Zarlon what he wanted out of life. ".... I want to sail with the fleet." Zarlon replied with a mumble. "Serve the crown... and the people of Cormyr" he added.
Gregor took a deep breath. "then my teaching is not adequate" he replied. "eat your meal, lad. for tomorrow you set out in search of your goal. I can teach you no more."
Zarlon looked at his old mentor. "but..." he began, but soon realized to truth of it. "....i understand"
That evening none of them spoke a single word to eachother. Not because they were angry, but because no words where needed. They both knew that if Zarlon was to serve the crown, he could not stay in Marsember.
Early next morning Zarlon and Gregor stood infront the Gregor's shop. "Search out the war wizards, lad. They can teach you far more than i would ever be able to." Gregor said with a whisper, while laying a comforting hand on Zarlon's shoulder. "... and who knows, one day you might join them" he added with a content smile.
Zarlon adjusted his bags, looked up towards the clouded sky and nodded. "i promise, i will serve the crown and Cormyr. And who knows... you might even be proud of me"
With that, the two, master and apprentice, said their goodbyes.