Post by antimatter on Jun 5, 2007 17:10:38 GMT -5
In light of recent events, I have decided to keep a journal, so others may know my story when I am no longer around to tell it, or in the unfortunate event that my memory should fail. So I, Eberk, begin.
I remember my early years only slightly. I was born and raised in Ironspur, in the northern Galena mountains, in the country of Damara. My clan was rather successful at crafting what others mined and found. Tailors, blacksmiths, and jewelers were the sorts of professions we favored, and my father was an especially accomplished blacksmith. I was quickly recognized as a prodigy, and many of the clan wished to train me, and my father allowed me to explore various trades, though he certainly was more pleased when I was learning some basics of blacksmithing. Eventually, however, each of these professions bored me. They were too simple, too static.
However, this is when I learned of Ilmater. Though most of my clan worshiped Moradin, Dumathoin, and other such dwarven gods, my parents worshiped Ilmater. I've never learned why they decided to do this, but I can only guess that he or some of his worshipers deeply effected their lives. In any case, they taught me of the martyr god, and I took these words to heart. It is a good thing I did, as the next years of my life would hardly be easy. My faith in Ilmater helped me to push through those difficult years.
Then I saw magic. A small group of Svirfneblin had entered Ironspur to sell some of their goods. While demonstrating what their products could do, I watched with fascination as sparks flew from wands, arcane words spoke thunder, and fire burst from the hands of these practitioners. And I watched as every last dwarf stood completely uninterested. Though the Svirfneblin were welcome, they were ignored, as the normal dwarven attitude towards magic was demonstrated. I was the only one interested, and as they packed away their goods for a while, I approached them, and asked them about what they had just demonstrated.
They found the idea of a dwarf interested in magic to be a rather humorous thing, and said that I would be welcome to join them if I wished, learning their techniques. Of course, I had to get the permission of my clan first. This was surprisingly easy. My father, though reluctant, allowed me to go with them. I suspect he had two major reasons. First of all, he had been letting me try other professions, so to be fair, he had to let me try the path of magic as well. Second, I'm sure he believed that I'd become bored with it, like I did everything else. Only, as a normal dwarf, my father had no idea of how complicated and intricate magic is.
I went with the Svirfneblin, and they took me to a community of a few thousand. They took me to their elders, who discussed what to do with me. They accepted me, doubtless curious as to how well a dwarf, normally considered (and rightfully so) to be distrustful of magic, could do as a wizard. They trained me in the art for forty long years. I learned of the schools of magic, but everything I learned was through the viewpoint of an illusionist, as the Svirfneblin especially favor that school. I also learned to speak both undercommon (for dealing with the Duerger that sometimes came to trade, though I very much disliked doing so), and gnome, as the Svirfneblin were far more comfortable speaking in that language. In addition, draconic was very common, even here, because of it's strong connections to magic. Many of the more complicated lectures were held in draconic, so I had to learn that as well, though it took me a while longer.
Perhaps I am biased, but I believe illusion to be the most versatile school. Evocation is great for burning things, and abjuration may be good to keep things from burning, but Illusion can do both of these, as long as the wizard is skilled and clever enough to trick the target into believing the effect is real. This is the real power of Illusion. If it can be imagined, it can be perceived. And if it can be perceived, it can be deadly, protective, deceptive, or revealing. Indeed, the popular thought of the Svirfneblin was that the others schools were really just subschools of illusion, which have become so reinforced by common use that they were perceived as separate schools. And, as was taught, and I believe, perception is fact. Don't get me wrong, someone that I can't see still exists, because they perceive themselves. When they fail to do that, they die. This also leads to the purpose of dreams, as a way of perceiving ourselves while we sleep, but I've a little more to say before returning to my past.
One of the long term exercises I was given to make me understand this, was to manifest a thought construct, also known as a familiar. I had to imagine something into existence. More than that, I had to make it perceive and understand itself. I started by simply imagining something constantly stalking me, following me wherever I went. Before long, I managed to feel watched, no matter where I was or what I was doing. This is how I knew I was succeeding. From then, I started to imagine glimpses of a black streak in the shadows, at the edge of my eyesight, and soon began to be able to follow those movements. I imagined a being fast and powerful, sleek and strong. And over time, when I imagined those glimpses, I imagined more and more. I started to see how it would, seeing myself from where these sightings would be situated. I began to think of myself in its terms, as a companion, a friend, and as something other than what I (or it, rather) was. I continued, soon thinking little thoughts like "That rock is a good hiding place" or "I'm glad I'm not as stumpy-limbed as my dwarven companion". In time, these all condensed, and one day, as I was walking towards my class, this being jumped into open sight. It's sleek, powerfully muscled form had been clearly defined, and stood in front of me a panther, nearly as tall as myself, and with a perfect balance. We looked into each-others eyes, and knew each-other. As I met him like this, he told me his name, which I had left undefined, as the final test of sentience. And he was Larx.
Since then, I know he follows me around, easily called, and willing to help. He is usually hiding, to avoid trouble, and indeed, it is rather easy for him to do so, likely due to how he was created. I have forged a mental link with him which has proven remarkably useful. I love Larx, and know that as long as I am safe, so is he. And as I am safe as long as he is, we are very much reliant on each-other. Whenever he has to flee and hide in combat, I feel his pain and his loss, and at times it's almost crushing. I know he will always be there for me, though... even if he doesn't always show the appropriate respect. "Stumpy-limbed dwarven companion" indeed...
The final lesson I was taught was on the morality of magic. By now I had learned of spells such as protection from evil and similar effects, and what they implied regarding good, evil, and the like. As mentioned previously, I believe, as I was taught, that perception is everything. Is robbing graves evil? Only if it is perceived as such. However, spells such as these seem to contradict this answer, but they are not mutually exclusive. For example, cold-blooded murder is seen as evil, and people who regularly do it must therefore also be evil. That is, nothing, magic included is good or evil. Instead, evil is defined by perception, like everything else. Being that embody these concepts, such as devils, or celestials (in the case of good) also change along with these concepts. Naturally, these take so long to change that such changes wouldn't be seen, even in the lifetimes of dragons.
Obviously, I surpassed their expectations, being able to cast a few cantrips at times (even if only unreliably so) and they recommended that I continue my training with an elven enchanter that they sometimes dealt with. Curious as to what exactly "enchantment" was, I accepted, and was sent off as an apprentice to an elven wizard for twenty more years.
Well, they had neglected to tell me that this particular elf refused to speak the common tongue. He spoke only Elven, a new language to me. So again, I had to tediously learn a language. After about 10 years, I was finally able to communicate with him in his own tongue. One of the first things I learned was of a war taking place back in my homeland, and I had to make a decision. Would I go back and help my kin against the hordes of Vaasa, under the Witch-king's command, or stay here for the remaining ten years of my apprenticeship. I thought long and hard, but decided that abandoning my position here would be betraying myself and those who had supported me. In addition, I knew that my skill son the front lines would hardly be useful, and my magic was only beginning to develop enough to use a few first circle spells unreliably. I would be more of a hindrance than a help to my kin, so I simply hoped for their welfare.
Of course, I still had little idea of anything he was talking about as regards magic. Eventually I learned that enchantment was the school of controlling minds. This disturbed me, as during my years in the underdark, we learned about (and once, were ambushed by) a so called "mind flayer". They crush a person's will and abuse it. To me, that is what enchantment was and still is: an abomination, a theft of free will.
The difference between illusion and enchantment is that enchantment controls one's will, removing their freedom, while illusion gives the person the choice and chance to ignore it, maintaining free will. I can see how enchantment may have broken off from Illusion at some point, as I imagine that some apprentice of that great school of magic decided that it was too indirect or too difficult, and that without direct power over someone's mind, you can't change their perceptions. Enchanters seem to subscribe to the idea of "You can't change a person's perception, so change the person." Again, though, I have lost focus.
I spent the next 10 years listening to this elf bark about why enchantment was the best school, but experiencing the opposite viewpoint has shown me a great many things. In my years with him, I learned that elves are frail, sickly little things. In addition, he kept saying that elves make the best wizards, due to their strong magical affinity. What he never understood is that dwarves have the strongest magical affinity of all. Our resistance to magic proves this, much like a dragon's resistance to magic is tightly bound to how much magic it is capable of using. I theorize that this is because of the strong magical currents that surround us. Therefore, Dwarves, not elves, are better wizards. I suspect it is merely my people's attitude towards magic that prevents it from being a popular choice.
An attitude which was made very clear to me, when I returned home. Or rather, tried to. When the other dwarves learned that I had actually given myself to magic, they shunned me. Whereas the Svirfneblin were merely ignored, I was shunned. There were a number of reasons for this. First and foremost was likely the recent war with the witch-king. Though he, along with his vile armies of undead, hobgoblins, orcs, giants, and the like were defeated, it came at a tremendous cost. Much of Damara was weakened, and the war-torn nation was in a bad spot. The recently crowned king, Gareth Dragonsbane (who had defeated the witch-king with some help from others) was doing well rebuilding, but the scars of war were still visible everywhere. I suspect they also disliked that I didn't come back to help them fight the war. Finally, I was a wizard, and a dwarf. My kin saw this as a betrayal of their traditions, while I saw it as a fulfillment of our destiny.
Long story short, I was forced to leave town. The only people there that weren't hostile towards me were my parents. I'm glad that they allowed me to take this path, and I intend to make them proud. I spent the next several years wandering, passing through Impiltur and the Dalelands, relying on Larx's hunting abilities to get my food, and relying on his companionship in general.
Finally, I arrived at the borders of Cormyr. I had heard things about this nation, and decided that this was a place that adventurers could live. And so, Larx and I entered the country. Although, to be honest, I doubt anyone saw Larx. He's like that...
I remember my early years only slightly. I was born and raised in Ironspur, in the northern Galena mountains, in the country of Damara. My clan was rather successful at crafting what others mined and found. Tailors, blacksmiths, and jewelers were the sorts of professions we favored, and my father was an especially accomplished blacksmith. I was quickly recognized as a prodigy, and many of the clan wished to train me, and my father allowed me to explore various trades, though he certainly was more pleased when I was learning some basics of blacksmithing. Eventually, however, each of these professions bored me. They were too simple, too static.
However, this is when I learned of Ilmater. Though most of my clan worshiped Moradin, Dumathoin, and other such dwarven gods, my parents worshiped Ilmater. I've never learned why they decided to do this, but I can only guess that he or some of his worshipers deeply effected their lives. In any case, they taught me of the martyr god, and I took these words to heart. It is a good thing I did, as the next years of my life would hardly be easy. My faith in Ilmater helped me to push through those difficult years.
Then I saw magic. A small group of Svirfneblin had entered Ironspur to sell some of their goods. While demonstrating what their products could do, I watched with fascination as sparks flew from wands, arcane words spoke thunder, and fire burst from the hands of these practitioners. And I watched as every last dwarf stood completely uninterested. Though the Svirfneblin were welcome, they were ignored, as the normal dwarven attitude towards magic was demonstrated. I was the only one interested, and as they packed away their goods for a while, I approached them, and asked them about what they had just demonstrated.
They found the idea of a dwarf interested in magic to be a rather humorous thing, and said that I would be welcome to join them if I wished, learning their techniques. Of course, I had to get the permission of my clan first. This was surprisingly easy. My father, though reluctant, allowed me to go with them. I suspect he had two major reasons. First of all, he had been letting me try other professions, so to be fair, he had to let me try the path of magic as well. Second, I'm sure he believed that I'd become bored with it, like I did everything else. Only, as a normal dwarf, my father had no idea of how complicated and intricate magic is.
I went with the Svirfneblin, and they took me to a community of a few thousand. They took me to their elders, who discussed what to do with me. They accepted me, doubtless curious as to how well a dwarf, normally considered (and rightfully so) to be distrustful of magic, could do as a wizard. They trained me in the art for forty long years. I learned of the schools of magic, but everything I learned was through the viewpoint of an illusionist, as the Svirfneblin especially favor that school. I also learned to speak both undercommon (for dealing with the Duerger that sometimes came to trade, though I very much disliked doing so), and gnome, as the Svirfneblin were far more comfortable speaking in that language. In addition, draconic was very common, even here, because of it's strong connections to magic. Many of the more complicated lectures were held in draconic, so I had to learn that as well, though it took me a while longer.
Perhaps I am biased, but I believe illusion to be the most versatile school. Evocation is great for burning things, and abjuration may be good to keep things from burning, but Illusion can do both of these, as long as the wizard is skilled and clever enough to trick the target into believing the effect is real. This is the real power of Illusion. If it can be imagined, it can be perceived. And if it can be perceived, it can be deadly, protective, deceptive, or revealing. Indeed, the popular thought of the Svirfneblin was that the others schools were really just subschools of illusion, which have become so reinforced by common use that they were perceived as separate schools. And, as was taught, and I believe, perception is fact. Don't get me wrong, someone that I can't see still exists, because they perceive themselves. When they fail to do that, they die. This also leads to the purpose of dreams, as a way of perceiving ourselves while we sleep, but I've a little more to say before returning to my past.
One of the long term exercises I was given to make me understand this, was to manifest a thought construct, also known as a familiar. I had to imagine something into existence. More than that, I had to make it perceive and understand itself. I started by simply imagining something constantly stalking me, following me wherever I went. Before long, I managed to feel watched, no matter where I was or what I was doing. This is how I knew I was succeeding. From then, I started to imagine glimpses of a black streak in the shadows, at the edge of my eyesight, and soon began to be able to follow those movements. I imagined a being fast and powerful, sleek and strong. And over time, when I imagined those glimpses, I imagined more and more. I started to see how it would, seeing myself from where these sightings would be situated. I began to think of myself in its terms, as a companion, a friend, and as something other than what I (or it, rather) was. I continued, soon thinking little thoughts like "That rock is a good hiding place" or "I'm glad I'm not as stumpy-limbed as my dwarven companion". In time, these all condensed, and one day, as I was walking towards my class, this being jumped into open sight. It's sleek, powerfully muscled form had been clearly defined, and stood in front of me a panther, nearly as tall as myself, and with a perfect balance. We looked into each-others eyes, and knew each-other. As I met him like this, he told me his name, which I had left undefined, as the final test of sentience. And he was Larx.
Since then, I know he follows me around, easily called, and willing to help. He is usually hiding, to avoid trouble, and indeed, it is rather easy for him to do so, likely due to how he was created. I have forged a mental link with him which has proven remarkably useful. I love Larx, and know that as long as I am safe, so is he. And as I am safe as long as he is, we are very much reliant on each-other. Whenever he has to flee and hide in combat, I feel his pain and his loss, and at times it's almost crushing. I know he will always be there for me, though... even if he doesn't always show the appropriate respect. "Stumpy-limbed dwarven companion" indeed...
The final lesson I was taught was on the morality of magic. By now I had learned of spells such as protection from evil and similar effects, and what they implied regarding good, evil, and the like. As mentioned previously, I believe, as I was taught, that perception is everything. Is robbing graves evil? Only if it is perceived as such. However, spells such as these seem to contradict this answer, but they are not mutually exclusive. For example, cold-blooded murder is seen as evil, and people who regularly do it must therefore also be evil. That is, nothing, magic included is good or evil. Instead, evil is defined by perception, like everything else. Being that embody these concepts, such as devils, or celestials (in the case of good) also change along with these concepts. Naturally, these take so long to change that such changes wouldn't be seen, even in the lifetimes of dragons.
Obviously, I surpassed their expectations, being able to cast a few cantrips at times (even if only unreliably so) and they recommended that I continue my training with an elven enchanter that they sometimes dealt with. Curious as to what exactly "enchantment" was, I accepted, and was sent off as an apprentice to an elven wizard for twenty more years.
Well, they had neglected to tell me that this particular elf refused to speak the common tongue. He spoke only Elven, a new language to me. So again, I had to tediously learn a language. After about 10 years, I was finally able to communicate with him in his own tongue. One of the first things I learned was of a war taking place back in my homeland, and I had to make a decision. Would I go back and help my kin against the hordes of Vaasa, under the Witch-king's command, or stay here for the remaining ten years of my apprenticeship. I thought long and hard, but decided that abandoning my position here would be betraying myself and those who had supported me. In addition, I knew that my skill son the front lines would hardly be useful, and my magic was only beginning to develop enough to use a few first circle spells unreliably. I would be more of a hindrance than a help to my kin, so I simply hoped for their welfare.
Of course, I still had little idea of anything he was talking about as regards magic. Eventually I learned that enchantment was the school of controlling minds. This disturbed me, as during my years in the underdark, we learned about (and once, were ambushed by) a so called "mind flayer". They crush a person's will and abuse it. To me, that is what enchantment was and still is: an abomination, a theft of free will.
The difference between illusion and enchantment is that enchantment controls one's will, removing their freedom, while illusion gives the person the choice and chance to ignore it, maintaining free will. I can see how enchantment may have broken off from Illusion at some point, as I imagine that some apprentice of that great school of magic decided that it was too indirect or too difficult, and that without direct power over someone's mind, you can't change their perceptions. Enchanters seem to subscribe to the idea of "You can't change a person's perception, so change the person." Again, though, I have lost focus.
I spent the next 10 years listening to this elf bark about why enchantment was the best school, but experiencing the opposite viewpoint has shown me a great many things. In my years with him, I learned that elves are frail, sickly little things. In addition, he kept saying that elves make the best wizards, due to their strong magical affinity. What he never understood is that dwarves have the strongest magical affinity of all. Our resistance to magic proves this, much like a dragon's resistance to magic is tightly bound to how much magic it is capable of using. I theorize that this is because of the strong magical currents that surround us. Therefore, Dwarves, not elves, are better wizards. I suspect it is merely my people's attitude towards magic that prevents it from being a popular choice.
An attitude which was made very clear to me, when I returned home. Or rather, tried to. When the other dwarves learned that I had actually given myself to magic, they shunned me. Whereas the Svirfneblin were merely ignored, I was shunned. There were a number of reasons for this. First and foremost was likely the recent war with the witch-king. Though he, along with his vile armies of undead, hobgoblins, orcs, giants, and the like were defeated, it came at a tremendous cost. Much of Damara was weakened, and the war-torn nation was in a bad spot. The recently crowned king, Gareth Dragonsbane (who had defeated the witch-king with some help from others) was doing well rebuilding, but the scars of war were still visible everywhere. I suspect they also disliked that I didn't come back to help them fight the war. Finally, I was a wizard, and a dwarf. My kin saw this as a betrayal of their traditions, while I saw it as a fulfillment of our destiny.
Long story short, I was forced to leave town. The only people there that weren't hostile towards me were my parents. I'm glad that they allowed me to take this path, and I intend to make them proud. I spent the next several years wandering, passing through Impiltur and the Dalelands, relying on Larx's hunting abilities to get my food, and relying on his companionship in general.
Finally, I arrived at the borders of Cormyr. I had heard things about this nation, and decided that this was a place that adventurers could live. And so, Larx and I entered the country. Although, to be honest, I doubt anyone saw Larx. He's like that...