Character Sheet

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The candle sputters and Ash looks up from the book with a start.

This was his third stretch of six hours in the past twenty-five hours and amazingly he still felt alert and rested.  It helped that the material was so fascinating and that subjects and pages seemed to spring into his hand.  Twice now he had taken a tome from one of the librarians, placed it on the table and turned straight to the relevant section immediately.

He had been looking into tales of the Black-Robed Mage and it seemed that someone had looked up this topic before him.  

Some writings of the Loremaster - Uli Tarka, hint at an intense distrust of "The Magician" a fellow advisor at the Haalkitaine Court.  Apparently he had been instrumental in the revolt of the nobles during Akjara III's reign.  After counselling the king, Ilred the second to dismiss the mage's counsel, there were a number of assassination attempts, including the final and successful one, when he was killed by a crystalline throwing star.

The final page of this document is faded and smudged.  As he bring the now guttering candle closer a voice near his shoulder begins to speak.

"'No matter what guise he wears, you can tell him by his brilliant blue eyes.  They bore into a man's soul.  To my eyes a dark shadow seemed to travel with him.  When he refused to take the pendant, I knew that he was somehow afraid of it's powers.  I tried to expose him, reveal him for who he was, for who he was, always without success.  You had to tread lightly with him, he had the blood of kings and queens on his hand and, I suspected, thousands of innocents.

Though I voiced my opinions to both the Queen and the Council, they listened, but would not act.  Always the same advice.  "Caution Uli, an enemy watched is an enemy known."

Ash feels his vision begin to blur and although he fights it, he can sense the same mysterious stirring of his subconscious that happened time and time again.  He was diving toward a huge round disk at a colossal rate.  He stretched out his hands to protect himself, and felt his speed begin to drop.  The disk resolved itself into an ornate, circular table with a glass ball sitting on a cushion in the centre.  The ball glowed with a sickly red light, turning everything the colour of blood. 

Sitting in a high-backed chair, staring intensely at the orb was an old man.  Despite the colour of the light the old man's blue eyes sparkled as he watched.  Suddenly his gnarled knuckles tightened on the arms of the chair and power flowed out from him and into the orb.  Ash could see the veins bulge on the mage's hands, could see the rippling power bending the very fabric of the Essaence.

The swirling mist within the orb began to solidify into a shape of a crown - it is the Sea Drake Helm.  The view pulls away suddenly and the crown sits on an outstretched and leathery claw.  The claw clenches and the view is yanked away again as an enormous, blood-red dragon, launches itself from atop it's mountain eyrie and flies into the distance.

The view of the orb, table and the mage shimmers and fades and now Ash’s viewpoint is dropping, walls rising past him.  The descent slows and stops inside a clear, glass tube.  Ash can see that he is in a hexagonal room, with six ribbed vaults curving up to meet in the ceiling above.

Spread across the floor in front of him is a map of what could only be Jaiman.  There are glowing, coloured lines spread across it.  Six pillars line the room and on each of these lays a helm.  The top rim of each pillar glows with a coloured light.  On the walls behind the pillars writing is etched into the stone in a language Ash has never seen before. 

Ash stairs around him in wonder and a sound begins to echo through the chamber.  A dull ringing of a hammer on steel…

As the sound comes closer he can hear a voice calling his name.

“Asheren!  Asheren!”

Ash opens his eyes to find Vryce standing above him, shaking his shoulder. 

“I think you should go and have a break, you’ve been going for hours.”

“Did you see anyone, Vryce?” Ash asks, exhaustion making his voice slur.

“No-one but the librarian who came to wake me.  Said you had fallen asleep and were calling out.”  Vryce looked concerned.  “He said you were probably dreaming about books.

By the way, who is Lord of the Black Valley?”

Spell Lists: All Base Lists to 5th level.  One Open (or Closed) List begun.
Attunement: 2 ranks.
Runes: 2 ranks.
Research: 2 ranks.
Body Development: 2 ranks.
Magical Language: One language appropriate for spell-casting.  Half ranks written to highest spell level (round up).  One-quarter ranks spoken.  Language depends upon spell-caster (Aludos, Uscurac, etc.)
Academic Skill: 2 ranks in any Academic skill, such as Botany, Zoology, Tactics, etc

The History and Background

Brought up in the village of Col in Scarta – a Melurian state, my life was quiet since the villagers were largely fishermen.  At apprenticeship time, no-one wanted to take the scrawny Thule boy, but finally a wandering mage was persuaded to take me – the family savings type of persuasion. 

Thus began a difficult and arduous period in my life training under Annadon, which most of the time seemed to involve being his personal slave.  I learned more than I realised and when it came time to say goodbye, it was an emotional moment.

In search of my real parents, I remain in Col until capable of journeying forth. I have lived here as long as I can remember with my adopted parents. It is in this home I learned the foundations of our town. The village markets are my playground, practicing magic tricks for small tin pieces. It was performing these tricks that I first met Annadon Remese, he offered to take me on as his apprentice and I gladly accepted; having a keen sense of adventure even at the age of fifteen. Besides, I still hoped to discover the whereabouts of my lost parents.  One year after I had finished my apprenticeship, at the age of twenty-four, Annadon and myself were traveling by sea south of Col on our way to Lethys, when a terrifying storm seemed to come from nowhere.  The horses rearing and shrieking, Annadon falling from the boat, lightning crackling and coloured lightning hissing into the ocean around us.  Then - nothing.

Awaking, I found myself on the edge of dry wasteland, I wandered helpless with nothing but my clothes and what I held in my hands as the storm took hold. Time has gone awry in this place, experiences flash before me – some my own, some must belong to others.

After several days I found myself in a small fishing village and using skills I found somewhere, took to fishing for the journey across the waters of Lakaron or as the commoners had come to know it “the Lake of Mist”. On the way across the waters I see a place on the fisherman’s map called Zor Wasteland and this triggers flashbacks and memories I didn’t even know I had. I believe that it on the border of Zor Wasteland that I found myself lost.

After departing my recently made friends I decided to make my way back to my home town to place my feet on something familiar. I decided to take the main trade route to Norek then the rest of my journey by boat to Col. I was not far away from Norek, wandering through forest when I was confronted by trolls.  I backed nervously away as they slathered and growled in their ugly and guttural tongue.  As one of them turned to grab me, the other fell on him from behind.  Taking this opportunity I ran for my very life through the forest, branches whipping my face, roots snagging my tired feet.  I could hear the trolls roaring with anger behind me, but I was outdistancing them.  I looked behind me and could see the trees being torn apart in their frustration.  I smiled a little then as they began to head in another direction.  I ran on, then suddenly I was falling through space, my hands shot out and my cloak snagged on something, I grabbed  it and clung on as my arm felt as though it was being torn from my shoulder socket.  I screamed in pain and heard an answering roar from the trolls – coming closer.

I looked down to see a river calmly wending its way hundreds of feet below me.  I felt anything but calm.  I looked up to see the trolls appear at the top of the cliff. 

“Hur hur.”  The larger of the two lay down on his stomach and tried to grab me.  I swayed away from him – the scrawny plant tearing from the ground – I fell.

Here I am in the city of Norek.  

Having only vague memories about the last fifteen years, Asheren has found himself in the city of Norek.  He remembers that a friend of his fathers had a son who lived here.  Known as Janus, this is his first business since he became a certified Alchemist (5^th Level)  

I forgot to mention, during your last, albeit brief stay in Norek, you once again visited Janus in his Alchemists shop.  Janus was not there and you are met by a middle-aged woman, whom you instantly warm to.  While a little plump, she is witty and pleasant and is an expert in alchemical preparation.  You spend well over an hour in the shop chatting about this and that and eventually you remember why you came.

"Did Janus receive any messages for me?  I am waiting for word from a friend." you ask, sorry to break up the chat.

"Why yes, now that you come to mention it, I'm terribly sorry I forgot all about it."  she gets up from her chair and goes behind the counter.  "It's just that essaence quotients are fascinating."  She returns in a few moments with a crisp brown envelope, with an ochre wax seal.

Your pulse races!  At last, word from home perhaps?

You take the envelope and bow gracefully to Althea.  "My dear, it was lovely to meet you.  Please pass on my best wishes to your sister and your future brother-in-law."

Althea beams and shows you to the door.  "Oh sir - I mean Asheren, please call again.  Whenever you wish!  There are too few gentlemen in this world, and few as learned."

As you leave the shop a squad of soldiers walks by you, drill seargent at the head.  Left-march!  Some of them looked as though they needed the practice.  Elbows all over the place and their weapons were sloppily jostling in their scabbards.

You duck around the side of the building examining the seal in the pre-dusk light.  In the wax is a stylised fir tree, it's leaves marking the edge of the wax.  Tuathir!

A powerful memory of a low farmhouse with an enormous oven in one corner.  You remember Tuathir opening the oven doors and summoning hundreds of tiny fire elementals to amuse you.  You remember them setting fire to almost everything and laughing out loud as Tuathir tried to regain control of them.

As the memory fades you open the letter.

My dear Asheren,

I have been looking for you for almost two years.  Where have you been?  I was staying with friends in Slaw, thinking you must have gone north from Meluria, now I find myself in Norek.  I remembered getting word from your father about young Janus and his shop in Norek and I called in only to find you had passed this way also.

I left word with the young girl, Agnes.  I understand you found her.  Did you notice that she was charmed?  Has the touch of the fey folk about her, methinks.  Anyway the script I left with her is a reading I did for you almost a year ago now, it convinced me to seek you out.

But I did not seek you out for old times, my friend.  Grim days are coming.  Days when the skies will turn black and the rivers run red. 

He is among us once more.  The Magician.

I saw him while I was in Vorn, he was advising Lord Boshkar's court.  Encouraging him to invade Norek.  "After Norek," said the Mage, "then Cynar and Lethys.  Annexe yourself from Haalkitaine and Rhakhaan and you control half the continent!"

I had heard reports of his presence in U-Lyshak, but I could not believe he would be so bold!  He is plotting something, and it does not involve giving Boshkar half of Jaiman.  There seems to be some sort of power source in Norek, I am investigating.  I suspect the Priests Arnak are mixed up in this.  What I do know is that Norek cannot survive the Unlife a second time. This time they gather in force.  Remember your lessons!

And now we cross paths again.  It is fated.  You must find Prince Keir!  Restore the Sea-Drake crown to him and he will vanquish the enemy.  The crowns have real power, power long forgotten.  Keir is the keystone to all this, I can feel it.

I will be gone for a few days, but leave word here if you have anything to tell me.  I sense a great conflict looming - let us stand against it.

Yours in the light,

Tuathir

"The Mage" proves to be more dangerous and of a threat than we may think. He seeks power, blood and control. He is advising Boshkar but only to achieve his own ends. Norek will perish first. Two more cities are planned with the support of the priest of Arnak he will go from strength to strength and his dark
forces will grow more potent and become unstoppable. Norek holds a source for the power of the Undead. . It would seem in destroying Norek this power can be tapped, from there he will go on to Cynar and Lethys, and from there he will control half the continent.

"The Mage" is in Vorn right now encouraging Boshkar and his associates to rise and take power. Little do they know that he only uses them. I suggest a move towards Prince Keir, we must find the Sea Drake Crown and place it on his head, from there the evil in Jamain can be vanquished. Keir should be our primary objective this day he needs our support and protection and we need his.

The nights grow darker and we are blinded in the light of day.