This is the backstory of Joachim, a rogue/transmuter who is really a scholar, a retriever of information.
I do not yet have his stats, but I will post them once they are finalized.
He is going to be level 5 or so. So, his backstory is 5k words.
Joachim's story
It wasn't an easy life. But as a friend of mine said: "Good things ain't easy to come by."
My mother was a serving wench at a crappy little pub. Her butt was pinched so often than Geoff - my father, but I wasn't allowed to call him anything but Geoff, which, incidentally, wasn't his real name - used to comment that her "ass had grown three sizes since I knocked ya up". Geoff was a real class act.
She was kind, in a way, I suppose. I know of things she did for money that she never wanted me to know. Two people, in a way. I saw one face - the mother. The other face I saw, too, but she doesn't know it. Her wench face. Her "tough bitch" face. She wore that at the pub, with the guys she sometimes took home, and with Geoff. Geoff wasn't around too much, so I don't know if he minded. Knowing Geoff, it probably drove him nuts, but what was he going to do? It's not like Ma owed him anything.
She loved me, and that was the best that anyone could ask for. I guess.
Geoff, on the other hand, was unpredictable at the best of times. He wasn't a drunk or anything - he was a thug. I called him that once, and he got pretty angry. Beat me pretty bad that day. But that's what he was - a thug. A petty criminal who used his ample muscle to scare people into giving him their money. At least until he discovered a new tool - me.
I was never a big fellow. Okay, that is misleading. I was never an average sized fellow. Short, thin, weak ... I had heard all these and far worse from Geoff. To be perfectly honest, I don't know if Geoff even really believed that I was his son. He was huge - at least as far as I remember - and I was tiny. Ma was big too. I don't know what happened.
Anyhow, Geoff caught me fooling around with some street kids in the back - I say street kids but I should clarify that I was a street kid too. No school for the poor. Geoff caught me telling jokes and acting the fool. When he first grabbed me, I thought he was mad, but I was wrong. "Pretend you're sad," he said. "Pretend you're lost. Now pretend that you don't know where you are. Can you pretend like you've got a sore leg? Pretend you're poor," he said. I don't think he caught the irony of that last statement.
The next thing I knew, we were out in a part of town I'd never been in before, and I was scared. Geoff threatened me good, though, and I settled down. He plunked me on a street corner, told me to "play hungry" to the passerbys, which I did, and I wasn't playing much. It was ok, I guess, and people starting giving me coins here and there. To me it was a lot. A little while later, Geoff grabbed me and took me home. I showed him the coins. "Keep it," he said. I was happy, then worried. Geoff never did anything nice for me. Sure enough, he had three coin bags on him. And I knew I was stuck.
That continued for a long while. We got caught sometimes, and I had to run. I had never been much of an athlete, but I definitely did a lot of weaving in and out of people's hands.
One night, at Ma's inn (which is what we called it), Geoff, drunk, started telling everyone what a great actor I was. So next I know, I'm up on the bar, acting out a situation between me and an old lady who gave me a silver piece, the largest amount I'd ever been given.
"Sing!" someone shouts. So I did. I was good enough, I guess. Good enough to make Geoff more money, as I ended up doing it once a week. Six days begging, one day singing and acting. That was my life.
I quickly ran out of things to sing on stage. Mostly the audience wanted to hear popular songs, which I liked at first, but had enough of once I had to sing it six times in one night. So I thought I would make things up - and it went pretty well. People didn't seem to care which I sang or told - in fact, sometimes they asked for a specific song or tale which they believed to be popular that in fact I had made up. I even caught them at times singing along with me.
I don't know exactly why I left. I suppose I was tired of all that. Geoff still hit Ma every now and then, and I wasn't big enough to stop it. Geoff took me begging, and I wasn't big enough to stop him. The singing and tale-telling I enjoyed, but it drove me nuts knowing that Geoff took all the money from that. Had some of it gone to Ma, I could have put up with it.
So I left.
A year or singing, tale-telling, and sometimes begging and a dozen or so towns later, I finally came to a bigger city. There was a lot more to do and see there, and I watched the real bards, which I rarely saw in the smaller towns. They were great. Tale telling, singing, dancing, acting ... I was enamoured for a long while. I recognized some of the stories as the popular requests at the inn. Nothing could prepare me, though, for the biggest surprise of my life: Shanoway, the famous bard, said she had just returned from a major expedition and seen many terrible things, which she then composed into a song specifically for this audience. It was one of my songs! One of my tales! I couldn't sit still in the audience, but I knew that I could never confront her on it. So I let it sit. I wasn't angry, at all - I wanted to congratulate her, and have her congratulate me! But I knew it wouldn't happen.
I stuck around in the city for a while. It was big enough for me to hide all over the place. I became pretty good at that, but I never resorted to thievery. I did have dignity, though not much.
It was on one of these chase and hide expeditions with the guards that I crawled into a sewer pipe, and followed the twists and turns until I thought I was safe. I didn't know it then, but apparently I had crawled underneath a school, and was within earshot of the classroom. I was unbearably curious and forgot all about the guards. I had never been to a school.
From what I could see, the kids were about my age - maybe a bit older. The instructor was an older chap. They were all dressed in fancy robes, and they looked very clean and well-fed. I was pretty jealous.
Once the instructor started talking, though, I forgot everything and just listened. What a voice he had! Magical, musical! And the words that came out of his mouth: everything I'd ever wanted to know! First he talked about the history of the city, then of the country, then he talked about the heirarchy of druids, and last he talked about Elfhame.
Elfhame! I'd never seen it, nor experienced anything from it, but I heard of it in the tales that I told: empty tales that held no meaning to me. But here, the instructor talked about it openly, and had much to tell.
The students, though, seemed mostly unimpressed. They rudely talked during the lecture, and laughed at silly spots. When the instructor asked questions, they hemmed and hawed. I was dying to answer, as the questions weren't that hard. I also wanted to ask questions, but I couldn't.
I didn't know how long I sat there, but I waited until every last person filed out, and a while had passed beyond that, the instructor's last words echoing through my head: "See you here same time tomorrow."
I could return!
And once I realized that I could return, I also guessed that there were other classes probably going on at that very moment! I quickly explored the network of pipes. Some of them took me to bathrooms, some of them to the city level. By late that night, I had mapped out the whole network in my mind.
I needed materials, though, I reasoned. I needed ink and a quill, and paper or parchment. These things weren't cheap. I would have to double up my begging and performing to get more cash. But, I said to myself, I have to do it. It has to be done. This is the only way.
But first, I had to learn to read and write.
And that's what I did. I bought paper and ink and quills and books. Well, I hate to say, I stole the books. I suppose that was the last shred of my dignity. I worked double hours. I studied in between breaks.
Every day I sat in the few spots that I had marked off. Soon I had a daily routine, and certain classes were more interesting than others to me. Magic! I had never really seen magic, and it wasn't taught in any great detail here, but still, it was taught! Not druid magic, but real magic, coming from within. Ancient powers! History, geography, everything! I was in heaven.
I soon found that I had a little quirk that others didn't seem to share. Where they mainly memorized locations and events, I took a real interest in the little aspects. There was a war 300 years ago between two kingdoms? They wrote it down. I instead snuck into the library later that night (which I had discovered quite soon) to look up what the armor looked like. Why did they go into battle with axes when they proceeded into every other battle with swords? The king's lover's daughter that caused a revolt - what colour was his hair? The ancient temple of a no longer worshipped god - what type of stone did they use for the entryway? Trivial things, I assumed, but to me, they enlivined the event. It helped me picture these events more clearly, and I could actually feel and see the event in my mind, rather than just dates and locations, or figures and names.
I soon learned of classes of magic, and very quickly developed likes and dislikes for certain schools. Evocation to me was boring and flashy. Subtle, to me, was the key. Conjuration was interesting as an academic pursuit, but ultimately it could not sustain my interest. Divination - a class of spells that help you learn more! I fell in love. Transmutation - a group of spells that, to me, spoke to adaptability. I felt at home. Abjuration - protection I felt I needed, alone as I was. Unfortunately, I had no way to practice these, and so I could only watch the other students, who still seemed apathetic.
I was on my way home one night, mulling over this very subject, when I realized that I had forgotten one of my books. I raced back, and luckily there it was. I took it home. I was too worried to think about checking my book. I suppose I also thought it too unlikely that I would be discovered.
The next day, though, when I returned to my hiding spot, I found a stack of books from the library sitting there. The hiding spot was also cleaned out. I was too scared, and I ran.
I returned a week later, late at night, and the books were still there. A note, though, was attached to the top book: "I think you will find your answer to the questions you seek on page 35 of your book in the following texts. The last two books on the subject of druidic influence in mercantile commercialism I added as I think you will find them interesting. - G"
I was careful. I snuck around, but saw noone. I dove into the books. There it was! It wasn't earth shattering, but it did advance me past a point that I was stuck on. And it was so much faster than just guessing how the library worked! I devoured the books that night, but I didn't want to take them away from the spot, so I slept there. I washed enough so that I didn't smell, and dove back in. That day I was back to my routine, with one minor change.
Each night, I left a book or paper with a question that interested me on it, that I had been unable to solve myself. I sometimes added some notes of things that I conjectured to be the answer. The next day, there were the books. Sometimes there would be a page of handwritten, flowing script explaining that the questions I asked were still not answerable - more research was needed.
Eventually, I stopped going to the classes and just focussed on the books and notes exchanged with the mysterious G, who I did not know. I didn't mind - I had surpassed most of the classes at that point. And I didn't want to find out who G was, in case the gig was up. He respected my privacy, I respected his.
One day I found an application form to the school sitting on top of a stack of new books. The note said: "Fill this out. Leave blank anything you can't answer. - G."
I took me a while to build up the courage to fill it out. I didn't even know if I wanted to be in those classes - this arrangement suited me fine. The clincher, to me, was that I would never learn Magic down here. For that, I had to enter the school. And I filled it out. There were questions to test my knowledge on it, and I had no problem answering those, but things like "address:" were quite a problem for me. I lied for my name: "Marek". I can't imagine it offended Ma or Geoff.
School continued on, and I continued to be fascinated by everything. But I was running out of money, and I spent too much time reading. I was getting sick.
Luckily things never came to a head in that respect. I found a letter congratulating Marek on his acceptance to the school at an advanced level. I was to report to the headmaster the next day.
I panicked - I wasn't expecting this. I needed to be cleaned up. I did my best, but I'm sure I still looked awful when I reported to the front entrance of the school for the first time. Inside was much different from that perspective. Much wealthier, more extravagant. I was shown to the headmaster's office (his name was Liammana, so he wasn't G.), and introduced myself as Marek. He didn't say much, but he did smile kindly and welcome me. He didn't seem to resent it, so maybe he was a friend of G. I soon told him which classes I was interested in attending, and he never once seemed to look down on me for having hid in the sewers to learn. He congratulated me on being a brilliant student, and mentioned that he expected great things from me. I blushed uncontrollably.
And so began my career at Quinnithera's School (I soon learned that Quinnithera was once a druid who leaned further and further towards knowledge and arcane magic until she decided to open her own school). It was a very wealthy school, and I didn't even try to be accepted by the other students. They ridiculed me, and teased me, but I didn't care. I was attending school. I don't think they really knew who I was though, so they didn't tease me about being in the sewers. I definitely wanted to keep that quiet. But apparently I was the "scholarship" kid - obviously not wealthy enough to pay his own way. That, I thought, they can tease me about. I didn't care.
It didn't help that I was lost for the first two weeks I was there. Everything was different from the inside. And the students were noisy and rude. I could finally ask questions in class, but my teachers soon told me that I asked too many questions, and that I should keep some for after class. The other students didn't like me, but I did make friends, or at least peaceful relations, with the teachers. I never found out who G., was, though, and I respected G.'s privacy.
School continued, and I finally managed to learn Magic. Transmutation spoke to me on so many levels, that I couldn't help but love it. Divination was good, and I enjoyed that, along with Abjuration. Illusion always made me laugh - here I was, a living illusion with no magic at all - a pauper pretending to be a real boy. Illusion had its uses.
One day, late in the year, a stir of excitement went throughout the entire college. Apparently a new finding had revealed an enormous amount of information of an ancient race, along with new magical findings. I rushed along with the other students to the entrance, only to find a great burly man stride in, covered in dirt, wheeling a large chest in front of him. Immediately I thought of Geoff, but it wasn't him. I had finally begun to make friends with students who could see past the fact that I was a "scholarship kid" and asked them who the stranger was. "Keoushar, the explorer, and our retriever of information". He brushed past us to the headmaster's office, and everyone soon dispersed. As I left, I was summoned to the headmaster's office, too.
I entered to find Keoushar standing there, explaining his find to Liammana. He noticed me, but didn't stop talking. I sat quietly while Keoushar explained the list of things that he had found. I couldn't sit still, though, and soon asked a question. Keoushar didn't miss a beat, and answered me, showing me an engraving on an amulet he had found. Soon there was a three way conversation, and I was considered an equal.
When Keoushar finished his tale, Liammana collected the items and shooed the both of us out. Keoushar took me to an inn outside of the school - this was the first time I'd been out of the school since I started! - and we talked over an ale. Now this was someone I could talk to! He was interested in everything we'd been doing in school, and probed me for information, and in exchange I asked him about his adventures. Though I loved the school, his travels were far more exciting! Now this was someone I could relate to, someone I could look up to!
I also found him to be more knowledgeable about a great many things - because he had experienced it for himself, first-hand.
It is somewhat obvious to state that Keoushar and I became friends.
If I didn't meet him at the door to the school, he came to find me. His visits to the school became much more frequent, and the two of us never talked at the school. We both wanted to be in the "real world" - outside of the books and classes.
I even managed to tag along on a few of his expeditions. Life on the edge quickly came back to me, and my nights hiding from the town guards came in handy as we skulked our way through forest and dungeon. We visited different cultures, and I found it easy to pretend to belong, and thus get some information out of the locals. In the dungeons, Keoushar was more of a direct-approach kind of person, while I relied on wits, acrobatics, and the occasional spell to get me by.
Along those trips I learned many interesting lessons, but one in particular carried considerable weight. Keoushar only returned with a portion of the information that he obtained. He couldn't possibly carry every last piece out, and the "bookworms" as he called them would never make the trip to the dungeon to look at the items he found, so a balance had to be struck. As a result, Keoushar and I were privy to a greater array of information than the scholars. He taught me to think of these dungeons as libraries, with information available, but just in a different form. The less we disturb it, the more information is retained. There is a balance, though - the scholars do want information in their hands. So he would pick and choose what he sent, and let them argue. It has to be good information, he reasoned, otherwise they won't hire you again. But they wouldn't dare question you anyhow, since, if you're good, you're too valuable for them. They'd never make new discoveries!
One night, while at the pub near my school, I noticed that we had begun arguing about the significance of a particular type of gem in the medallions built by an ancient cult, and that we had gotten rather loud. We didn't mind quieting our argument, but it did amaze me to think that none of the patrons were interested in what we had to say. They couldn't take their eyes off the bard, though, who was blathering on about some age-old story that everyone had heard time and again and really contained no new information. And that's when it hit me.
I would take this information and make it into song. Look at them! I thought to myself. They know every detail of this song. Everyone knows the Tale of Mindrada, and how he had flaxen hair that waved in the breeze, and that he used the dagger named Pozh, a curved blade, to dig out the dragon's heart.
This is what I would do. Keoushar is a noble man, and his pursuits are honourable. But when he returns the information to the school, all they do is study it, and keep it within the school. They don't keep it from the public, that's true, but they do not try to disseminate it either.
But I could not be a performer myself. That would take too much time away from my studies, my exploration. Instead, I would write, and give to someone else to perform. I don't need money, I thought to myself. I know what it's like to live without it, and it's not that bad. I can live with giving away my songs, if only so that others may learn!
I told Keoushar of my plans. He wisely warned me that if I were to begin writing songs for bards, that I would lose my respect among the scholars, which at that point had increased significantly, thanks to my travels with Keoushar. So if I wanted to do this, I had to be secretive, and tell no one. I could take no credit for the songs that I wrote. I could not stand before the Ri and be congratulated on a well-written piece. I could not explain the subtleties that I wove into the storyline. I could never, ever, under any circumstances, perform these pieces. Performing others are fine - but only when I'm on the road, and only to gain trust or information. If I broke any of these rules, I would be discovered and could no longer be a scholar.
I still believed I could do it, but realized the complexity of the situation. The double life. Well, I reasoned, why not? I am still living a double life. If anything, this would be a triple life. If I can handle two - I can handle three. But I needed better rules.
The song could never be on a piece that I had just discovered. It had to appear as if it had percolated through the academic ranks, and that an enterprising bard had taken the time to study the information and compose a fictitious piece that seemed very real. Of course, I would base the information on what I had actually observed, and thus the "fiction" would in fact be the truth - or as far as I could piece it out.
I could never use the same bard twice. Otherwise he would be subjected to questions that I would never want him to answer.
I could never deal directly with a bard. I would always need a go-between. Or a very good disguise. I could be known as the "source" of the bard's songs, as in he provides them to me, and I provide them to bards, and I can deal with that, but only for a short while. Thus I would increase another layer of complexity to it. This way, even if I am discovered, I can still hide it for a while longer while I formulated a plan.
The bards I gave songs to had to be trustworthy. If they are instructed not to sing the song for 6 months, they must not do so.
To monitor this, I would need a network of trustworthy friends who would let me know if and when this happened.
I would need a way to get in touch with bards, and exchange messages. I would need to rely on my network for this.
And this is what I would do. Keoushar would help me, and I knew that Biama, Thain, and Phure, from my school would help as well.
I could even use Ma if I needed to. But she was a danger because of Geoff. Above all, I had to stay away from Geoff.
On graduation, I struck a deal with the school. Keoushar supplied good information, and I could be in a similar arrangement. Any information I brought back to the school would be rewarded, and I would have full range of the school and its resources. I would be a consultant for their papers and books.
This is the deal that I struck, and the deal that I still live by. I have set up a very small network of trustworthy friends to talk with the bards, and just recently, an unknown bard named Chandis rose to fame with a song entitled "Meogar's Love" - a story about a princess of a long dead culture who rose to fame defending her people from encroaching wildlands. Chandis wisely attributed this to her mysterious benefactor, Allanagara - elvish for "Secret". Oddly enough, I myself was exploring the ruins of this village 18 months ago.
Few people speak elvish, so I do not suspect the ruse will be discovered. It will be a long time before anyone even suspects that the name is a phony.
I still like the unique and quirky knowledge, and often I work in at least one little interesting piece into a song or tale. But it's more of a hobby, now, and though I still maintain it, it's not the absolute focus of what I do.
The only sad part to my past few years is that Keoushar has not returned from an expedition he took a few months ago. It is not like him to be so late, but not necessarily unlike him either. He has other interests, as do I.
And we did promise each other that if six months pass from our time of return, that we would look for each other. We leave notes with the school as to where we will be, and when we will return. There have been times that months have passed, and Keoushar and I have just missed each other in our expeditions, but we always check up on each other. It has been 4 months - and I have begun to worry.
I do not yet have his stats, but I will post them once they are finalized.
He is going to be level 5 or so. So, his backstory is 5k words.
Joachim's story
It wasn't an easy life. But as a friend of mine said: "Good things ain't easy to come by."
My mother was a serving wench at a crappy little pub. Her butt was pinched so often than Geoff - my father, but I wasn't allowed to call him anything but Geoff, which, incidentally, wasn't his real name - used to comment that her "ass had grown three sizes since I knocked ya up". Geoff was a real class act.
She was kind, in a way, I suppose. I know of things she did for money that she never wanted me to know. Two people, in a way. I saw one face - the mother. The other face I saw, too, but she doesn't know it. Her wench face. Her "tough bitch" face. She wore that at the pub, with the guys she sometimes took home, and with Geoff. Geoff wasn't around too much, so I don't know if he minded. Knowing Geoff, it probably drove him nuts, but what was he going to do? It's not like Ma owed him anything.
She loved me, and that was the best that anyone could ask for. I guess.
Geoff, on the other hand, was unpredictable at the best of times. He wasn't a drunk or anything - he was a thug. I called him that once, and he got pretty angry. Beat me pretty bad that day. But that's what he was - a thug. A petty criminal who used his ample muscle to scare people into giving him their money. At least until he discovered a new tool - me.
I was never a big fellow. Okay, that is misleading. I was never an average sized fellow. Short, thin, weak ... I had heard all these and far worse from Geoff. To be perfectly honest, I don't know if Geoff even really believed that I was his son. He was huge - at least as far as I remember - and I was tiny. Ma was big too. I don't know what happened.
Anyhow, Geoff caught me fooling around with some street kids in the back - I say street kids but I should clarify that I was a street kid too. No school for the poor. Geoff caught me telling jokes and acting the fool. When he first grabbed me, I thought he was mad, but I was wrong. "Pretend you're sad," he said. "Pretend you're lost. Now pretend that you don't know where you are. Can you pretend like you've got a sore leg? Pretend you're poor," he said. I don't think he caught the irony of that last statement.
The next thing I knew, we were out in a part of town I'd never been in before, and I was scared. Geoff threatened me good, though, and I settled down. He plunked me on a street corner, told me to "play hungry" to the passerbys, which I did, and I wasn't playing much. It was ok, I guess, and people starting giving me coins here and there. To me it was a lot. A little while later, Geoff grabbed me and took me home. I showed him the coins. "Keep it," he said. I was happy, then worried. Geoff never did anything nice for me. Sure enough, he had three coin bags on him. And I knew I was stuck.
That continued for a long while. We got caught sometimes, and I had to run. I had never been much of an athlete, but I definitely did a lot of weaving in and out of people's hands.
One night, at Ma's inn (which is what we called it), Geoff, drunk, started telling everyone what a great actor I was. So next I know, I'm up on the bar, acting out a situation between me and an old lady who gave me a silver piece, the largest amount I'd ever been given.
"Sing!" someone shouts. So I did. I was good enough, I guess. Good enough to make Geoff more money, as I ended up doing it once a week. Six days begging, one day singing and acting. That was my life.
I quickly ran out of things to sing on stage. Mostly the audience wanted to hear popular songs, which I liked at first, but had enough of once I had to sing it six times in one night. So I thought I would make things up - and it went pretty well. People didn't seem to care which I sang or told - in fact, sometimes they asked for a specific song or tale which they believed to be popular that in fact I had made up. I even caught them at times singing along with me.
I don't know exactly why I left. I suppose I was tired of all that. Geoff still hit Ma every now and then, and I wasn't big enough to stop it. Geoff took me begging, and I wasn't big enough to stop him. The singing and tale-telling I enjoyed, but it drove me nuts knowing that Geoff took all the money from that. Had some of it gone to Ma, I could have put up with it.
So I left.
A year or singing, tale-telling, and sometimes begging and a dozen or so towns later, I finally came to a bigger city. There was a lot more to do and see there, and I watched the real bards, which I rarely saw in the smaller towns. They were great. Tale telling, singing, dancing, acting ... I was enamoured for a long while. I recognized some of the stories as the popular requests at the inn. Nothing could prepare me, though, for the biggest surprise of my life: Shanoway, the famous bard, said she had just returned from a major expedition and seen many terrible things, which she then composed into a song specifically for this audience. It was one of my songs! One of my tales! I couldn't sit still in the audience, but I knew that I could never confront her on it. So I let it sit. I wasn't angry, at all - I wanted to congratulate her, and have her congratulate me! But I knew it wouldn't happen.
I stuck around in the city for a while. It was big enough for me to hide all over the place. I became pretty good at that, but I never resorted to thievery. I did have dignity, though not much.
It was on one of these chase and hide expeditions with the guards that I crawled into a sewer pipe, and followed the twists and turns until I thought I was safe. I didn't know it then, but apparently I had crawled underneath a school, and was within earshot of the classroom. I was unbearably curious and forgot all about the guards. I had never been to a school.
From what I could see, the kids were about my age - maybe a bit older. The instructor was an older chap. They were all dressed in fancy robes, and they looked very clean and well-fed. I was pretty jealous.
Once the instructor started talking, though, I forgot everything and just listened. What a voice he had! Magical, musical! And the words that came out of his mouth: everything I'd ever wanted to know! First he talked about the history of the city, then of the country, then he talked about the heirarchy of druids, and last he talked about Elfhame.
Elfhame! I'd never seen it, nor experienced anything from it, but I heard of it in the tales that I told: empty tales that held no meaning to me. But here, the instructor talked about it openly, and had much to tell.
The students, though, seemed mostly unimpressed. They rudely talked during the lecture, and laughed at silly spots. When the instructor asked questions, they hemmed and hawed. I was dying to answer, as the questions weren't that hard. I also wanted to ask questions, but I couldn't.
I didn't know how long I sat there, but I waited until every last person filed out, and a while had passed beyond that, the instructor's last words echoing through my head: "See you here same time tomorrow."
I could return!
And once I realized that I could return, I also guessed that there were other classes probably going on at that very moment! I quickly explored the network of pipes. Some of them took me to bathrooms, some of them to the city level. By late that night, I had mapped out the whole network in my mind.
I needed materials, though, I reasoned. I needed ink and a quill, and paper or parchment. These things weren't cheap. I would have to double up my begging and performing to get more cash. But, I said to myself, I have to do it. It has to be done. This is the only way.
But first, I had to learn to read and write.
And that's what I did. I bought paper and ink and quills and books. Well, I hate to say, I stole the books. I suppose that was the last shred of my dignity. I worked double hours. I studied in between breaks.
Every day I sat in the few spots that I had marked off. Soon I had a daily routine, and certain classes were more interesting than others to me. Magic! I had never really seen magic, and it wasn't taught in any great detail here, but still, it was taught! Not druid magic, but real magic, coming from within. Ancient powers! History, geography, everything! I was in heaven.
I soon found that I had a little quirk that others didn't seem to share. Where they mainly memorized locations and events, I took a real interest in the little aspects. There was a war 300 years ago between two kingdoms? They wrote it down. I instead snuck into the library later that night (which I had discovered quite soon) to look up what the armor looked like. Why did they go into battle with axes when they proceeded into every other battle with swords? The king's lover's daughter that caused a revolt - what colour was his hair? The ancient temple of a no longer worshipped god - what type of stone did they use for the entryway? Trivial things, I assumed, but to me, they enlivined the event. It helped me picture these events more clearly, and I could actually feel and see the event in my mind, rather than just dates and locations, or figures and names.
I soon learned of classes of magic, and very quickly developed likes and dislikes for certain schools. Evocation to me was boring and flashy. Subtle, to me, was the key. Conjuration was interesting as an academic pursuit, but ultimately it could not sustain my interest. Divination - a class of spells that help you learn more! I fell in love. Transmutation - a group of spells that, to me, spoke to adaptability. I felt at home. Abjuration - protection I felt I needed, alone as I was. Unfortunately, I had no way to practice these, and so I could only watch the other students, who still seemed apathetic.
I was on my way home one night, mulling over this very subject, when I realized that I had forgotten one of my books. I raced back, and luckily there it was. I took it home. I was too worried to think about checking my book. I suppose I also thought it too unlikely that I would be discovered.
The next day, though, when I returned to my hiding spot, I found a stack of books from the library sitting there. The hiding spot was also cleaned out. I was too scared, and I ran.
I returned a week later, late at night, and the books were still there. A note, though, was attached to the top book: "I think you will find your answer to the questions you seek on page 35 of your book in the following texts. The last two books on the subject of druidic influence in mercantile commercialism I added as I think you will find them interesting. - G"
I was careful. I snuck around, but saw noone. I dove into the books. There it was! It wasn't earth shattering, but it did advance me past a point that I was stuck on. And it was so much faster than just guessing how the library worked! I devoured the books that night, but I didn't want to take them away from the spot, so I slept there. I washed enough so that I didn't smell, and dove back in. That day I was back to my routine, with one minor change.
Each night, I left a book or paper with a question that interested me on it, that I had been unable to solve myself. I sometimes added some notes of things that I conjectured to be the answer. The next day, there were the books. Sometimes there would be a page of handwritten, flowing script explaining that the questions I asked were still not answerable - more research was needed.
Eventually, I stopped going to the classes and just focussed on the books and notes exchanged with the mysterious G, who I did not know. I didn't mind - I had surpassed most of the classes at that point. And I didn't want to find out who G was, in case the gig was up. He respected my privacy, I respected his.
One day I found an application form to the school sitting on top of a stack of new books. The note said: "Fill this out. Leave blank anything you can't answer. - G."
I took me a while to build up the courage to fill it out. I didn't even know if I wanted to be in those classes - this arrangement suited me fine. The clincher, to me, was that I would never learn Magic down here. For that, I had to enter the school. And I filled it out. There were questions to test my knowledge on it, and I had no problem answering those, but things like "address:" were quite a problem for me. I lied for my name: "Marek". I can't imagine it offended Ma or Geoff.
School continued on, and I continued to be fascinated by everything. But I was running out of money, and I spent too much time reading. I was getting sick.
Luckily things never came to a head in that respect. I found a letter congratulating Marek on his acceptance to the school at an advanced level. I was to report to the headmaster the next day.
I panicked - I wasn't expecting this. I needed to be cleaned up. I did my best, but I'm sure I still looked awful when I reported to the front entrance of the school for the first time. Inside was much different from that perspective. Much wealthier, more extravagant. I was shown to the headmaster's office (his name was Liammana, so he wasn't G.), and introduced myself as Marek. He didn't say much, but he did smile kindly and welcome me. He didn't seem to resent it, so maybe he was a friend of G. I soon told him which classes I was interested in attending, and he never once seemed to look down on me for having hid in the sewers to learn. He congratulated me on being a brilliant student, and mentioned that he expected great things from me. I blushed uncontrollably.
And so began my career at Quinnithera's School (I soon learned that Quinnithera was once a druid who leaned further and further towards knowledge and arcane magic until she decided to open her own school). It was a very wealthy school, and I didn't even try to be accepted by the other students. They ridiculed me, and teased me, but I didn't care. I was attending school. I don't think they really knew who I was though, so they didn't tease me about being in the sewers. I definitely wanted to keep that quiet. But apparently I was the "scholarship" kid - obviously not wealthy enough to pay his own way. That, I thought, they can tease me about. I didn't care.
It didn't help that I was lost for the first two weeks I was there. Everything was different from the inside. And the students were noisy and rude. I could finally ask questions in class, but my teachers soon told me that I asked too many questions, and that I should keep some for after class. The other students didn't like me, but I did make friends, or at least peaceful relations, with the teachers. I never found out who G., was, though, and I respected G.'s privacy.
School continued, and I finally managed to learn Magic. Transmutation spoke to me on so many levels, that I couldn't help but love it. Divination was good, and I enjoyed that, along with Abjuration. Illusion always made me laugh - here I was, a living illusion with no magic at all - a pauper pretending to be a real boy. Illusion had its uses.
One day, late in the year, a stir of excitement went throughout the entire college. Apparently a new finding had revealed an enormous amount of information of an ancient race, along with new magical findings. I rushed along with the other students to the entrance, only to find a great burly man stride in, covered in dirt, wheeling a large chest in front of him. Immediately I thought of Geoff, but it wasn't him. I had finally begun to make friends with students who could see past the fact that I was a "scholarship kid" and asked them who the stranger was. "Keoushar, the explorer, and our retriever of information". He brushed past us to the headmaster's office, and everyone soon dispersed. As I left, I was summoned to the headmaster's office, too.
I entered to find Keoushar standing there, explaining his find to Liammana. He noticed me, but didn't stop talking. I sat quietly while Keoushar explained the list of things that he had found. I couldn't sit still, though, and soon asked a question. Keoushar didn't miss a beat, and answered me, showing me an engraving on an amulet he had found. Soon there was a three way conversation, and I was considered an equal.
When Keoushar finished his tale, Liammana collected the items and shooed the both of us out. Keoushar took me to an inn outside of the school - this was the first time I'd been out of the school since I started! - and we talked over an ale. Now this was someone I could talk to! He was interested in everything we'd been doing in school, and probed me for information, and in exchange I asked him about his adventures. Though I loved the school, his travels were far more exciting! Now this was someone I could relate to, someone I could look up to!
I also found him to be more knowledgeable about a great many things - because he had experienced it for himself, first-hand.
It is somewhat obvious to state that Keoushar and I became friends.
If I didn't meet him at the door to the school, he came to find me. His visits to the school became much more frequent, and the two of us never talked at the school. We both wanted to be in the "real world" - outside of the books and classes.
I even managed to tag along on a few of his expeditions. Life on the edge quickly came back to me, and my nights hiding from the town guards came in handy as we skulked our way through forest and dungeon. We visited different cultures, and I found it easy to pretend to belong, and thus get some information out of the locals. In the dungeons, Keoushar was more of a direct-approach kind of person, while I relied on wits, acrobatics, and the occasional spell to get me by.
Along those trips I learned many interesting lessons, but one in particular carried considerable weight. Keoushar only returned with a portion of the information that he obtained. He couldn't possibly carry every last piece out, and the "bookworms" as he called them would never make the trip to the dungeon to look at the items he found, so a balance had to be struck. As a result, Keoushar and I were privy to a greater array of information than the scholars. He taught me to think of these dungeons as libraries, with information available, but just in a different form. The less we disturb it, the more information is retained. There is a balance, though - the scholars do want information in their hands. So he would pick and choose what he sent, and let them argue. It has to be good information, he reasoned, otherwise they won't hire you again. But they wouldn't dare question you anyhow, since, if you're good, you're too valuable for them. They'd never make new discoveries!
One night, while at the pub near my school, I noticed that we had begun arguing about the significance of a particular type of gem in the medallions built by an ancient cult, and that we had gotten rather loud. We didn't mind quieting our argument, but it did amaze me to think that none of the patrons were interested in what we had to say. They couldn't take their eyes off the bard, though, who was blathering on about some age-old story that everyone had heard time and again and really contained no new information. And that's when it hit me.
I would take this information and make it into song. Look at them! I thought to myself. They know every detail of this song. Everyone knows the Tale of Mindrada, and how he had flaxen hair that waved in the breeze, and that he used the dagger named Pozh, a curved blade, to dig out the dragon's heart.
This is what I would do. Keoushar is a noble man, and his pursuits are honourable. But when he returns the information to the school, all they do is study it, and keep it within the school. They don't keep it from the public, that's true, but they do not try to disseminate it either.
But I could not be a performer myself. That would take too much time away from my studies, my exploration. Instead, I would write, and give to someone else to perform. I don't need money, I thought to myself. I know what it's like to live without it, and it's not that bad. I can live with giving away my songs, if only so that others may learn!
I told Keoushar of my plans. He wisely warned me that if I were to begin writing songs for bards, that I would lose my respect among the scholars, which at that point had increased significantly, thanks to my travels with Keoushar. So if I wanted to do this, I had to be secretive, and tell no one. I could take no credit for the songs that I wrote. I could not stand before the Ri and be congratulated on a well-written piece. I could not explain the subtleties that I wove into the storyline. I could never, ever, under any circumstances, perform these pieces. Performing others are fine - but only when I'm on the road, and only to gain trust or information. If I broke any of these rules, I would be discovered and could no longer be a scholar.
I still believed I could do it, but realized the complexity of the situation. The double life. Well, I reasoned, why not? I am still living a double life. If anything, this would be a triple life. If I can handle two - I can handle three. But I needed better rules.
The song could never be on a piece that I had just discovered. It had to appear as if it had percolated through the academic ranks, and that an enterprising bard had taken the time to study the information and compose a fictitious piece that seemed very real. Of course, I would base the information on what I had actually observed, and thus the "fiction" would in fact be the truth - or as far as I could piece it out.
I could never use the same bard twice. Otherwise he would be subjected to questions that I would never want him to answer.
I could never deal directly with a bard. I would always need a go-between. Or a very good disguise. I could be known as the "source" of the bard's songs, as in he provides them to me, and I provide them to bards, and I can deal with that, but only for a short while. Thus I would increase another layer of complexity to it. This way, even if I am discovered, I can still hide it for a while longer while I formulated a plan.
The bards I gave songs to had to be trustworthy. If they are instructed not to sing the song for 6 months, they must not do so.
To monitor this, I would need a network of trustworthy friends who would let me know if and when this happened.
I would need a way to get in touch with bards, and exchange messages. I would need to rely on my network for this.
And this is what I would do. Keoushar would help me, and I knew that Biama, Thain, and Phure, from my school would help as well.
I could even use Ma if I needed to. But she was a danger because of Geoff. Above all, I had to stay away from Geoff.
On graduation, I struck a deal with the school. Keoushar supplied good information, and I could be in a similar arrangement. Any information I brought back to the school would be rewarded, and I would have full range of the school and its resources. I would be a consultant for their papers and books.
This is the deal that I struck, and the deal that I still live by. I have set up a very small network of trustworthy friends to talk with the bards, and just recently, an unknown bard named Chandis rose to fame with a song entitled "Meogar's Love" - a story about a princess of a long dead culture who rose to fame defending her people from encroaching wildlands. Chandis wisely attributed this to her mysterious benefactor, Allanagara - elvish for "Secret". Oddly enough, I myself was exploring the ruins of this village 18 months ago.
Few people speak elvish, so I do not suspect the ruse will be discovered. It will be a long time before anyone even suspects that the name is a phony.
I still like the unique and quirky knowledge, and often I work in at least one little interesting piece into a song or tale. But it's more of a hobby, now, and though I still maintain it, it's not the absolute focus of what I do.
The only sad part to my past few years is that Keoushar has not returned from an expedition he took a few months ago. It is not like him to be so late, but not necessarily unlike him either. He has other interests, as do I.
And we did promise each other that if six months pass from our time of return, that we would look for each other. We leave notes with the school as to where we will be, and when we will return. There have been times that months have passed, and Keoushar and I have just missed each other in our expeditions, but we always check up on each other. It has been 4 months - and I have begun to worry.
