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Muddled Pasts - Pathfinder 3.5
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<blockquote data-quote="jydog1" data-source="post: 5528700" data-attributes="member: 48156"><p><strong>Backstories #2! Grezzalik the Sorcerer</strong></p><p></p><p>talk about verbal excess . . . <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite7" alt=":p" title="Stick out tongue :p" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":p" />. Changed some names to make them all correct.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I'm not 100% sure about this, but here's how I think it all works: There's what you're pretty sure you know; there's what you think you might know; and then there's the truth, which has little to do with either of the other two.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Sound crazy? Maybe. Things are certainly upside down and sideways and inside out – but maybe better, too. At least I don't have to worry about working in the family business anymore, that's for sure.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> My name is Grezzalik, but you can call me Grezz – most people do. And yes, you're right in assuming I'm - oh, I won't sugar-coat it – a mutt. A breedo. A stewpot. There's lots of names for someone like me, someone with obvious elven blood. I suppose the Varisian roots are more obvious than ever now as well. Could I cover my ears up, try to draw attention away from my cheekbones? Probably. But why? I am who I am. Now I just have to figure out exactly who that is.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> My last name? Go with M'Rethen. I'll explain why in a bit. Up until a little while ago my last name was actually Renth, and I – yes, of House Renth, also known as Renth Mercantile and Traders. Why was it changed? Better order another round, this is a long story. Probably longer than you'd like but hey, you asked. I'll tell it the way it unfolded for me, so you can see how things unraveled. Well, that might not be the best choice of words – things have changed, but not all for the worse. Not at all.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I was adopted into House Renth by Gordalen Renth – wait, better back up. Gordalen Renth, founder of a small but ambitious mercantile house and determined to become part of the Game of Houses in Sandpoint, had four children with his first wife, whose name I can never remember. The first three were sons – Ardanth, Borazco, and Charden. The fourth was Dessavia, a girl, and the closest thing to a real sister I have. The brothers mostly ignored me, although Borazco has a nasty, nasty streak that comes out when he's drinking. After Dessavia Gordalen kept trying to have more children – this I learned from Dess and some of the servants – but wife number one stopped popping them out. After about 6 years she died, and he quickly married the woman that was the closest thing I had to a mother. Her name was Shamara and judging by my vague memories and a painting or two I've found squirreled away in the dusty attic, she was stunning, overflowing with dark Varisian beauty. Her first attempt at a child with Gordalen was stillborn, and supposedly she was so devastated by the loss that she insisted they adopt an infant to take its place. That's were I come in – the begat of a prostitute, rumor had it – but Shamara treated me like her very own. At least that's how I remember her, always laughing, always happy, despite a coldness emanating from Gordalen that even I could sense as a toddler. I don't know if they tried to have more kids, but none came along for a while.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Then Shamara died. At sea, I was told, on a pleasure vessel that sank from unknown causes. I was six and understandably distressed. It didn't help when Gordalen – did I mention he commanded me to call him that instead of Father or Dad or anything like that? Yeah. Anyway, Gordalen had a woman around what seemed like the day after Shamara's funeral – a very quietly done one, in fact – and before I knew it he'd married her. Elarra. It rolls like rancid fish oil off the tongue, doesn't it? Appropriate, that. I'd had called her out as a harpy if only I could figure out how she disguised her feathers and beak. She had no use for the foundling, and even showed up with a son that looked an awful lot like old Gordalen – and he was about my age, to boot. What a coincidence that was, eh? And Eztarran proved to be a right bastard too, spoiled and devious. At least he was just as nasty to the others that followed – his brother Fardalen, sister Gelancen, and I think there were more after that – I'd escaped by then, so to speak. Dess did her best to look out for me and I was very friendly with the servants and their children – really, I wasn't one of those gloomy, glowering mopey types at all. And they were good people to be around – they taught me knife fighting, which end of a crossbow to use, how to take care of a horse, and a thousand other things. Mostly we just all tried to stay out of the way of Elarra and Eztarran, which was a rewarding task. </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> When I got to around the age of twelve I could tell they were trying to figure out what to do with me – the elder four kids were all ensconced in various aspects of the business as House Renth was a up-and-coming social power. Still one of the little fish, but become more well-known. I would have thought my glibness and ability to talk to almost anyone would have been a boon, but it became obvious Gordalen didn't want me involved. That problem was solved for him when I suddenly started displaying an affinity for magic – small electric crackles between the fingers, noticing auras on items, and so on. This was confirmed by a wizard and thus my path was set, no doubt eliciting a large sigh of relief from my 'father' – off to the Academica Arcanica for me.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I had no complaints, as there was little left at the house for me. Dess was busy with work all the time and had suitors by the score. Eztarran was proving to be a bully of great measure, aided by his size and his mother's blessing, and I had discovered early on I didn't like to be pushed around or see others intimidated. Our fights were epic, although in the brawls I usually lost. I made up for it with pranks, tricks, and other nasty surprises. At times it was satisfying, but I wouldn't say it was fun. I left with a smile on my face, off to be a wizard.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> The Academica was difficult for me in some ways. I had no problems making friends – and enemies as well. Since most of the families of the Game of Houses had children enrolled, there was just as much petty social and political <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> in there as there was outside. I did my best to avoid trouble but just had to stick my nose in one day when I saw a friend of mine – Nortlan, who had to have a little bit of gnome in him – getting bullied. I didn't know who the ringleader was, but he made sure I did once I'd intervened. Zerlan Scarnetti – yes, of House Scarnetti. Yes, THAT House Scarnetti. I'd managed to pick a feud with a product of one of the most powerful houses in town. Wonderful.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> For the most part, it wasn't something that came up often. The school was large enough that our paths rarely crossed, and unsanctioned fighting or magic use was strongly frowned upon. Which was good, because I was having enough trouble keeping up with my studies. I was supposed to pick a branch of magic to specialize in and it drove most of my instructors crazy that I just didn't want to. Every wizard had aspects they were great at, and aspects that were beyond them, almost repellent to consider. I didn't seem to. It all appealed to me. Even the alchemy classes, which most students avoided like a case of groin rot – it was looked down on as something any mundane could do, and if we wanted to learn this why not just apprentice to an alchemist and join their guild instead, and so on. Me, I liked it and stuck with it, with the added bonus that I was pretty good at it.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> As for my teachers, the only one who seemed to understand me was a wizened old Varisian named Janro, and thus he was the simple choice for my adviser. For years he helped me with my struggles while also providing me with history on Varisians and tutoring me in the dead language of Thassilonian, still found on ancient monuments. He kept telling me I was missing something, but would never tell me what – annoying, true, but I was grateful for his aid. Otherwise I was like any other student – I had friends, relationships with women that invariably fell apart, and studies I could never really keep up with. I was falling behind the others, and I knew this – something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Problems started to increase when I was around seventeen. First was that they took the gloves off in the Pit – right, the Pit. The Pit was basically a battle arena for the mages. We'd go in, armed with our cantrips and padded weapons, and learn to use our skills under duress. Sometimes in teams, sometimes one on one, sometimes a last-mage-standing type of thing – it was supposed to be fun, but I didn't care much for it. For one thing, getting hit with an acid orb hurt, healers nearby or not. The more advanced students also has some minor spells at their disposal, and I can distinctly remember the first time Zerlan hit me with a magic missile. I doubt it was a coincidence that it happened the day after he found out I'd been out with a student he'd taken a liking to, and no way was he going to lose out to some breedo from a lower House. For my part I figured out pretty early on that I was kind of a novelty for most of the women there, a chance for the mostly Chelaxian females to dally with someone they probably shouldn't have. At first I got upset, but as time went on I just learned to accept it. Not like I had a choice. But damn, that missile hurt, almost as much as his superior smirk. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. I looked up and spotted Janro watching, and gave him a frustrated shrug. He nodded. I had no idea what that meant. </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> The next day when I arrived at Janro's office, he bade me to close the door. After fiddling with some book on his shelf a section swung in revealing a small cavity, and from this he drew a slim tome and handed it to me. “For a smart kid, Grezz, sometimes you can be a bit dense.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I looked down at the book. The cover was tattered and worn, and in faded, hand-written letters it said, 'Aspects of Sorcery.' I thumbed through it and looked up, puzzled. “Why are you giving this to me?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> His response was to stare at me expectantly.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I stared back, confused. “I said, why . . oh. OH!” I looked at it again. “Really?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Turned out yes, really. He'd mentioned sorcerers countless times during our Varisian history discussions, but I'd never made the connection. He advised me to keep it somewhat quiet – while sorcery wasn't illegal, it was definitely thought of as inferior to wizardry within the confines of the Academica. I confided in my friends, who seemed relieved that it wasn't just because I was a really bad wizard all along. I kept the book a secret and took to reading it on the roof at night – I loved the feel of the wind blowing against me, or watching a storm rage by. Janro stepped up the history lessons as well – I guess I hadn't noticed how few students were Varisians before – providing me with information he'd withheld before. Plus, he showed me his tattoos, something that was a bit of a rarity around here. The Chelaxians wanted nothing to do with them, but I thought they were fascinating, running the length of his arm. He cautioned me to think long and hard before committing to them if I chose to. At the same time I had a pretty thing named Fariella introduce me to Shelyn – she did wonderful sketches and I liked the feel of the temple she more or less dragged me to one night – when you're seventeen and trying to get inside a girl's robes, a trip to a church is a sacrifice you can handle. I came away invigorated, the same way I did on the roof. Plus I got lucky that night with Fari as well. </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> As I turned eighteen and navigated my way through my final year at Academica things began to evolve around me. House Renth continued to grow in stature and power, not to mention wealth. For some reason this bothered Zerlan, and his indifference gave way to aggression. Things began to grow ugly between us, although I imagine it could have all been avoided if I'd backed down a bit – but I don't like being bullied, and I never claimed to be wise. The only person I talked to from my family anymore was Dess, and of course it was her, in a well meaning way, who started the end game. Not too long before I was scheduled to graduate she asked me to come home for a visit, promising exciting news. My school career was winding down, and in an unexpected turn of events Nortlan and I had managed to make it pretty deep in the two versus two Mage Battle, with the finals looming just two days away – against Zerlan and one of his cronies. It wasn't something I was particularly excited about – the asshat was pretty damn good, and our own chances were slim.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> As for my sister, her news was as good as promised. She'd fallen in love with a son from another merchant house, and his business could actually use someone like her – she'd be leaving House Renth. Gordalen seemed to be happy for her, but I suspected he'd make her sign an non-disclosure agreement before she went. We talked about happy things for a while before she turned the focus of conversation to me. It wasn't long before I confided in her that my magical skills weren't wizardly.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “A sorcerer, eh? I'm not surprised,” she said. “Shamara was an unusual woman.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I know,” I said with a sad nod. “I miss her. She was so good to me, even though I was adopted.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> An odd expression passed over her face, and she started biting her lower lip. I knew that meant she was thinking. “Okay, well, that brings me to another thing I wanted to talk to you about.” She paused, sighed, and grabbed my hands. “Grezz, I should have told you this a long, long time ago, but I wasn't really sure. I mean, I was pretty young when you came along, you know?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Okay. So what are you telling me?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “You . . . you weren't adopted, Grezz. I mean, I had an idea, but I found some papers in one of Father's spots the other day that confirmed it. Plus, you look so much like Shamara now that I don't have any doubt.” She gave me a squeeze. “I wanted to be sure.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I sat dazed. “But . . . why does Gordalen treat me like something foul he stepped in, then? Why has he always been like that? I . . .” Like I said, not the quickest on the uptake. “Oh. No wonder the cover story.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> She laughed. “Yeah, they took a trip when she was almost ready to deliver you – he must have known. That wouldn't have looked good in the Game of Houses, so you became an inconvenient lie.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Confusion turned to anger. “So what happened to my mother, then? Did he do something to her?” </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I have no idea. She took a trip on one of our vessels, and it supposedly sank. After the funeral her stuff was just . . . gone. I have no idea if it went to her – I mean, your family. I don't even know where she came from, being Varisian and all. As for her stuff, well, that might have been Ellara's doing, though. She moved in rather quickly.” She lowered her voice and looked a little abashed. “I think they'd been together for a while before that.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “But all we know is that her ship supposedly went down? I mean, the whole thing could be a lie, right?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Her shoulders raised and fell. I jumped up, letting my hands slide free. “Fine. Where are these papers? Better yet, where is he?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> She stood up, tried to soothe me. “He's not here, there was a problem at the docks and pretty much everyone is there.” When I spun on my heel and headed out she said, “The papers are in the one under the chair, but-” </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Whatever else she was trying to tell me was lost to distance as I strode down the hall to his office. As kids we'd found several hidden spots in there, and it took but a second to move his chair, the rug underneath, and the panel set into the floor. Inside were several sheaths of paper. The top one contained a marriage contract between Gordalen Renth and Shamara M'Rethen. There was also a handwritten letter, signed and sealed by my father, swearing he would take care of her child Grezzalik as if he were one of his own, as long as Shamara stuck by the adoption tale. Pretty clear cut.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I probably should have stopped there, but I went through all the papers I found. Gordalen's fault for not at least putting them in a safe. As if I hadn't been shocked enough already, there was more. I now understood House Renth strong and steady climb in power and wealth, while so many other Houses had been struggling, especially the mercantile ones. For years caravan and ships had been plagued by bandits and pirates, respectively, unusually well-armed and informed. Renth had been fortunate in avoiding the worst of the plague, and now I knew why – Gordalen was in league with them. He supplied them with weapons and schedules, and then bought from them the goods they'd plundered at prices that made both groups happy.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> The bastard. He'd killed countless people – not by his own hand, but still – just for power. The letters were vague enough to be non-condemning, though. If I walked into the magistrate's office with them they wouldn't be enough, and once word got out I deemed it highly unlikely my life would continue on much longer. Insurance, then. I stuffed the letters into a pocket and headed out. This family, that I had called mine for so long, was deplorable. I didn't want to be deplorable. I didn't want to be some idiotic white knight out with a vow to save every living creature either but . . . I wanted to do good things, to make Varisia a better place. And I knew the first step. Embrace who I was. Who I was meant to be.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Janro looked up as I came in. “Yes?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Do you know a good tattoo artist?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> The work took a long time, the better part of two days. When it was done I had a string of runes running the length of my body, starting from just below my right eye and meandering over my shoulder and down both my arm and side, wrapping around my waist like ivy before continuing down my leg and ending at the edge of my toes. Long and painful yes, but when it was done I felt like I'd found a part of me, a piece of a puzzle, one I hadn't even known had been missing. That night, with my new ink still raw and howling, I climbed to the roof of the Academica as a wild, violent storm rolled in from the sea. I stood there laughing, arms raised, as lightning and thunder raged around me. I could feel the power surging above me, around me, and through me, and I never wanted it to end. At times it seemed I could hear whisperings deep inside my head, muttering I could barely make out, in a language I didn't know but somehow understood. It should have frightened me, but it didn't. I didn't feel afraid – I felt alive. I don't know if I was touching the raw elements at their base essence, or being touched somehow by Shelyn, or whatever – I just felt right. I just let myself go and lost myself.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Normally, that's a great idea. And I won't say I regretted it for a second, but it did cause a bit of a problem. I'd spent two days and a night being tattooed, then passed most of the night reveling in a storm. Both very cool. Both very important to me as a sorcerer. Both very distracting. As in, I suddenly realized, as dawn was breaking through the receding clouds, that I had no spells prepared for today's showdown.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I'd never had to study obsessively or with a narrow focus like the wizards did. I thought it was because I was brilliant, before the book on sorcery explained the truth to me. Still, I need need hours of quiet concentration and meditation (or, to be more honest, sleep) to have access to what I knew. I'd obviously blown that, and the nap I took didn't help much. Well, I was grateful I'd done enough to regain my cantrips, but that was like bringing a dagger to a swordfight. When it had come time to choose my 1st Circle spells I'd done so knowing my life was destined to be out in the world, a dangerous place, and so I'd gone offensive – no, not magic missile, the wet dream of every bloody evocation wizard. I'd opted for an illusory spell called color spray that had worked quite well in the Pit. With my other slot I'd gone with the unexpected and taken a summoning spell – having a dire rat pop up next to them had made a number of opponents become quite unnerved. My cantrips, well, they were much more practical and utilitarian, things that would be useful to me away from the friendly labs and helpful teachers of the Academica. There was detect magic, and read magic, and mage hand – very useful for alchemy, indeed – and finally daze, something pretty much everyone took.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> So, heading into battle with those four at my disposal, you can see how I might be in trouble. Not really an attack spell among them. As I dressed for the contest my eyes fell on a training mace I used sometime for a change of pace while sparring. Couldn't hurt.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I arrived moments before we were scheduled to begin. Nortlan was a nervous wreck and began yammering at me as soon as he caught sight, but I shushed him. </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Enough. I'm here. What's the layout?” The terrain of the Pit battles was randomly determined before each match, with casters using telekinesis and other ability to shape the battleground.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Bare. Empty.” He cocked his head. “Grezz, what's all over your face?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Bare, eh? Gonna be a short one. Okay, let's do this – you-”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “No, seriously, what's all over your face?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I sighed. “Tattoos. Tattoos of runes, okay?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I see that. But why?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Because, Nort,” I said with a grim smile, “it seems I'm a sorcerer.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> His eyes widened for a second, then he shrugged. “Okay. So what's the plan?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I possibly hadn't realized what a good friend he was. “Thanks.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Yeah, yeah. The plan?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> There was a huge crowd lining the stands of The Pit – every seat taken and dozens more crammed in. The four competitors marched out and met at the center of the barren oval. Zerlane just stared at me for a bit, contempt plain to see. “Your little upstart house is nibbling where it shouldn't be, mongrel. Meddling in House Scarnetti contracts.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I have nothing to do with House Renth dealings, Zerlane. Take it up with Gordalen.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> He smirked. “No, I think I'll make a point here today, breedo. You see, here's the thing.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “I really don't care if I win or lose here today, but one of you is going to die. Understand?” His partner, a hulking sadist named Garradin, gave a dark chuckle. “I hope it's you, elven filth, but I'd settle for you friend here. It's a shame when someone dies in the Pit, but not exactly unknown.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Two days ago that might have intimidated me, but now it just made me mad. “I'll say it again, thickwit – I have nothing to do with the dealing of House Renth. But I also don't like being threatened and bullied, so don't be surprised if you get more than you can give.” Brave words from the archer with an empty quiver.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> His snort of disbelief was the last noise made before the judges called for attention and told us to take our spots. With nothing to hide behind there was little to do aside from spreading out to avoid area spells and hope that we were quicker on the draw than they were.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> We weren't.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> When the signal went off Garradin moved with stunning quickness, catching Nortlan with a daze cantrip. I managed to return the favor, leaving the big thug reeling as well. With my mace – head padded - already in hand I managed to take a few steps in that direction before light screamed from Zerlan's fingers. I braced for impact but wasn't the target – the magic missile slammed into Nortlan and sent him sprawling, out cold. The next few seconds were dicey – I hoped to reach Garradin before he or Zerlan could fry me as well, but it was a race I couldn't predict. </span>[/FONT] </p><p> </p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> This time, I won. His eyes were just starting to refocus when I reached him, already swinging. Padded head or not, I clocked him in the temple and he went down, hard. As soon as the stroke finished I turned, ready to receive whatever Zerlan had planned for me.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> It wasn't what I expected. He targeted Nort again and blasted him with another magic missile, sending his prone form skittering across the arena floor. The crowd – had they been there the whole time? - roared either in outrage or approval, and the smile he wore enraged me further. However, I was supremely <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />ed. There was no way I could reach him before she shot again, and if Nort wasn't already dead than another bolt would surely do the job. I started running at him anyway, my anger building as he mouthed 'Say goodbye,' and targeted my friend again.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> </p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I was furious beyond words, but at the same time I felt the storm rising within me, the whispers in the back of my head. Screaming “Nooooo!” at the top of my lungs I pointed a finger at Zerlan – and was probably more amazed than anyone else present when a jagged bolt of what appeared to be bright green lightning leaped from my outstretched digit, streaking toward my foe.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I was able to see his eyes widen in surprise – before the bolt hit and his head simply exploded. For a second the body stood upright in place, as if asking 'Did that really just happen?', before slumping to the floor. I'd just killed the son of the most powerful House in the city. With something I didn't even know I could do, but at the same time was fairly certain I could do again. Lucky shot? Not in the long run, probably not. Ignoring the stunned noises the crowd was making, I rushed over to Nortlan, relieved to discover him still alive, if just barely. Then the medics were there, and I headed back tot he prep room for what I knew was going to be lots of fun with those in charge.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Sometime later I found myself standing in front of Gordalen's desk while sat chewing an unlit cigar, fairly frothing with rage. “You had to kill him? Do you know what trouble this is going to bring down on this house?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I didn't need to be a part of the family to venture an educated guess. “Yeah, you're in a world of <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />, that's for sure.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “You bastard!” That was Essara, an unwelcome presence, as was the odious Eztarran. “Have you no respect for your House?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I laughed. “This isn't my House, nor was it ever. I didn't mean to kill Zerlan, but I'm not sorry it happened.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Gordalen regarded me with cold eyes. “Not sorry? Will you be sorry if I have Eztarran crush your skull and offer it to House Marzden as recompense?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “No, but I'd be surprised if his corpse would be capable of such a thing after I'd blown his head off as well.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Ez growled, jumped to his feet. “I'll teach you, half-breed!”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I didn't even bother to look in his direction. “It's hard to hear you, Ez. Everything gets muffled by your mother's skirt.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Why you -”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Oh, stop this, please.” Gordalen shook his head. “You found some balls with those ridiculous tattoos, Grezzalik, but that doesn't change the issue here. Things would go best for us if you were to be delivered to House Scarnetti, whether a death in the Pits is just a fact of magic or not. So while you do seem to have come into some power, why shouldn't I just have the seven or eight guards waiting outside come in and make you a solution, rather than a problem?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Well, for one, I have a better idea. Two, if you do that, the letters I stole that detail exactly why House Renth has been prospering will find their way to the chief magistrate, whether I'm alive or not.” I crossed my arms.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> His eyes gave him away, flicking downward. “Yes, those,” I said. “You really should invest in a safe.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Gordalen studied me for a moment, then grunted. “El, Ez? Can you excuse us for a moment?” Both erupted with protest, which he silenced with a shout. “Now!” They went, Elarra muttering. At the door Ez paused and said, “I'll kill you, Grezzalik.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I felt a smile stretch across my face. “If you try, succeed, or I promise you pain beyond imagination.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> The door shut, and Gardalen let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine. Have a seat. Do you want something to drink?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I shook my head. “Neither of us wants this prolonged. Let's hash out details, and I'll get out of your life.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “And how does this help me again?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Simple. Make a big deal out of some mythical position I held, something crucial and extremely important. Then declare be outcast from the family, stripped of all belongings, and stricken from the House records. If I'd knifed Zerlan in a tavern that wouldn't hold, but hundreds saw him deliberately trying to kill a helpless person. House Marzden won't like it, but it offers them a bit of face saving. The papers I have can stay where they are as insurance – I have a system set up with a friend, and if I die in a suspicious manner, well, you know.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> He mulled that for a while. “And you'd stick to that story?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I may not like you much, but you stuck to the letter of the contract you signed with my mother. It might not have been the closest family to grow up with, but you didn't toss me into the streets.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Ah.” He rubbed at his chin. “You know, eh?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I do. And this is the point where you tell me what really happened with my mother, and where I can find her.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I don't know.” Before I could protest he said, “I really don't. Things here had become uncomfortable – let us not forget she'd conceived you while on a scouting trip – woman never could stay put. I wanted to be with El but a divorce was unseemly, so we agreed to have her disappear. She was supposed to be transferred during a fake attack by pirates, but the bloody navy showed up and ships went down. I have no idea what happened to her.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I got the sense he was only giving me about half the truth, but I knew how unlikely I was to get more out of him. “Fine. Why didn't she take me?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “I don't know.” That was a bald faced lie and he knew I could tell, so he followed with, “It might have looked too suspicious, you going with her on a scouting trip. You were only six, and supposedly adopted.” Plausible, but still a a lie.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Where was she from?”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Gordalen laughed. “Who knows? Bloody Varisians, she wandered into town one day and I swore I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Should have known better than to try to cage that bird, though. Much better off with a good Chelaxian like Elarra.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> “Yes, you two certainly deserve one another.” I rose. “I'm going to gather my things and go. Stick to the story – exaggerate beyond what we've agreed on and it'll get ugly.” I turned to go, then stopped. “Thank you for giving me a place to grow up.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> He offered a wry smile. “Please go far away.”</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> I nodded and added, “Keep Eztarran on a leash. He comes after me, you'll have one less son.” With that I left. Where I was going, I wasn't sure. I had my crossbow, my mace, my alchemical kit, some money, and a new sense of power coursing through me. There was this bard I had gotten friendly with at a local pub – little thing, a halfing, but no less gorgeous for that – who'd been mentioning getting out of town and finding some new challenges. She'd mentioned others who might be interested, invited me along as well. Could be the start of something interesting.</span>[/FONT]</p><p> </p><p></p><p> [FONT=Courier New, monospace]<span style="font-size: 10px"> Hell, life was already interesting. This would just be a continuation.</span>[/FONT]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jydog1, post: 5528700, member: 48156"] [b]Backstories #2! Grezzalik the Sorcerer[/b] talk about verbal excess . . . :p. Changed some names to make them all correct. [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I'm not 100% sure about this, but here's how I think it all works: There's what you're pretty sure you know; there's what you think you might know; and then there's the truth, which has little to do with either of the other two.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Sound crazy? Maybe. Things are certainly upside down and sideways and inside out – but maybe better, too. At least I don't have to worry about working in the family business anymore, that's for sure.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] My name is Grezzalik, but you can call me Grezz – most people do. And yes, you're right in assuming I'm - oh, I won't sugar-coat it – a mutt. A breedo. A stewpot. There's lots of names for someone like me, someone with obvious elven blood. I suppose the Varisian roots are more obvious than ever now as well. Could I cover my ears up, try to draw attention away from my cheekbones? Probably. But why? I am who I am. Now I just have to figure out exactly who that is.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] My last name? Go with M'Rethen. I'll explain why in a bit. Up until a little while ago my last name was actually Renth, and I – yes, of House Renth, also known as Renth Mercantile and Traders. Why was it changed? Better order another round, this is a long story. Probably longer than you'd like but hey, you asked. I'll tell it the way it unfolded for me, so you can see how things unraveled. Well, that might not be the best choice of words – things have changed, but not all for the worse. Not at all.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I was adopted into House Renth by Gordalen Renth – wait, better back up. Gordalen Renth, founder of a small but ambitious mercantile house and determined to become part of the Game of Houses in Sandpoint, had four children with his first wife, whose name I can never remember. The first three were sons – Ardanth, Borazco, and Charden. The fourth was Dessavia, a girl, and the closest thing to a real sister I have. The brothers mostly ignored me, although Borazco has a nasty, nasty streak that comes out when he's drinking. After Dessavia Gordalen kept trying to have more children – this I learned from Dess and some of the servants – but wife number one stopped popping them out. After about 6 years she died, and he quickly married the woman that was the closest thing I had to a mother. Her name was Shamara and judging by my vague memories and a painting or two I've found squirreled away in the dusty attic, she was stunning, overflowing with dark Varisian beauty. Her first attempt at a child with Gordalen was stillborn, and supposedly she was so devastated by the loss that she insisted they adopt an infant to take its place. That's were I come in – the begat of a prostitute, rumor had it – but Shamara treated me like her very own. At least that's how I remember her, always laughing, always happy, despite a coldness emanating from Gordalen that even I could sense as a toddler. I don't know if they tried to have more kids, but none came along for a while.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Then Shamara died. At sea, I was told, on a pleasure vessel that sank from unknown causes. I was six and understandably distressed. It didn't help when Gordalen – did I mention he commanded me to call him that instead of Father or Dad or anything like that? Yeah. Anyway, Gordalen had a woman around what seemed like the day after Shamara's funeral – a very quietly done one, in fact – and before I knew it he'd married her. Elarra. It rolls like rancid fish oil off the tongue, doesn't it? Appropriate, that. I'd had called her out as a harpy if only I could figure out how she disguised her feathers and beak. She had no use for the foundling, and even showed up with a son that looked an awful lot like old Gordalen – and he was about my age, to boot. What a coincidence that was, eh? And Eztarran proved to be a right bastard too, spoiled and devious. At least he was just as nasty to the others that followed – his brother Fardalen, sister Gelancen, and I think there were more after that – I'd escaped by then, so to speak. Dess did her best to look out for me and I was very friendly with the servants and their children – really, I wasn't one of those gloomy, glowering mopey types at all. And they were good people to be around – they taught me knife fighting, which end of a crossbow to use, how to take care of a horse, and a thousand other things. Mostly we just all tried to stay out of the way of Elarra and Eztarran, which was a rewarding task. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] When I got to around the age of twelve I could tell they were trying to figure out what to do with me – the elder four kids were all ensconced in various aspects of the business as House Renth was a up-and-coming social power. Still one of the little fish, but become more well-known. I would have thought my glibness and ability to talk to almost anyone would have been a boon, but it became obvious Gordalen didn't want me involved. That problem was solved for him when I suddenly started displaying an affinity for magic – small electric crackles between the fingers, noticing auras on items, and so on. This was confirmed by a wizard and thus my path was set, no doubt eliciting a large sigh of relief from my 'father' – off to the Academica Arcanica for me.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I had no complaints, as there was little left at the house for me. Dess was busy with work all the time and had suitors by the score. Eztarran was proving to be a bully of great measure, aided by his size and his mother's blessing, and I had discovered early on I didn't like to be pushed around or see others intimidated. Our fights were epic, although in the brawls I usually lost. I made up for it with pranks, tricks, and other nasty surprises. At times it was satisfying, but I wouldn't say it was fun. I left with a smile on my face, off to be a wizard.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] The Academica was difficult for me in some ways. I had no problems making friends – and enemies as well. Since most of the families of the Game of Houses had children enrolled, there was just as much petty social and political :):):):):):):):) in there as there was outside. I did my best to avoid trouble but just had to stick my nose in one day when I saw a friend of mine – Nortlan, who had to have a little bit of gnome in him – getting bullied. I didn't know who the ringleader was, but he made sure I did once I'd intervened. Zerlan Scarnetti – yes, of House Scarnetti. Yes, THAT House Scarnetti. I'd managed to pick a feud with a product of one of the most powerful houses in town. Wonderful.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] For the most part, it wasn't something that came up often. The school was large enough that our paths rarely crossed, and unsanctioned fighting or magic use was strongly frowned upon. Which was good, because I was having enough trouble keeping up with my studies. I was supposed to pick a branch of magic to specialize in and it drove most of my instructors crazy that I just didn't want to. Every wizard had aspects they were great at, and aspects that were beyond them, almost repellent to consider. I didn't seem to. It all appealed to me. Even the alchemy classes, which most students avoided like a case of groin rot – it was looked down on as something any mundane could do, and if we wanted to learn this why not just apprentice to an alchemist and join their guild instead, and so on. Me, I liked it and stuck with it, with the added bonus that I was pretty good at it.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] As for my teachers, the only one who seemed to understand me was a wizened old Varisian named Janro, and thus he was the simple choice for my adviser. For years he helped me with my struggles while also providing me with history on Varisians and tutoring me in the dead language of Thassilonian, still found on ancient monuments. He kept telling me I was missing something, but would never tell me what – annoying, true, but I was grateful for his aid. Otherwise I was like any other student – I had friends, relationships with women that invariably fell apart, and studies I could never really keep up with. I was falling behind the others, and I knew this – something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Problems started to increase when I was around seventeen. First was that they took the gloves off in the Pit – right, the Pit. The Pit was basically a battle arena for the mages. We'd go in, armed with our cantrips and padded weapons, and learn to use our skills under duress. Sometimes in teams, sometimes one on one, sometimes a last-mage-standing type of thing – it was supposed to be fun, but I didn't care much for it. For one thing, getting hit with an acid orb hurt, healers nearby or not. The more advanced students also has some minor spells at their disposal, and I can distinctly remember the first time Zerlan hit me with a magic missile. I doubt it was a coincidence that it happened the day after he found out I'd been out with a student he'd taken a liking to, and no way was he going to lose out to some breedo from a lower House. For my part I figured out pretty early on that I was kind of a novelty for most of the women there, a chance for the mostly Chelaxian females to dally with someone they probably shouldn't have. At first I got upset, but as time went on I just learned to accept it. Not like I had a choice. But damn, that missile hurt, almost as much as his superior smirk. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. I looked up and spotted Janro watching, and gave him a frustrated shrug. He nodded. I had no idea what that meant. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] The next day when I arrived at Janro's office, he bade me to close the door. After fiddling with some book on his shelf a section swung in revealing a small cavity, and from this he drew a slim tome and handed it to me. “For a smart kid, Grezz, sometimes you can be a bit dense.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I looked down at the book. The cover was tattered and worn, and in faded, hand-written letters it said, 'Aspects of Sorcery.' I thumbed through it and looked up, puzzled. “Why are you giving this to me?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] His response was to stare at me expectantly.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I stared back, confused. “I said, why . . oh. OH!” I looked at it again. “Really?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Turned out yes, really. He'd mentioned sorcerers countless times during our Varisian history discussions, but I'd never made the connection. He advised me to keep it somewhat quiet – while sorcery wasn't illegal, it was definitely thought of as inferior to wizardry within the confines of the Academica. I confided in my friends, who seemed relieved that it wasn't just because I was a really bad wizard all along. I kept the book a secret and took to reading it on the roof at night – I loved the feel of the wind blowing against me, or watching a storm rage by. Janro stepped up the history lessons as well – I guess I hadn't noticed how few students were Varisians before – providing me with information he'd withheld before. Plus, he showed me his tattoos, something that was a bit of a rarity around here. The Chelaxians wanted nothing to do with them, but I thought they were fascinating, running the length of his arm. He cautioned me to think long and hard before committing to them if I chose to. At the same time I had a pretty thing named Fariella introduce me to Shelyn – she did wonderful sketches and I liked the feel of the temple she more or less dragged me to one night – when you're seventeen and trying to get inside a girl's robes, a trip to a church is a sacrifice you can handle. I came away invigorated, the same way I did on the roof. Plus I got lucky that night with Fari as well. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] As I turned eighteen and navigated my way through my final year at Academica things began to evolve around me. House Renth continued to grow in stature and power, not to mention wealth. For some reason this bothered Zerlan, and his indifference gave way to aggression. Things began to grow ugly between us, although I imagine it could have all been avoided if I'd backed down a bit – but I don't like being bullied, and I never claimed to be wise. The only person I talked to from my family anymore was Dess, and of course it was her, in a well meaning way, who started the end game. Not too long before I was scheduled to graduate she asked me to come home for a visit, promising exciting news. My school career was winding down, and in an unexpected turn of events Nortlan and I had managed to make it pretty deep in the two versus two Mage Battle, with the finals looming just two days away – against Zerlan and one of his cronies. It wasn't something I was particularly excited about – the asshat was pretty damn good, and our own chances were slim.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] As for my sister, her news was as good as promised. She'd fallen in love with a son from another merchant house, and his business could actually use someone like her – she'd be leaving House Renth. Gordalen seemed to be happy for her, but I suspected he'd make her sign an non-disclosure agreement before she went. We talked about happy things for a while before she turned the focus of conversation to me. It wasn't long before I confided in her that my magical skills weren't wizardly.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “A sorcerer, eh? I'm not surprised,” she said. “Shamara was an unusual woman.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I know,” I said with a sad nod. “I miss her. She was so good to me, even though I was adopted.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] An odd expression passed over her face, and she started biting her lower lip. I knew that meant she was thinking. “Okay, well, that brings me to another thing I wanted to talk to you about.” She paused, sighed, and grabbed my hands. “Grezz, I should have told you this a long, long time ago, but I wasn't really sure. I mean, I was pretty young when you came along, you know?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Okay. So what are you telling me?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “You . . . you weren't adopted, Grezz. I mean, I had an idea, but I found some papers in one of Father's spots the other day that confirmed it. Plus, you look so much like Shamara now that I don't have any doubt.” She gave me a squeeze. “I wanted to be sure.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I sat dazed. “But . . . why does Gordalen treat me like something foul he stepped in, then? Why has he always been like that? I . . .” Like I said, not the quickest on the uptake. “Oh. No wonder the cover story.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] She laughed. “Yeah, they took a trip when she was almost ready to deliver you – he must have known. That wouldn't have looked good in the Game of Houses, so you became an inconvenient lie.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Confusion turned to anger. “So what happened to my mother, then? Did he do something to her?” [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I have no idea. She took a trip on one of our vessels, and it supposedly sank. After the funeral her stuff was just . . . gone. I have no idea if it went to her – I mean, your family. I don't even know where she came from, being Varisian and all. As for her stuff, well, that might have been Ellara's doing, though. She moved in rather quickly.” She lowered her voice and looked a little abashed. “I think they'd been together for a while before that.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “But all we know is that her ship supposedly went down? I mean, the whole thing could be a lie, right?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Her shoulders raised and fell. I jumped up, letting my hands slide free. “Fine. Where are these papers? Better yet, where is he?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] She stood up, tried to soothe me. “He's not here, there was a problem at the docks and pretty much everyone is there.” When I spun on my heel and headed out she said, “The papers are in the one under the chair, but-” [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Whatever else she was trying to tell me was lost to distance as I strode down the hall to his office. As kids we'd found several hidden spots in there, and it took but a second to move his chair, the rug underneath, and the panel set into the floor. Inside were several sheaths of paper. The top one contained a marriage contract between Gordalen Renth and Shamara M'Rethen. There was also a handwritten letter, signed and sealed by my father, swearing he would take care of her child Grezzalik as if he were one of his own, as long as Shamara stuck by the adoption tale. Pretty clear cut.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I probably should have stopped there, but I went through all the papers I found. Gordalen's fault for not at least putting them in a safe. As if I hadn't been shocked enough already, there was more. I now understood House Renth strong and steady climb in power and wealth, while so many other Houses had been struggling, especially the mercantile ones. For years caravan and ships had been plagued by bandits and pirates, respectively, unusually well-armed and informed. Renth had been fortunate in avoiding the worst of the plague, and now I knew why – Gordalen was in league with them. He supplied them with weapons and schedules, and then bought from them the goods they'd plundered at prices that made both groups happy.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] The bastard. He'd killed countless people – not by his own hand, but still – just for power. The letters were vague enough to be non-condemning, though. If I walked into the magistrate's office with them they wouldn't be enough, and once word got out I deemed it highly unlikely my life would continue on much longer. Insurance, then. I stuffed the letters into a pocket and headed out. This family, that I had called mine for so long, was deplorable. I didn't want to be deplorable. I didn't want to be some idiotic white knight out with a vow to save every living creature either but . . . I wanted to do good things, to make Varisia a better place. And I knew the first step. Embrace who I was. Who I was meant to be.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Janro looked up as I came in. “Yes?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Do you know a good tattoo artist?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] The work took a long time, the better part of two days. When it was done I had a string of runes running the length of my body, starting from just below my right eye and meandering over my shoulder and down both my arm and side, wrapping around my waist like ivy before continuing down my leg and ending at the edge of my toes. Long and painful yes, but when it was done I felt like I'd found a part of me, a piece of a puzzle, one I hadn't even known had been missing. That night, with my new ink still raw and howling, I climbed to the roof of the Academica as a wild, violent storm rolled in from the sea. I stood there laughing, arms raised, as lightning and thunder raged around me. I could feel the power surging above me, around me, and through me, and I never wanted it to end. At times it seemed I could hear whisperings deep inside my head, muttering I could barely make out, in a language I didn't know but somehow understood. It should have frightened me, but it didn't. I didn't feel afraid – I felt alive. I don't know if I was touching the raw elements at their base essence, or being touched somehow by Shelyn, or whatever – I just felt right. I just let myself go and lost myself.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Normally, that's a great idea. And I won't say I regretted it for a second, but it did cause a bit of a problem. I'd spent two days and a night being tattooed, then passed most of the night reveling in a storm. Both very cool. Both very important to me as a sorcerer. Both very distracting. As in, I suddenly realized, as dawn was breaking through the receding clouds, that I had no spells prepared for today's showdown.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I'd never had to study obsessively or with a narrow focus like the wizards did. I thought it was because I was brilliant, before the book on sorcery explained the truth to me. Still, I need need hours of quiet concentration and meditation (or, to be more honest, sleep) to have access to what I knew. I'd obviously blown that, and the nap I took didn't help much. Well, I was grateful I'd done enough to regain my cantrips, but that was like bringing a dagger to a swordfight. When it had come time to choose my 1st Circle spells I'd done so knowing my life was destined to be out in the world, a dangerous place, and so I'd gone offensive – no, not magic missile, the wet dream of every bloody evocation wizard. I'd opted for an illusory spell called color spray that had worked quite well in the Pit. With my other slot I'd gone with the unexpected and taken a summoning spell – having a dire rat pop up next to them had made a number of opponents become quite unnerved. My cantrips, well, they were much more practical and utilitarian, things that would be useful to me away from the friendly labs and helpful teachers of the Academica. There was detect magic, and read magic, and mage hand – very useful for alchemy, indeed – and finally daze, something pretty much everyone took.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] So, heading into battle with those four at my disposal, you can see how I might be in trouble. Not really an attack spell among them. As I dressed for the contest my eyes fell on a training mace I used sometime for a change of pace while sparring. Couldn't hurt.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I arrived moments before we were scheduled to begin. Nortlan was a nervous wreck and began yammering at me as soon as he caught sight, but I shushed him. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Enough. I'm here. What's the layout?” The terrain of the Pit battles was randomly determined before each match, with casters using telekinesis and other ability to shape the battleground.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Bare. Empty.” He cocked his head. “Grezz, what's all over your face?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Bare, eh? Gonna be a short one. Okay, let's do this – you-”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “No, seriously, what's all over your face?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I sighed. “Tattoos. Tattoos of runes, okay?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I see that. But why?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Because, Nort,” I said with a grim smile, “it seems I'm a sorcerer.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] His eyes widened for a second, then he shrugged. “Okay. So what's the plan?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I possibly hadn't realized what a good friend he was. “Thanks.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Yeah, yeah. The plan?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] There was a huge crowd lining the stands of The Pit – every seat taken and dozens more crammed in. The four competitors marched out and met at the center of the barren oval. Zerlane just stared at me for a bit, contempt plain to see. “Your little upstart house is nibbling where it shouldn't be, mongrel. Meddling in House Scarnetti contracts.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I have nothing to do with House Renth dealings, Zerlane. Take it up with Gordalen.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] He smirked. “No, I think I'll make a point here today, breedo. You see, here's the thing.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “I really don't care if I win or lose here today, but one of you is going to die. Understand?” His partner, a hulking sadist named Garradin, gave a dark chuckle. “I hope it's you, elven filth, but I'd settle for you friend here. It's a shame when someone dies in the Pit, but not exactly unknown.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Two days ago that might have intimidated me, but now it just made me mad. “I'll say it again, thickwit – I have nothing to do with the dealing of House Renth. But I also don't like being threatened and bullied, so don't be surprised if you get more than you can give.” Brave words from the archer with an empty quiver.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] His snort of disbelief was the last noise made before the judges called for attention and told us to take our spots. With nothing to hide behind there was little to do aside from spreading out to avoid area spells and hope that we were quicker on the draw than they were.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] We weren't.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] When the signal went off Garradin moved with stunning quickness, catching Nortlan with a daze cantrip. I managed to return the favor, leaving the big thug reeling as well. With my mace – head padded - already in hand I managed to take a few steps in that direction before light screamed from Zerlan's fingers. I braced for impact but wasn't the target – the magic missile slammed into Nortlan and sent him sprawling, out cold. The next few seconds were dicey – I hoped to reach Garradin before he or Zerlan could fry me as well, but it was a race I couldn't predict. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] This time, I won. His eyes were just starting to refocus when I reached him, already swinging. Padded head or not, I clocked him in the temple and he went down, hard. As soon as the stroke finished I turned, ready to receive whatever Zerlan had planned for me.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] It wasn't what I expected. He targeted Nort again and blasted him with another magic missile, sending his prone form skittering across the arena floor. The crowd – had they been there the whole time? - roared either in outrage or approval, and the smile he wore enraged me further. However, I was supremely :):):):)ed. There was no way I could reach him before she shot again, and if Nort wasn't already dead than another bolt would surely do the job. I started running at him anyway, my anger building as he mouthed 'Say goodbye,' and targeted my friend again.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I was furious beyond words, but at the same time I felt the storm rising within me, the whispers in the back of my head. Screaming “Nooooo!” at the top of my lungs I pointed a finger at Zerlan – and was probably more amazed than anyone else present when a jagged bolt of what appeared to be bright green lightning leaped from my outstretched digit, streaking toward my foe.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I was able to see his eyes widen in surprise – before the bolt hit and his head simply exploded. For a second the body stood upright in place, as if asking 'Did that really just happen?', before slumping to the floor. I'd just killed the son of the most powerful House in the city. With something I didn't even know I could do, but at the same time was fairly certain I could do again. Lucky shot? Not in the long run, probably not. Ignoring the stunned noises the crowd was making, I rushed over to Nortlan, relieved to discover him still alive, if just barely. Then the medics were there, and I headed back tot he prep room for what I knew was going to be lots of fun with those in charge.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Sometime later I found myself standing in front of Gordalen's desk while sat chewing an unlit cigar, fairly frothing with rage. “You had to kill him? Do you know what trouble this is going to bring down on this house?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I didn't need to be a part of the family to venture an educated guess. “Yeah, you're in a world of :):):):), that's for sure.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “You bastard!” That was Essara, an unwelcome presence, as was the odious Eztarran. “Have you no respect for your House?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I laughed. “This isn't my House, nor was it ever. I didn't mean to kill Zerlan, but I'm not sorry it happened.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Gordalen regarded me with cold eyes. “Not sorry? Will you be sorry if I have Eztarran crush your skull and offer it to House Marzden as recompense?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “No, but I'd be surprised if his corpse would be capable of such a thing after I'd blown his head off as well.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Ez growled, jumped to his feet. “I'll teach you, half-breed!”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I didn't even bother to look in his direction. “It's hard to hear you, Ez. Everything gets muffled by your mother's skirt.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Why you -”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Oh, stop this, please.” Gordalen shook his head. “You found some balls with those ridiculous tattoos, Grezzalik, but that doesn't change the issue here. Things would go best for us if you were to be delivered to House Scarnetti, whether a death in the Pits is just a fact of magic or not. So while you do seem to have come into some power, why shouldn't I just have the seven or eight guards waiting outside come in and make you a solution, rather than a problem?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Well, for one, I have a better idea. Two, if you do that, the letters I stole that detail exactly why House Renth has been prospering will find their way to the chief magistrate, whether I'm alive or not.” I crossed my arms.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] His eyes gave him away, flicking downward. “Yes, those,” I said. “You really should invest in a safe.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Gordalen studied me for a moment, then grunted. “El, Ez? Can you excuse us for a moment?” Both erupted with protest, which he silenced with a shout. “Now!” They went, Elarra muttering. At the door Ez paused and said, “I'll kill you, Grezzalik.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I felt a smile stretch across my face. “If you try, succeed, or I promise you pain beyond imagination.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] The door shut, and Gardalen let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine. Have a seat. Do you want something to drink?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I shook my head. “Neither of us wants this prolonged. Let's hash out details, and I'll get out of your life.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “And how does this help me again?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Simple. Make a big deal out of some mythical position I held, something crucial and extremely important. Then declare be outcast from the family, stripped of all belongings, and stricken from the House records. If I'd knifed Zerlan in a tavern that wouldn't hold, but hundreds saw him deliberately trying to kill a helpless person. House Marzden won't like it, but it offers them a bit of face saving. The papers I have can stay where they are as insurance – I have a system set up with a friend, and if I die in a suspicious manner, well, you know.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] He mulled that for a while. “And you'd stick to that story?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I may not like you much, but you stuck to the letter of the contract you signed with my mother. It might not have been the closest family to grow up with, but you didn't toss me into the streets.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Ah.” He rubbed at his chin. “You know, eh?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I do. And this is the point where you tell me what really happened with my mother, and where I can find her.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I don't know.” Before I could protest he said, “I really don't. Things here had become uncomfortable – let us not forget she'd conceived you while on a scouting trip – woman never could stay put. I wanted to be with El but a divorce was unseemly, so we agreed to have her disappear. She was supposed to be transferred during a fake attack by pirates, but the bloody navy showed up and ships went down. I have no idea what happened to her.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I got the sense he was only giving me about half the truth, but I knew how unlikely I was to get more out of him. “Fine. Why didn't she take me?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “I don't know.” That was a bald faced lie and he knew I could tell, so he followed with, “It might have looked too suspicious, you going with her on a scouting trip. You were only six, and supposedly adopted.” Plausible, but still a a lie.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Where was she from?”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Gordalen laughed. “Who knows? Bloody Varisians, she wandered into town one day and I swore I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Should have known better than to try to cage that bird, though. Much better off with a good Chelaxian like Elarra.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] “Yes, you two certainly deserve one another.” I rose. “I'm going to gather my things and go. Stick to the story – exaggerate beyond what we've agreed on and it'll get ugly.” I turned to go, then stopped. “Thank you for giving me a place to grow up.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] He offered a wry smile. “Please go far away.”[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] I nodded and added, “Keep Eztarran on a leash. He comes after me, you'll have one less son.” With that I left. Where I was going, I wasn't sure. I had my crossbow, my mace, my alchemical kit, some money, and a new sense of power coursing through me. There was this bard I had gotten friendly with at a local pub – little thing, a halfing, but no less gorgeous for that – who'd been mentioning getting out of town and finding some new challenges. She'd mentioned others who might be interested, invited me along as well. Could be the start of something interesting.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Courier New, monospace][SIZE=2] Hell, life was already interesting. This would just be a continuation.[/SIZE][/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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Muddled Pasts - Pathfinder 3.5
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