Day 1 - Brewfest 591 CY
Before I begin, I would like to apologize to those of a more historical bent that I cannot afford more precision when it comes to dating these entries. As a student of events myself, I understand the frustration this can cause, however I fear that this record will one day fall into the hands of those who would do me harm and, as such, I cannot be too cautious.
My name is Elizar Norbe late, as of yestereve, of Hardby, once equal of the Gem of the Flanness. My reasons for fleeing the beloved city of my childhood are numerous though they require a little explaination of my past before you may understand them fully. In my short life I have been many things; priest, wizard, traveller and spy.
The brief version of my family history begins with my father, a Souloise-descended merchant of Hardby, and my Mother, a Jasirian witch of Baklunish stock from the cold lands of Blackmoor. Their meeting was hardly the stuff of legends, though love apparently evolved as he brought her all the way back to his homeland in order to gain his family's blessing for their union. Seeing what a remarkable woman my mother was, they agreed in short order and welcomed her, and the status a woman of the church provides, to their bosom. My father died attempting to establish new trade routes south of Sasserine leaving behind my mother, two elder sisters and myself still enwombed.
Out of respect and thanks for bringing me into this world, I will not name my mother or sisters in this text. As you may now guess, the name Elizar Norbe is an alias though I have come to view it as more my own than my real name.
I grew into my family position and followed, at my mother's insistance, my elder sisters into the church of Wee Jas, the Ruby Goddess. Though I displayed great aptitude for the cloth, female apprentices are always preferred over boys, a fact which chafed my pride most acutely. More to the point, the constant snide remarks denegrating the aptitude of the uglier sex had taken a slow and painful toll on my first master and literally eroded his sanity. My first few years of apprenticeship were filled mostly with mortification, brutality and grueling work which left very little time for prayer and study.
But all things come to an end, as the Ruby Goddess teaches, and the brutalization of apprentices is greatly frowned upon no matter the gender. For a while, my position in the church came under question as there were no others to teach me in the proper articles of our faith. It came as some surprise when my new mistress emerged from the shadows under the temple in order to take me in as her pupil. Though I am thankful, I do wonder if she would have been as accepting of me had I been less fair of feature.
My studies began in earnest and I showed an aptitude for both prayer and the powers arcane. My mistress taught me both in return for doing what she was patently unable to during the day and, at times, a little blood or companionship. Under her tutilage I learnt much about the undead and their ways though I never became as focussed on that knowledge as she.
Our time came to an end when war broke out and the Gynarchy called upon every resource in order to defend its boarders from the aggression of Iuz the old. I was drafted by my mother and sisters as an agent and sent out into the world with only a horse, staff and robes on my back. I carried messages, did odd jobs, infiltrated various magical organizations, fought off invaders and comitted crimes that still haunt me to this day. Such is war and the game.
My return didn't come until many years after the war had ended, with plagues of fiends across the countryside and other catastrophies sweeping the land, even as Hardby fell to the Free City of Greyhawk we were still needed to serve the Gynarchy abroad. They were tough times and I learned little as my situation was ill suited to study. But return I did to thunderous silence and vague dismissal. My family hardly remembered me or even acknowledged my presence, so caught up in the power struggle as the aging Gynarch slowly ascends to the Goddess' arms. My sisters are hailed as heroes while I langueish in a barren cell of the Temple I once thought of as home. Even here, I am still a lowly apprentice, barely above my former rank.
I was not chosen as an agent for my stupidity or dullness and yet my peers seem to think me deaf and dumb. I have been accused of arrogance, hubris and ambition; I am an outcast among the living who can only find solice and even good conversation with the dead. Was, that should be 'was an outcast'. Consulting the Goddess with my mistress, we cast together several auguries asking what course of action she has ordained for me. The Goddess told me to leave and seek my fortune elsewhere.
I do feel guilt for leaving my family, even after all they have said and done to me. Wee Jas teaches obedience to church, state and family and yet all beings have a duty to a higher order, the order by which the universe itself is run. Ultimately, I believe that it is this order I am now serving, the word of my Goddess is to leave and there can be no higher authority. Perhaps they are right, I am arrogant to believe that I personally serve some higher cause and yet I am set on my course and my mistress agrees. I have seen too much of the world to be impressed by the fading glory of a small town with pretensions of granduer.
The next morning, I wasted no time in converting most of my worldly possessions into gold. With what small wealth I have managed to accumulate over the years, I have purchased some magical tools that will aid my travels in the days ahead along with passage to Sasserine on a ship that I have no intention of being on. Tonight, I sit writing this diary upon a rock worn by the passage of ages by the light of a fading campfire I dare not build too high. I'm counting on the festival to slow my mother's realization of my absence as well as muddy my tracks for those who she will undoubtedly send after me.
I will take the backroads west to Narwell, relatively easy travelling through well-developed countryside. As loathe as i am to do it, I have discarded my vestments and hidden my silver holy symbol in a leather pouch around my neck in order to pose as a lowly wanderer. After Narwell, I'll head south through Celene and the Welkwoods and into Ulek. From there, I can decide whether to take to ship, travel further south into Keoland and the Sea Princes or north toward the Barrier Peaks. I am positive that the Goddess will guide me to where I am needed most.
Before I begin, I would like to apologize to those of a more historical bent that I cannot afford more precision when it comes to dating these entries. As a student of events myself, I understand the frustration this can cause, however I fear that this record will one day fall into the hands of those who would do me harm and, as such, I cannot be too cautious.
My name is Elizar Norbe late, as of yestereve, of Hardby, once equal of the Gem of the Flanness. My reasons for fleeing the beloved city of my childhood are numerous though they require a little explaination of my past before you may understand them fully. In my short life I have been many things; priest, wizard, traveller and spy.
The brief version of my family history begins with my father, a Souloise-descended merchant of Hardby, and my Mother, a Jasirian witch of Baklunish stock from the cold lands of Blackmoor. Their meeting was hardly the stuff of legends, though love apparently evolved as he brought her all the way back to his homeland in order to gain his family's blessing for their union. Seeing what a remarkable woman my mother was, they agreed in short order and welcomed her, and the status a woman of the church provides, to their bosom. My father died attempting to establish new trade routes south of Sasserine leaving behind my mother, two elder sisters and myself still enwombed.
Out of respect and thanks for bringing me into this world, I will not name my mother or sisters in this text. As you may now guess, the name Elizar Norbe is an alias though I have come to view it as more my own than my real name.
I grew into my family position and followed, at my mother's insistance, my elder sisters into the church of Wee Jas, the Ruby Goddess. Though I displayed great aptitude for the cloth, female apprentices are always preferred over boys, a fact which chafed my pride most acutely. More to the point, the constant snide remarks denegrating the aptitude of the uglier sex had taken a slow and painful toll on my first master and literally eroded his sanity. My first few years of apprenticeship were filled mostly with mortification, brutality and grueling work which left very little time for prayer and study.
But all things come to an end, as the Ruby Goddess teaches, and the brutalization of apprentices is greatly frowned upon no matter the gender. For a while, my position in the church came under question as there were no others to teach me in the proper articles of our faith. It came as some surprise when my new mistress emerged from the shadows under the temple in order to take me in as her pupil. Though I am thankful, I do wonder if she would have been as accepting of me had I been less fair of feature.
My studies began in earnest and I showed an aptitude for both prayer and the powers arcane. My mistress taught me both in return for doing what she was patently unable to during the day and, at times, a little blood or companionship. Under her tutilage I learnt much about the undead and their ways though I never became as focussed on that knowledge as she.
Our time came to an end when war broke out and the Gynarchy called upon every resource in order to defend its boarders from the aggression of Iuz the old. I was drafted by my mother and sisters as an agent and sent out into the world with only a horse, staff and robes on my back. I carried messages, did odd jobs, infiltrated various magical organizations, fought off invaders and comitted crimes that still haunt me to this day. Such is war and the game.
My return didn't come until many years after the war had ended, with plagues of fiends across the countryside and other catastrophies sweeping the land, even as Hardby fell to the Free City of Greyhawk we were still needed to serve the Gynarchy abroad. They were tough times and I learned little as my situation was ill suited to study. But return I did to thunderous silence and vague dismissal. My family hardly remembered me or even acknowledged my presence, so caught up in the power struggle as the aging Gynarch slowly ascends to the Goddess' arms. My sisters are hailed as heroes while I langueish in a barren cell of the Temple I once thought of as home. Even here, I am still a lowly apprentice, barely above my former rank.
I was not chosen as an agent for my stupidity or dullness and yet my peers seem to think me deaf and dumb. I have been accused of arrogance, hubris and ambition; I am an outcast among the living who can only find solice and even good conversation with the dead. Was, that should be 'was an outcast'. Consulting the Goddess with my mistress, we cast together several auguries asking what course of action she has ordained for me. The Goddess told me to leave and seek my fortune elsewhere.
I do feel guilt for leaving my family, even after all they have said and done to me. Wee Jas teaches obedience to church, state and family and yet all beings have a duty to a higher order, the order by which the universe itself is run. Ultimately, I believe that it is this order I am now serving, the word of my Goddess is to leave and there can be no higher authority. Perhaps they are right, I am arrogant to believe that I personally serve some higher cause and yet I am set on my course and my mistress agrees. I have seen too much of the world to be impressed by the fading glory of a small town with pretensions of granduer.
The next morning, I wasted no time in converting most of my worldly possessions into gold. With what small wealth I have managed to accumulate over the years, I have purchased some magical tools that will aid my travels in the days ahead along with passage to Sasserine on a ship that I have no intention of being on. Tonight, I sit writing this diary upon a rock worn by the passage of ages by the light of a fading campfire I dare not build too high. I'm counting on the festival to slow my mother's realization of my absence as well as muddy my tracks for those who she will undoubtedly send after me.
I will take the backroads west to Narwell, relatively easy travelling through well-developed countryside. As loathe as i am to do it, I have discarded my vestments and hidden my silver holy symbol in a leather pouch around my neck in order to pose as a lowly wanderer. After Narwell, I'll head south through Celene and the Welkwoods and into Ulek. From there, I can decide whether to take to ship, travel further south into Keoland and the Sea Princes or north toward the Barrier Peaks. I am positive that the Goddess will guide me to where I am needed most.
