Notice: Incoming Wall of Text
So this is my first attempt at a detailed background and I would love some feedback. Feel free to make suggestions, edit, or alter this so that it make sense and flows correctly. My grammer isnt the best so bear that in mind.
I also need help with and ending so any suggestions there would be apprenticed.
House Talonmist traces their lineage back to the great Sardikar Tahlaunmiiz, Imperial Dreamer of Calimshan, who fled north from Calimport with his family. After being granted a vision fortelling of the Red Plague of -990 DR. As a result Sardikar became obsessed with disease and death, he would later turn to dark arts and necromancy. Seeking to tease out the secrets of lichdom, as a means of forestalling his death; and by extension guiding and securing the legacy of his lineage.
Since then the family has dwelt in the lands that now surround the town of Westgate, near Waterdeep. Acting as a reclusive, low-profile family of traders while slowly gathering magical lore and secerts as they bred and scattered across the Sword Coast. Though throughout the centuries, those descendants of House Talonmist who showed an aptitude for the arcane mysteries would be sent off the family seat of "Kingsgrave Manor". Where they were to apprentice under the immutable patriarch, the lich Sardikar Tahlaunmiiz.
In recent years the Talonmist family has been embroiled in a simmering fued with the Harpells, an upstart family of wizards from Longsaddle. Whom have disrupted Talonmist activities and acquisitions in the past. Members of the opposing families have even been known to engage in duels to the death when tensions boil over. The Talonmists also harbor a cold relationship with the Red Wizards, seeing the new expansion of the merchant-mages into the Sword Coast as a threat to the family business.
It is in this time, some 2,500 years after the exodus from Calimshan, that Modoc was born. The second of Jaheira and Ajantis Talonmist's three children, his early child was free of any significant turmoil or crisis. Modoc's parents made their living as spice merchants in the bustling port city of Waterdeep; and while they were not wealthy, they lived a comfortable lifestyle. This afforded their children the opportunity to receive an education. It was in this evironment of learning and study the Modoc began to thrive. He read voraciously, sometimes late into the night and would often be scolded by his mother, for using to many candles when caught.
However, it would not be long before Modoc's education became a source of umbrage. The normally peaceful home would erupt with cantankerous argument. As the young savant challenged the teachings of his tutors, in subjects that encompassed everything from theological matters, to natual theories, and even the wonders of the higher mysteries. The study was often a room in the throws of raucous debate, in which Modoc's energy was spent disputing, correcting, and badgering his tutors. All the while demanding evidence of their teachings. Invariably these educators would resign amid a string of curses as they stormed from the family home. These resignations began to become a burden on the family finances, we well as a disruption to the education of their other children. Finding no other recourse for the dangerous intellect of their son the parents decided it was time. They sent a message, and received a response. Modoc was to be delivered to Kingsgrave Manor, where he would examined and tested; and if he was deemed worthy he would be formally apprenticed to the venerable "Gandfather Sar".
The precocious youth was sent east by carrage and arrived at an ancient fortified manor house set atop one of the rolling hills north of the town of Westgate. The manor itself seemed to be built over many centuries. With evidence of several different construction phases and techniques, giving the structure an overall disjointed and bizarre appearance. Once emitted into the enigmatic buillding Modoc was questioned at length. Scrutinized by robed men and women of unclear relation to the boy though they bore a distinct resemblance to his father. Eventually he was taken to an antechamber deep in the vaults under the manor, the door to the room beyond was covered in luminous blue runes. At this point his robed guides instructed Modoc to "Wait here" before the pair turned and hurried from the crypt-like atmosphere of the vaults.
Several hours passed before the door swung open as if by some invisible force. It took Modoc a moment to summon to courage to enter. When he did the scene the greeted the boy nearly overwhelmed his senses. Smoke from burning incense hung in several gilded brazers purfuming the air. A small library's worth of the tombs and scrolls sat in a massive, over stuffed, and many more lay stacked on the floor and tables throughout the room. A number of crystals arcing electricity, hovered in place, occasionally shifted from one side of the room to the other. In a corner sat wooden talbe of polished wood holds carefully arranged and straightened lengths of hair. Each set is tied together with bright blue string. The sigil of house Talonmist covered much of the floor. The design is cut into the floor and its tiny channels are full of glistening mercury. In the center of the room stood the desiccated and mummified figure of Grandfather Sar. He was clothed in ivory colored robes trimed with gold, his fingers and throat heavy with jewellery. Small crystaline stones floated above his head, atop which sat a circlet made of opalecent stone. The only thing that kept the boy from fleeing the chamber was sheer awe. As Gandfather Sar reached out a skeletal hand to gesture the youth forward he said "You need not fear me my child. But know this, your existence shall be that, which I weave for you out of sorrow and woe."
Initially Modoc split the majority of his days either assisting his master with alchemical experiments, deep in study, or carefully aiding with embalming rituals to fortify the liches deteriorating form. But as time. Though as the years progressed Modoc's apprenticeship became an affair of extremes. In one moment Grandfather Sar would patently guide the young mage through the intricacies of The Weave and spellcraft. The next the old lich would set impossible goals for any budding wizard to attain. And when Modoc would inevitably fail, his master was harsh and unforgiving. Evidence of the lich's cruelty was most evident at the end of his time at Kingsgrave Manor.
He was told by Grandfather Sar to prepared to a journey to the Shadowfell, no doubt so the lich could achieve some seceret end. The process seemed simple; an aperture opened like a jaw, and swallowed them and they passed into another space. But something happened when the pair attempted to plane shift. And an error left Modoc separated from his master and alone in the Feywild.
At first he could only stare, open-mouthed, stuned at the resplendent natural beauty before him. But he was soon shocked out of this trance. The sound of his master's voice boomed inside of his head. "Return triumphant or die forgetten" the old lich said, and then it was silent. By happenstance or destiny, Modoc had entered the Feywild in the territory of a Brass dragon named Parthanax. The dragon kept a keen eye on its domain and quickly "collected" the spellcaster as a sort of curio. Parthanax brought Modoc back to it's lair, "The Grand Hall of Conversation" where it spent the majority of its time entertaining friends and visitors. The lair also contained an elegant foyer, a gallery for the artwork the dragon collected, sleeping chambers, of course a treasure vault that housed the dragons horde. Pathanax loved to engage his guest in hours of long winded debate, and Modoc was no exception. This environment suited the young mage and he spent countless hours in deep conversation with the dragon and it's visitors. During his time in the Feywild, Modoc learned answers to questions his had not know to ask. After some months with the dragon he was able to convince Pathanax to send him back to the Material Plane.
[Help me end this story]
