Young elven wizard-in-training
- Elf, Journeyman Wizard
- Male, 70 years of age, 6’0”, 115 lbs, Brown hair, Copper eyes
- Born: Altdorf
- Star Sign: Vobist the Faint – Sign of Darkness and Uncertainty
- 2 Siblings (1 M | 1 F)
- Career Exits: Charlatan, Master Wizard, Scholar
- Dagger x2
- 159gc 18s 0p
- Common Clothing
- printed book
- Backpack (contains: wooden tankard, cutlery set, blanket)
- Rolled scroll
- Small dart x19
- Piece of down x5
- Crossbow bolt x60
- Writing Kit
- Rations x9
- Flask of Fine Spirits
- Night Vision
- Excellent Vision
- Aethyric Attunement
- Very Resilient
- Petty Magick
- Fast Hands
- Academic Knowledge – Magic
- Common Knowledge – Elves
- Speak Language – Eltharin
- Speak Language – Reikspiel
- Speak Language – Classical
- Speak Arcane Language – Magick
- Read and Write
Istar Taneldhir was born in Altdorf to merchant parents, the second of three children. His family descends from one of the first elven groups to enter the Empire, applying their knowledge and skills to guide and further human development. Some branched to specialise in war; others, in trade and crafts. Istar’s parents falls somewhere in between, with favour towards crafting after the relative peace suaded them away back from martial training.
Istar’s birth under the Vobist star was a minor disturbance to the family; more shocking was the birth wart above his right eyebrow, especially strange for elvenkind. His childhood was largely uneventful. Growing up in the merchant district of a bustling city, he, along with his siblings, had a number of spoiled liberties owing to their parents’ apparent wealth, success, and connections with others. The elven children possessed wonderfully crafted wooden toys, and sometimes even mechanical pieces from their parents’ inter-merchant exchanges. Unfortunately for Istar, who had a relatively small and frail-looking frame even for an elf, the more numerous and stronger human children frequently preyed on him for toys when his older brother was not present. One unfortunate day, a group of especially mean bullies successfully ambushed Istar on his way home from playing with his prized glowing wagon that had movable parts! Resistant to the end, Istar clutched his wagon tightly – until the leader brought a lead bar across his face, knocking out a tooth and chipping an adjacent one, leaving him unconscious from the sudden pain and shock.
After recovering from his confrontation with that group of mean human children, Istar turned reclusive. His parents, saddened by the melancholy of their second born, decided to send him to Istar attended a boarding school within the city, learning to read and write. During his course sessions, he discovered an interest in printed material, and spent most of his freetime between classes within the school library. As the years passed, and he completed his schooling, his parents tried to guide him down the path of merchanting. Istar lacked the charisma to deal with customers day in and day out, though, and so spent most of his days in the library. By chance, he befriended the aging, half blind human librarian, who was still employed purely due to his tenure. The librarian, who would only be referred to as Mustin, initially only idly chatted with Istar about various topics, mostly from the books Istar read. After a few months time, the old librarian opened up more and began talking about subjects the young elf had little knowledge of – the arcane lores of magick. For the next few years, Mustin watched with a soft grimace of approval as Istar readily absorbed all this new information – learning the language, basic concepts, and even practicing a few simple spells in secret, mostly under Mustin’s instruction. Alas, it came time for the old human to pass; the elf was grieved to lose his tutor, and one of the few people he could openly talk with. Before he passed, the old librarian gave Istar a book reference, leaving him with the words, “Pursue thy knowledge, boy,” before he sighed his last. Istar returned to the library and ate a meal in solemn silence, with another serving set for his deceased mentor. Finishing, he cleared the dishes and halfheartedly began searching for this book. However, he retired early from lack of concentration, returning home to take another jab at mercantilism.
Some weeks go by. Istar was now tolerable at the exchange market, but still found it incredibly dull. One day, a cloaked individual approached the print store adjacent to the Taneldhirs, carrying a singed tome of great age. He spoke in mumbles and seemed eager to rid his hands of the tome, regardless of his profit. The shopkeeper anxiously accepted the aged tome, as the deal was irresistable, especially to a bookshop. The hooded figure darted away after receiving his compensation; unfortunately, his sleeve caught on the book edge and pulled it to the floor. The aged tome instantly ripped apart, sending pieces of parchment fluttering to the ground. Istar then suddenly remembered the book reference the librarian told him, and with a renewed sense of vigour, headed to the library to began his search.
Only a few hours of searching and the book was found. It was quite small compare to what he had imagined, and placed in a common-looking but sparsely traversed section of the library. Opening the book revealed a folded sheet of papyrus, aged beyond time but holding together by unseen forces. Unfolding the sheet, he instantly recognises it as a abstract map to a nondescript hamlet, just a few ticks on the map out from Altdorf. Excitedly, he rushes home to pack some rations and necessities, and briefly relates his intention to “continue his studies” elsewhere. His parents, though puzzled as to why he would leave Altdorf for education, concedes, never having seen their second born so animated. After a day’s rest, he set off.
The few days of travel were largely uneventful. On the fourth day, just as he could see the trail leading to the hamlet, night fell, and Istar set up camp. The morning of the fifth day came to find an enthusiastic Istar working his way to the small town again. As he got closer, he began to feel chills in the air, uncommon for the land he was on. Brushing it aside as the nervous jitters, he trudged onwards. When the hamlet came to view, or rather, what remained of the hamlet, Istar nearly toppled backwards. There was not a trace of a building left – even the charred remains of the huts had burned to ashes, without a single living thing to be found. Despairing, he retreated doublespeed back down the path to his camp site just off the main road. Stunned by the state of the hamlet, Istar simply sat dumbly, pondering on his next action. Only a few minutes later, he heard a shout coming from the entrance to the small road. Looking up, he spotted a strangely dressed figure, not unlike the wizards he read about, but strangely different. As he approached, the figure calmly but sternly asks him what happened to the village. Istar stammered a simple reply to the effect that it was destroyed. The figure replied with a hint of annoyance that he already knew that, but wished to know by what. Seeing Istar’s distraught countenance, he desists and asks the elf by name what was his purpose here. Istar presents the figure with the slip of paper, and sees a knowing nod in response from the figure.
“I am the Stargazer of Cathay. I presume you have no place to go, with the hamlet gone. Act as my apprentice, then, and we shall see where the fates lead you.”
Without a reasonable alternative, Istar nods in the affirmative and joins the Stargazer. The two return to Istar’s camp to pick up his belongings, and set off on the road from which the Stargazer came – back to his caravan of entertainers. //end
//may or may not sort out later, meh One particular night, after completing yet another session of his writing practices, he grumbled in frustration and took his meal in the library to work on the remaining. Upon completion, he quickly fell to slumber on the table and books.
Rudely awakened by the brightness of the sun, he groggily rouses himself, accidentally knocking the earthenware onto the floor. The clattering startles Istar to immediate attention; looking down at the floor, he notices the knife is stuck upright in the wooden floorboards. The sunlight catches on knife, momentarily blinding his eyes. Adjusting his eyes to the light, the reflection off the knife blade shines on a sliver of metal binding on a book in an inconspicuous corner of the library. Surprised he had not noticed this section of the library before, having perused most of the shelves in his studies, he rushes forward, stumbling slightly over the chair and table legs. Curious, he removes the book from the shelf and cracks the brittle, yellowed pages open. Despite his years of elementary learning, he is unable to discern the print; it appeared to be in the Arcane Language of Magick. Piquing his interest, he spends the remainder of the day in the recess of the library, poring over the aged tome. In the following weeks, he slowly picks up bits and pieces, puzzling out the more primary nuances of the material. Soon after the end of his literary education, he veers off the family path of training in mercantilism or warcraft, following his namesake and delving into the arcane arts. His family warned him of the repercussions of using magicks without approval or proper training; having found no suitable tutor willing to apprentice a disfigured (as seen by the elven community, due to his unsightly wart) elf. He took it upon himself to wander the overworld, the trusty book in his hand.
//more revamp departure – librarian should be of interest hamlet town, stargazer, etc