Posted by sparky on February 10, 2000 at 13:55:14:

In Reply to: The beginnings of my attempt at a backstory posted by Myrr on February 10, 2000 at 01:33:37:

> --Myrr is an Arial warrior trying for Battle. I did my best to avoid making the same old tired hate mages backstory... Anyway, here's what I have so far. This was originally going to be a role submission, but ended up being too long...--

> The son of a merchant living in Arial city, Myrr lacked for little
> in his youth. He played with the other children, and was well liked
> at school. He received a fine education, and was described by his
> teachers as a bright, talented young man. His parents being rather
> wealthy, decided to send him off to a magic academy when he came of
> age, as having a mage in the family would increase their position
> within Arial society. Being that they didn't think Myrr would like
> this much, they didn't tell him. They worried that, like many children
> of the wealthy, that he had seen a glamorous side to the "simpler life,"
> that of manual labor, and barely getting by on small wages. Such an
> insult to their house was unthinkable, and they would rather force Myrr
> into a respectable position that have him sink to such a level.

> Even in his youth, more than anything he loved reading, especially
> historical accounts of great military actions. He took to studying
> tactics of the great Generals, and at times even diagrammed the battles
> on paper, playing them out as he might have if in charge. Raised as he
> was to be a cultured lad, Myrr was trained in the use of several musical
> instruments, and though the natural quickness in his fingers produced a
> fine sound with any of the instruments he was required to learn, he never
> had much love for the lessons. He continued his studies into the military
> on his own time, as any such curiosity to learn beyond the very basics of
> such disciplines was frowned upon in many circles.

> As Myrr grew into his middle years, he began to find joy in writing simple
> narratives of the battles he had so often played out in his head and on
> paper. This talent was encouraged by his instructors and his parents,
> thinking all that he did fiction. Unsure how they might react if they knew
> that his stories were based in fact, not fantasy, Myrr never disputed their
> beliefs. Unbeknownst to Myrr, several samples of his writing were sent to
> several Magical Academies for evaluation, thinking that such creativity would
> serve him well in spell research. Several schools showed interest in the boy,
> and his parents set about making the selection they thought best for their son.
>
> At about this time, Myrr had taken to playing with a group of rougher
> youngsters. Being naturally strong and quick on his feet, he was of
> value to any team in the games they played. As the lads grew older,
> they began taking up sparring with swords and the like, pretending
> they were famous heroes of old, as adolescent boys often do. In their
> mid-teens, some of the more skilled boys began signing on with the
> local militia. Myrr saw how good their training made them, on the
> rare occasions when they still had time off to spar. His friends
> often bragged about how much they enjoyed fighting alongside the more
> grizzled veterans and hearing their stories of old. They were also
> full of boast that their parents were proud of their finding jobs at
> so young an age. Myrr was not under the impression that his parents
> would even approve of such a course for him, but the words of the others
> went a long way toward swaying his decision. After a while he decided
> that this was something he wished to do too.

> Myrr went down to the local recruitment office and signed on as a
> junior guardsman. This would allow him to train at the barracks, and
> take light guard shifts from time to time, and still live at home.
> The prospect of learning to better use the fighting skills he was
> already beginning to cherish excited the young man a great deal, as
> did the extra bit of pocket money he would be earning from his small
> salary. Myrr enjoyed the challenge of his new duties, though he did
> not tell his parents, who took a dim view of such folk as served in
> the militia. Being of the self proclaimed "Upper class," they viewed
> anyone who did any sort of physical labor for a living as a "commoner,"
> and therefore inferior. While Myrr vowed never to be ashamed of who he
> was or the things that he loved, he decided that biding his time and
> waiting to let his parents find out was the path that would cause less
> difficulty.

> In the next several weeks, Myrr showed a real talent for the arts of
> battle, especially swordmanship. An older guardsman, who had taken Myrr
> under his wing, so to speak, suggested that he leave the Militia to study
> elsewhere. He told Myrr that he had the potential to be a truly great
> warrior, and should not waste his life as a member of the Militia. A
> scroll was sent via carrier pigeon to an older man named Miskis who had
> been a past war hero, and occasionally took on students with great
> potential, molding them into true masters of their craft. Myrr knew he
> would miss his friends, both those from his childhood and those he had
> made within the Militia, but he knew that this was to be his destiny.

> The day finally arrived when Myrr was to end his studies in primary
> school. He had acheived fine marks, and his parents were very proud.
> For one reason or another, this "wonderful surprise" had never been
> revealed to him. Obviously his parents had guessed long ago that such
> a path would not appeal to their only son, and had opted to wait until it
> was too late for him to back out. After all, this was an agreement that
> had been made many years before, and a sudden break in it would not do
> wonders for their family name.

> After a lavish celebration supper, to which all of the most important
> people in the city had been invited, his parents finally made the
> announcement that he was to attend the Magical Academy they had chosen
> for him long ago, the Es'Du hei Magica, located well to the southeast of
> Arkham in a magically protected glade. Oddly enough, the Es'Du hei Magica
> was known more for its research in the fields of Sorcerous arts, Necromancy
> in particular. Whether his parents desired this path for their son for some
> reason, or they were simply too success-minded and foolish to know the true
> nature of the place was never discovered. In a long-winded speech, Myrr's
> father spoke of the glories of the school, speaking of many past mages who
> were rumored to have had their beginnings there. Not left out were words in
> praise of his own wisdom in selecting such a fine school, and completing the
> contract for Myrr to attend.

> Myrr was somewhat dismayed by this, but attempted to show a positive outlook
> about it, not wanting to upset his parents. He spent the evening relying on
> the courtly manners that had been drilled into his head while he conversed with
> older, minor nobles, and shook hands with other children of those with wealth
> and stature within the community. Confusion twirled about like a storm in his
> mind, as well as a certain degree of fear. Myrr had had occasion to read of the
> 'Magica,' as it was called by soldiers without the training to decipher the
> correct pronunciation of the school's full name. The school's other, less
> prestigous reputation had reared its ugly head in the accounts of many assaults
> on the castles of Evil Sorcerors, and battles with legions of frightening undead
> warriors.

> Compounding Myrr's rather deserved apprehention at his chosen fate was the fact
> that he had, of course, not even told his parents about his job with the Militia,
> let alone his desire to pack up and go live with old Miskis. He had run across
> writings by many old generals on the true nature of magic, its use to opress the
> unlearned with fear. Some even went so far as to claim that magic was stolen
> from the gods. Myrr was unsure as to how exactly one stole something from a god,
> yet he was in agreement with much of what the old warriors said. A general
> contempt for things magical had already begun to form in the depths of the lad's
> soul, and this part of him, consciously or not, positively detested the idea of
> magical instruction. Myrr decided, at some length, to let the excitement of the
> announcement die down a bit before he began to gradually alert his parents of his
> views. After all, it was a full 6 months until he was to be shipped off to the
> academy, and a lot could happen in that time.

> After a few somewhat uneventful weeks had passed, a return scroll from
> Miskis confirmed what had been all but promised to the lad. It was stated
> that the man had not had a student of any sort of potential in some time,
> and was beginning to worry that such people were gone from the world. He
> said that he would gladly take Myrr on, provided that the lad helped out
> around the small farm to earn his keep. Myrr was excited, yet worried at
> the same time. Now that his path had been set, the time had come for the
> confrontation with his parents, something he had been dreading for quite
> some time. He set off toward his home, scroll clutched in one hand, looking
> apprehensive, yet determined...

> The confrontation was not a pretty sight. Thankfully, Myrr had gone to his
> room to pack a light travelling bag before talking to his father about his
> chosen course in life. The man exploded, and Myrr was sure it would have
> come to blows had the man not had the restraint to realize the folly of
> attacking his warrior-trained son. In short, Myrr was told that he was
> stripped of his birthright and any ties he had ever had to his family. As
> far as his parents were concerned, they had no son. Myrr held his emotions
> firmly in check, but inside he was crying to see his father so angry. He did
> not approve of many of his parents views, but he loved them as all children
> do. He knew that this was his destiny, however, so with a heavy heart he
> began the long trek to Miskis' farm deep in the mountains of Udgaard.

> The journey took around three weeks by foot, rising with the dawn and making
> camp just after sundown each day. He took a little longer, taking a wide
> path around the city of evil, Udgaard, not wishing any contact with the city's
> inhabitants. Myrr had heard many stories in his childhood of the terrible
> things that reside in Udgaard, the ghouls running about, Sorcerors practicing
> their dark magic in the streets to anyone who happened by. He gazed down from
> a high hilltop at the evil city some miles away. Truly, Udgaard resembled a
> sore on the face of Thera, or at least a bruise. An invoulantary shudder ran up
> Myrr's spine, and he quickened his steps into the hills as the shadows grew long
> behind him, not once looking back over his shoulder at the shadowy den of Evil.

> Myrr kept himself rather well fed throughout his journey, dining on some travel
> rations he had been given, as well as supplementing the dry, bland stuff with the
> occasional rabbit or fish. He was by no means an expert survivalist, but had
> learned a few basic techniques as part of his standard militia training. In the
> unlikely event that Arial city was actually involved in a major war, they could
> expect to be drafted, and as such, need to survive in the field. In his few
> moments with time for leisure, Myrr would occasionally work on one of his stories,
> this time a fictional one about a haunted battlefield.

> As the days wore on, and his objective drew closer, Myrr found himself more fit,
> the journey hardening his body. He was by no means in poor shape, but no amount
> of working out can substitute for walking and flying over rough terrain day after
> day. As Myrr approached the valley where the old man said he lived, he felt a bit
> nervous. Supposing Miskis didn't like him? Would his loss of his family name and
> birthright be a waste?

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