21.09.1999:
.2.2000
Realities Orphan.
Prologue
The man's mind was a blaze of millions of thoughts going
everywhere imaginable, faster than even the most powerful
computer could follow. This man's mind was no ordinary
collection of neurons and gray matter; it was a mind
possessed of an incalculably evil madness. The insanity
drew its host deeper into itself, and drove it to new
heights of power. The body always compensates for
difficulties. While rational thought was lost to the man,
his intelligence had paradoxically been increased many
times over. This man was not only insane, but was also a
practitioner of the art, and for one such as he,
intelligence was the most important aspect of one's being.
With such a mind, he could indeed become powerful. What
were his limits? Did he have limits? Only time and the
test of the age-old negotiator; battle would tell.
PART 1: MAGE'S RISE
Introduction: The Traveler's Chronicle
It was some time ago that my wanderings began. After
awhile the years begin to blur, ceasing to have any real
meaning at all. For the temporal minded reader however, I
can safely say that my existence spans almost four
hundred years. Over the years I have had many names,
depending on which plane of existence was my home at the
time. The name of my birth was Jerod, though no one has
called me that since I left the place of my birth over
three hundred and eighty years ago.
Over four lifetimes have I wandered the many facets of
the time and space, in search of that which every man
must ultimately search for, my place in the world. A
world which I learned in none to gentle a way, that was
very large, and well beyond the scope of my imagination.
Hamlet said it best when he put this to good Horatio, his
dear friend; "There are more things in heaven and
Earth dear Horatio, then are dreamt of in our
philosophies. Being nothing more than a boy, I did not
realize how true those words were. That insight came
later.
Through the Looking Glass
Where to begin my tale? And some might ask, why begin at
all? In truth I know not what compelled me to tell this
tale, save that it was time to tell my story. I think I
will start at the beginning, for that is always a fine
place to start! Not at the beginning of my life of course,
but at the day and hour of my rebirth, as it were. It was
the year c. 2003 by Sol standard time, as I remember it,
and I was a boy of some seventeen years. And I was Though
my life has been long, my mind is still sharp; even still,
one can't remember every detail.
I was in the last year of my schooling, and was I
dreading the working world more with every passing day.
What would I do? I was planning to specialize in computer
science. Little did I realize how useless that would all
be in but a few short months. One day toward the end of
the last term, at half past twelve, I was walking toward
the current "love" of my life's dorm, when it
happened. A maelstrom, a conflagration, a deluge, my
personal Armageddon came upon me with such a violent and
unnatural malevolence that I was literally bogged down by
the psychic power that it wielded, just as a forester
hefts an axe against a tree. The physical onslaught was
an entirely different, though no less formidable attack,
that left me reeling with a severe loss of blood and
cognition. The ultimate storm, the godfather of all
violent flurries tossed me about like a rag doll, and
racked my body with voracious bolts of deepest blue
energy. The whole seen would have appeared surreal to an
observer, but I could not even think of screaming, for as
quickly as it had come, it was gone.
Insight
The attack, which I learned much later was a magical
experiment gone awry from a different plane of existence,
left me paralyzed, scarred, emaciated, and thus, barely
recognizable. It also deposited me somewhere other than
my universe, no… other than my very reality. I had
landed in the realm of Faerun. It was not until many days
later that that revelation was to come upon me however.
The realm of magic and adventure, and place conceived of
in the imagination of an Earth novelist. Faerun was
supposed to be a place of fantasy, certainly not a
tangible reality… So what was I, an unconscious,
barely living person of Earth, doing in a world of
whimsical imagination, a place that should only exist in
the minds eye?
It was more than a century later that I learned the whole
truth about dimensions, or planes of existence. The Earth
that I came from is the prime dimension. All others were
brought into existence because of something that happened
on that Earth. It took no small amount of enchantment and
a little bit of the luck for the creation to be
accomplished, and so there are not as many dimensions as
one might imagine (at least one who is an avid
theoretical physicist).
The Forgotten Realms as they are known, were taken from
the pages of fantasy and created by many primitive Earth
wizards who did not know what their meddling would cost
them. Their powers, though meager individually, were just
strong enough when brought together to invoke the six
elements, Earth, Air, Water, Fire, Time, and Reality.
These six beings are the supreme powers in the universe
prime, and they did not take kindly to being summoned by
mere magelings. In truth Earth has known very few wizards
of real power, the greatest of whom was, of course,
Merlin. The six Prime Elementals granted the boon, but
took the lives of the magelings as payment. And thus the
Forgotten Realms came into being.
A score of other dimensions were created in this manner,
though the "prize" was always the same for the
foolish invokers of powers well beyond the scope of their
imagination. That brief explanation of the existence of I
had been deposited, now told, let us focus on the
situation at hand, namely a younger me in danger of death.
The perceptive reader will take note of the fact that I
am myself chronicling these events and thus could not
have perished in that alien land…at least not yet.
The Orphan's awakening
When I awoke, I found that I could not move, and that
there was pain in places I knew not that I had on my body!
I could see very little, but enough to tell that I was in
a heavely-forested area, and it was night. I was in fact
under the protection of two young Harper's named Belkram
and Itharr.
The two were good, light-hearted, and burly fighters men
in the service of the Harpers. They were nearly unmatched
with their blades, and their adherence the Harper's code
set up by old Elminster all those years ago… well I
am a bit ahead of myself. When I awoke, there they were,
in their worn leathers, swords at their sides, and broad
smiles on their faces, joking with each other as usual.
After they had notice my awareness one of them spoke.
"Well lad, 'twas quite a rough couple of days for ye
there." "Didn't think that you would make it
through." Those words of Belkrams were the first I
had heard in what seemed like a very long time, and they
made my head ache even more. "Where am I". I
managed to sputter eventually. "That blow to yon
lads head must indeed have been strong," Itharr
muttered. "Lad, ye are just out of Beregost, on the
Swordcoast." "How came you by such awful wounds
such as those ye be bearing?" Itharr inquired?
"I'm not sure really, I was walking down the side
walk, then all of a sudden a blast from the sky knocked
me out and I woke up here." "And a good time to
be awaken lad, Belkram was just about to get us some
dawnfry!" "You son of a kobold!" "'Tis
your turn this day and you…." Belkram began,
but he just stalked of muttering something about a dragon's
arse.
Acclimation
We ate well that day, and my hosts taught me much in the
weeks to come. For it came to pass that I was invited to
travel with the two warriors after my wounds had healed.
Wounds that I still bear the scars of even today, most
prominently in my left eye. Once I had healed
sufficiently, the speed of, which was a minor miracle in,
and of its self, for my two Harper friends had no healing
salves available, we set out to nowhere in particular.
Oddly enough, I did not mind my surroundings, or even
feel the slightest twinge of homesickness, that would
come many years later. I began to assimilate the culture
and mannerism of my companions, which came rapidly to me.
I also took a new name, one for my new life, Renner (?).
The Harper's took a liking to me, and soon we were more
than companions, we were friends. Belkram and Itharr
taught me the basics of the blade. By their word, I
learned quickly. My body grew stronger in my five or six
months with the Harper's than it had ever been before. I
learned to fight with many different weapons, and it
turned out that I could throw a blade even truer than
those seasoned warriors!
As my body grew stronger and my skills grew sharper, I
began to realize that I was finally good at something.
That was an unknown feeling to me at that time. I had
never really excelled at anything before in life, and it
felt good to have a balanced blade in my hands, for I
knew that I could put some good use the instrument which
had been lent to my by my newfound friends.
Naragul
Near the end of the second month on the road, as we three
were looking for a good tavern to spend some coin in,
there was an inhuman roar to our rear. "By the god's,
what could make a sound like that." Exclaimed
Belkram. "Aye", I said. "What indeed, that
was even worse Itharr's snoring." "Liar,"
Itharr shouted in mock anger, "I don't snore."
Despite the situation, Belk and I could not help but
laugh deep and loud. "The situation remains however,
what was that unholy noise?" I said at last,
bringing us back to the present dilemma.
We three drew out weapons, and went in search of the
disturbance. Our search did not take us far, for only a
few hundred footfalls behind, and a ways off the path
there lay a wyvern with a large barbed spear protruding
from its eye. "Mystra aid us," Belkram
exclaimed in reverent, if slightly ominous whispers.
"Dragon?" I asked. "Nay, tis a wyvern,
though tis a large one." said Itharr. "But who
did this deed?" He added. And as we pondered on this
perplexing problem, the object that we had thought to be
a spear began to glow, and become insubstantial until it
simply disappeared. "'Tis sorcery." Muttered
Itharr. "Aye, but whose, and for what purpose."
'Twas my reply.
Our answer came in the form of a thunderclap, and an
iridescent cloud of smoke. Out of it appeared a rather
old man who carrier a small rod. He muttered some command
word, and magical netting was invoked onto the wyvern's
body. A small incantation sent the beast out from our
sight. "Who are you sir, that you might slay such a
mighty beast?" I asked. "I am Naragul from the
far southern lands of Amn. "From Amn, where might
you be headed then good wizard." Asked Belkram with
some barely hidden contempt. "I came hunting after
this beast, for it raised a hand against me and none that
do that live, not even such a beast as this." Said
the wizard. " A powerful sorcerer indeed." I
said at length. "Aye, and from Amn!" Belkram
sneered, holding back none of his contempt this time. You
must forgive my fellow Harper good mage, he is from
Baldur's Gate, and has very little love for Amn."
Said Itharr. "And no love for the Baldur's Gate do I
hold, but I will nay make and enemy of a Harper this day."
And with that Naragul murmured some other words of mystic
power, and was gone.
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