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By Walker Perkins
Bartolous Dvorak
Description:
6’1” tall and 165 pounds, you are tall, and thin. Brown hair and brilliant green eyes are prominent among your aristocratic features. You are intense and intelligent for the growing age of 17, but such is to be expected of an aspiring magus.
Culture:
Damarans respect those who demonstrate heroism and self-sacrifice and stand unflinchingly in the face of evil. Damaran society is intolerant of weakness or selfishness, viewing deeds in stark black or white. The moralistic nature of their society strongly shapes Damaran youth. Most youngsters follow in the path of their parents, subscribing to their strong moral fervor. Others rebel against the strictures and traditions of Damaran society and flee its constraints. The latter path accounts for the neverending tide of settlers emigrating to the borders of human settlement, the large numbers of Damarans who have made their way west into Chondathan held territories, and the small number of Damarans who turn to the worship of Demons.
Religion plays a central role in Damaran life, yet there is by no means a universality of belief. Although religious fervor is admired, individuals are judged by how they conduct themselves and the strength of their personal moral code. Class divisions are less noticeable than elsewhere in Faerûn, but those who have been judged morally unfit are strongly shunned by their peers. Many Damarans learn their trade during an apprenticeship at a church-run school before setting out into life, while others join a religious order, directly pledging themselves to a church. As they grow old, Damarans often return to the church of their youth, tithing much of their wealth to its coffers and living out their last years in service to their patron deity.
Damarans have a long adventuring tradition, reflecting the generations-long battle to reclaim the lands of the Easting Reach from the Demonic legacy of Narfell. Many youths, particularly those of noble blood, take up adventuring for a few years in order to prove themselves worthy of their titles. Those not in line to inherit great estates also do so in hopes of winning new lands and wealth for themselves, or in response of the crusading zeal of Damaran society. Arcane spell casters of all sorts are rare in Damaran society, reflecting a long-held suspicion of magic powers that are not bestowed by a deity. While wizards are generally accepted, sorcerers are looked upon with suspicion, for the sorcerous arts are thought to be a legacy of Demonic heritage.
Background:
Your father and mother brought you and your siblings to Phlan at a young age. This was an exciting time for you as the icy waste of your homeland gave way to the (slightly) greener shores of the Moonsea. For most of your youth, you assisted your mother in the kitchens of the Laughing Goblin Inn (which your father had purchased from the previous owner) and found that you had a knack for the identification and measuring of various herbs. Your father (Ragan), would spend the early hours of every morning teaching his children how to balance ledgers, take inventory, and other things that a businessman should know. At these things you excelled. Seeking to fan the flames of your intelligence your father would purchase or borrow books for you to read after your chores. At the age of thirteen, your father apprenticed you to an Arch-Wizard in Thentia (Baillandor the Artificer). For the nine cold months of each year, you lived in your new master’s villa arduously learning the rudiments of magic and the theory of item construction. Life at Baillandor’s villa was trying for you, as his two other apprentices seemed to learn more quickly than you. On top of that blow to your ego, by the end of the first year, you had barely managed to manifest your first cantrip. Going home, uncertain of what to tell your father about your progress, you found yourself strangely neglected by your father and mother. For whatever reason, they seemed to be spending a good deal more time on your adopted siblings and your dimwitted-lay-about brother (Sven). You exaggerated your accomplishments a bit to gain their attention, but they seemed to react to your tales strangely, as if you were bragging about deviant behavior. This cycle has continued for the last 3 years, you’ve learned a good deal more spells, but there is something new that you don’t know how to tell your father… you can’t go back to Thentia.
Relations with others:
You see yourself as a dynamic figure born to lead by right of intelligence and accustomed to being the center of attention. This attitude has begun to cause problems for you with others, and your apprenticeship has given you a more realistic opinion of yourself.
* Your adopted brother, Davram, is a nice enough fellow. You both got on very well when you were children, but of late he seems to be outshining you in your father’s eyes, and that burns you up. He’s still a good brother though.
* Your adopted sister, Esvelle, is intriguing and very easy on the eyes. Your studies have lead you to believe that she may have inborn latent magical talent. You are hesitant to express this to anyone as most of your people would believe that it was demonic heritage. Her simple wisdom and innocence are annoying, but all too often right.
* Elsanoth is an elf with style. You really see him as an equal intellectually, and find his escapades to be fascinating. In a perfect world, Elsanoth would be your brother and you’d both be attending the Lady’s College in Silverymoon.
* Angorn is impertinent and slothful. Besides, it is a past time of his to take every opportunity to tease you and make you seem stupid.
The content of The Jeweled Edge is the property and copyright of Walker Perkins and is not to be published or redistributed without permission.