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 Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2008 4:07 pm
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Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2008 4:15 pm
History
Ryn is the second son of the 8th Wizarding House of Sshamath. His matron is part of the ruling Conclave, holding the seat of Necromancy.
Within his family, Ryn has one elder brother and sister, and one younger sister. Within the city of magic, those who prove talented in the ways of wizardry are elevated above ordinary citizens. Ryns Matron has proven herself a exceptional Necromancer and has created a powerful position for herself within the city. Her children, however, have proven sour dissappointments. Her eldest daughter shows no ability to weild the arcane. Her eldest sone, while gifted with magic in his blood, is only a second rate citizen due to his talents as a sorcerer rather then a wizard. Her youngest daughter flippantly refuses to apply herself to the studies of the arcane in favor of training as a rouge.
This all leads up to Ryn himself. Of all the ruling Matrons children, Ryn himself has exhibited the greatest potental to succeed as a wizard. With a high intelligence and a keen mind, as a young child he impressed the elderly drow wizards with his ability to grasp arcane concepts beyond his normal ages capability. Yet skill and talent and promise mean nothing without desire.
As Ryn grew, he recieved a grand education. His Matron invested in private tutors and the main focus of his education was on Necromancy, to follow in the footsteps of his Matron. Ryn had no desire to learn about the dark magics of the undead however. His interest had been caught something entierly different.
Swords and armor. Blades and sweat. Ryn, as he grew, found himself drawn to the Weapons Master of the house. He admired the strength the man possessed and felt in awe when he watched the daily drills and practices. Ryn did not want to weild a wand, he wanted to brandish a sword. Sitting daily behind a desk with a dim candle burning with scrolls and ink and pens before him made him feel dull and weak. Oh, it was obvious the strength ones mind could grant through constant study and practice. Yet Ryn desired to gain the strength of the physical, to enjoy the power of ones own muscles.
Ryns desires and his Matrons demands were not the sort that could be comprimised and in the end there could be only one outcome. Ryn's submission to his Matrons will. However, Ryn was nit willing to accept this eventual fate. Using the cunning he possessed, he convinced his younger sister to lend him aid under the impression he wished to seek out further training in the Magical Arts in the mose well known of Underdark magical Schools. The Tower Sorcere in Menzoberazzan. Under the promise of forging an alliance with his sister in the future and using his Wizardy to run the house with her air, she agreed to give him the funding he desired.
However, it had never been Ryn's intention to journy to Menzoberazzen. Using the money, he traveled as far as he could, changing his name in the hopes of forging a future where he would at least be able to apply himself to a profession other then Wizardry.
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Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 4:23 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 5:53 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 5:55 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 5:58 pm
Sshamath: the City of Dark Weavings
History: Sshamath was established in -4973 DR by the Lolth-worshipping Drow House Sshamath. It was a standard drow city for nearly 2000 years. Then, in -2867 DR it was discovered that the city's local faerzress was fluctuating badly. Five years later it was gone and the city was greatly weakened. Around 3 centuries previous the Matron Mothers of the city had given birth to an unusually large number of male children. This, of course contributed to a large increase in the number of wizards and a decrease in the number of priestesses. Thanks to the lack of nearby threats the house wizards set about plundering the ruins of lost civilizations like Netheril and Oghrann. They took and duplicated every magical item that they could find and used them to instigate a very short civil war that killed all of the house matriarchs and replaced them with wizards. Now, practitioners of the art reign supreme.
Today: Sorcerers, bards and divine spellcasters are treated as secondary citizens as magic that is earned through work is much more respected than magic that comes naturally or from deference to another.
The city is now ruled over by the Conclave of Sshamath, an oligarchy composed of one representative from each of the 8 schools of magical specialization, one who does not specialize and one who is elected from among the more esoteric arcane practitioners (Elemental Savants, Deep Diviners, etc). The conclave rarely meets, preferring communication via spells.
Nurissa Vyllshan wants to get users of the Shadow Weave accepted as an official school and thus eligible for a conclave seat. Unfortunately for her and her followers this would lessen the power of the already established members (which, obviously they want to avoid) and the majority of Shadow Weave users get their power from the worship of Shar which is frowned upon by other wizards. Still, some would prefer that the practioners of shadow magic operated with conclave support than if they went underground.
The city itself is a major trading center for all things magical. You can find nearly anything a wizard could possibly want in the Dark Weavings Bazaar and if you can't, it can be found for you. For an extra (large) fee it can be brought to you by adventurers (usually non-drow).
Slavery is also treated differently here than in other drow cities. Races considered capable of wizardry such as humans, elves, svirfneblin and deep imaskari are never kept as slaves by citizens but are allowed as the slaves of visitors. Creatures who demonstrate an aptitude for wizardry are considered free in the eyes of Sshamath law and are allowed to live in a ghetto that is prevented from getting too big by the conclave.
((The information above is directly quoted from this Reference Site ))
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 5:59 pm
House Information
Rank: 8th; Holds the position of Necromancy on the Ruling Council.
Matron: Aunafae (Deadly Bane) ; Necromancer
Eldest Daughter: Sabalna (Amber Ghost) ; Priestess of Lloth
Eldest Son: Leston (Bound Darkness) ; Bard
Youngest Son: Ryn ; Warrior
Youngest Daughter: Chessnolu (Lady Artist) ; Rouge
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:03 pm
Glossary
Journal Posts
Solo's
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:04 pm
On this day, the fifth day of my escape, I have begun to question myself in accordance to my descion.
My name is Ryn. I am the second son and fifth child of the Necromancy Ruleing House of Sshamath. I am the deigned heir to my Matron, choosen by her to be her legacy and future Patron of the Ruleing House. However it is my will to defy my Maron and seek out my own destiney elsewhere. I desire to forge in blood and by blade my own power in the Underdark and eschew the path my Matron would have me tred.
In Sshamath it is those who are strong in mind and magic that are granted prestiege. As my elder sister and brother both lack the talent of magic, my mother was exceptionally delighted when I exhibited a talent for magecraft. The magical talents that are innate in my people were exhibited and mastered at a very young age. Sphears of darkness, dancing lights. Spells of these sorts I weave as easily as I draw breath. But my heart is not drawn to the mystical practices. It is the keening sound of blade and the thundering heart pound of physical contest that I long for. My dreams are filled with images of battle. My fingers ache for the firm and heavy presence of a weapon. No quill could ever compare.
Yet for all my desire of weapons and battle I know I am woefully untrained. My Matron limited the time I was allowed in the practice hall, my Weapons Master was forbidden to teach me many of the battle techniques that he shared with his other charges. Ah, I learned the 'finer' arts of battle. Dagger, rapier, and hand crossbow. My matron did not refuse me these skills after I pleaded with her. After all, a mage that relys solely on magic for protestion can be overcome with a mere aura of anti-magic.
Now though, as the caravan rambles on and I hear the unfamilar sounds of the Underdark wild I question my descion to seek my escape in such a way. I have bluffed my way into the caravan with claims of sword skill and the day that my skills will be tested looms close now. My virgin sword trembles at my side and I lie awake in a sweat of anxiety.
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:05 pm
Day seven of my escape.
Despite my previous anxiety I have found battle to be all that I have dreamed. When the caravan came under assult by means of a Cloaker ambush my worry melted away in the rush that filled me. I felt such exhiliration! Such freedom as never before I had felt! The monsters fell to my blade. Not easily, and certainly not in as many number as the veteran mercenaries that accompanied the caravan. Still I slew a total of three, and wounded four others.
Still, it is as I had felt. The feel and catch of a blade in proper use was more fulfilling then the scratching of a quill or the fluttery moth movements of a hand mid spell. I feel as if I have been validated. My true calling is of the blade, and I shall follow it diligently. My only prayer is that my Matron and sister do not discover my treachery before my trail grows long cold and dust coated. Should my Matron learn I have not traveled to Menzoberazzan to seek further schooling she will call upon her ally in Rule whom holds the seat of Divintation so as to locate me and send out her vassles to drag me home. I know full well what her punishment shall be, both of my legs broken so that I might not be able to pursue my deepest desier. A mage's greatest asset is his mind and his hands, legs are only a luxury.
Should my little sister learn of my trechery conjcerning her, she will merely betray me to mother. My promise to her was to continue my learning of the wizards craft, though I begged of her additional funds for which to hire private tutors so that I might advance quickly in power and skill. She agreed, with the promise to bow to her will when I return to take claim of the Ruleing Seat. A fool she is to believe that I would ever bend my knee to another!
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:06 pm
Week the third since my foot last stepped over the threshold of my House.
I have collected my wages and parted company with the caravan I had take up with for the sake of safty in traversing the wilds of the Underdark. None too soon I should like to write, as I have gained many a suspicious looks over the course of the travel. I fear my speech and mannerisims betray me quite often. I have a gift with words that I utterly delight in toying with. To speak in such a manner that I write inspires me to feelings of cleverness. However, my companions rarely see this tongue play as anything more then the sign of a Nobleman at play in their world. They do not take me seriously in my earnestness to join them in this simpler life free of the twists and daggers of Nobility.
I crave a different sort of life then the one I have been offered. Nay, then the one I have had choosen for me by my matron. I wish to walk the wide stretchs of the Underdark, see for myself the skill of the Duwager and the craftiness of the gnomes. I do appreciate the skills of other creatures, in the same manner that I would admire the difference, but usefulness, of a sword and a knife. Obviously these other races are nothing in compare to a drow. But I am not so fool as to not see there is a place for them. A use rather.
I have deviated from the purpose of this journal entry. I have taken stock of my coins and found them lighter then I had believed. Have I been robbed? It is quite likely and it angers me some that another has taken what belongs to me. I can only pray that ill befalls he that would take what is mine. As it is that my funds are lower then I feel comfortable with, I shall seek out another form of employment. My bladework has greatly improved during my traveling, so I feel more confidence in my skills. I shall see soon where I might find a employeer that does not mind soft spoken and musical words along with a eager Journeyman's spirit.
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:08 pm
So it has come to this. A month past of liberation and I find myself in a sorry state indeed.
It shames me to no end to write this entry. Last night I had enjoyed for myself a drink and indulged in a game of dice with a pair of other drow. We played long into the night and I believe I had fair luck, as I gained little and lost none in this game of chance. Just enough coin was earned to cover the cost of my nights indulgance. I was feeling most satisfied when I turned to the room I had rented for the night.
I awoke sometime during the night to find a hand upon the back of my neck, keeping me pinned firmly to the bed as rough fingers removed my lower garments. Two hands held my own, binding them firmly to the legs of the bed I laid upon and a grim sport was made of me. Anger fills me over the act that was committed and I feel intense shame from my part in it all. Let no man say that he can never be overcome by another and brought to a shameful state of physical betrayal. A skillful predator can elicite responses from a unwilling body, and my predator was most skillful.
I should express some gratitute however. Had my assailants not indulged themselves upon me in this manner they may have been more inclined to kill me once they were through. I am not feeling very gracious right now though...
A goodly portion of my coin I had hidden by magical spell. For this I am grateful of my matrons insistance of the path she wished me to follow. My predators took only a quarter portion of my coins, my blade, and my good cloak with them when they left. I was released from my bonds when the slave entered my room to inform me my time in the room was up and it was time for me to exit.
The tavern keeper has offered me a free night here to make up for my abuse. I have turned him down with as curt a response I could bring myself to speak. I have cleansed myself though, and now as I gather the rest of my items I make way next to the merchants quarters to secure myself a place upon the next caravan leaving this damnable hole.
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Name: Ryn Do'afin