A new D&D character!
Alexander Zerhana
Alexander grew up in Shadowdale. His parents were reasonably well off, his father a sage and his mother a priestess of Mystra, the lady of mysteries, mother of all magic.
Given his parents respective backgrounds, it’s no surprise that Alexander grew up with a love of magic and spells, though he never found himself able to comprehend his parents constant talk of books and tomes, ceremonies and rituals. Wasn’t magic supposed to a flowing thing of beauty and creativity? His parents certainly didn’t seem to think so. This was strengthened by his dreams, where he escaped to a world where magic was free and wild, formed and channelled and all was well.
As he grew into his teens his parents started to school him in both divine and arcane arts. He found it all very boring and rigid, almost stifling. The only thing that kept his interest was the “practical”, when his parents would show him spells from time to time. The discharge of magic always seemed to leave a tingle in his very being.
As he neared his 16th birthday, it became time for him to choose his area of expertise, and go off to be schooled in the arts. In the end, after much thought, he decided he would join the priesthood, and become a servant in Mystra’s church.
His early years as an acolyte went well, he applied himself to his study although he always found himself returning to his childhood dreams of free magic.
Shortly after his 19th birthday, and more on the weight of his parents influence than his skills and studies, he was chosen to spend a year in one of Mystra’s library shrines, two days travel west of Shdowdale.
Although he didn’t expect it, he turned out to live this new assignment. In his first week, he came across the history of the times of troubles, and Midnight’s ascension to become Mystra. He read the tome over and over until he could recite it with his eyes closed.
Some six months later, his usual nightly dream of a world of free magic was rudely interrupted by a crash and bang - the shine was being raided! Although his clerical training so far had included the use of weapons and armour, he had always shirked that particular part of his training, so he found himself cowering in the safety of the priests quarters, and tending to the wounded as they came in.
In the aftermath, the shrine was devastated. It turned out that a band of Cyricists had raided the temple, taking and destroying many sacred works of the Mystran faith. None the least, his beloved tome. Several of the priests and acolytes had been slain, more still wounded. The once smiling, carefree boy had become a far more serious man overnight.
He made the journey back to Shadowdale along with the wounded, his parents upon meeting him hardly recognised the man he now was, his grim-set serious face not favouring any of the smiles or laughter he had previously been known for.
After taking some time to deal with his grief and the loss, he approached his father, requesting a place in the warmage academy.
While his father was greatly taken aback that his son would want to tread this path, his mother understood the burning fire within him, wanting to strike back at the Cyricists, but even she did not fully understand.
He simply wanted to be able to redeem himself for his cowardice before, to be able to turn back any intruders the next time.
And to even the score.
He took to his studies like a man driven, as indeed he was. He graduated in the top of his class after just two years, turned back lucrative offers, and went back to the church of Mystra to offer his services as a guardian.
The very next night, he had a dream. A dream of the old times, like nothing he had experienced since before the incident.
At the height of the dream, a glowing, colourful ball of light. He knew this at once to be Mystra, even before the light faded away and changed into her exquisite human form.
While he never spoke further of that dream, it was at once clear this young man had changed again. Some of the old Alexander had returned - his smile, his laugh. But some of the serious still remained.
He knew now that he had another task, another purpose. After talking to family and friends, hid bid goodbye to the church and his parents, and set out into the world, always with the dream firmly in mind, to do his goddess’ bidding.
********************************************************************
Alexander Zerhana is a 21 year old Human male warmage, 6’2, 194 lbs.
He is clad in blue studded leather armour with buckler, both breastplate and shield bearing the symbol of Mystra boldly on them. Over his armour, a white trimmed deep blue cloak is draped from his shoulders, the rear of this also emblazoned by the symbol of Mystra.
On his head sits a sky blue beret, his long dark hair tied neatly into a ponytail hangs down from under it at the back, while his blazing blue eyes stare out from under it at the front, his mouth framed by a black goatee moustache and beard. His right hand holds a quarterstaff doubling as a hiking staff.
A heavily laden backpack is slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, and numerous pouches at the front of his belt appear to be stuffed with shurikens.
Alexander grew up in Shadowdale. His parents were reasonably well off, his father a sage and his mother a priestess of Mystra, the lady of mysteries, mother of all magic.
Given his parents respective backgrounds, it’s no surprise that Alexander grew up with a love of magic and spells, though he never found himself able to comprehend his parents constant talk of books and tomes, ceremonies and rituals. Wasn’t magic supposed to a flowing thing of beauty and creativity? His parents certainly didn’t seem to think so. This was strengthened by his dreams, where he escaped to a world where magic was free and wild, formed and channelled and all was well.
As he grew into his teens his parents started to school him in both divine and arcane arts. He found it all very boring and rigid, almost stifling. The only thing that kept his interest was the “practical”, when his parents would show him spells from time to time. The discharge of magic always seemed to leave a tingle in his very being.
As he neared his 16th birthday, it became time for him to choose his area of expertise, and go off to be schooled in the arts. In the end, after much thought, he decided he would join the priesthood, and become a servant in Mystra’s church.
His early years as an acolyte went well, he applied himself to his study although he always found himself returning to his childhood dreams of free magic.
Shortly after his 19th birthday, and more on the weight of his parents influence than his skills and studies, he was chosen to spend a year in one of Mystra’s library shrines, two days travel west of Shdowdale.
Although he didn’t expect it, he turned out to live this new assignment. In his first week, he came across the history of the times of troubles, and Midnight’s ascension to become Mystra. He read the tome over and over until he could recite it with his eyes closed.
Some six months later, his usual nightly dream of a world of free magic was rudely interrupted by a crash and bang - the shine was being raided! Although his clerical training so far had included the use of weapons and armour, he had always shirked that particular part of his training, so he found himself cowering in the safety of the priests quarters, and tending to the wounded as they came in.
In the aftermath, the shrine was devastated. It turned out that a band of Cyricists had raided the temple, taking and destroying many sacred works of the Mystran faith. None the least, his beloved tome. Several of the priests and acolytes had been slain, more still wounded. The once smiling, carefree boy had become a far more serious man overnight.
He made the journey back to Shadowdale along with the wounded, his parents upon meeting him hardly recognised the man he now was, his grim-set serious face not favouring any of the smiles or laughter he had previously been known for.
After taking some time to deal with his grief and the loss, he approached his father, requesting a place in the warmage academy.
While his father was greatly taken aback that his son would want to tread this path, his mother understood the burning fire within him, wanting to strike back at the Cyricists, but even she did not fully understand.
He simply wanted to be able to redeem himself for his cowardice before, to be able to turn back any intruders the next time.
And to even the score.
He took to his studies like a man driven, as indeed he was. He graduated in the top of his class after just two years, turned back lucrative offers, and went back to the church of Mystra to offer his services as a guardian.
The very next night, he had a dream. A dream of the old times, like nothing he had experienced since before the incident.
At the height of the dream, a glowing, colourful ball of light. He knew this at once to be Mystra, even before the light faded away and changed into her exquisite human form.
While he never spoke further of that dream, it was at once clear this young man had changed again. Some of the old Alexander had returned - his smile, his laugh. But some of the serious still remained.
He knew now that he had another task, another purpose. After talking to family and friends, hid bid goodbye to the church and his parents, and set out into the world, always with the dream firmly in mind, to do his goddess’ bidding.
********************************************************************
Alexander Zerhana is a 21 year old Human male warmage, 6’2, 194 lbs.
He is clad in blue studded leather armour with buckler, both breastplate and shield bearing the symbol of Mystra boldly on them. Over his armour, a white trimmed deep blue cloak is draped from his shoulders, the rear of this also emblazoned by the symbol of Mystra.
On his head sits a sky blue beret, his long dark hair tied neatly into a ponytail hangs down from under it at the back, while his blazing blue eyes stare out from under it at the front, his mouth framed by a black goatee moustache and beard. His right hand holds a quarterstaff doubling as a hiking staff.
A heavily laden backpack is slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, and numerous pouches at the front of his belt appear to be stuffed with shurikens.