Wizard by Chance

[Hawke]

Biography location http://www.bgtscc.net/viewtopic.php?f=153&t=31249


There was once a boy who worked on a farm that his family ran for over six generations. They worked the fields in Tethyr just south of the Starspire Mountains under constant threat of a raiding party. Goblins, orcs, ogres and even dragons were things that he had to look forward to at anytime. Once they actually encountered goblins. But his father and grandfather handled it without hassle.

For years Drakon Hawke was feeling a yearning for something else. Something that was more than what the farm had to offer. He could not explain it, since he never left the region, he knew nothing else, except when a traveler would find their way past their farm. That was only a handful of times in his entire life. Something about their news, continued to spurn his urge to leave more and more.

Finally a few months past his 22nd birthday, Drakon met another traveler who mentioned of work, good paying work and adventures that could be told through countless of generations down the line. Baldur's Gate was the place for this adventure. The irony is that he lived just a few weeks by horse away from the popular city. The thought never occurred to him until that moment. He immediately told his mother and father about the thought of him travelling to the big city to find work and try to satisfy this craving that he yearned for constantly. That was a mistake.

His mother did not take it well, but she thought it was something along the lines of "soiling one's oats" and he just needed to get the wanderlust out of him. He probably would not even make it to the city and turn back once it started raining. He would come back, he has to, she is mother, of course.

Drakon's father on the other hand took things personally. Out of his four kids, the most dependable was Drakon. He was the youngest and had the most potential. He was not as strong as his brothers or as graceful as his sister, but that boy had a good head on his shoulders. What is he thinking of leaving the farm!? No, "I forbid it!" he exclaimed.

A few more weeks followed, and Drakon's grandfather on his mother's side did not understand why his son-in-law gave so much resistance to such a thing that all young boys wanted. Well the thirst of adventures and willing beautiful maidens. So he took Drakon to a quiet area of the farm and started teaching him how to fire an old crossbow that belonged to the family for three generations. If Drakon's father ever caught wind of it, there would be hell to pay.

Finally when Drakon felt ready, he told his father he was leaving. Such things are never pretty. Words were exchanged, threats passed back and forth like they were playing hot potato. Finally declarations were made. Things along the lines of "never come back" and "no place for you here". But it was not so one sided as Drakon caused damage of his own "worthless farm" and "wasted life".

With nothing more than his cloths, a small pack and a few coins, Drakon made his way west, towards the coast. He did have his grandfather's crossbow and some bolts, and a walking stick he made when he was seven years old. It indeed rained, but turn back he did not. The rain washed away the pride and exposed the guilt, but that inner hunger still urged him forward and forward he walked.

A story that none will ever believe, but when he made it to the coast, while pulling some odd working jobs, he ran across a dwarven merchant who captained a ship. Captain Ulfrock the name was aboard the "Floating Mountain". The name was in dwarven, obviously so the translation does not do it justice. Captain Ulfrock showed young Drakon a pair of spectacles and when he put them on, he found he could see the world with a clarity he never would have experienced. When asked if the glasses were magical, the dwarf just chuckled and said "Yes, lad, 'tis gnome mag'c" They were not magical. Just to be clear.

A year of odd jobs followed, here and there, Drakon made his way north. Following the coastline and learning new things, being exposed to a vast number of races, languages and cultures. He met a halfling that taught him how to open a simple lock, in case he ever lost his keys. Of course, the halfling took half of his coin as payment, without Drakon's knowledge.

Arriving at Baldur's Gate for the first time, finally, Drakon was impressed with the amount of security forces, adventurers and merchants all in one place. Somehow they had farmlands nearby, and their crops looked pretty good, for city crops. The architecture was incredible and amazing and awe inspiring all at the same time. But the one thing he could definately say that he never expected was the smell. The city didn't smell "bad", but it had a smell to it that he did not truly appreciate.

Exploring through the city and looking lost and obviously out of place, Drakon stumbled upon a gnome. "Nelwynn Burrowes" he said. Nelwynn stated simply he was a wizard and some other gnomly adjectives. After looking Drakon up and down, the gnome determined that Drakon would make a fine porter and he could carry his pack while he ran some errands. Drakon agreed and before he could say anything more, the gnome said "stay close" and all of a sudden he was standing on the Friendly Arms Inn.

Unable to speak or breath for that matter, Drakon was in a state of shock, but somehow comfortable all at the same time. Powerful magic energies still lingered and a few moments passed and finally a series of words that embodied the tone of amazment and epicness. Never before had he seen magic so powerful that it could move you from one location to another. Only in stories. Of course, much of his life had been like a story after leaving home. Would the bards sings of his exploits? Probably not, but it's good to dream.

Nelwynn showed Drakon several locations and towns south of Baldur's Gate. He also demonstrated some powerful offensive magic that Drakon just could not fathom. He wanted to know more, and more and more of this magic.

With the journey over, Drakon handed the pack to Nelwynn and bid him a good day and thanked him profusely on the wonderful journey and the new experiences shown to him. And now, Drakon found, his spark, his energy or his purpose was finally found. Whatever you want to call it, this is what Drakon wanted to focus on.

[Hawke]

A few days passed, and Drakon ran into a woman, in Baldur's Gate. She went by the name Sylvia Ducet. She was dressed in red armor and had a semi-serious tone about her. Like she did dabble in nonesense. When she had learned of Drakon's past, she displayed a protective nature, or perhaps a nurturing one. Advice was given, and the occassional flirtatious nature seemed to make Drakon uncomfortable, which seemed to spur her for more, which she laughed.

Drakon went on to tell her, excitedly about his experiences with Nelwynn, and the way he told it was with child-like wonder. His eyes brightened more and words became quicker with each instance of magical energy that he experienced. He explained to her how incredible it was to be around such power and that he had decided that he would study the magic, and learn about it and other related things in the Realms. It did not matter that he was just a farmer, the knowledge is what drove him, all the while smiling innocently. He just did not know how to do it.

Sylvia smiles as she beckoned him to follow her. Their journey took them south. It was not dangerous by any means, but a long walk. While on the trip, Sylvia spoke of when she was a Weavemaster. Then told of a wizard who opened up a portal in Balur's Gate that transformed into a planar tear. She looked steadfast and determined when she spoke of Charraj and how all of the Weavemasters died because of his actions.

To a farmer, recently leaving home, not really exposed to anything magical as he had experienced in the last few days, now hears of a might and powerful wizard who was evil and destroyed Baldur's Gate and murdered thousands of people. This is what Drakon heard. And his mind raced that there was such powerful evil in the world.

The mood lightened as they climbed the steep road upwards towards Candlekeep. Sylvia stopped and presented it fancily to Drakon who could not say anything but the wonders he saw with his eyes, that seemed to be a brighter green as the sun was high in the sky and the great library of Candlekeep could be seen easily outside the gates. Grasping for words that could not describe what he saw he scrambled for the gates. When they asked him his business in Candlekeep, he could not speak. It was as if the magnificence of the keep was a spell of silence. It was not until Sylvia pushed her way past the ignorant boy and spoke to the guards, that the gates opened and allowed Drakon to enter.

Inside the gates, life bustled. There were men, women and people who Drakon could not determine were men or women or even human at all, dressed in an array of colors, outfits, robes. Some wandering around talking to themselves, others with their noses so deep in scrolls and books, it looked as if it was a part of them. Then there were the visitors. Pretty much anyone not in some sort of colored ensamble and carrying a multitude of weapons was safe to assume was a visitor. The guardsmen watch those people like a hawk and Drakon was no different. He felt safe and threatened all at the same time.

Sylvia had already been here before as she took the most direct route to the library. There was a robed man standing about the entrance to the library. Older gentleman, but seemed approachable. His name was Gorion. Sylvia talked with him for a few minutes and then made her way to Drakon. She told him that she did not expect a no-named non-wizard with no references to be met with, without an appointment and seemed content for now. But she encouraged him to keep on trying. Persistance would prevail in the end.