Cavarel Avarice
Posted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 4:25 pm
Age: 42
Deity: Gond
Spell school: Evocation
Rough Description: Cavarel is is tall for a Mulani but unfortunately for him lacks their subtle features and cultured grace, being instead marred with a gawky face that matches his long limbs and slightly awkward manner. He smells of the pipeweed that he constantly assaults the sensibilities of the Sword Coast with and spends long hours in the public sphere parked over an ornate pipe and an elaborate but cruelly utilitarian looking spellbook. His head is kept perpetually clean shaven with his magic and is always covered in public, usually with a small fashionable turban. Unused to robes he wears one of several outfits designed for freedom of movement and augmented with pockets for spell components and foci. He can almost always be found with packed wand sheaths at each hip.
Tutored in magic from an early age, Cavarel was lucky enough to be apprenticed to a semi-retired(for wizards never truly retire) Khazark; an Evoker of great power around who's reclusive citadel the small and exclusive Thavian enclave across the River Sur was built. Over the years it had grown into a bustling merchant outpost, chiefly occupied with the art and business of woodcrafting and enchantment, although the true worth and wealth of the place lay elsewhere- namely in the prizes brought back by raiding parties of magically assisted blood orcs sent into the Yuirwood to fell and transport back the rare timbers.
The Khazark's powerful presence and omnivorous curiosity kept the enclave safe from probing attacks by marauding monsters and rival schools of magic and the occasional tidy little acts of subterfuge by unknown wizards with old vendettas to settle. The flow of rare wood and the goods the enclave created from it kept the Khazark politically safe by ensuring his usefulness to certain Zulkirs interested in acquiring said wood and crafts at a steady rate. Sometimes the skilled logging parties of blood orcs the Khazark employed were harried out of the Yuirwood by furious fey archers, although they quickly learned that to approach the orcs meant that one would inevitably produce a wand or gem and hurl a dire spell of almost inexplicable devastation. When the elves tried to change their tactics to counter this, they found instead ravenous diseased undead brazenly loosed upon them by the fleeing orcs, who's magically augmented logging and transporting tactics usually brought the precious cargo home safe.
Cleverness and aptitude with his tasked work as a scribe(as well as the budding promise he demonstrated with his Art and a decent amount of luck) quickly earned Cavarel that most precious and unattainable of things in the enclave; the ear of the Khazark. For many years of study the Khazark was what Cavarel could best call a parent, for dealing with the nearly god-like surliness of the 'retired' Red Wizard, punctuated with his childlike joy at learning and creating and chatting about new magic, was the closest thing Cavarel had to any relationship at all. Too late he learned that his proximity to the Khazark soured his ability to interact with any of the enclave's other students, artisans, citizens or slaves. The ones that did not openly resent him only shallowly sought some personal favor or were just blatantly falsely obsequious(which alarmed Cavarel most of all).
Not that Cavarel had much chance to interact with the enclave proper, being constantly shut in with the master and his magic or dealings with outsiders(though even in his youth he intuitively understood that he was being kept apart from the enclave and outside because of the precious secrets he was quickly accruing in the Khazark's presence. The Khazark was delighted when Cavarel calmly and knowingly mentioned his acceptance of this unbidden; such was Cavarel's urge to please the person whom he saw as his only friend and confidant).
The sole competition Cavarel endured for the position was a dread-zombie guardian and scribe that the Khazark employed. He used to joke that he preferred Cavarel's work because of his penmanship and because he smelled slightly better than the zombie scribe. In the first truly good form of his life Cavarel responded with furious private research and studiously evoked a strange new scent every day to the Khazark's continued delight. It seemed to Cavarel that the simple expression of his Art and true skills had a more direct effect than any plotting he saw around him, and this grew his confidence and to helped harden him to Thay's constant drudging evil.
After a catastrophic attempt to summon a being from the Outer Planes resulted in a rift that sundered the enclave and granted a terrible outsider of enormous fell power access to Toril, the closeness Cavarel enjoyed with the now dead Khazark turned against him, when first his fellow students(one of whom had secretly sabotaged the casting and caused the cataclysm) and then eventually the enclave itself tried to blame him for the Khazark's disastrous experiment. Seeing no alternative Cavarel took flight.
Fleeing down the river Sur towards Aglarond from the students murderous displeasure, Cavarel managed to find refuge and some solace in a hidden monastery of Gondite Monkanicles. The zealous Gondites were dismissive at first, until the devout priest and inventor who led Cavarel to the monastery explained to them Cavarel's ability to enchant wands and insight into the minute details of evoking and imbuing powerful energies.
Things went well for several years; Cavarel picked up plenty of tricks from the Monks and resident inventors and artificers(and their worship of the Wonderbringer, for he felt he owed Gond some fealty in exchange for the timely refuge from peril) and made good use of the enclave's extensive library of tomes and stores of items of magic cataloged for study. In turn the monks mined him for all the lore he was worth. The relationship was one based on greed for lore and items of power and mutual love of well-crafted implements.
Thus it was no surprise to Cavarel that, when his old peers tracked him to Aglarond, the monks first impulse was to fanatically protect their own temple's secrets and glut of possessions from the attack. They were adequately able to hold back the mysterious(to the Gondites, who knew nothing of their mission to seize Cavarel and return with him as a symbolic scapegoat) band of evokers without much trouble, but Cavarel realized that if some kind of understanding was met that he might end up being neatly bargained off to rid them of the danger, or perhaps even for a particularly powerful item the evokers no doubt possessed. Thus he didn't hesitate to flee when the cavernous temple began to shake from one brutal spell after another.
Begging Gond's favor, he miraculously managed to activate one of the dormant portals that ringed the mysterious ancient shrine on top of which the temple was erected. Holding whatever he could carry Cavarel prepared to sabotage the portal with a purposely broken wand and, after taking one last longing look back towards the temple's heavily warded treasury, he leaped through the luminescent gate and out of the East forever...
Deity: Gond
Spell school: Evocation
Rough Description: Cavarel is is tall for a Mulani but unfortunately for him lacks their subtle features and cultured grace, being instead marred with a gawky face that matches his long limbs and slightly awkward manner. He smells of the pipeweed that he constantly assaults the sensibilities of the Sword Coast with and spends long hours in the public sphere parked over an ornate pipe and an elaborate but cruelly utilitarian looking spellbook. His head is kept perpetually clean shaven with his magic and is always covered in public, usually with a small fashionable turban. Unused to robes he wears one of several outfits designed for freedom of movement and augmented with pockets for spell components and foci. He can almost always be found with packed wand sheaths at each hip.
Tutored in magic from an early age, Cavarel was lucky enough to be apprenticed to a semi-retired(for wizards never truly retire) Khazark; an Evoker of great power around who's reclusive citadel the small and exclusive Thavian enclave across the River Sur was built. Over the years it had grown into a bustling merchant outpost, chiefly occupied with the art and business of woodcrafting and enchantment, although the true worth and wealth of the place lay elsewhere- namely in the prizes brought back by raiding parties of magically assisted blood orcs sent into the Yuirwood to fell and transport back the rare timbers.
The Khazark's powerful presence and omnivorous curiosity kept the enclave safe from probing attacks by marauding monsters and rival schools of magic and the occasional tidy little acts of subterfuge by unknown wizards with old vendettas to settle. The flow of rare wood and the goods the enclave created from it kept the Khazark politically safe by ensuring his usefulness to certain Zulkirs interested in acquiring said wood and crafts at a steady rate. Sometimes the skilled logging parties of blood orcs the Khazark employed were harried out of the Yuirwood by furious fey archers, although they quickly learned that to approach the orcs meant that one would inevitably produce a wand or gem and hurl a dire spell of almost inexplicable devastation. When the elves tried to change their tactics to counter this, they found instead ravenous diseased undead brazenly loosed upon them by the fleeing orcs, who's magically augmented logging and transporting tactics usually brought the precious cargo home safe.
Cleverness and aptitude with his tasked work as a scribe(as well as the budding promise he demonstrated with his Art and a decent amount of luck) quickly earned Cavarel that most precious and unattainable of things in the enclave; the ear of the Khazark. For many years of study the Khazark was what Cavarel could best call a parent, for dealing with the nearly god-like surliness of the 'retired' Red Wizard, punctuated with his childlike joy at learning and creating and chatting about new magic, was the closest thing Cavarel had to any relationship at all. Too late he learned that his proximity to the Khazark soured his ability to interact with any of the enclave's other students, artisans, citizens or slaves. The ones that did not openly resent him only shallowly sought some personal favor or were just blatantly falsely obsequious(which alarmed Cavarel most of all).
Not that Cavarel had much chance to interact with the enclave proper, being constantly shut in with the master and his magic or dealings with outsiders(though even in his youth he intuitively understood that he was being kept apart from the enclave and outside because of the precious secrets he was quickly accruing in the Khazark's presence. The Khazark was delighted when Cavarel calmly and knowingly mentioned his acceptance of this unbidden; such was Cavarel's urge to please the person whom he saw as his only friend and confidant).
The sole competition Cavarel endured for the position was a dread-zombie guardian and scribe that the Khazark employed. He used to joke that he preferred Cavarel's work because of his penmanship and because he smelled slightly better than the zombie scribe. In the first truly good form of his life Cavarel responded with furious private research and studiously evoked a strange new scent every day to the Khazark's continued delight. It seemed to Cavarel that the simple expression of his Art and true skills had a more direct effect than any plotting he saw around him, and this grew his confidence and to helped harden him to Thay's constant drudging evil.
After a catastrophic attempt to summon a being from the Outer Planes resulted in a rift that sundered the enclave and granted a terrible outsider of enormous fell power access to Toril, the closeness Cavarel enjoyed with the now dead Khazark turned against him, when first his fellow students(one of whom had secretly sabotaged the casting and caused the cataclysm) and then eventually the enclave itself tried to blame him for the Khazark's disastrous experiment. Seeing no alternative Cavarel took flight.
Fleeing down the river Sur towards Aglarond from the students murderous displeasure, Cavarel managed to find refuge and some solace in a hidden monastery of Gondite Monkanicles. The zealous Gondites were dismissive at first, until the devout priest and inventor who led Cavarel to the monastery explained to them Cavarel's ability to enchant wands and insight into the minute details of evoking and imbuing powerful energies.
Things went well for several years; Cavarel picked up plenty of tricks from the Monks and resident inventors and artificers(and their worship of the Wonderbringer, for he felt he owed Gond some fealty in exchange for the timely refuge from peril) and made good use of the enclave's extensive library of tomes and stores of items of magic cataloged for study. In turn the monks mined him for all the lore he was worth. The relationship was one based on greed for lore and items of power and mutual love of well-crafted implements.
Thus it was no surprise to Cavarel that, when his old peers tracked him to Aglarond, the monks first impulse was to fanatically protect their own temple's secrets and glut of possessions from the attack. They were adequately able to hold back the mysterious(to the Gondites, who knew nothing of their mission to seize Cavarel and return with him as a symbolic scapegoat) band of evokers without much trouble, but Cavarel realized that if some kind of understanding was met that he might end up being neatly bargained off to rid them of the danger, or perhaps even for a particularly powerful item the evokers no doubt possessed. Thus he didn't hesitate to flee when the cavernous temple began to shake from one brutal spell after another.
Begging Gond's favor, he miraculously managed to activate one of the dormant portals that ringed the mysterious ancient shrine on top of which the temple was erected. Holding whatever he could carry Cavarel prepared to sabotage the portal with a purposely broken wand and, after taking one last longing look back towards the temple's heavily warded treasury, he leaped through the luminescent gate and out of the East forever...
