Sorcerer Quest

[Anondylar]

You take a look around the courtyard. Over a hundred people like you - men and women that had trained and honed their bodies and minds over the years, until they had reached the peak of human limits.

Less than twenty will survive this day.

"Hey," a man approaches you. "Nervous?"

You nod. Who wouldn't be?

"My sister says that you'll have a better chance if you aren't afraid." He laughs. It trails off quickly. "So, uh, cheer up!"

He pats you on the back and leaves to chat with another.

His sister, huh, you muse. That would mean that she went through the same process as well - and she was one of those that survived. Which would probably mean that he was probably the son of a noble or such - only they would force their child to go through something like this, even after they had a daughter that'd survived.

Not that it mattered here. Everyone was equal, at least in this place. That you were the offspring of a commoner didn't matter, for what did status and wealth matter in the face of true power? Of magic?

And that was what everyone here sought - to become a sorcerer. To grasp at the power that could challenge gods, to leave the bounds of this world - literally.

Becoming a sorcerer required dying. Not completely, of course. Rather, it required one to step partially into the spirit realm, to straddle the boundary between this world - the world of humans - and the other - the one of dreams and gods.

One needed to give up half of their life, half of their soul, to become a sorcerer. And if one was not capable of surviving with merely half of what they had, then they would die.

It was a testament to how well the sorcerers had refined the regimen you had undergone that the final process merely killed around eighty percent of those that underwent it.

One of the proctors beckon at you. You swallow, stand up and walk over.

"Name?" she asks.

[X] Write in.

She nods and crosses out something on her parchment. "Go in then."

You give a shaky nod and enter the hallway behind her. You've never been in here before, though you were introduced to it when you first came here, five years ago.

It's pristine. It's utterly white, and there isn't a speck of dust anywhere. The air smells strange, as if it doesn't have any odor at all.

The hallway ends suddenly, opening up into an equally clean room containing a single pedestal, upon which rests a golden sphere.

The sphere flashes once, as if it noticed you. As you approach, it pulses again, and things come to mind.

[X] Your gender.

And other things. Where you came from. You...

[X] were the child of a retired mercenary.
[X] were the child of a scribe.
[X] were the child of a herbalist.
[X] Write in.

Other memories come to mind as well. The journey here, the time spent here. Walking down this hallway.

Then your hands touch the sphere. And everything disappears.

 

[Anondylar]

Right, the first and second choices should be pretty clear. The third is what determines your starting skills, which can be from pretty much any profession you care to think of, as long as they exist in a pseudo-medieval society. They aren't all important though, so don't worry too much about them.

For the names, there isn't really any restriction though I will veto Blast Hardcheeses.

 

[Silversun17]

*flips a coin, checks a name generator, rolls to pick from the list of names)

[X]Amalia
[X} female
[X] herbalist.

 

[Heaven Canceler]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[Happerry]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[Bacchus]

[X] Amalia
[X] female
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[staplesdex2]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[Tetsurō]

[x] Amalia
[x] Female
[x] The child of a philosopher (scientist)

 

[Drakebane]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[shiki11]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[Malcolmo]

[X] Vandheer Lorde
[X] Male
[X] were the child of a retired mercenary.

 

[Robotninja]

[X]Male
[X] were the child of a scribe.

 

[Vindictus]

[X] Reiker
[X] Male
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

Guys. Background is important.

Think about this for a second- Which of these is most likely to know how to form a proper band of murderhobos Adventurers together?

 

[Pipeman]

[X] Amalia
[X] Female
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

Tomboy quest is go!
More seriously, can we just once not go for the most bookwormish option we can find?

 

[Graig]

[X] Reiker
[X] Male
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

 

[kinglugia]

[X] Reiker
[X] Male
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

 

[redaeth]

[X] Amalia
[X] Female
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

 

[Drakebane]

change to:
[X] Reiker
[X] Male
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

 

[Tetsurō]

[X] Amalia
[X] Female
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

 

[Anondylar]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

Click to shrink...

... Bob... Bobson? No.

[X] Vandheer Lorde
[X] Male
[X] were the child of a retired mercenary.

Click to shrink...

While amusing, the Lorde part doesn't make sense. But otherwise okay.

[X] Amalia
[X] Female
[X] The son of a retired mercenary.

Tomboy quest is go!
More seriously, can we just once not go for the most bookwormish option we can find?

Click to shrink...

>female
>son

lolwut

 

[redaeth]

crossdresser. Time honored tradition of daughters who go to war for their fathers.

 

[Anondylar]

Right then, by my count [X] Male and [X] Mercenary won. Names were tied between Reiker and Amalia, in which case your name will be Amalia Reiker.

Oh and, in the future, if you change your vote, do cross out your old one.

 

[gibbousmoons]

. . . But I wanted to vote. The chance for our character to be known as Dark Smoke Puncher, the son of a potato farmer turned saboteur is forever lost to us!

 

[Heaven Canceler]

... Bob... Bobson? No.

Click to shrink...

That is so mean, I poured my heart and blood into that Name and you just threw it out like it was nothing. :'( ............ Not really, but it is kind of sad. The look People give us when they see the horribly powerful sorcerer and we say that our Name is Bob Bobson, son of a long line of Bobs.

 

[Anondylar]

. . . But I wanted to vote. The chance for our character to be known as Dark Smoke Puncher, the son of a potato farmer turned saboteur is forever lost to us!

Click to shrink...

I haven't locked votes yet.

 

[Ephemeral_Dreamer]

[X] Amalia
[X] female
[X] herbalist.

 

[MHLord]

[X] Bob Bobson
[X] Male
[X] The child of a scribe

 

[Malcolmo]

While amusing, the Lorde part doesn't make sense. But otherwise okay.

Click to shrink...

Hey I have to make references to unknown characters somehow.
As for replacement surname how about:
[X] Vandheer Soler

 

[Anondylar]

[X] Amalia.
[X] Male.
[X] Mercenary.

Your father was a mercenary, and you his only son. That was what he told you; you certainly didn't see any signs of him being one except for his sword, spear and wealth. He never told you about his past, and his mild and gentle personality wasn't what you would expect from someone that killed for a living.

Regardless of his personality, he was competent with his weapons and the various skills a person would need to survive on the road. How to scavenge, how to judge whether a person could be trusted. What signs meant a client wasn't being entirely honest, and what signs indicated that one should get out of town. The signs people like him used. Names of important and useful people.

He taught you all of those.

When you turned eleven, and he was dying from an illness, he gave you all his wealth and bid you to become a sorcerer. He saw in you the potential - strong of body and quick of mind, they were the traits necessary for one seeking to gain magic.

The last you saw of him was a man struggling to even breathe. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You presume he's dead.

The next two years were spent traveling. The money he gave you was slowly used up as your journey took you over mountains, across seas and through many strange kingdoms. Mostly, you travelled with merchants that were going in the same direction as you were, paying your way. Otherwise, you journeyed with people that owed your father a debt of life or honor and could therefore be trusted.

Eventually, you arrived, destitute at the gates of the University, as it was known. They took you in, as they did anyone who passed the rigorous entry examinations.

The next five years were constant training. Training until your body and mind reached the limits of a human could achieve, and after that, maintaining it. Contrary to what you expected though, you didn't actually learn all that much. Instead of having your head crammed with all kinds of information, you were instead merely taught what you needed to know. Most of it was theory on how the spirit and physical realm interacted. You had quite a bit of free time, though that was mostly taken up by one of your teachers deciding that you shouldn't let your skill with the spear fade.



All of this drifts through your mind in an instant. Then there's a sensation of them drifting somewhere else.

Then nothing.

><​

You wake to a blur of white. Are you dead?

No. You narrow your eyes as shapes start to take form. It's the ceiling of your room. You survived.

You start to laugh, the sound strange. You survived! You were one of those lucky enough to not die!

You bring your hand up to wipe your face of sweat. Then you frown. Your hand...

You bring it closer to study it closely. Yes, your hand's definitely thinner than before. Wha...

Wait. They told you about this, didn't they? That the process would make you both physically and mentally weaker, as part of you was irrevocably lost, no longer part of this realm.

Somebody left a walking stick by your bed. You're grateful for it, because even with its aid, getting out of bed is a far bigger chore than it ever had been. The exertion's so great that you spend a minute trembling at the side of your bed, the only thing supporting you the stick.

Finally, you take a step. Then another. And another. Each one comes easier than the last, as you become accustomed to your body.

Eventually, you come to a stop in front of the washbasin and splash some water on your face. After all that walking and introspection, you'd come to a conclusion on how much you'd changed.

You would say:

([Strength], [Dexterity], [Stamina] and [Wits]. Rate these four from one to three, where one is incredibly poor, two is somewhat bad and three is slightly below average. The less points you assign now, the more your starting magical strength.)

Something curls around your feet. Something white. If you recall correctly, that would be your familiar. The physical manifestation of the part of you that solely resided in the spirit realm now.

"Hey there," you murmur, bending down to pat it.

It's...

[X] a strange organism, seemingly possessing tentacles like an octopus. Yet, they retract back into its body, unlike an octopus, and it seems to grow more whenever it wishes.
[X] a ribbon-like creature that floats and darts around. It is thin, and seemingly possesses no limbs to move it around, yet to flies with more agility than any bird.
[X] Write in. Basically, any supernatural creature, non-humanoid is allowed, as is any that resembles a creature. This vote is important - the familiar is what sets you apart from other sorcerers, and will give you unique abilities related to it.

 

[Pipeman]

[X] 1 Strength, 3 Dexterity, 1 Stamina, 2 Wits

[X] a strange organism, seemingly possessing tentacles like an octopus. Yet, they retract back into its body, unlike an octopus, and it seems to grow more whenever it wishes.