Stibmit Sliverthorn

"The Rime of the Black-haired Elf"

My attempt at cheating on the Prestidigitators Oral (PrestO) examination [formally known as the CADABRA - Concluding and Definitive Assessment Before Release Authorization] was neither my finest hour, nor my most outrageous act while apprenticing at the Kurach Academy of the Arkayn Arts. However, Headmaster-Thaumaturgist Phanstern the Firm saw to it that it would be my final hour - and that I would not be permitted to commit another outrage. I was out on my arse quicker than you can cast a "Forget" spell.

But before I tell more about how I got here, first let me tell you how I got there…

I.

I was born at the wrong time in the wrong elven clan. It was a time of battle and superstition. Every unusual occurrence was seen as a "sign". There had been trouble in the east with no end in sight. The Drow - black elves of evil disposition - were involved. The day of my birth brought great anxiety to my tribe. An elven child, born of pure High Elven stock - but with pale, pallid skin and black hair, like the Drow. Was it a sign of peace to come or a curse? The next days would tell. A meeting was called amongst the warring factions to attempt diplomatic resolution.

Although the politics were complex, the resolution was not. A key leader, present at the diplomatic session, was backstabbed in broad daylight by a Drow assassin with a sling blade. An already precarious situation was thrown entirely into chaos. The unrest, as a direct result of this event, was bound to continue unabated for months or years to come. Many more would die.

I know only a few details about what happened next, based on a scribbled scroll left with me by my mother. My clan, superstitious and looking for a reason behind the terrible turn of events, looked suspiciously at my family as the source of their ill-fortune. My untimely birth, some said, brought this terrible turn of events upon them. How could it be coincidence that a black-haired elf be born immediately before such an aggregious act be performed by a Dark Elf. It had surely been a sign. Many clan members felt that the catastrophe could have been avoided if the cursed child, and perhaps its mother as well, had been slain immediately. Some felt that it was not too late for that action. Others were sympathetic, but still suspicious. Before long the pressure and veiled threats became too much to bear for my family. My mother was induced to abandon me to the life of an orphan and sometime slave in an adjacent province without any information about my specific homeland or background, except what I have told you here. Whether her motivation was primarily fear for her own well-being, or interest in my protection, I know not, but whatever the reason, my origin is shrouded in mystery, even for me.

Many years have passed since then. I survived, like many others, through my wits and by obtaining what I could scrounge or steal. I worked for food. I found fellowship over the years amongst the denizens of local Thieve's Guilds, and became adept at their craft. Over the years, I had many small successes plying the thieve's trade, preying upon the weak and the old. But that activity held no allure for me. They say that there is no honour among thieves. That may be true, but there is pride. Besides, such easy prey do not typically hold the treasure I desire. As a result, I often aim higher than I should, trying to go for the big heist. I have suffered a few abysmal failures as a result, with many scars to show for it. From these failures, I have learned to avoid facing my opponent head on, but instead have become adept with sling and dagger. From afar, I can hurl a sling bullet with some accuracy. As for dagger combat, I favour defensive moves when face to face with an enemy, preferring to reserve my offensive attacks for an opportune surprise strike.

Always I have thirsted for more than the life which fate had dealt me, the life of a lowly rogue. I have thirsted for treasure - more treasure than that of the wealthiest merchant. I have thirsted for adventure and conquest - the kind that a thief cannot hope to undertake alone without a party of stalwart companions. But most importantly - so much more important than the rest - as the years passed, I thirsted for… magic. Magical spells, potions, weapons, scrolls, artifacts - it mattered not, so long as the arcane arts were involved. Magic not just as a means to obtain treasure, but also as an end in itself. My dream was to reach beyond my humble circumstances, and discover the secrets of the outer planes from which the power of the necromancers is drawn. Achieving this goal became my goal and my obsession. I read every tome I could borrow or steal. I searched far and wide for a mentor who would guide me, only to be rebuffed time and again for this reason or that. I heard tell of certain venerable institutions that could give me a start, but the cost was out of my reach.

Yet I persevered. For years I saved every copper I filched, and the proceeds of every stolen shipment I could fence. From time to time I even worked hard labour for whomever would hire me, for as long as I could contain my natural urges. For my efforts, I was rewarded with increased strength. When the temptation to steal from my employers, or sleep with their wives, became too much, I planned my move to the next village so that I could leave immediately after the heist. It went like this for long years. And finally my dream came true. The institution of magic whose reputation had inspired me since I first heard its name whispered so many years before, accepted me - for a steep price - into the welcoming folds of its star-encrusted robe…

II.

Thanks to Phanstern and others like him, the Academy had become somewhat staid (not to mention "sober") in recent years. Not like the Academy of yore, the one whose reputation for frivolity, friendship, and chaotic spellcasting free-for-alls had attracted me in the first place. I had to lie, cheat and steal just to gain admission to to this highly sought-after institute. Had to fabricate a personal history to mask my roguish past - heaven forbid they would admit a practitioner of the thieving arts. But then, how did they think I developed the slight of hand that enabled such success with their little card trick test? Had to pilfer and fence for ten long years to scrounge the first tuition payment - knowing full well that I would not have the means to pay the remainder (and ultimately have to rely on an "adjustment" to the Academy's Book of Accounts). All that effort to find out that the institution had declined markedly into a state of careful Order. But by the time I realized that the faculty had become fully dominated by Lawful followers of Bligh (The Encrypter of Laws) intent upon breeding the next generation of dutiful Establishment Conjurers, I had committed my only available funds to the program and was bound to continue or forever abandon my sorcerous dream. It took them about the same length of time to figure me out - more or less…Most of them tolerated me, some were even amused by my antics. The "Pieface" spell I developed created quite a stir among those with a sense of fun. Notably, Abner of the Wilderland, an elderly and reputedly senile Magician once known for his wildly creative use of Phantasmic Force spells, took a liking to me. But Phanstern, and a few others, saw me as nothing more than a chaotic rogue apprentice, whose grudgingly acknowledged intelligence could result in no benefit to them - only a threat to their established order.

They got rid of me by playing on my nature. They baited the hook with a nice bit of juicy opportunity. It came in the form of "information" slipped to me about the location of the solutions manual for the PrestO exam. I knew of course that the manual would be protected somehow. The key to the supposed "information" was that the manual was not protected by magic, but rather by tricks of a mechanical nature, which I viewed as nothing more than a test of my already substantial (compared to the other magic-users) skill with such things.

The thing that bothers me the most is that I did not need the solutions manual to pass the examination. I did not need to cheat. I had ranked highly among my peers at almost every magical pursuit, and had no doubt of my ability to pass the exam without resorting to thievery. The challenge might even have been resistible, had it not been for the 250 gold piece prize awarded at the commencement address to each year's top performing apprentice. To date, I was not in the running for that award due to my somewhat "relaxed" approach to my studies (Though I had read many tomes, I had devoted equal (at least) time to skulking at night and the pursuit of mead, women, and frivolity).

Of course I played right into their hands - how could I resist such an apparently easy "mark". In the manner of my deity, Dou the Goddess of Actions, I did not hesitate to follow through on my well-thought-out (or so I thought) plan. I slipped into the Records Antechamber through an attic door and proceeded to stealthily locate the cabinet containing the mentioned manual. I double-checked to ensure I was alone in the room, and found it to be true except for a solitary black cat, one of the many such animals inhabiting the Academy. The cat scurried off as I began my work. As expected, the cabinet contained a fairly complex locking mechanism. No apprentice magic-user could have hoped to obtain entry using the limited magical means available to such worthies. But I was different! Upon examination, the contraption seemed to include a simple trap, which I attempted to dismantle, but to no avail. My inability to remove such a simple mechanism should have been my first clue.

You can guess the rest. The cabinet, in fact, was protected by the infamous Leomund's Trap illusion - designed solely for the purpose of delaying and confusing me in my filchery. The phantasm convinced me that I had detected a simple trap, easily removed, but I became convinced I could not disable it despite numerous attempts. While I frittered away time at the locking mechanism, believing there to be a trap where one wasn't, the cat (Phanstern's pet familiar, it turned out), went off to inform his master of my treachery. When he and two other senior Thaumaturgists appeared momentarily out of thin air, with my pick literally still in the lock, I had little to offer by way of explanation. I had become ensnared in a trap not of the mechanical variety, but rather one deliberately set for just such a mindset as my own. How I did not see it coming I curse myself to this day. And I had no one but myself to blame, for nobody had forced me into this position.

There was, of course, a suitably orderly and fair hearing to determine my fate. Abner made some half-hearted representations on my behalf, but there was little that could be done. I could not talk my way out of this one. My actions had been foolish and impetuous, but more importantly, could not be forgiven in a rule-driven institution devoted to the establishment of order and control. Only the most severe penalty would suffice: EWT (Expulsion Without Tome). After all my toils, I would be ejected from the Academy in shame without any credential, with no start-up funds, and - more importantly - without any spell book. After all my toils, and after all the cost, I would be left more or less where I had started, wandering the earth a lowly pickpocket, without a copper to my name and without a single spell at my disposal. The same outcast pale black-haired elf who had been expelled so easily from his own clan - now evicted once again into an unforgiving world.

Weeks later, alone and still cursing my own foolishness, I came upon an old hooded leper selling apples out of a cart. Normally I would have stolen his apples, but today I took pity upon the man for I saw that he was in need and that he, too, was outcast and alone in the world. So I paid him with coppers I had stolen days before from a traveling merchant. As I turned to leave, the man lowered hood and said "Wait, Black-haired one, I have something else that might interest you…".

It was Abner, my friend and mentor from the Academy, and he held out a small leather-bound book. "You have made many errors, my elven friend", he said. "And I don't doubt that you will make many more before you are done. This book may help to mitigate some of the damage you will cause yourself, if you use it well."

I gingerly took the spell book into my palm. My hand was shaking like no pickpocket's hand ever should. We looked at each other, both knowing that it was just as likely that I would use my powers to wreak havoc as render protection. So why did he do this act for me, at great risk to himself? I dared not ask him his reasons for fear that he would change his mind. Was it simply because he respected my spirit? He sensed that more needed to be said.

"I give this to you primarily because you have earned it. You were one of the brightest students in the Academy. Your dextrous fingers performed the somatic movements more fluidly than any student I have seen since I taught Goron Evilwreaker in my younger years. You passed all of your other examinations, seemingly without effort. Your natural abilities would have easily enabled you to pass your CADABRA without so much as a blink…

"It was your thirst for adventure and challenge that made you attempt that foolish stunt. And I respect you for that. It was the kind of thing that I would have once attempted. Of course, the school could not allow you to get away with it - there has to be some sense of order, after all - else there would be only chaos. But I believe there is a role for you to play in the world of mages.

"But there is something else….

"Today, this spell book contains four entries. Each contains a spell which you have established your ability to cast. One spell will enable you to charm creatures of the humanoid form. You can use it for good or ill. The second is the Magic Missile attack spell, of which you are familiar. The third will, if used properly, cause a creature or creatures to fall into a deep sleep. The fourth, and most important, provides you with the ability to read magic - this is the evocation that opens the door to all other spells.

"Someday, perhaps many years from now, this book will contain many more entries. You will have survived many adventures, assuming that you make some effort to contain your whimsical nature and take some measurement of the risk before taking action! You will have become wise in the ways of the arcane arts, and you will be powerful.

"When that time comes, a messenger will come to you bearing my seal. The message will require you to perform a task. And by performing the requested task, you will repay me for this favour. Until then, you must never return to the Academy, nor may you attempt to contact me. You will know when the time to act has come."

With that he turned and disappeared into the fog, dragging his apple cart and my old life away with him.