The world of Azgarn, the realms of the northland collectively known as the outer kingdoms are rife with petty border disputes, dynastic monopolies, subterfuge and ancient family feuds.
Yet all of these high level events were far above and beyond you. You were an unwanted orphan, a worthless thing that was pitied by the pitiable, abandoned by the abandoned, and regulated to an empty, banal existence. Or so some would thing. However, that was not to be, for some who thought themselves unimportant were more often wrong in such regards.
Many of you might be thieves, and some assassins even, or warriors still and magic-users. Whatever the vocation, dreams of power seized control of your verdant imaginings. Perhaps you'd slept for so long you were drunk on delusions of grandeur. Yet desperation, born of an impoverished spirit was the secret ingredient of legends. You, and some others came together for a secret meeting. The letter was written on fanciful paper, the kind lords and ladies employed. It bore a sigil in red wax that resembled a quiver of javelins clutched by a pheonix.
When you arrived at the address of the stated rendezvous, you saw other children roughly your own age. However they were gladly devouring the contents of clay bowls filled with hot, invigorating stew. Platters of delicate chicken, fowl, peasant and drinking! Goblets of Nyrian wine!
At the end of the table, a slightly tall fellow with black on, and black hair, almond shaped eyes, toying with a dagger he twirled between his fingers. This wraith of a man looked relaxed, lethargic, even bored. "Sit, eat, drink, be merry you piss poor sod. Right after this little meal you'll be given a hot bath, and by a beautiful lass...perhaps the most beautiful creature that might lay hands on you for the entirety of your existence. Then you'll be given a fresh set of clothes and a bit of a hurried education. Manners, that sort of droll thing. Once completed you'll learn one of two things really: to sneak, steal and such or to kill and fight with weapons. Some will learn magicks, and that is perfectly fine. I'm no mage but my mate is and he'll be your master."
You study, are given food and clothing, and training. You don't know the answers to this mystery, who would show such splendor and lavish luxuriant pampering? You work your way through it, the pain seems to be melting. A measure of dignity and respect instilled, is this all another dream? Or a nightmare when you wake from said dream. You're given journals to record your thoughts, dreams, ideas.
Given everything except answers...
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