From all of us here at the Los Cinco Mexicanos Edgar Band, we wish you a very happy whatever you celebrate or don’t. Festivus!
Just wanted to take the time and wish everyone I know and don’t know a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Hope that your year was all that you hoped for and now you have an idea of how to make the next year that much better. You are awesome!
Dear reader, I have had the fortunate… err… fortune to have stumbled on a dusty journal. A manual of sorts. This thing is pretty old and from what I have already gathered, it seems to be from a distant time in the past where magic existed as well as other beings and items. During a time of extreme conflict and seemingly around the time that this magic began to fade from the world, as well as apparently, deities. Gods. Plural. I will now attempt to reconstruct the written work, as it is in a strange language that I seem to be able to read yet know it not to be any known language. In fact, this language seems pretty common.
I am Merric Tosscobble. A Sorcerer. I am a Hin, or Halfling as people are known to call my race. I wasn’t born a Sorcerer. I guess I should start there.
I was a weakling and a coward, bullied and intimidated by too many people to count. That is how I lived the early part of my life. When I could, I avoided conflict with a glib tongue or by hiding. I was the unfortunate Hin chosen to be picked on by the bigger folk and my own people. I’ve always been charismatic and that helped but my wisdom was never very sharp.
Then one day, my twenty-first birthday actually, a thunderbolt struck me out of the blue sky. I awoke in the arms of friends who were awed that I survived. From that brilliant instant when my world turned to fire and pain, I have had my streak of white hair and my cloudy “storm eye.” They serve as daily reminders of my survival despite a lightning bolt that seemingly singled me out. That I escaped death, perhaps death hurled by Kord, gave me courage. At first I lacked the strength to back up my bravery, but I persisted and endured the beatings, learning and becoming stronger until at last none would call me weakling or coward. I know now that if the lightning strike came from Kord, it was not his anger, but his blessing: a test that I passed with flying colors.
Did I make any friends among those who once bullied me? Do any of the friends I had before the lightning strike resent the new me? Do I think the lightning strike was from Kord, or do I suspect a more mortal source? Does my storm eye have any special powers? Read on and perhaps these questions and more will be answered.