Celdimerick Dazzleflow the Gregarious Mastermind, Provost Magistrate

Role

Chapter 7

"Boss, I've got 'em," the felar almost purrs in triumph.

Our hero blinks, as though chasing sleep from his eyes. His rising hand stops
in mid air.

"You have the crystals for the resonator?"

"Oh yeah," the felar flashes a wide grin.

The raised hand drops softly back to the desk. A torrent of silent thoughts
crosses our hero's mind, almost all in the same instant. There is a cost to
everything.

Each choice leads us to a path along the labyrinth and all mortals are but
blind mice chasing after treats, concepts they can't even fathom.

When a mastermind starts spinning a web toward a goal, as the creation grows
it too gains control over the creator.

Only those bold enough to grasp for what they want have any chance of
attaining it.

Every hero is also a villain to someone else.

Magic.
Love.
Magic.
Love.
Magic.
Love.

Celdimerick's grin matches the one on his collaborator's face. With a
triumphant pop he opens the effervescent bottle saved for the very occasion.

Magic.

Role

Chapter 6

We return to our hero after several decades. Looking at him, the signs of gray
in his hair and beard.. could it have been centuries? But do we find our hero
happy, accomplished, satisfied? A well-polished badge of the Provost
Magistrate adorns the lapel of his expensive opulent robes. High in his
personal tower, he is sitting in a comfortable chair, focused on the papers
arrayed in front of him on a lacquered mahagony desk. Magical devices and
contraptions, proofs of concepts, in varying degrees of assembly are scattered
in the vast laboratory around him. The cost of the exotic materials alone
would make the sultan of Hamsah Mu'tazz stop in his tracks. Tall oak shelves
rising to the vaulted ceiling are brimming with painstakingly gathered tomes
of arcane knowledge. And amid all of this, our hero sits bent over the papers
in front of him, still searching for something, and wholly oblivious to the
tiny, shaking and beating heart of one young svirfneblin girl that has eyes
only for one gnome in the whole of Theran existence.

"Archmage.." a slight quiver in young Reli's voice like the shiver of the deep
stone of the mountains--unheard. "Would you consider joining me.."

"Ehrm.. Thank you Miss Puddleblast," our hero's words echo callously in the
young girl's ears. "That will be.. ehrm, all for today."

"Yes.. yes, Archmage Dazzleflow," she manages to say softly as she walks
slowly and tentatively out of the study, the Archmage's itinerary for the next
day clutched with both hands.

As the large engraved double doors close behind her, our hero slightly raises
his head. Does he know? Or is he blinded by the pursuit of the arcane so
completely that he is unable to even notice the true magic that Fate has
finally offered him in life?

The young Celdimerick screams at our hero. The roiling hormones that had never
found resolution during a long life shout for our hero to stand up and follow
after the girl. In stead, our hero just sits there looking at the closing
doors and gently tracing the constellation tattooed on the back of his hand.
For a split moment, our hero's facial features soften. His hand rises up and
his lips part as to call her back. But as the doors are just about to close, a
brash felar rogue slips through, a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

Role

Chapter 5

Our story takes us back to our unsuspecting hero and we find him in a small
and improvised mage study in the grand city of Galadon. The amount of books,
scrolls and parchments in this small room is to the point of it being a fire
hazard, and would appear a chaotic clutter due to the lack of space. Yet still
they are ordered with a strict method to what goes where in the mind of our
hero. Subjects that had been a central focus to our hero's attention like the
drawings of Halimar, Habdazzle Cogsworth, Doryur or Turmi Hartac, all drawn in
caricature with silly beards, missing teeth and crossed eyes, are now at the
bottom of the piles of notes and splayed open tomes. The physical exercise and
proper diet schedules are almost lost behind the pinned arcane calculations
and notations on the pin board directly in front of his desk. Catalogues of
spell reagents, experimentation journals, charts and speculative works of
experimentational magic is what stands on top of it all. Two areas are kept
distinctly separate from the rest. A special segment devoted to crime reports
and notes relating to ongoing investigations, and a small special place,
holding a framed wanted poster of Nhriblespock with his face crossed out with
red ink.

Amid all the notes our hero has meticulously gathered, there seems to be one
name frequently recurring, often circled out and underlined. Joihe.

Role

Chapter 4

We find our hero several years after his assignment to the Seantryn Modan
jurisdiction. He has obviously devoted time and effort to his physical
appearance. Lean, as strong as any gnome, maybe a hair taller than most of
them even, a confident strut in his gait now, his movements effortless and
bolstered by magical enhancement. Expensive clothes, fashionable haircut, even
the fragrance of perfume trails in his wake. He steps to the gates of his
hometown and smiles. A high-ranking mage of the transmuters guild, established
in the Galadonian bench of Magistrates, which young gnome woman could resist
such a catch?

To our hero's dismay, most prove to be immune. He musters the courage to
engage the fair sex in conversation and the stuttering, stumbling speech
reasserts itself. The sharp mind of a mage is reduced to that of a drooling
giant with the simple bat of a feminine eyelash. In a few short sentences, our
hero manages to exhaust the limits of conversation and the young woman excuses
herself to go talk to this hulking frost giant that physically barely fits in
the Hillcrest Inn.

We see our hero try and try again for the whole night. Bringing up matters of
arcana are found boring. The retelling of his adventures is diminished by a
meandering stutter into boredom. Only when he finally brings up his standing
in the Blood Tribunal there is some interest. Finally!

"Have you met Nhriblespock?" "What happened to him?" "Can you introduce me to
him?" Apparently, Nhriblespock is exciting. Nhriblespock is daring.
Nhriblespock is adventurous. Damnation.

With a pounding headache and a defeated slouch in his shoulders our hero
departs Hillcrest with a strong realization that nothing of what he desires
will come to him by leading a silent life. A passing thought that perhaps he
should devote some time to being less socially awkward around eligible gnomish
women comes and is quickly discarded. Only those that expand the bounds of
what is possible can reach for whatever they want. Gripping the idea that
solutions to his problems can be found only in magic, he straightens up, stops
walking, and transports himself by magic back to his jurisdiction.

Role

Chapter 3

We find ourselves in a bustling metropolis, at the gates of an imposing,
towering spire. Our hero has grown a bit, his figure is a bit leaner, he
stands maybe even a full inch taller. With a stamp of approval on his
application form in his hands and a new, polished Magistrate's badge he enters
his place of work. He passes by zombies and elementals, guards wearing the
proper uniform, as he climbs the steps toward the pillar that will transport
him to his new posting. Women, no longer a stutter inducing wonder but
colleagues of his, joke good-naturedly with him not to spend too much time in
the houses of disorder but to look to his duty too. With a barely noticeable
blush he invokes the pillar and on the wings of magic he is transported,
Seantryn Modan the place in which by the stipend of the Blood Tribunal he will
dedicate himself to the mastery of magic.

Role

Chapter 2

The faithful decision resolved itself the first day his body demanded that it
was impossible not to talk to girls any longer, no matter the indescribable
dread the very notion induced in him. Once the sudden onset of ineloquence
could be ignored, he started discovering the minds of young gnomish girls his
age. It turned out, much to his surprise, and in complete contradiction to
what tradition prescribed, that gnomish girls were far more interested in
adventurous, physically active young gnomes. And much more so than the
subdued, steady, devoted to crafts and established professions their parents
demanded be the foundation of their romantic choice. The goal was clear. Our
hero had to become such a gnome, one that the girls liked, he didn't care what
their parents thought about it at all.

It became obvious immediately that Celdimerick was not that. He was good with
books. Attempts at jumping, running and sword fighting always ended with him
hurting himself. It didn't take long for his keen mind to find the solution.
Magic has an answer to every problem. And he wouldn't be the boring kind of a
mage, that conjured creatures to do tricks on their behalf, or lit their own
cloaks on fire as often as they could light a candle. No, our hero, he would
be a mage that could stand toe-to-toe with any adventurer and beat them in a
physical confrontation. A transmuter!

Our hero was beaming with a sense of accomplishment and joy when he joined the
transmuter's guild. He even had a well thought out ten-point argument prepared
for his mother for why transmuters could actually be considered healers in
their own right. Oh, the folly of the young! His mother was livid and blamed
his father for his unwholesome in fluence on the innocent child to the point
of a drastic falling out between them. She was so incensed at our hero, that
she even cut him off from the family fortune. His father on the other hand
seemed uncharacteristically pleased. He even bought our hero a drink at the
local pub and filled his ears with things like "finally a man", "grown some
hair on your chest" and so on. So it came to pass that our hero learned an
important lesson in life, a man, if he is to have hope of doing more than
looking at girls, needs to be able to pay his upkeep.

Role

Chapter 1

For this story, we find ourselves in an idyllic location to the north of
Thera. Not as far north so that permafrost is a problem, but far enough north
as to be away from most of the violence, and just north enough of Udgaard's
plains to be able to have nothing to do with all of that controversy. We find
ourselves in Hillcrest, a bustling gnomish community, full of delightful wit,
wisdom and eccentricity that the gnomish kind is famous for. There, we find
our unsuspecting hero, Celdimerick Dazzleflow, a young gnome just passing the
threshold of adolescence and just about to voyage into the world unprepared.

Celdimerick has always been fussy about propriety and found comfort in
traditions. He respected his elders, and generally tried to do his best to
please them. But in the past few years, a restlessness had come over him. He
felt these urges, to be contrarian to his elders, to rebel profusely, and even
though he would never publicly admit it, he often felt ashamed from the lack
of the logic of his arguments after the fact. But how could he not rebel?
Studies had become boring, and he had started to even resent being forced to
devote so much time to them. Everything was boring. Everything other than
girls. Watching girls that is. Talking to them was beyond the imagination.

Our hero was also saddled with another important dilemma. His mother insisted
that he become a healer so that he could continue the trade of her side of the
family. Providing dental care for the faceless masses somehow felt short to
the idealistic ideas of a bright future to his young mind. His father on the
other hand, before settling in Hillcrest, had been something of an adventurer
and he could always be found boasting about fighting even dragons, if you
would believe it, down the local pubs. Celdimerick remembered when he was
younger the enthusiasm of his father as he had tried to initiate him to
soldiering. Somewhere early along that attempt his father must have concluded
it just wasn't to be. It weighed heavy on our young hero. The more his mother
insisted his path was already determined the more he felt this irrational need
to resist, while the more his father seemed resigned that there would never be
a soldier out of him the more, he felt the irrational need to prove him wrong.
But how does one make such an important decision that would impact one's whole
life? Long lists of pros and cons never seemed to be quite satisfying with
their conclusions. What our hero didn't know was that the body had means to
sort these things out and to help the overthinking mind. Hormones.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges