Utarl the Grand Master of Changelings

Role

Chapter 13

For the first time, the Meter of the Island has taken note of Utarl...and on
that first occasion, the two have battle the Master Shapeshifter of the High
Tower of Sorcery. The battle was long and arduous, the Meter keeping blows at
bay as a komodo dragon, Utarl tearing at the flanks as a grizzly bear.

As the last blows fell, the shapeshifter toppling and falling, Yohnerks nods
to his sash and staff, motioning for Utarl to take them. Hesitating before
picking up the stave, Utarl remembers the teachings of his old order against
using tools...but in his heart, he knows that those teaching have been proved
false by his brothers and sisters on the Island, who use whatever lies
conveniently to hand to fight for the Balance. Filled with newfound
determination, he clutches the staff awkwardly in his hand, resolved to learn
its use.

Role

Chapter 12

Utarl sits beneath the Veil of magic, meditating in the sand gardens that
form the heart of the Island. So much has passed since became a Nexun, so
many (fatal) battles, so many wondrous sights. He glances down at his hands,
pondering once more whether the Order of the Empty Hand really had it right -
the temptation to a tool to hand has been growing, as his Order's theories on
Balance are struck false one by one by his experiences with the Nexuns; he
thinks back to the isolation of his former life, and reflects fondly on his
current companions - Gjatt, the thief and Bondmate, Golardvik, a fellow
twister of form.

Once more, Utarl is struck with the majesty of the Veil, and his commitment
to Balance reaffirmed. Though he fall before the Unbalanced, so will his life
be well spent.

PK Gank-O-Meter

Role

Chapter 11

"...though some may loudly declaim the virtues of the good, or the wickedness
of the evil...these are simplistic labels. What is someone perceived as
'good' but someone who sacrifices for others? What is someone evil, but
someone with the drive, and ambition to see their goals through? Under the
balance, there is room for all within the world; be they self-sacrificing, or
ambitious, be they restricted by laws or as carefree as a leaf on the breeze
- the Balance accomodates all.

What would be achieved, without some who drive forward at the cost of others?
What would happen to the sick, the weak, the insane, without some who care
for other? The order imposed by some inspires others to rebellion and
creativity, and Thera must have all of these qualities.

Do not, then, listen, to those that categorise people as merely evil, or
good. For these people truly do not comprehend the nature of the Balance..."

Role

Chapter 10

Utarl journeys onwards, having been instructed by the Meter of the Mind to
gain more guild ranks before she will even speak with him. He fears that she
has taken a dislike to him already, but follows her instructions, journeying
across the lands, practising his skills...rather often in the company of
orcs. Still, there is room for all under the balance, and bad table manners
do not interrupt the grand cycle of life. Soon, he hopes to speak to the
Meter again, but though we wishes to study the Balance with the Nexuns, he
now holds little hope of impressing her.

Role

Chapter 9

Utarls stands within the rift above the Sea of Despair, the ebbing tide of
the Prismatic Veil shifting and flowing around him. Strands of colour twist
and dance around, shining golden chords chiming like silent clarions. Wispy
shapes flit within the veil, ghost-like wraiths borne aloft on pinions of
pure magic.

As he meanders, almost in a trance, through the veil, Utarl comes before an
immense platinum golem. Awed by its size, he is startled when an cloud giants
swoops from behind it, and pierces through the veil to Thera beyond, without
a word. Gazing around, Utarl sees an island suspended in the rift, and know
that he has found the home of those who can teach him more about. Taking a
trembling step forward, he pledges himself the Guardian...

Role

Chapter 8

Utarl spent many weeks in the dim environs of the temple of neutrality, his
wounds healing under the care of the gray-robed priests. He struggled to
understand why they would heal him - for had not the Balance fated him to die
in the rubble? He drove the priests mad with his incessant questions, and
himself to distraction, for he now was struck with terror at every rumble or
shake in the earth.

In time, when the earth rumbled, the priests would find Utarl wrapped in a
dark cloak, huddling in the corner - for by hiding from the world, he hoped
to seal himself away again, to revert to the peaceful times in the temple,
and avoid the imbalance of the world.

With a shake of his head, the High Priest of Neutrality conforted the
shivering deep-gnome. He told him of a place where the Veil, whose thickening
had caused the collapse, was visible from the seas, and of a group that
studied the Balance, and how the forces interact. Such a place was in the
surface world, he told him, and advised him to wear a bandage overt his eyes
at first to shield them from the sun.

Utarl gaped, protesting that he would affect the Balance by any of his
actions abroad in the world. The High Priest rebutted him firmly, pointing
out that all of his actions in Cragstone affected the world. With a harrumph,
the High Priest asserted that the teachings of the Order of the Empty Hand
were false, and that the Balance was affected by all actions, no matter how
minor.

Utarl tried to argue, but every objection was dismissed by the High Priest,
his measured words heavy with the wisdom of the stone. In the end, Utarl hung
his head, accepted the offer of some spare leather armor, and agreed to leave
Cragstone. The dagger he was offered, he left on the High Priest's desk,
still unable to bring himself to part with the tenets of his order.

Role

Chapter 7

At last I have met one of surface-gnomes, and someone as uninterested in
overworld politics as me. Uissige accompanied me as a I traveled, always
full of good cheer and charmingly buxom to boot. She studies the changing
arts, though she is not a Sister of the Empty Hand.

Together we traveled to the past, and then she shared with me the path to a
wondrous tower of sorcery - the marvels I have seen in there will stay with
me forever - I am convinced that magic is a deserving part of the cosmos,
that such wonders should be available to us mortals.

Role

Chapter 6

I have met a Cloud Giant, one of the children of the god's...I have only seen
pictures of them in books, before, and they are...immense. She seemed
friendly, although a little slow, and we travelled together for a while.
There are so many different people in this surface world - I do not
understand, nor think I can, how they balance each other.

Role

Chapter 5

The lecture droned on, Master Julniman punctuating each point with a way of
his skinny arm,

"...and so it is exactly in the interest of the balance that we of the Order
of the Empty Hand remain in seclusion. We maintain ourselves in balance here,
while removing ourselves from the world at large. We remain in seclusion,
nothing entering or leaving save when a brother dies, thereby remaining aside
from the balance. By refusing to sully our hands with tools, we remove the
needs to mine ores from the earth, by consuming what we catch with our own
hands, we pit ourselves against nature, and the balance is preserved..."

Utarl frowns, and looks down at his robe of simple wool. If each was
dependent on themselves, from where did their clothing come?

The lecture drones on in the background...

Role

Chapter 4

I met a fellow today who claimed to be possessed by the spirit of his mother.
We have had many interesting talks since, but I somehow suspect that I, like
the Storm giant I was learning with, will eventually fall prey to his
madness. Though it is equally unbalanced to dedicate yourself either to chaos
or the laws, one such as he will surely have a hard life - preyed upon by the
necromancers he seeks to join, and persecuted by those of the light for his
'alternative interests'.

Role

Chapter 3

stones represent the forces of the balance.' Hlodborth gestures to the black
and white stones, 'Evil and good,' and then points to blue and red 'Order and
chaos.'

Hlodbarth places each pebble in an indentation in the coracle, which bobs
around slightly on the water, but remains perfectly stable. White sits
opposite black, red opposite blue.

In a dry voice, Hlodborth says 'I suppose I need not demonstrate what would
happen where one of the pebbles to be absent, or larger than its fellows?'

'No master, this I understand - the world imbalanced is in danger of
destruction', Utarl says in a pained voice. 'But I still do not understand
about magic!'

Hlodborth rolls his eyes. 'Idiot svirfnebli! Do you not see, that magic here
is the water in the pool? Drain it away, and the coracle can sail nowhere!'
Hlodborth wags his finger at Utarl, saying 'Consider this. Were magic not a
natural and proper part of Thera, there would not be so many races magical in
nature, so many able to bend the forces to their whim. Even this cavern is
held together against Daevryn's rumbles by magical wards.'

Utarl frowns, and thinks deeply. 'I see it, I think, master...'

'Think no more on it this day. Balance is in all things, whether it be good
or evil...study, or play. You have studied. Now go and amuse yourself in the
arboretum, as I know you wish to.' The elderly svirfneblin smiles
indulgently...


...wrapped up against the snow, Utarl murmurs and slips further into the
world that now only exists in his memories...

Role

Chapter 2

White blankets of snow drift from the starred skies, and a small svirfnebli
huddled beneath a tree shivers in his sleep, pulling a threadbare cloak
tightly around him. A snowflake settle on his bruised, scarred knuckles and
melts as he dreams...

The grey stone of the cavern arches overhead, the living rock smeared with
bands of ore. A simple depression has been scooped from the floor, and Utarl
sits before it, cross-legged. Opposite him, a svirfnebli in a simple grey
robe sits with hands crossed, his long beard gathered beneath his chin with a
stone ring. A simple jug of blue-glazed stone sits beside him.

Utarl bows before the elderly svirfnebli. Speaking in a tone of profound
respect, he says 'I am come, Master Hlodborth.'
Master Hlodborth smiles slightly. 'You are, yes. I am not yet blind, Utarl,
no matter what the other masters say!'. The elderly svrifnebli steeples his
fingers and leans forward. 'I understand that Master Nackmar has found your
understanding of Balance to be insufficient?'

Utarl nods once, his eyes downcast. 'He has, Master Hlodborth.'

Master Hlodborth cracks his knuckles, Utarl wincing at the sound. 'The
humans, up above, build caverns out of many small rocks. I believe they call
them 'houses'. Since the tall ones are somewhat foolish, they often build
these caverns on the soft earth, rather than Daevryn's solid stone.' Master
Hlodbroth punctuated his statement by slapping the rock with a wizened hand.
'These caverns obviously subside, after time. Sometimes, the humans, perhaps
once clever than most-' a hoarse laugh '-dig out a hole in the earth, and
fill it with stone, and mortar, and this is called a foundation. So then, is
balance like the foundation of Thera - without it, things go askew.'

Utarl wrinkled his brow. 'But, master, what of the veil? The balance between
the forces seems entirely separate! I don't understand why good and evil must
balance, and order and chaos, but why magic must be strong!'

Master Hlodborth smiles beatifically. 'Such lack of understanding is why
Master Nackmar recommended you seek me out.'

Taking the blue jug, Hlodborth pours a stream of cool, clear water into the
depression in the rock between them. Reaching inside his robe, he rummages
for a second before withdrawing a small model coracle, with four small,
evenly spaced indentations in its gunwhale. With a gentle shove, he sends the
coracle spinning across the pool to Utarl.

'This pool', gestures Hlodborth, 'is the cosmos. And the coracle, Thera
herself. We all ride within her, snug and secure.' Holdborth gestures at the
surrounding stone. 'I suppose you could argue we are within the body of the
coracle itself, but let's not stretch the analogy too far', Hlodborth says,
with a grin. Reaching into his robe again, he places four stones before the
pool - one black, one white, one blue and one red. 'Let us imagine that these

Role

Chapter 1

Utarl was given by an orphanage at an early age to the brothers of a
Cragstone Temple whose entrance was sealed in stone, and only unbarred every
hundred years or so. The ascetic brothers believed in the primacy of
self-reliance, and that the all tools could and should be eschewed in favour
of the flesh. The most adept of the order learnt to twist their flesh into
various forms through long and careful meditation.

Each adept was required to maintain a strict internal balance. While they
would not hurt a neophyte, neither would they aid him unbidden and unasked.
Utarl finally realised this after four days without food, when his his hunger
drove him to abandon the cell into which he had been placed and seek out the
refectory. The brothers looked on with approval as he asked for food,
directing him to the caverns where edible fungus could be found, and the
rockpools with pale, albino fish.

The days found Utarl deep in meditation, his only surroundings a cell of
simply dressed stone, carved into the living rock. His mind cast adrift on
the currents of magic that flowed through the stone, he watched the eagles
soar through mountain valleys. With senses wrapped in the tumbled boulders of
the jungle, he watched ferocious beasts stalk their prey.

Utarl's studies progressed, long hours in the silence of the caverns spent
twisting his flesh. The silent brothers looked on, training him in the art of
empty-handed fighting augmented by his shapeshifting skills. Always the
emphasis was on maintaining the balance between himself and his surroundings.
Nature, he was taught, has a way of balancing itself - the bones of
adventurers littering the soil testament to that. If a man takes on a lion,
many times it will be nature who is the victor.

Utarl awoke one day to find the temple in disarray, the rock shaking and
moaning beneath his feet. The head of his order hurried up, informing him
that the wards that held the rock fast were failing, something called 'The
Veil' too thick to allow them to function. With rock plummeting all around
him, Utarl dashed for the long-unused passage to Cragstone, uponed these past
60 years. As the temple collapsed behind him, a fragment of rock smashed into
his temple, his last memory that of arms reaching, pulling him through the
rubble.

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