Aelozzosot Dyw the Grand Master of Changelings, Meter of Mind

Role

Chapter 9

Day of the Bull, Month of Futility, year 258th of Life:

I have finished this day what I imagine to be the (mostly) final edition of
the Walrus tiles, the first creature to be depicted in what I hope to be a
guild-spanning series, and on the whole I believe the art work rises to the
level desired.

The work, in my opinion, stands upon its own merits as a fine landscape and
battle scene, but to those making study of the shapeshifting magics, or
others who may consider the paintings' dual purpose as a tool of learning, I
think the subtler layers of meaning do in fact reveal themselves:

-The thick hide, for deflecting blows
-The general difficulty in causing the beast injury
-Its comfort in cold environs
-The difficulty to sense the animal's presence in an area when below waves
-Its general inability to be moved by force from the place it wishes to stand

Even the ease with which it forages food from the sea. All of these things I
believe can be deduced by those magi making a close study of the painting. No
doubt I myself would have been glad to curl up within the guild and browse
through such pages during the times when no others could be found for
adventuring.

My only concern at this moment is the enormity of the task before me, and for
this reason I now consider perhaps refocusing these first editions upon only
the final two tiers within each focus, the better to improve the works'
chances of eventual completion and distribution. And, should they prove
successful, likely would it help pave the way for following works depicting
the earlier-learned forms.

This matter though I still consider, and shall think upon it yet as I weigh
my progress over time.

Role

Chapter 8

On the next page the scene continues, this time in a state of battle as the
mutual foes savagely engage each other upon the icy beach:

The massive lumbering Walrus has shuffled its awkward body out of water and
lies in a heap on the beach, a layer of sand clinging to the bottom half of
its thick, wet hide. One of the dwarves stands to the side of the great
beast, his stocky muscles rippling in the act of bringing a vicious axe blow
down upon the animal's flank.

Yet of the multitude of wounds seen upon the creature, all appear shallow and
superficial, and not at all in proportion to the apparent force behind the
blows which the artist has depicted the warriors as unleashing.

In fact, even as the human warrior is shown staring in disbelief as he has
followed the flight of his dagger through the air and watched it skip
harmlessly off the great beast's thick hide, the walrus itself appears
unconcerned with either the dwarf at its side or the human before it.

Rather, with the bright red blood of its enemies running freely down its
gleaming ivory tusks, the beast has rolled a lazy eye back and to the side,
and the viewer is left with the distinct impression that the creature is
about to lumber itself around to inflict some measure of punishment with
those tusks upon the second dwarf standing behind it, who is shown tugging on
a flail and struggling futilely against the animal's bulk in a vain attempt
to haul the great beast farther up the shore.

Role

Chapter 7

A beach scene is painted at an angle just removed from a full side view. On
the left side of the painting, knee deep in the crashing surf, two stocky
dwarves and a well muscled human stand in the breaking waves, weapons in
hand, peering out into the rolling seas.

One of the dwarves, head raised to the sky, is depicted in a howl of
frustration as he bangs his axe upon a battle-scarred iron shield. The human
man stands beside him, his fur lined armors dripping wet with sea spray, a
hand raised to his brow as he fruitlessly struggles to locate his foe beneath
the waves. The artist has pointedly gone out of his way to depict these
three powerful warriors with expressions and features classically reserved
for the dim-witted, their slack jaws and crossed eyes offering insight into
the opinion the artist holds in regard to his foes' inner mental lives.

The scene continues to the right as the eye follows the slope of the beach
down below the waterline, where a massive heap of brown fur and blubber
floats a dozen feet below the frigid ocean's surface. The great beast has
rolled a lazy eye toward its enemies on the beach even as it is depicted
continuing its grazing along the sea floor, comfortable in the freezing
waters as it roots clams from the sea bed with massive ivory tusks, largely
ignoring the splashing and activity over on the shore.

Role

Chapter 6

Aelozzosot sat upon a rock, listening to the stream quietly gurgle past on
its journey down across the valley floor. He held in his lap an open tome,
its blank pages nearly as large as the tiny sorcerers own body, and
scribbled notes as he let his thoughts slowly take form:

Five books, he thought. For each of the five foci of the guild. Air, Offense,
another for Defense, and so forth. And within each, masterpieces of both
art and learning! Exquisite sketches and paintings, of every beast in every
tier of that focus! With some important notes and pointers perhaps, to draw
the eye to certain features, but largely letting the scenes themselves invite
the reader to discovery.

And then to place these tomes, works of art and science, in the guilds, so
they may enlighten all who make such magic their study. But one of the five
only for each guild though, the better to encourage a wider search for
knowledge by the students, Aelozzosot decided.

He began briefly to consider titles for his works, and which guilds might
prefer which tome, before stopping himself, considering that there would be
time aplenty for those minor details.

He chose then to begin at that very moment the first rough draft of the first
beast profiled in a series which would span a hundred, a form which had come
to define a core part of his own existence:

The great Western Aryth Walrus.

Role

Chapter 5

Half a thousand years is a long time, by the clocks of most races. Time
enough to walk down many roads, to watch the seas swallow many boats. Time
enough to pen this long, meandering, long-forgotten tome.

And yet I think there shall be never time enough to forget that debt I owe
my chosen guild, to those magi making study of the shapeshifting magics of
Thera.

For every step I make, every insight gained or treasure caught, all my days
in service of the Isle and a finer Balance, was it not my chosen guild which
made such possible? No doubts it was, friends. I knew it so even upon my very
first year within the guild, and also that I would owe something in return.

And so it was that, with the lands in a fine Balance one day and a moment of
peace at hand, I resolved, in the rather inauspicious Month of Futility as it
happened, to begin work upon a book. Or rather, to be more accurate, a series
of several.

Role

Chapter 4

A fine, measured script fills most of this page located amidst the beginning
third of the tome:

-I see the human man flash and blur, become the great fish and splash beneath
the waves, and that is enough. The course was thus set there. I think I knew
such then? From the comfort of this chair, no doubt I know it now.

Since birth it had been such, that water drew me near. I cannot explain why.
I have long ceased in the trying, even. With years enough, one learns it is
not a question which demands an answer. Better to count raindrops in the sea,
my friends, than chase that current of my spirit.

Water is my lodestone, though. I say I know and worry not why, but I think
that not so true, so let me try again: It is for me all things. A deep, still
pool to calm my mind. A babbling brook to charm the heart within. A raging
mountain current, to set my soul to stir and raise the inner strength. It is
the blackest, deepest depths where I may turn my thoughts inward, and the
highest clouds of ice, soaring freer than the birds.

I am not beholden to the seas, of course. Rather that Water itself is my
muse, and no doubt it is all places. All things, even. The forest, in a
thousand ways. City fountains, alley streams. Desert rains. Mountain peaks.

Do not even the driest flats of salt harbor life, scorpions or brittle scrub,
clutching desperately all their days to that small allotment of water which
shepherded them unto this world? I find waters comfort and inspiration
across the lands, in every place and moment.

But when I saw that man BECOME a fish and truly breathe the seas...

Role

Chapter 3

A faded rothe-hide journal lies here, the leather cover painted with a thin
film of ancient dust. Long cracks and creases run like lightning up and down
the spine of the massive tome, the integrity of its binding beginning to fail
from a lifetime of long use and then longer disuse. The pages are translucent
thin and must number a thousand or more. Precise, flowing script in the
common tongue fills most of the pages, the occasional poem or sketch mixed
in, apparently at random, with the narrative of a lifetime. Water stains
blotch a few sections, but on the whole the text within remains in remarkably
good condition, given the tomes apparent age.

A heading on the first page reveals the nature of the work:

"Reflections In the Scrying Pool"
-Aelozzosot Dyw

Role

Chapter 2

The short, tanned figure knelt beside a clear oasis and slowly filled his
container, drawing in a deep breath and then letting it out with a satisfied
sigh as the sounds of his friends carried into the room on the breeze.

A short distance away, Aelozzosot could hear the Seekers of the Isle gathered
together in a moment of relaxation, the murmur of friendly conversation and
debate punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter and the harmony of Lady
Allysia's songs providing a rising and falling backdrop to the gathering of
the Isle.

The endless cycle of shifts and re-balancing had begun again, Aelozzosot knew,
and for a time there might prove some peace and sustained Balance in the
world. The young gnome knew well though that, like the ever steady tides of
the sea, the flow of his enemies would surely surge again with time.

Reflecting then on how he might entrench some lasting gains for both Magic
and the Balance while these moments of possibility lasted, Aelozzosot's
thoughts turned again and again back to his old masters and the shapeshifting
guilds which had given him so much, and made his own journey possible.

Role

Chapter 1

The komodo dragon finished the climb up the Isle and lumbered past the
Guardian, setting himself down on a patch of warm sand. He lay there for an
hour or two as the blood trickling from his injuries began to flow less
freely, his wounds visibly sealing over and healing as the creature
regenerative constitution restored it to something resembling good health.

A short while later there were audible snaps and pops as the beast blurred
and reformed into the shape of a small gnome. Aelozzosot grimaced as his
broken bones twisted, then sat quietly, listening for the sounds of footsteps
or the clink of armor that might foretell a pursuit and the continuation of
combat.

Satisfied after a while that none was forthcoming, he lay there on the sand
and reflected upon the curious path his life had taken. It had been barely
two moons since the long fireside talk at the Inn with his friends, and less
than one since he had finished his meditation on their conversation, and
decided there was wisdom in their words.

Magic tied the lands together, they said, in an infinite number of ways;
imagine a world without its touch. Balance: all must be free to explore their
path in life. If Balance tips, in any direction, surely there will be at
least some in your very own guild who will find themselves persecuted? And
more of the same in the other magical guilds. In all the guilds of Thera, no
doubt.

His was not an entirely rudderless existence, but in over a century of life
Aelozzosot had not formed a more definitive goal than simply to aid his
fellow scholars in the guild which had given him so much, and to defend
against those barbarians who sought to tear that guild down, stone by stone.

Now his friends offered insight into their own paths, and it seemed less a
change of direction than simply an expansion of the views which already
guided his actions. He could not deny the way their words resonated with him,
and his during his meditations his thoughts turned unbidden to the image of a
spring fed pool high upon a mountainside, filling slowly until it overran its
basin and began to flow down the side of the mountain.

The water did not changed its character or essence somehow, he reasoned. It
flowed still from the same source. The clear, deep pool remained, serving the
same functions as always to those who came across it. Yet now the water also
flowed down the hill, carving new paths in the mountainside, sending rivulets
out widely and altering the mountainside in ways the pool of water could
never imagine.

Aelozzosot could deny neither the wisdom of his friends words, nor the
implications of his repeated visions of the spring. And as he sat there
recovering his strength, staring at the warm sand about him marred by craters
of now dried blood which had fallen from his wounds, he thought what a curious
thing it was, the course our lives run through these lands.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

Arena Statistics

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges