Legends of Belariath
Prydain Mozenwrathe
Some things were meant to be, like moonlit nights and romance, or honey mead and thick bread slathered in fresh butter. Other things are just thrown together haphazardly and surprisingly work out for the best. Even then, some days you have to look beyond what you can see in order to find the real factors which inspired the "random" events. When you turn that roving eye on some people, what you find is often looking back at you with a smirk on their faces, wondering if you like what you see.
The tale of Prydain Mozenwrathe is one not of pain and torture, or of a blessed life and shattered love. His upbringing was far different than that of the majority of the Magi, as he did not start out as one of them. In fact, Prydain was born looking fairly much as how one may see him now as: a human. To two very human parents from the third continent was he a blessing to, as they had been looking to have a third son after having five other children. Though they lived in the shadow of Oceana, in one of the most feared cities on the continent, they were content and safe. The main reason for this was that they were actually part of a dragon cult, known throughout some circles as "The Union Of Potent Scales." They were fervent believers in the power of the dragon who they worshipped, Leicam Ajnos, and would do whatever they were asked by the Council of the cult, including the occasional summoning spell or invocation. Their magical knowledge and experience seeped into the blood and bones of Prydain even before his birth, tainting his life for all time to follow. When he was born, his eyes were the colour of rich amber, and his whispy locks were the hue of freshly polished bone - a grand omen in their eyes. His skin was a dark chesnut like his parents, both of whom were descended from a barbarian tribe on the third continent whose shading was darker than pitch. All of his other brothers and sisters had diffierent coloured hair and eyes, something which the members of the cult found auspicious. The legendary "Sinner's Blood" flowed through his veins unbeknownst to all who viewed him - all but three pairs of eyes which none there knew were watching him.
At the age of three, when he was first beginning to know what family meant, disaster struck him. Overnight, the cult had to leave the town and find themselves a new village to take over. Members from all over the continent knew about the impending exodus, but those in the city of Shevat and the other "Villages Under Neverlight" were the last to be informed, mainly as many feared traveling to those places in person due to the lethal nature of their citizens. Even worldwalkers would only go there alone and unarmed as a last resort... and usually only for a few hours to get arms and leave with expediency. The night of the exodus, Prydain was lost in a crowd as a huge riot broke out in Shevat for some reason or another, and was left behind in the huge rush. When he found his way home, all he found was a few daggers, the furniture, and enough food and Mehrials to live on for a month. There was no note, no signs of life.
He never speaks of this time between the time of his birth and the time on Oceana, mainly as he has been "told" to forget it. Who made him forget this and why will be noted later, as such does have a great effect on his supposed future. Between the ages of three and perhaps five or seven, Prydain lived off of the streets of Shevat - one of the most dangerous places on Belariath which is not officially at war, period. Dodging rape gangs and local thieves, he ecked out a survival as best he could, which was frightfully well considering his shocking looks. Never once was he caught when removing the cash from the purse of an unwary slaver, or stopped when sliding down an alabaster bannister when escaping from a violent pimp who realized Prydain had just violated his favourite suit to show himself off.
His wits about his frame, he was not able to avoid the quarter yearly "sweep" by the Magi: this is the time once every season the Magi would look through the various cities and towns within the influence of their floating continent to scrounge up lost and forgotten children and adults of any and all races to take them up to Oceana, where the majority are never heard from again. The majority of them are kept as slaves by the Magi, sent to all corners of the continent to serve the Magi in ways they need, such as assistants to a librarian, or farmer's workers. A rare minority of them are given the "blessing" of the Touch of Morpheous. Unlike those who willingly go to see Morpheous to become of Her Chosen, these newly created Magi are selected for their promise, and are known as the "low-risen" by most of the Magi born such. They often are put through the most menial and ardurous of tasks in order to prove themselves to the other Magi, creating what others might view as a caste system.
Morpheous would have chosen the scowled youth without any subtle influence on the parts of others, but She did have some "help" in her selection. When going through the slaves-to-be, Morpheous sensed a magical "glow" emanating from one of the younger humans found in the last "gathering." Turning Her head, She beckoned forth the five who were all in the same line as Prydain. As he was the only one who did not budge, She knew instantly it must have been he as the "glow" did not move as the others did. As a few of Her more fervent believers moved in on him, She watched as one at a time they all gave pause, also sensing the disturbing energies locked within his frame. This one, did She decide, had a Destiny which had to be fulfilled, even at the cost of Her patience... or at least the patience of whom would soon be his teachers. When asked his name, he had none to give, such was the "touch" of the other who forever would be guiding his life. All he knew was that he wished to go back to Shevat - immediately. That, of course, was not to be. The day of the "blessing" came without much strife for most, as it was always held within the week of the "gathering." When it came time for Prydain to receive his wings, he struggled against his "handlers" as he did not wish to change what he was. As he saw all the others receiving their "blessing" from Morpheous Herself, he demanded to be sent back to Shevat instead. A spell to quell his violent resistance was cast, and then did he get touched by Morpheous. Most Magi tend to have feathered wings, similar to the Torians. A strong minority will have bat-like wings like the Chirot, but nothing of a natural hue normally. The transformation warped within Prydain's smaller body, and when his wings grew forth, they erupted like a wolverine stepped on by a bear, tearing forth and knocking anyone over in their way - if they had been that close to him. Completely in proportion to his body and then some, the youth was gifted with one of the most rare wing sets of all - draconian wings. Every scale even had a word of power on them, as if they were meant to be.
Prydain was not pleased.
Morpheous was mildly amused and decidedly curious about this turn of events.
The majority of the Magi there were horrified, fascinated, or completely in shock. The last known dragon-winged Magi had vanished over twenty years previously, and no word had been heard from him since. The magics the Magi wielded were of a wide variety, from transformational sorceries of self, to the most feared blood sorcery very few ever delve in. In some present, the memories of the Magi known only as "Ardnas" were still fresh, and they took their leave before the entire blessing ceremony was finished.
Often treated with scorn, Prydain was not even given a name because of his rather rebellious nature. His natural talent for getting into trouble and conflict eventually earned him one of the most severe punishments to be granted to any Magi: the magical loss of his wings. One of the Magi elders of the town he was residing in presided over the ritual and ceremony, with more than few of the Magi curious to see this rare event take place. Placing the legendary "Scars Of Tindalos" on the youth for not being respectful enough, she ensured his hatred of his "new race" was complete and utterly unalterable. The punishment was like nothing to him, as he was far more used to walking than flying. And it was on one of these journeys walking that he ended up meeting the man who was to be his mentor in so many things.
Eidos was once a sylvan elf ranger who chose to become one of the Magi as he felt he could best serve his thirst for knowledge and wisdom best by becoming one of those for whom magic is part of their very soul. Taking in the drenched Prydain in a rainstorm on Oceana, he never thought that by opening his door to one infuriated stranger could he change both that stranger's entire outlook on life and his own. Not exactly missed, Prydain gained his name while becoming Eidos' pupil in the arts and sciences, and his assistant in the running of his tavern and waystop on the floating continent. In less than ten years, Eidos had taught Prydain more than any of his teachers possibly could have within a century. His style of teaching was one of speaking to an equal, not a slave - which is how most of the "proper" Magi still wished to view Prydain as... or wanted him to be. Though it was never confirmed, Eidos to this day believes that at least four of the scholars at the places of learning Prydain once had to serve at wanted him chained by their feet as a pet.
All good things must come to an end, and so did Prydain's time with Eidos. Finally called out by a Rhetor of high regard in the Magi councils, Prydain suffered a huge loss. Accused of being disobediant, insubordinate, disrespectful, and impertinent, Prydain could only agree strongly. Well, he did more than that, as he also argued with the Rhetor, calling him hypocritical and showing the Rhetor Lyi-Dzur his true feelings for the enitre Magi race. His last words not screamed in rage and rebellion at Rhetor Lyi-Dzur were the following: "you do not frighten me." Considering him a cancer, the Rhetor decided only one thing would suffice at this point: banishment. Using three spells at once to make it look as if the young Magi was terminated with magic, Rhetor Lyi-Dzur expended the most sorcery against a fellow Magi he had ever done since his last wizard's duel. Only Eidos and a rare few others knew that Prydain survived the discorporation magics used against him, but none would ever tell another that. In Eidos' eyes, Prydain's "death" was only the beginning of his true fate... and he is right.
Finding himself on Belariath again on the third continent, Prydain ran into new dangers within the first few nights of his return. Slaying a host of ogres who had taken hostage a few members of the Eveshkanian temple of Ssorbitan Cross, he found himself immediately drawn into The Great Game of the gods. Morpheous allowed this as She had not at that point needed this new albeit reluctant agent to work for Her as of yet. Eveshkha's influence over him also led him to Her temple in Ssorbitan Cross, mainly so he could be given properties to survive and thrive in his new status as a roving scholar... who seems to grow more and more proficient at slaying at every turn.
Eveshka soon relinquished Her influence on this youth so he could walk into a setup by Gaea for him to rescue some of Her more favoured servants from the clutches of a gang. After he succeded partially (as two of the gang members escaped his wrath), Prydain was implored by Gaea to work in Her name, translating a series of dangerous and possibly crucial scrolls for Her Blessed Chosen on the second continent. The Magi/ human accepted, on the conditions he could find out more about his past. Gaea lured him with that, knowing fully well only Morpheous could provide him with that information - or so She believes. Eveshka Herself still keeps close tabs on the strange "human" just in case She needs him for another rescue or someting to those effects.
The real force behind all of these curious and chained events is the mythical "Lost Goddess," a being of power even in the eyes of other goddesses and some of the gods. None has ever seen her true power, and most are not certain if they have seen her real form. Morpheous and Gaea both have no clue the Lost Goddess has been the one who guided Prydain into their spheres of manipulation, but they are glad for it nonetheless. Even now, the Lost Goddess makes her presence felt by granting the permanently angry Prydain a defense against the dreaded Plague more powerful than anything Gaea or most nature spirits have ever witnessed personally - at least within a human...
Now it seems that the stranger to the second continent has managed to acquire a few difficulties of his own. Not only does he have a dark elven female of House Tintoreda hunting him down, there is a small league of assassins lurking in the darkness to claim his life for the agents of one he has no idea exists... yet. Right now, he believes this is all tied to the scrolls of The Plague he carries with him, giving him a distinctively unsavoury and frightful aura to fight with, but he is wrong - dead wrong. And if he does not get to the root of the matter when it comes to both the scrolls and these hired killers soon, he might be just plain dead. Still, no fear is shown in his visage, as he apparently is far too busy being angry to be scared, ever.