Annals of the Loremasters

[ecclesiarch]

Baldur’s Gate was a short, four day jaunt across the Sea of Swords from Llewellyn Harbor. Outside of the Moonshaes, William had little to worry about - his intrigues and shady goings on had run him afoul of the good opinion of his fellows, to be sure, but certainly weren’t grounds for severe retaliation. Just to be certain, however, Lord William Owen was taking his family and his wealth across the sea. Four days across the waves, and William Owen would start a new life in voluntary exile, far from the nobles he had crossed at in the courts at Caer Calladyn.


Even in calm seas, Jacob’s Hwyl, a merchant cargo vessel, groaned and creaked, the cabins resounding with the constant rhythm of the ship’s gentle rocking, comforting the youngest few of the Owen children below as if it were a giant bassinet. The oldest two sons, William and Galdyr, were above deck, having come of age and grown into strong men, of use as extra deckhands. The daughters, Gwynneth, Guinevere, Aethylred, and Morrigan, and the infant son, Dressel, stayed below with Lady Owen, in cozy quarters lit by portholes and lanterns, suitable to the Owen family’s former, prominent stature.


Four uneventful days at sea passed, and after a short stay in Baldur’s Gate, the family moved south to the town of Beregost, where a distant relative had lived alone on a large estate. The eldest children established themselves immediately as fixtures in the small town social scene, the second eldest ascending to high rank in the local militia, while the daughters enjoyed all the attention that new, fresh faces attract in a small town. Years passed quietly, without event, and in the youth Dressel’s seventh year, when he had achieved the age of reason, Dressel was offered to Candlekeep for the Oghman novitiate in thanks for their lending a tutor to the Owen family for the older daughters, one of which had entered an Oghman abbey herself, while another had joined the clergy of the Earthmother.


Young Dressel excelled in his studies, developing an interest and an aptitude for both the devotional magic of the formal clergy, and also the arcane studies of the scholastic brothers. In his twentieth year, he was ordained Loremaster at Candlekeep, and commissioned, much to his liking, as an itinerant scholar in service to Oghma, sent first to the Leaves of Learning at Highmoon-in-Deepingdale, then to the far North, through Waterdeep, Neverwinter, Luskan, and on to the Gate of the Sunderer to bolster the missionary church at Sundren.

[ecclesiarch]

Loremaster Dressel Owen

Dressel Owen looked around, his arms folded across his chest, his mouth turned slightly up on the right, betraying the furiously working machinations of thought behind his eager eyes. He momentarily brought his left hand up to his chin, before snapping its fingers and grinning triumphantly. "AHA!"

The young loremaster peered over his spectacles at the bookshelves in front of them, rapidly running just the tips of his fingers up and down the spines as he read the titles. "Patriarchs of the Pre-Sundering Era... Perils of the Viridale... Philosophical Encyclopedia of Arcana, Volume III: Divination... gotcha!" Dressel's triumphant grin widened as he lifted the dusty tome off the shelf and brought it over to a reading desk. Lowering his hood, he sat swiftly, looking over to the attendant cleric in hopes of a look of shared jubilation. The cleric only yawned, thumbing through his own tome with a look of disinterest.

Dressel shrugged. Even among Oghma's clergy, few shared Dressel's childlike fervor for learning. In many ways, Dressel's upbringing within the Church had kept him childlike in many regards. "It is one thing to know something, Master Owen, but another entirely to have experienced it," his frustrated tutors had admonished. "It's a good thing your superiors have deigned to send you about the land, or I swear, you'd not learn a bit of common sense!"

It was true. Until he left Candlekeep at twenty, Dressel Owen had not a lick of sense in him. It was only by some baffling mercy, or for the amusement of the Wise God Himself that the young Loremaster made it to the Leaves of Learning and later into the Valley of the Sunderer, but in those seven years the young man had matured and grown at least enough to survive the dangerous roads of the Sword Coast and the North. Now, in Sundren itself, where he was to stay for an indefinite term, Dressel had already learned not to press his luck with the local goblin population, or the local Sundarians, for that matter.

There was a bit of thrill to "learning by the seat of your pants," as he had begun to think of it. Would wards against arrows be most beneficial, or does the situation demand immediate and powerful offense? Would an expeditious retreat be in order? Can a warrior be relied upon to step in the way of a charging goblin, or should he, through use of magic, become the warrior? All of these theoretical questions gave him great joy in the heat of the moment, though, at the end of the day, the soreness in his muscles and the mental exhaustion that continual concentration wrought upon him were enough to remind him that the cozy, dry, and aromatic libraries and studies of his temple, the library, and the university were often friendlier alternatives to a day of exploration on the valley's treacherous backroads.

It was on that sort of day, the kind of day when books seem friendlier than battle, that Dressel found himself in his own interim temple, and came upon the Philosophical Encyclopedia of Arcana, or at least part of it - the temple's stacks were in such disarray that it was a lucky find to say the least. And there would be more days like it to come. And more lucky finds.

"Perhaps this frontier is truly a blessing in disguise," he mused. The assignment to journey to the frontier - a land far removed from the great libraries and temples of Oghma - had not struck Dressel as particularly useful. However, it was beginning to appear as if his initial appraisals had been truly misgiven.

[ecclesiarch]

[Character Profile]

Name: Dressel Owen
Title: Loremaster Venturer (Church of Oghma - Orthodox)
Age: 28
Eyes: Blue-grey
Hair: Brown with a red cast
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 155 lbs.
Born: Llewellyn, Alaron, Moonshae Islands
Raised: Beregost & Candlekeep, Sword Coast.

Theme music:

Candlekeep

Beregost

[ecclesiarch]

Duty

"Kill them."

The master's whispered words echoed in Dressel Owen's mind and took him by surprise, sending his heart into his throat. Dressel swallowed hard as if to push it back into his chest, and slowly nodded his assent, obedient to yet reeling from the archmagus's command.

Dressel had never killed a member of the Good Races except in immediate self-defense. Still, they stood as an inevitable obstacle to the will of Oghma, and it would only be a matter of time before he would have to fight them, at least covertly. Nevertheless, the Loremaster's heart shook under the weight of such a task, and at the grisly contents of the scrolls he had just been handed to carry on his task.

"They will be Known, and thus be Bound... I shall do as you have said." Dressel rose and bowed a reverent halfbow to the master, turning with a swish of his robes and walking back to the Temple of Oghma. He kept his eyes hidden, peering out from under his voluminous white hood, making his way quickly over the dirty cobblestones of Sundren.

This was unlike his time at Candlekeep, or even his journeys to Deepingdale and the Northern Sword Coast. It was not merely roadside bandits and feckless demi-humans that he encountered now, but a greater enemy, whose shadow fell over Dressel's entire horizon. The shadow, at that moment, fell also over Dressel's spirits, chasing away his usual contented smile and weighing heavily upon his mind.

As he entered the temple, Dressel raised his head. Ideas had formed in his mind, ideas that comforted him as being resonant with what he now of Oghma, and effective. The ways of the Wise God were often labyrintine and complex, but this seemed almost primordially simple, and indeed it echoed the Legend of Oghma's arrival on Toril. Dressel approached the top of the stairs, and lowered his hood, looking poignantly at Brother Doroban.

"Brother Doroban... I need to know everything about the Words of Power and the True Names."