[Corrin Wiseacre had lived a fairly normal life all things considered. His first ten years of life were spent in Willowdale--a small village made up of mostly farmers about a day’s ride out from the nearest city. He had a loving family--both parents alive and well and five older siblings--and lived a quiet, peaceful existence. For many it would have been enough, perhaps more than enough. His family wasn’t wealthy, they lived a humble life, but they did well enough for themselves that they were never left wanting.
It wasn’t enough for Corrin. More than anything in the world he wanted to be a wizard, but that just wasn’t something you did in Willowdale. Tutoring was expensive and landing an apprenticeship was a gamble at best. People from Willowdale didn’t become wizards.
He still thinks it had to have been luck that did it. Luck and only that that got him a prized apprenticeship with one of the most accomplished wizards in the world. He spent six years studying under Master Reynard’s careful tutelage--learning and nurturing his natural-born talent with magic, studying and studying and researching late into the night and well into the next morning, perfecting each and every spell he could.
And it still wasn’t enough.
Master Reynard died--he was old for a human, well into his 90s by the time he’d taken Corrin under his wing--and left him everything. All of his notes. All of his research. The manor he lived in and the expansive library that he could have easily spent the next ten years in and not even make a dent in the mountains of books still to read. He loved magic. He loved learning, but he didn’t just want to be a wizard. He wanted to be the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. He wanted to learn and see and do as much as he could, wanted to grow his knowledge and then share it with the world.
He left the manor. Left the town that had become his home for the past six years and started out on his own. He’s still convinced it’s luck that he came across Elden, but he’s certainly not complaining. They each had something they wanted--Corrin’s path was more clear, but Elden’s sense of purpose was strong. They hadn’t known each other that long, but he could tell that much at the very least.
The halfling opened up the map in his hands again, tracing their path and calculating the distance to the nearest village.]
Hmm...it, um...it looks like we’re pretty close to one. Or, well, you know, closer to one than we were before! We’re about...oh, I’d say two hours out from Banbury? It’s a mostly human settlement, I think.
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It wasn’t enough for Corrin. More than anything in the world he wanted to be a wizard, but that just wasn’t something you did in Willowdale. Tutoring was expensive and landing an apprenticeship was a gamble at best. People from Willowdale didn’t become wizards.
He still thinks it had to have been luck that did it. Luck and only that that got him a prized apprenticeship with one of the most accomplished wizards in the world. He spent six years studying under Master Reynard’s careful tutelage--learning and nurturing his natural-born talent with magic, studying and studying and researching late into the night and well into the next morning, perfecting each and every spell he could.
And it still wasn’t enough.
Master Reynard died--he was old for a human, well into his 90s by the time he’d taken Corrin under his wing--and left him everything. All of his notes. All of his research. The manor he lived in and the expansive library that he could have easily spent the next ten years in and not even make a dent in the mountains of books still to read. He loved magic. He loved learning, but he didn’t just want to be a wizard. He wanted to be the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. He wanted to learn and see and do as much as he could, wanted to grow his knowledge and then share it with the world.
He left the manor. Left the town that had become his home for the past six years and started out on his own. He’s still convinced it’s luck that he came across Elden, but he’s certainly not complaining. They each had something they wanted--Corrin’s path was more clear, but Elden’s sense of purpose was strong. They hadn’t known each other that long, but he could tell that much at the very least.
The halfling opened up the map in his hands again, tracing their path and calculating the distance to the nearest village.]
Hmm...it, um...it looks like we’re pretty close to one. Or, well, you know, closer to one than we were before! We’re about...oh, I’d say two hours out from Banbury? It’s a mostly human settlement, I think.