The first thing you ever remember is purple smoke, then waking up in a cave to see Sensei, an incredibly ancient man of Eastern decent, standing over you.
“Why are you laying there? Your training began two hours ago.”
Those words amply describe the past 12 years of your childhood. Your surroundings defined isolation; the monastery consisted of a series of caves nested in a narrow valley surrounded by tall mountains. Those who tried to explore beyond the valley found themselves wandering back into its central glades, despite their best efforts. Animals and birds would sometimes find their way into the glade, but you could never follow them out.
You would arise at 7 am. Training specific to your Life Path would begin at 7:30, after a bath in a cold spring and a meal of meat and rice. Training would end when the Sun was at its highest point. After more rice would be two hours of tactical discussions, then three hours learning about the World of Man. A final meal, this time with vegetables and meat, would be followed by five hours of physical conditioning, then sleep.
When you were not training, Sensei would tell you the same story. By now it is etched in your memory:
“In a time long past, before the legendary empires of Cormanthyr, Delzoun, and Netheril and long before the foundation of any kingdom in existence today, there lived a powerful and terrible dragon warlord, Rokuchiangkamphan. While most dragons value riches above all else, Roku's compulsion was power over others. Even his chromatic cousins feared his ambition and Rokuchiangkamphan was defeated by dragons both good and evil after a failed bid to unite all wyrms under his claw. Feigning death in the conflict, the dragon wandered East to the lands now known as Kara-Tur. Assuming the human form of Roku Chiang to avoid suspicion, the dragon rechristened himself the “Red Warrior” and conquered Lok-Pai, the greatest kingdom in that land.
“For five centuries, Roku Chiang worked through conquest and guile to build that Lok-Pai into an empire. He corrupted the conquered nobility and the ancient centers of learning, creating a legion of devoted acolytes and warriors and employed terrible machines of war driven by powerful magic. Though the wealthy and devoted prospered, the vast majority of the population toiled in poverty or misery to slake Chiang's thirst for power.
“News from East to West travels slowly, but eventually legends of the Red Warrior reached dragon-kind. In retaliation, 4,000 years ago dragons of all hues flew east to destroy the Roku Chiang's might once and for all. But Roku's guile was too great; as the dragon army advanced he successfully quested to access the Cathexis, a multi-planar artifact of unimaginable power that grants the fortunate finder their greatest desire, but only if it can be justified as noble. At the Cathexis, Roku asked the artifact “that to protect my kingdom and my people, let no dragon ever be able to harm myself or my followers.” The Cathexis, reasoning that the dragon horde would kill hundreds of thousands, was persuaded that this was indeed a noble desire and granted Roku's wish.
“Taking advantage of their newfound invulnerability Chiang and his armies slew many of the opposing wyrms and drove the rest into retreat. This is why you will find so few dragons in the East today. His empire secure, Chiang then marched on the lands of the West with a single intent: world conquest. While the chromatic wyrms wanted secure a truce, their metallic cousins realized that Chiang and his followers could still be harmed by the “lesser” races. Thus, 4,000 years ago, while the fledgling nations of Cormanthyr and Netheril engaged Chiang's far superior army and the Dwarven nation of Delzoun sought safety through isolation, the metallic dragons assembled the eight greatest warriors from among men and elves.
“With the metallic dragons providing the greatest treasures from their hoards (most of which are now lost to time), and great magical protections, the eight warriors were able, at great personal cost, to magically imprison Chiang beneath the greatest mountain in the East. Their leader defeated, Chiang's empire quickly fell to in-fighting among his generals, many of whom went on to found the corrupt empire of Imaskar.
“As any wise one knows, even the greatest bonds weaken with age. The dragons knew Chiang would be freed through accident or design eventually and entrusted the knowledge of these events to a wise and great monk, the first Sensei, who then went into seclusion in this mountain. If Chiang were ever freed, she was instructed, no chances could be taken; she was to find eight more great warriors, train them in the ways of the fist, the sword and the spell, and send them into the world to actively oppose Roku Chiang.”
The last time Sensei told the story, two days ago, he added the following:
“For 200 generations, the first Sensei and her successors have prepared for this moment and now it has arrived. Rokuchiangkamphan has awakened. While thus far he has gone to ground and resisted all attempts magical and otherwise to locate him, I am beginning to hear stirrings in the ether; the time to confront and destroy him draws near.
“Go forth into the World of Man, seek the knowledge and prowess that only experience can bring. Let none know of your past or your charge, but make allies who will help you oppose the Dragon. This shall be my final lesson to you: as with any creature, Righteousness must use its natural weapons to defend itself. And if Righteousness is a magnificent beast, then you are certainly its Talons…”
The last thing you remember is the purple smoke engulfing you for the second time, then waking up in an unfamiliar glade. So this is the World of Man…
The first thing I remember is purple smoke, and then a cave, with the face of Sensei, looking down at me. “Why are you laying there?” he said, “Your training began two hours ago.”
It didn't take me long to accept my new life. I knew I hadn't been born in the monastery, but what of it? I remembered nothing else. Besides, I was only a child, perhaps six or seven years old, and my training kept my mind and body occupied so I had no time to consider my origins. I rarely think about it now; I no longer care. I am better in every way than I would have been in the world of man.
Leisure time in the monastery was limited to what we could squeeze out of the early morning and late night. Some students chose to spend all of that time asleep. Others wandered the valley, looking for a route of escape. In my first months at the monastery, the only leisure I had was filled with ridicule by the other children, for my appearance, behavior, or whatever else they could think of. After that, I accepted my place and kept my distance. I knew that they would all grow older with time and become like Sensei – quick to criticize, but slow to judge and never to insult.
It wasn't long before my free time was spent devoted to personal goals. I spent months of early mornings training in private with my quarterstaff in the forest, until I'd almost made it into a dance. It is difficult to fight without an opponent. One time Sensei saw me training. Knowing he would not laugh at me, I continued my dance and waited for him to tell me that I was wasting my time. I did not stop, or even let him know that I'd seem him watching, until more than an hour had passed. I had missed breakfast and was ten minutes late for my Life Path training. Finally, I stopped, lowered my weapon, approached the master and bowed. He said nothing. When at last I looked up at him, he was smiling. At the time I assumed it was a criticism, so I stopped. Years later, I realized that by not interrupting me, the master had given me the greatest compliment anyone could give, and I resumed my training, now fully aware that my dance was improving not only my fighting ability, but also my concentration and meditative intensity.
There were other mornings I spent walking through the woods. I was never prone to trivial pursuits, but I found that these walks cleared my mind and prepared me for the day. When I saw any of the others, we did not speak. By then it was understood that I was to be left alone. In recent years, I've taken to playing a bamboo flute I carved
My nights were often spent studying magic. When I could not attain permission to stay up late or to borrow the master's spell books, I would lie in bed, reviewing the spells I had seen that day, trying to figure out whether there was anything I'd missed, or any way the spells could catch me by surprise.
I take up so much space discussing leisure time only because it provides me with the most specific memories. In actuality, it represented only a small fraction of my time in the monastery. The majority of the day was spent with the master and the other students, in rigorous training. I learned much from Sensei, and would not have given up a minute of my training, even if it would have meant more time meditating, or walking through the woods or studying spells. My training taught me my strengths and weaknesses, and those of the other students. I quickly learned to depend on my feet and my wits more than my weapon. Although I was outmatched in strength by every other student, I was nimbler than most, and I could often predict their movements before they could mine. Still, I lost more than I won, and I realized before long that there was wisdom in fleeing an opponent who outmatched me, or keeping my distance while sizing somebody up. Since my early days in the monastery, the master's magic had interested me, and I learned over time that the magic would not only enhance my ability in combat, but would also keep me out of it.
Sensei tells us that in the world of man, people remain children late into life, as far as their fifteenth or even eighteenth year. My childhood ended around age ten, as I expect it did for many of the others. It was then I realized that my life was not my own. It was Sensei's, or the monastery's, or the Dragon's, or else nobody's at all, but it was not mine. That realization did not modify my behavior; I continued to spend my leisure time alone, but it was an epiphany that transformed me from a child to an adult. From what Sensei tells us, even adults in the world of man often never achieve such simple insight.
When Sensei told us that we would leave the monastery, I did not want to go. I had always assumed that I would remain in training until it was deemed a suitable time for me to become an instructor in magic, to help Sensei teach new students. He has chosen me, however, to protect the world against the Dragon, and I will do so to the best of my ability.
The last thing I remember is the purple smoke engulfing me for a second time, then waking up in an unfamiliar glade. So this is the World of Man…