Moridin Venar



Moridin Venar – Is a young (Age 16) human man about 6’ tall and around 175lbs. He has short black hair and green eyes. He has a one inch, detailed Corser guild crescent moon tattoo on the back of his left hand.

He is dressed in a loose fitting pale yellow linen shirt, loose fitting dark blue linen pants, black leather boots and belt, a brimmed blue-gray hat and a sea blue-grey linen traveling robe. He has a few pouches on his belt along with a plain dagger and a quiver of crossbow bolts. He also wears a light crossbow slung on his back.

Moridin is intelligent, ambitious, and logical. He is also patient and calculating, he likes to think things through instead of acting rashly out of haste. He is not a coward but he does not seek to be a hero either. He is a survivalist, no cause is above his own survival.

Moridin is a follower of the Immortal Mazikeen of the Sphere of Energy.
(Mazikeen’s areas of interest are Magical Search, Technomancy, and Magical Constructs)

Moridin’s Arcane Library can be found here


Moridin’s Log: (Year – 304 VR)

Totok, Firmun 26, 304:

Today is my 16th birth-tok and my Uncle Felix, in his wisdom, has gifted me this journal that I might record my upcoming travels. Since this is the start of my log I feel constrained to write a few words concerning my past. I Moridin Venar was born on Totok, Firmun 5th in the year 288 in the city of Minrothad to Vladimir and Allana Venar.

My father was an alchemist with Guild Corser and was a man of few words. He always had an intense look about him no matter what he was doing. The pursuit of alchemy was his life but it was not his passion. That honored spot was reserved for sailing. Father loved to sail. Every vacation and holiday we spent sailing in the family yacht. Actually now that I think back on it he spent nearly all his free time doing something with that yacht. I often wondered if secretly he wished he could have been a merchant sailor. But his fate and mine had been decided by the many generations of Venar’s before us who were all craftsmen for Guild Corser. That’s not to say father did not enjoy his work as an Alchemist, because he did. In truth he was quite skilled at his art and was often recognized for his achievements. Most of what I have learned about the Alchemical arts I have learned from him under his tutelage and watchful eye. If he were still alive I would thank him for all he has done for me.

My loving mother was a scribe for Guild Corser and also worked as a cartographer. I remember her as always being full of joy and happiness. She could brighten a room with just her presence. She loved to draw and paint, which is why she enjoyed making maps so much. Even though I was destined to be an alchemist she took the time to teach me both calligraphy and cartography. She always said that a person should not limit themselves to just one thing. At the time I did not quite understand that statement but now I realize how true that is. It was in part due to her encouragement that I began what has become a lifelong quest for knowledge. I confess that I have missed her greatly since her death. I guess Minroth was not watching over her on that day, after all, my mother was a faithful follower of Minroth….

The immortals…. I am not sure I yet grasp how much my life has changed due to the immortals. I admit that at first I did not give much thought to the immortals and their faiths. Each race of people in the Guilds had their own patron immortal and most at least appeared to serve them faithfully. I can remember from a very early age that mother taught me that I should always show respect to the immortals and honor them with diligent and faithful service. My mother being a faithful follower of Minroth worked hard to teach me the principles of his faith. Being a child that was more interested in puzzles and books I did not have a lot of interest in immortals and organized religions. In truth it was not until I was nearing the completion of my apprenticeship as an alchemist that I actually took any interest in the immortals. It was at that time that I learned one of the great secrets of the Corser Guild’s Alchemists. The secret being that the immortal Idraote is the patron of alchemy and that the Corser Guild’s alchemists are his followers. When my father told me I could hardly believe it. I had never considered this before. I knew that there were many immortals in the world but I had not considered that ones craft would serve an immortals interest. I was fascinated by this and as soon as I was allowed access to the Guild’s restricted alchemist library I sought out all that I could find concerning our patron immortal Idraote. I discovered many things from that research. First, that the symbol of our guild incorporates Idraote’s symbol the crescent moon. Second, that the many successes the alchemist have had over the years where often a direct result of Idraote’s blessing. Third, I learned that the alchemist kept Idraote a secret because alchemy was too closely related to the forbidden arcane arts and in an attempt to protect the Guilds craftsmen during the times of arcane purging many of these facts were hidden a guild members were sworn to utter secrecy. This association with the arcane intrigued me so I looked deeper into the histories. Up to this point I had always heard the arcane talked about as a vile evil thing that should be routed out and burned like the cancer that it was eating away at the life force of the world. But now I was discovering that at some time in the past my own craft of alchemy was considered to be closely related to the arcane. I can remember my mind working through the fragments of information I was compiling. I started to wonder. If alchemy and the arcane arts were related in some way to a common ancestry, and alchemy today showed no signs of affecting the life force of the world, perhaps the arcane magic was not as bad as the current clerics and histories made it out to be. Over the next few months I thought a great deal about the arcane arts and the histories said about them. I decided I should read more from the histories that spoke of the downfall of the arcane arts and see if they would shed some more light on this puzzle I had found. As I read more of the accounts written from this time I started to note a theme. The majority of these accounts were written by clerics or priests from the holy orders. In each of their accounts it was clear that their perspective was biased in some way. In many cases the writers stated that their immortals had directing them against those who used arcane magic. As I gathered what information I could I began to wonder if what was know as the arcane arts was truly as evil as the histories said or was there more to this event in time. Perhaps the immortals themselves had precipitated this conflict for some reason only they knew.

As an aside to the question I pondered I began to note some small details in the various historic accounts. Many accounts spoke of the great power wielded by the users of arcane might. They also spoke of fighting against machines powered and controlled by use of the arcane. A few accounts even spoke of ‘golems’ a word I was unfamiliar with but that appeared to be automations created…no brought to life by the power of the arcane. Only in the deepest recesses of my mind did I think the thoughts that came to me upon reading about such things…’Oh to have such power that I could create such things!’ At the time the very thought of such heresy had me trembling to my core. However, once that spark of a thought had arisen I could not stop myself from pondering on the possibilities and even dreaming of what it might be like. I even caught myself daydreaming during my work, which was unacceptable not to mention dangerous. I had to do something with these thoughts or I feared I was going to explode with unanswered questions. It was at this point that I did something I had never done before. I prayed. I sought out a secluded place and poured out my heart and soul to the nameless immortals of the arcane arts, what I now know to be the Sphere of Energy. I did not know to who I pleaded, only that I was willing to risk it all to know more to know the truth. I did this same ritual every night for a week, then a month, then two months yet nothing happened and still I continued to call out the immortals of the arcane arts. Things continued on this way for some time with nothing more than frustrating silence and a growing determination on my part. In fact it was not until my 15th birth-tok that I received my first vision.

I remember that day well. It was the day after my parents had died. Both had been killed by cursed pirates while out sailing on the family’s yacht. I had been working on a particularly tricky acid formula for the guild that was in its final stages else I would have been with them on the yacht when it was attacked. As it was I received the news on my birth-tok and was devastated by it. It had seemed that all the hope in my life had been turned to ashes. I remember screaming out in my anger against Minroth and any other immortal I could think of. How could he let someone like my mother be killed for no better reason than to satisfy some thrice cursed pirate need for rape and murder? I was enraged. I had lost my family in a single day and what had any immortal done to aid anyone. For a moment I no longer cared as far as I was concerned the world could burn to ash. If only I had power, I could have done something. My thoughts were not rational but often in times of grief we do not think rationally. That night in my grief I went to sleep and had a dream. In my dream saw a statue of a man made of polished silver. On his chest was etched the symbol of the 4 pointed night star. In the center of the start was a strange symbol, an elongated circle that was twisted in the middle. As I was gazing at that stunning detail of the statue it moved. At first I thought I was mistaking but as I watched astounded the statue slowly turned to look at me and then beckoned to me as if to follow him. The metal man then turned away from me and began walking. He walked and moved as if his metal skin was human flesh. I began to follow him. He led me down a dark tunnel to a room that I recognized. It was the workroom of my friend Parn Feldsren. I had been there many times to visit Parn. Parn worked for guild Corser as well but as a clerk for one of the Guild Masters who oversaw the guilds trade in rare books and other items of interest. The metal man entered the workroom and pointed to a large crate that was sitting on the floor in front of Parn’s desk. I entered the room, walked to the crate and opened it. Inside were several old books along with some other odds and ends. The metal man walked to the crate and pointed at one book in particular. It was an old book with a faded cover and an odd title, ‘The Philosopher’s Tales’. As soon as I read the title the dream vanished and I awake with a start. I was not even sure if what I had seen was real, but as you can surmise I went to visit my friend Parn first thing in the morning.

When I entered Parn’s workroom I saw the crate just as I had in the dream except that it had already been opened and some of it contents removed. I quickly looked about and located the book I had seen in my dream. I was trembling with excitement. I asked Parn about the book. He said he knew nothing about it and asked me if I was interested in it. From time to time being one how enjoyed books I would buy the occasional book from Parn if it was not a special order. He told me that he had no even ordered the book that it had just shown up in the crate as an extra. Now I was really getting excited. All thoughts of my grief over my parents were gone, replaced by a burning desire to understand the dream. I was able to purchase the book for a small fee and quickly made my excuses and left for home. The book turned out to be a collection of fables and parables written long ago by a forgotten philosopher. At first I did not understand why the vision has shown me this book but then as I was thumbing through the pages I found some carefully folded parchment closed up in the book. I carefully pulled the parchment out and unfolded them. The front bore the same symbol that I saw in my dream on the metal man under which was a single name…’Mazikeen’.. and the rest of the page contained a writing in a strange language that looked old and forgotten. As I started at that name and the page of text I felt as if something washed over me and I understood. Mazikeen was the name of an immortal of arcane magic and he had heard my plea. At that same moment my eyes seemed to refocus and I could read the rest of the page…
At the time could not believe what I was reading. The few pages of parchment contained three things. First it detailed how a true and faithful follower of Mazikeen could meditate in order to commune with Mazikeen. Secondly the pages held what I now know to be the arcane description of two arcane cantraps or minor spells, one being Read Magic, and the other being Detect Magic. From that day I have been a Follower of Mazikeen. I studied and practiced hard to master the art of meditation that would allow me to commune with my new found patron. I also worked hard to master the two arcane formulas that my patron had bestowed upon me. But mostly I prepared myself for the journey that I knew lay ahead of me.

My second vision came on my 16th birth-tok. The silver metal man was there again and in this dream he showed me a ship called the Whiskered Whale and a cave with a room full of books. I now knew what I must do…..

Moridin Venar

Minrothad onsilius Thaljun