Moonhawk

My name, for any who deem it worthy, is Moonhawk. Scribes of the Fallen may know my father, Nighthawk, a beastmaster of the Kagonesti, who was once said to have been possessed by a Black Robe. I can attest that the story is true, for the magical heritage that Mahulderon had left with my father when his spirit left (a heritage my father denied) has passed down to me. He also passed down his affinity towards the natural world. I strive to combine the two in the tradition of a sylvan mage.

Some may find it strange that a "barbarian" such as myself would be a wizard. Few of the Kagonesti have been. My ways are different from the more "civilized" peoples out there, yet I have an affinity towards High Sorcery just the same as any other wizard.

My father and I never saw eye-to-eye on the magic. He hated it, called it an abomination. Yet I could not deny that which I am. To deny the magic would be akin to denying the sky above and the earth below.

My mother? I have few memories of her, save that she had a natural beauty like few others, and she carried with her a sense of sadness. While she eased the burden on my father’s soul, she knew she couldn’t erase it. What he has seen in his lifetime has been horrendous. My mother’s life journey would end prematurely at the hands of ancient enemies of my father’s – the Blood Riders. My father never forgave himself for her death, even though he could not have prevented it.

My father raised me the best he could. I have come to appreciate his love of nature, although we do not see eye-to-eye on magic.

During the War of the Lance, my father once again traveled with those that history knows as the Fallen. For a short time, I traveled with them, and befriended Nirkana, a Silvanesti White Robe they had known since the Cataclysm. Nirkana saw the potential for magic within me, and began teaching me in secret, even though my father would never approve.

Indeed he didn’t. He discovered my secret power during the war. It proved to be a rift that could not be bridged between us, and so I left, heading for home on the isle of Southern Ergoth.

I never saw my father again. I suspect that he still lives, perhaps in an area of the forest once inhabited by his former mentor, Winter Willow. I have not journeyed to see whether this is true or not.

The years leading up to the Chaos War were peaceful ones for me, living in harmony with nature. I didn’t pursue my magical art as much as I should have. The memory of my father’s words proved too painful.

After the Chaos War, life changed. My magic was gone. I could feel it, and I cursed myself for squandering my gift. I never managed to learn the magic of Wild Sorcery. It wasn’t something I had a knack for, and it didn’t feel entirely right. The magic of High Sorcery was a gift from the gods, and part of the natural world. Wild Sorcery was tainted by Chaos.

Through the years of the dragon overlords, much changed on Ansalon. The dragon overlords began to destroy the natural world. I felt another loss – the harmony one feels when in tune with nature. My village would feel the changes too, as the dragon Gellidus would cover most of Southern Ergoth with snow, frost, and glaciers. His cold was unnatural, and felt like death.

I had joined the resistance against Gellidus until the War of Souls and the return of the gods. When they returned, I felt my magical power return. I knew that I could not deny it.

I had heard much about the death of three of the overlords – Beryl, Skie, and Malys. Finally, there was hope against Gellidus. Perhaps, with the right training, I could grow in my power so that I could destroy Gellidus. Yet I knew I could not do it alone.

I traveled to the mainland of Ansalon, looking for those who would teach me, and those who might join in my battle against Gellidus. I could not find the fabled Tower of Wayreth, although I sensed its presence. I then journeyed to the Lake of Death, and saw the grave of Beryl, as well as many of my Qualinesti cousins. It is said that the Golden General, Laurana, lies at the bottom of the lake as well.

I don’t frighten easily, but there was something wholly unnatural about the lake. I made my visit there a short one, and found myself traveling across Ansalon, looking for ancient wizards to help instruct me in my craft. I have found none. For now, I wear robes of green, although I hope that some day I will wear the White Robes, and pursue magic in my own way.

Recently, my travels have taken me to the edges of Silvanesti, which is overrun by minotaurs. I have not spoken much to my Silvanesti cousins, although word of their exile is well known.

So it was that I found myself in the nearby town of Pashin, and in the company of the most unlikely of companions – a Tarmak, which "civilized" folk call "Brutes". We discovered that our two peoples have traditions of painting the body, although we approach it differently. My companion wears blue paint on his skin, which has magical properties.

Thus ends my story prior to when we would search for the Sylvan Key.

About Dragonhelm

Trampas “Dragonhelm” Whiteman is best known for co-creating and administering the Dragonlance Nexus fan site. He is co-author of three Dragonlance books – Holy Orders of the Stars, Knightly Orders of Ansalon, and Races of Ansalon. When not evangelizing Dragonlance and other settings, Trampas is a husband, father, podcaster, and web designer. Trampas also enjoys reading comics, reading fantasy and scifi novels, and playing D&D.
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