Whats in a name?

[Fripple]

[Prologue]
Why must all great stories start with one of the clichéd beginnings so common in these memoirs? Are all great beginnings in large stone fortresses or on nights where the sky pours forth its fury like no other night? Quite possibly. I hope it bodes well for this writing, for my story starts similarly.

I was greatly surprised to wake up on my seventy-fifth birthday to find a dagger standing upright between my ribs. I was fortunate that there was not much I could do, for I did not really know what I could do. My eyes could see that the red shape that pulled the dagger free and was quickly exiting the back room, where my brother and I slept, was roughly humanoid in size. I could see the heat flaring out from their brow as they moved like a breeze through the doorway and out of my already glazed sight. That was my seventy-fifth birthday.

Some may ask what about the years preceding this. Did they not exist? Did they not influence my mind and spirit? Were you not developed in some small way by the years preceeding this singular incident? I answer them simply, as I always try to, with no.

When a person has an experience that destroys the reality that has grown from all that is perceived normal and forever, the trust that is put into those memories is also destroyed. It is like they were never real and that the lessons learned all must be put up for reevaluation. There was nothing that happened before that night that has had any real merit in determining my next step in the walk of life. The path I had thought destined to walk was no longer there. I take tiny steps, but they are deliberate.

A note must be entered here. Being a hundred and seventeen now at the time of this writing, should tell you that the tale did not end that night as so many other things did. The pessimism in gnomish ability to survive terrible physical turmoil is one even we gnomes try to promote. It helps to keep us off the list of dangerous foes kings must conquer or that Gods seek to influence. We are, for the sake of argument, capable survivors.

I was awakened from fitfull nightmares by the town holyman a great time later. There was a look of surprise on his face I will always remember. I do not think people should show surprise when their craft works. It does not spawn great confidence in those who witness the success. Great men are not necessarily those that are skilled, but those who can keep from appearing shocked when good fortune shines on them.

He took time to tell me the story of what had been pieced together from the night I was stabbed. Most of the village had died that night it seems. Though some had been stabbed, it was determined all had died from poisoning. A dark mithril dagger had been found as had a broken vial of poison identified as one common from the Underdark. Though they had attempted to contact the souls of any of the dead, to determine if any had seen their attackers, the souls were strangely quite. How I had survived the poison was not known. It was capable of eating away naked flesh, making the resurrection of any of the murdered impossible. My family was gone.

I did not have family, a skill set to survive on, or really any thing to live for.

Since I have since talked with a number of shorter lived peoples since this transpired, I will take a moment to explain for those humans who read this. At seventy-five, you humans may be ready for death and pulling closer to the evening fire to feel some warmth enter your bones. You may feel that I at the ripe old age of seventy-five was quite capable of taking care of myself. I had not even hit puberty. This difference between the races can not be stressed too lightly.

So you can see I was in a bit of a mess when the village had to determine where I was to be raised and for what. My father had been the local enchanter. A gnome capable of great magic I had heard and believed. He had even made a few items for the Lords of Waterdeep.

They would often commission him when something needed made for special occasions. It was steady work, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, there were no other teachers of chanting in town.

I think the village was happy when I asked if I could go to the next town over to seek magical training. I had just started walking again, and the question had been coming up more frequently of what should be done with me. The church had offered to raise me half heartedly. I think more out of duty then any real want to improve my orphaned life.

The town mayor had me outfitted with what was left from my parent’s home and put me on the way out with the next vegetable wagon.

Now I have been asked also about that part of the story. Did my parents not have any wealth to speak of, seeing as my father was an enchanter to the Lords? I once again have to say, that at my young untrained age, I would not have known wealth. I know that what I was given was simple, and certainly not all that I had seen in the home. But, I do not think they were intentionally stripping me of wealth for their own good. They did give me a couple baubles from my father's laboratory and a bag of money to help pay my way into tutelage should I have difficulties. I never went back to check on my old home though. Though the stab wound had not hit my heart, I had stopped having any of the feelings attributed to it.

As I approached this new town, I knew I was going to be disappointed. It was barely larger then my own village, and certainly much closer to dangerous lands. I expected troubles in being accepted into training by the towns enchanter. I never expected how much trouble though.

[Further in the running memoirs of Fripple]

Some people have asked in recent years why I changed my name to Kiara. It is not much of a story really. Being orphaned and not much caring for my own kind, my own last name lost any real meaning years ago. When I learned the history of the name, and the living representation it had, it was an easy addition to add it after my own accepted first name.

The story though, I will tell.

After my training had ended and I had already started adventuring and exploring Toril alone, I came across in my journeys a rare breed, even among mankind. He was very young and excitable as his race often is, and had the undeniable look of a woodsman.

His name was Digion Kiara. I learned that pretty quickly from his own dialogue as he traipsed through the forest. Lacking a bard, he decided he needed his own commentary.

He was a human ranger who was apparently out in the woods, trying to commune better with Mielikki, the goddess that Rangers seem to gravitate towards.

I never understood the fascination in worshipping a single god. It limits your potential. Better not to seek to be a god? Out in the great wilds of Toril what would a god do for a mere ranger? Human rangers are not that common, as the reader will certainly agree, since they have many inferior traits to their elven brethren. I was interested in seeing how this one faired in the wild, and whether his goddess would care if it was not well.

I remember finding it humorous that while invisible, as I preferred to travel the realms, this great skilled ranger was completely unaware of my presence. He was a happy sort, and I found myself enjoying his unknowing company.

Over the next few days I watched this young man practice hunting for small game, pray for healing from his goddess, and generally do a lot of traipsing through the forests without any detectable goal.

I watched with some admiration as he was able to defeat a number of buffalo we happened across. His tactics were mostly speed in attacking and disappearing within the surrounding woods, rather than any conventional tactics. It was still very effective. I noted that he took great pride in his archery, and would spend hours carving perfect arrows from fallen tree limbs just to break them against the buffalo’s tough hide.

But anyway, as the days passed, he came finally to the mountains and proceeded up the western side along an almost vertical path to the summit high above the forest. I flew up behind this most lively ranger, watching him struggle without grimace or giving pause to exhaustion.

He put away his bow and drew forth swords upon reaching the trails split. I watched him bend low and peer at the ground before beginning to move deliberately around the southern side of the mountain. I looked at the ground for a moment. A rock was a rock was a rock. A dwarf I am not.

We probably traveled for another hour before we stood before what was obviously his goal.

A large dark cave opening was there, right at the trails pathway. I assumed it must be for travelers who needed to get out of the rain, so I was not worried as Digion slipped inside. I recast my invisibility and entered right behind him.

We stood in a large open cave with an area set up for a campsite. What made my stalk of hair attempt to rise, and my breath hiss inward, were all of the hidden glyphs of power I saw written on the cave walls glowing brightly to those with the ability to detect them.

This was no cave to be investigating further, and though I had spent a great deal of time following the ranger, self preservation came first. As I headed towards the exit though, Digion headed further back into the caves.

A loud roar came from the back of the cave then, and I stopped my retreat. Could I leave him to this unknown fate? Before I even had decided what should be done, or even prepared any protective spells for myself, I found myself flying into that darker portion of the cave where Digion had disappeared a moment before.

I saw what had brought forth that roar, or at least I saw part of it. From my studies, I knew it was a displacer beast. Probably foreign to this land, and only brought up to this campsite by the creeping colonization by the human cities. It should not be too difficult of a fight if my readings served me.

Digion was not doing well. It was a fortunate day for that young ranger that I am a prepared gnome enchanter.

Even as he would land a blow against the mighty beast, magical flames creeped up the blade from the beast to burn his hands and face. A caster? I had not heard of the beasts being capable of spell casting! I immediately realized I was needed if this young man was to survive.

I began casting a great protective magic to turn aside the beasts attacks. The casting must have removed my invisibility, or possibly this beast could see me even through the spell, but either way I suddenly found myself under the burden of dodging the four tentacles it used as its primary attack without the aid of any of my magics.

Immediately Digion was in front of me slashing again, even though the fires still licked and burned with every blow.

I cast then another powerful spell to protect Digion from the flames. I probably should have cast it upon myself as a fire erupted from the beast filling the small chamber with wilting heat. I countered by delving into the beasts mind, seeking to destroy its sanity.

The battle in front of me was going poorly, even with my magic’s and Digion’s skill. I still was seeking the weakness that all living beings have growing in their minds. I needed to find it and spur it, to grow it faster. Like a weed in a flowerbed, what I planned to do would kill all things that grew close to it.

Suddenly I had it! I completed the act, and saw the effects immediately. The beast continued its attacks, but there was a diminished look, a defeated look. I had destroyed its ability to reach into the magical folds for more tricks.

I began hammering the beast with my own magic, damaging as best I could while Digion continued slicing with his dueling blades, though he looked near to death.

Finally with both of us failing, my magic all spent, the beast gave a beleaguered roar and fell to the ground, rolling in a dangerous death knoll that still threatened both Digion and I. Digion bravely stepped over the beast and finished the deed.

We did not say a word to one another as we cleaned ourselves up. He began skinning the great beast, probably to sell the coat or to use in some magical craft. When finished, he finally looked me in the eyes and smiled. The smile was quite out of place, given the circumstances, but I smiled back.

He asked me why I had been following him for so long without introducing myself. I mentally swatted myself for forgetting that rangers could cast detecting spells, too.

I suggested we continue our greetings in safer environs, and he agreed.

That night while we talked, he began to tell me more about his life and story. He told of a small clan of friends, not family, who were associated by their lifestyle and not by any blood relations. It seemed Digion had started a small clan from Eniph Kiara a paladin, Casphiolle Kiara a necromancer, and most recently Gretlor Kiara a bastard ranger. He invited me to join, to teach and to learn.

I write here the words (http://www.geocities.com/digion42/) Digion explained to me that night. To my knowledge they have never been written before, and I hope I do them justice by putting words to a meaning.
The wisdom we possess is our most precious gift. There should be a way for us to pass it on. For this purpose, the Kiara Clan was formed. There will be a student and teacher. When the student comes of age, he shall become the teacher. In this way shall our knowledge be passed on.

The eldest and sometimes wisest of the clan shall make up a council. This council is the basis for the clan. They are the lawmakers and they are the hand that guides. They are the final word.

We find ourselves then at many different stages of learning. Level 20 is the earliest anyone may become a member of the clan. Before level 20 are many inquirers. Inquirers are people level 1-19 who are interested in joining the clan. Prospective Teachers can examine the crop and choose one to their liking. Upon reaching level 20, a teacher may choose an inquirer and put him up to the council for vote. If selected, the inquirer will then become a student and granted the last name Kiara. Upon reaching level 35 the student then gains the rank of teacher and can take upon himself the responsibility of guiding a new student out of the crop of inquirers. Upon reaching level 40 he gains the rank of master and becomes a voting member of the council.

It is the teacher’s responsibility to teach the student as much as he can about Sojourn. He should guide his progress, experience, and equipment. It is to the betterment of the clan. We hold very dearly to a philosophy of “pay it forward”. In this clan, good fortune will always find you. With that in mind, we ask that you pass on any old or newly replaced EQ to that of a student or clansmen who is in greater need.

Attaining the ranks of teacher and master are great achievements in their own right and in the Kiara Clan it shall not go unrewarded. Incentives are given to urge on the younger members of the clan.

The clan is not JUST about learning either. It is also about clan gatherings and clan hunts. No clansmen is required to attend, but they shall miss out on tons of clansmen fun if they do. Incentives to attending will also be added. One such event will be the Kiara Clan Acheron Competitions, in which all 3 stages of the clan will fight in a single elimination competition. The students, teachers, and masters will each have a champion with a prize going to the victor. Other good zone hunts and quests will also be planned.

And that was how I came to have purpose again beyond my own want of power. I saw in his simple, happy way, what I had lost that day when I had been given my life back. I had lost my want, my need to be with others. I had lost my joy in seeing others learn.

At the end of that night, I had two new names. One was Fripple Kiara, enchanter of the clan Kiara. The second was - Stone Heart -.

It could be said that this was a very fickle way to pick one’s last name. It is so much more honorable to be named after a certain rock near one’s birthplace, or after someone who was named after someone else who you never will have known. To be judged by one’s name, is how the world has decided it should be. Why be judged by one that does not bear worth in defending? Better men have died for lesser names then Kiara. As a gnome, though, I do not anticipate dieing.


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Fripple Kiara - Stone Heart -