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Journals & Backgrounds / Re: The Conviction of Alatar Voltoeux
« on: January 20, 2020, 05:04:02 pm »
Hadrian, Low Netheril – 1852
Alatar found himself growing accustomed to the city of Hadrian, but also increasingly ill-content. His brother had easily acclimated to the locals, and was eagerly pursuing his training, for that Alatar was grateful. For himself though he wasn't sure about his place in this world, he considered dabbling in a variety of pursuits, from fishing, to wand crafting, but it all still felt hollow.
He had for awhile felt contented with the turmoil surrounding the election, there was promise there, a chance for advancement for his family in the chaos. Then his candidate had disappeared without trace, and quickly he found his footing shifting quickly beneath his feet. He had worked to shore that up, found allies, but he felt... unfulfilled. For a moment, even if he had been but of the furthest fringes he had felt what it had once been like; he could sense the strings a fingers breadth away, and he wanted to pull those strings and watch the marionettes dance.
For now he settled for the fish on his line, but he needed to find inroads to the greater game.
Alatar found himself growing accustomed to the city of Hadrian, but also increasingly ill-content. His brother had easily acclimated to the locals, and was eagerly pursuing his training, for that Alatar was grateful. For himself though he wasn't sure about his place in this world, he considered dabbling in a variety of pursuits, from fishing, to wand crafting, but it all still felt hollow.
He had for awhile felt contented with the turmoil surrounding the election, there was promise there, a chance for advancement for his family in the chaos. Then his candidate had disappeared without trace, and quickly he found his footing shifting quickly beneath his feet. He had worked to shore that up, found allies, but he felt... unfulfilled. For a moment, even if he had been but of the furthest fringes he had felt what it had once been like; he could sense the strings a fingers breadth away, and he wanted to pull those strings and watch the marionettes dance.
For now he settled for the fish on his line, but he needed to find inroads to the greater game.