Mambele, half-elf warlock

"You are a rudderless leaf in the great hurricane of the Cosmos. A pebble in the great road that girdles the continents. A bead of glass in the great mosaic of History. Do you admit to this?"

Mambele was the last surviving heir of a rich kingdom of humans, beyond the Great Divide. This was the story revealed to him from the lips of his elven grandmother, and the only truth he had ever known. A complete fabrication, of course. Prior to dying from a bad case of land sharks, his mother had been the daughter of a well-to-do caravan merchant. Well-to-do, yes, but far below the unrealistic expectations of his paternal grandmother. Still, this myth had colored his every life decision, including what he was doing now. As far as he was concerned, Mambele was was the ship fighting the hurricane. The angular stone of the archway of the greatest bridge in the road. The ruby eye of the dragon in the mosaic.

"I do", he replied.

"The sailor may look at the heavens for guidance, but the heavens do not look back. The stories written on the blue pages of the celestial dome in fiery diamonds dwell little on the theme of mortal nations, and never on the fate of mortal individuals. The great races of the world are but flowers in a vase in the grand palace of creation, to be cast aside when they grow old without a second thought. Do you realize this?"

Mambele had taken up astrology with the single purpose of trying to glimpse into the wondrous destiny that awaited him. One of his classmates had just sold him a scroll that would (presumably) let him know how many wives and concubines he would get to have when he gained his kingdom. He would try it tonight, if the moon wasn't too bright.

"I do", he replied.

"The language of the stars is intricate and purposefully treacherous, and they care little to dwell on the details we mortals find so important. To an ancient star, what is the difference between a second and a century? To the great travelers of the heavens which sail the firmament at the speed of thought, what is the difference between an inch and a league? The astute readers of the star codex will know that uncertainty should be their only expectation, and will temper their wisdom accordingly, never jumping to conclusions. Do you aspire to this?"

Mambele had tried twice to start a club at the university to gather would-be heroes to counter the upcoming apocalypse, which seemed to be the only thing the stars wanted to talk about these days. When pressed for details as to what kind of catastrophy, how big it would be and where it would happen, he would shrug it off. What does it matter? What kind of king would he make if he just sat around and waited for catastrophe to happen whenever it pleased? Judging from the stares of his classmates, you would think that Mambele was suggesting the catastrophe was occurring for his sake, with its only purpose being to further his own glory. Which of course was ridiculous. He was a king to be, and he existed to counter catastrophes, not the other way around. But try telling everyone here that!

"I do", he replied

The old tiefling smiled at the lad. It was not a pretty sight, as his fangs seemed to be the only remaining teeth on him, but it was more than Mambele had ever expected from his stern professor and the young half-elf felt his heart leap. "Well then, congratulations. You have sealed your star pact. Would you like me to bless your rod now?"

Mambele felt himself blush, and hoped his dark skin was dark enough that this would escape the old tiefling's notice. Traditionally, aspiring warlocks were not expected to purchase a rod until after they were sworn in, at the risk of looking presumptuous otherwise. Mumbling an inaudible something that could just as easily have been an apology or a word of thanks, Mambele extracted the instrument and held it out for the halfling to see.

The halfling held a hand out to the rod and murmured a few words before turning around and heading back to his chair. "There you go. Now, young Warlock, be off! I take it there must be a feast somewhere about the castle. If you have any friends, I suggest you take the opportunity to celebrate. If you don't have any friends, then... well, you might actually turn out to be a good Warlock, if our history is any indicator."

Mambele bit his lip. He bowed low before the tiefling and stepped out the door. He picked up his backpack from the hall. Not the schoolbag he had lugged about for the past three years, but a travelling pack. He greeted no one on his way out.

Excellently done. Some good ideas in there that I might be making use of. I wasn't sure about your character knowing about the upcoming event, but you left it fairly vague and it makes sense considering his occupation. 100 experience once you get your sheet up.

Yeah. Again, I don't think he really 'knows' it. Anyone with a good grip on astrology can tell that there is a major catastrophe on its way, but if they don't take as seriously as he does, it's because of how ambiguous the signs are. It might just be a particularly bad forest fire a world away, for instance, and they cannot tell when it's gonna happen either. Kinda like how geologists can tell you that a large volcanic eruption is 'imminent', but in geological terms that translates to 'any time within the next two millennia'. He just happens to be too big into drama to not believe it's gonna happen right now. And he's just a fool who happens to be right through no merit of his own.