I am Halvor Hadiya, and I am a murderer, slaver, and monster.
I was born in Thay in the city of Bezantur, to a wine merchant and her husband. Those misty memories that I can only grasp the barest edges of now seem a golden age indeed,
but I know that for the nostalgia it is.My early childhood was one of bazaar and harsh words laughter and the smell of spices, I remember running up and down the street with the other children dodging pack animals and adults alike, maybe we’d take a loaf from an inattentive stall we didn’t need it but we were children so innocent, so free.
Unburned. The day was quickly approaching when I’d reach manhood I would’ve taken over my mother’s business and take my first real steps in the mercantile battlefield known as the bazaar. But it was not to be, through a number of correspondence and debts a situation conspired where a young Hadiya was entered into the service of the Red Wizard Zahim Zaxim.
InterludeI took my first steps into the academy my feet beating out a spasmodic rhythm on the stairs, the air stung my face and the acrid smell of chemicals even here outside its walls pricked my nose. I almost lost my nerve and fled the place there and then but I braced myself and entered its hallowed halls.
I was with my long-time travelling companion and guide Aigos Quoa, if not for him I would’ve never got this far. We spent an hour in the library discussing such amusing ideas as using beams to carve an ass into the Barovian mountains essentially mooning Vallaki, Lawgiver knows they deserve it. I can’t quite remember what else we spoke of such light pleasantries before my interview seem a distant memory.
It wasn’t long before Instructor Kozá Vászoly walked onto the scene he seemed an amiable sort but there was something not quite right about this teacher, he seemed too distant like he was watching the world through a window or some act on stage, far removed and waiting for the tragedy.
ResumeIt was under the guidance of Zahim Zaxim that I learned of the greatest art, a painter may use brushes and crushed ochre and plants but we paint with the universe, like sculptors we chipped away at the stone until our masterpiece stood before us. He was harsh but fair he didn’t press too hard nor too softly he made me work for everything I had and would be. He had other apprentices enough to inspire a healthy dose of competition in us, I will not name them for I feel I would condemn them with the act. But let us say there was a favourite pupil and it wasn’t me, everyone adored him or at least pretended to, otherwise you’d find your notebooks torn up and the classroom poised against you. He wasn’t happy to win he had to see others fail, I found my niche as the jester always willing to laugh and taking the jabs of the older boys with ease which I had learned to do in the bazaar.
But one balmy afternoon when the sun was cresting the horizon, and everything was bathed in a dirty orange glow. I was speaking with my peers parrying jokes back and forth like young fencers with practice swords when I struck too deep. I made a remark about his mother and a gnoll and things went sour the room turned on me in an instant. First was the quiet than the storm, I was held down by two others and a third kicked me in the ribs I couldn’t help but scream, my cries for help quickly turning into wet sobs until they left me crawled up on the floor in a ball.
They were going to kill me.I saw it before I heard it, the way they turned their backs on as if I was dead and buried already, and then the whispers
“when will he do it, how will he do it?”. I went to the master straight away, seeking refuge in his authority but there was little to be found.
It is commonly said to become a Red Wizard you must have at least two hands bathed red by the end of your apprenticeship, else how will you paint your robe?
He told me to only come to him with something that truly mattered, and not before. So I didn’t matter I was to be the sacrificial lamb to someone else's rise. No. I waited for my time and then and only then will I strike hard and fast, I observed his comings and goings his routines and his habits marking them down. I let my studies falter and suffered in the class for it, but I did not care. I would live!
So on one fateful night after they had been out drinking celebrating his rise in the master’s eyes and his trials on the horizon he got a little drunk, a little too drunk. He forgot to even put up his alarm spell, a mistake I was not kind enough to let him make twice.
InterludeKozá Vászoly sat me down at a cold table deep within the academy Agios waiting above. It was do or die. He started with a series of questions giving a brief description of the magic circles asking me which they belonged to, I almost trod over myself with nervousness but I was able to pull through getting every question right.
Then came the practical he asked me what spells I knew of the school of necromancy, I answered him honestly. Not many Ray of Enfeeblement, Negative Energy Ray, and Vampiric Touch. He told me to prepare Vampiric Touch and wait so I did when he returned he returned with a Rashemi serf in toe, he sat him in the middle of the room and told me to cast it on him. My mouth was dry my hand’s very heavy and when I met that glazed expression I wanted to run long and hard until I could run no longer or my feet bled. I did neither. I stood and looked for a good minute before the snap of the Instructors voice snapped me from my trance like a whip on a serf. Heh.
I raised my hand, it was like I was watching from a very far place and this body these actions were not my own, but they were. When I muttered the incantation I knew I condemned this man to die to prove my worth, was my life worth so much more than his? Did he have a family? A wife, a child, or. I pulled his vitality out of him like a fisherman reeling it in on my hook until I had it all, he collapsed there and then. He was dead.
This was the second time I’ve killed.
ResumeI pressed the pillow down on his face it took a moment for him to realize what I was doing, but by then it was too late. I had the leverage and control all he could do was flail out me scratching and kicking. I did not let go, his struggles became pitched than slower than altogether stopped. When I knew he did not breathe anymore I let go and slid to the ground and sobbed tears running down my cheeks freely. I had just killed someone. When I came to attention the master was staring down at me, I thought about running but I did not have the strength, and I just wanted to disappear and I hoped then that the master would.
But he said.
“Get yourself cleaned up we have lesions tomorrow” and smiled. It was not long before the mist took me, on some abandoned street in the city when I was on errands. I walked boldly into the mist and boldly made the same mistakes twice.
I am Halvor Hadiya, and I am a wizard.