Mairi was a young human woman diplomat and handmaiden to the Elven Lords of Eaerlann; her pedigree had been born and raised specifically to serve the Noble Silver Elves for generations. She was only nineteen when she met Joseph, a rugged lumberjack and fighter from a nearby human settlement on the frontier, and her whole life changed. To her Joseph represented a spirit and freedom she lamented she would never know. To him Mairi was a figure of beauty and charm in his world of dullards and... less beauty. Their romance began quite by happenstance....
“I despise this part of the path Mairi, I hear that Shriekers grow near hear—just passing close to them will set them off. The noise; it’s quite upsetting. And the distance through here always defeats me, sometimes the trail seems longer than at other times.”
Mairi was not paying attention to the endless talk wrought on by nervousness. Mairi was in fact hoping to catch sight of the Unicorn rumored to be adventuring in this part of the High Forest. Such promise always brought her a thrill which is why she always volunteered on these trips for their elven lords.
“Do you think there is any truth to the tales of the dragon Blaze… or was it called Flame?”
“Magma,” came Mairi’s uninvolved response, “its name was Magma.” But when she heard movement on her side of the trail Mairi was alert in an instant—hand over her companion’s mouth. “Shhh.”
The canopy was thick and made the area dim, only occasionally when the wind had a mind to it would thin rays of sunlight reminded weary travelers that it was indeed daytime. Far in the distance the piercing cry of a colony of shriekers came like ghosts form the forest; something was following them as well.
“Hile,” came a bold male voice.
Both woman turned forward and with a start to see two burly men standing in their path. “Evening ladies, or is it day time? I cannot tell. For two days my son and I have been all up and down this road and cannot seem to find a way out. Would you lovely ladies kindly give two lost helpless travelers some directions from this lost trail?” The man had the tired look of hardships and a lifetime of backbreaking work. However, Mairi locked eyes with the other young man, the man’s son. He was handsome and strong but he lacked the angry features of his father— he also had a look of sadness about him that seemed out of place.
“Why thank you kind miss, now if you will also ‘kindly’ hand over the Wand of Secret Door and Trap Location we know you have. I know it is how you find your way out of these woods, now hand it over!” The man said in a voice that sounded very far from helpless; he unsheathed a sword and pointed it toward the Handmaidens. Just as the young women began to scream, an equestrian cry cut shout their alarm at the brandished sword. It was the unicorn, powerful and majestic it somehow neutralized their older counterparts leaving the younger pair in astonishment. Mairi watched as her friend fainted and the burly man like wise fell asleep leaving Mairi and the young man to share a moment of time. As fate would have it they fell in love, Mairi gave Joseph the Wand so he could find her through the lost road again, and again, and again… all that summer.
Ten years later…
Despite the ever present racism toward humans in the elven city, his father and Mairi were thrilled to see little Drakkimor accelerating as young wizard prodigy. The couple's clandestine summer affair had produced a child who, after passing severe elven scrutiny, was allowed to be educated as a wizard. Mairi watched anxiously holding hands with Joseph in the grand colonnade surrounded by Drakkimor’s elven teachers, it was Moonfeast and Drakkimor’s name-day; he was bonding with a familiar a fey-born called Watcher.
Five years later…
It was a time of war for the elven lands as the tanar’ri hordes and the demon-blooded orcs advanced on the elven lands. One day, Drakkimor’s mother Mairi and Watcher discovered, quite by accident, a band of mischievous quasits on assignment. The only one to return and warn Drakkimor and the elves was Watcher.
One year later…
It was Watcher, the sixteen year-old Drakkimor lamented. His own bonded familiar responsible for countless lives by selling secrets to the quasists; the demon hordes had an easy campaign decimating the elven defenses. Drakkimor could not think of a species of creature he hated more than the fey; they have brought the death of his mother and ruin for Eaerlann at the hands of the tanar’ri. How he hated their dark, awkward alien ways.
Drakkimor looked down at his sickly father, all the ruggedness and vitality gone from his features. There was no one left to tend to the sick or the wounded; all the healers were days gone, flowing the Eaerlann refugees west. Watching his father die Drakkimor promised several things to himself; he would travel to the new port city of Waterdeep and begin a life where he vowed no wizard his family would bond with a familiar. Instead he would start a tradition of bonding with an item starting with his father’s wand, because without it his parents would likely never met.
Six generations later…
The wizard looked out from his tower toward the setting sun; he closed his eyes lifting the wand high. He then gathered his will and cast the final spell into the wand, the incantation that would complete the item for his son born to him this night. Wild magic surged briefly and violently as color slowly returned to the wizard's workroom, library and trophy cases where before there was only colorless grey.
My son Sevindrakk,
It is tradition in the Wands family that a father crafts their children’s first wand on the night they are born; it is believed that the bond between wizard and his wand is greater under these conditions. In this wand I place all my love and my wish that you to meet every adventure and encounter with all the spirit and virtue I hope to teach you.
Take this wand with you always and let it be your weapon, your bond, and your reminder of your family and my love for you.