Harlan Belloma

The child Harlan Belloma was born squalling and wet on a calm night in a small section of the forest covering the Whentoph mountain. The wind blew little and most sweated their way through the night awaiting the arrival of Joran's first child. He paced a hole in the wooden floor of the large room given over to him and the rest of the 'men-folk' to wait out this most troubling, worrisome time. The women-folk took it all in stride and went about their tasks normally. Birthing children in the Belloma clan was normal, everyday business around these parts.

For years now several families of the extended Belloma family had gathered in these parts for protection and closeness that only comes from being with family. The family business also relied on the local trees and it was simple practicality for charcoalers to live near the source of their products. Small pots of smoking charcoal could be seen far and wide about the plot of land that a not-so distant cousin had won in a lucky bout of gambling. Azar was known for his proclivity for getting into some strange situations, but this last time it seemed to have worked out well for the family.

In any case, as children tend to do, over time, Harlan grew into a young man. he spent many long days carrying and carefully watching the piles to capture the exact moment the stacks of burning wood needed to be extinguished and allowed to cool. the quiet, contemplative nature of the work suited Harlan's nature and he thrived with plenty of time to study the sky, stars and the nature of what he thought of 'life'. The life about the place was relatively simple, with the exception of when the hunting parties, consisting of his younger cousins ranging from old-enough-to-know-better Breckwith to the one barely able to stand on her own two legs, little miss Faeden Mae. The tell-tale squawk of a terrorized chicken was enough warning for Harlan to seek out a quiet section of the barn too high for any but the most agile of family to reach.

Time progressed and Harlan's nature turned more and more to books and knowledge. By the age of 15 he was assisting his father and uncles with the book-keeping portion of the business and was afforded some quiet time for personal studies. A traveling spellcaster was a treat not to be passed up by most in the family. Faeden Mae and Harlan would sit and watch the wizard or sorceress or empath with equally rapt attention. They would solemnly look at each other and swear that they too would be whatever the visitor's profession was and the promise would last, at least until a different visitor came by and the process would start anew.

On one fine spring day, Harlan, then 17, was studying his book while keeping an eye on a smaller cousin and watching the charcoal pots absently. A voice startled him from behind and he turned to be confronted by an elderly man, with wild, flying white hair and a medium blue set of robes, trimmed in silver scrollwork. Harlan greeted the elderly man and was asked several questions concerning what he was reading. Harlan, polite as always, answered the slightly rude questions truthfully and was quite astounded when the man commented that if this young man had so much concentration to be able to competently perform so many duties at once, then he belonged in the ranks of wizards and promptly stalked off to speak with the parents of this 'child'. Slightly offended by the man's tone, Harlan uncharacteristically let him leave, alone and unquestioned.

Soon a call came out from the house that Harlan was to present himself in no less than 5 seconds. Knowing his father's brand of strictness, he leapt toward the family steading. In no fewer than 3 minutes the young man was being berated for his tardiness and ill manners toward his elders. The mere thought of allowing a visitor to roam the farm unaccompanied was the height of rudeness. Once the preliminaries were out of the way, Father and the rude gentleman set to haggling over some sort of stipend and allowance for materials and the like. Harlan was quite astonished to find that his father agreed with the rude man and had agreed to apprentice him to the man so that Harlan's dream of becoming a wizard could finally be obtained.

The haggling came to an abrupt end and suddenly the house was aflame with activity. The women-folk were bustling here and there while simultaneously hugging Harlan for all he was worth. The men-folk pounded the daylights out of his shoulders and back with grins reminding one of their oh-so young children roving around the place in packs and droves. In a short period of time, Harlan found himself walking a bit dizzy with how everything came together so fast and how his life had been turned upside down. The rude man strode away as an executioner walking to do his duty and Harlan was left to catch up as best he could, what with the scrip of clothing and parcels of food that he could not possibly eat all of before it turned rancid and greasy.

Two words answered his insistent question of 'Where are we going'..
"....Wehnimer's Landing..."