A bookish mage
The Historian, despite being capable of bending time and space to his will through the methodical study of magical lore and forgotten arcana, tends to suffer from self-image issues. A common plight among wizards. But where other wizards tend to overcompensate for this lack through bluster or the nurturing of a sense of mystery, the Historian wears his insecurities on his sleeve and uses them to shape and enhance the magical energies he commands.
While The Historian would never neglect his basic magical training, as he still fears the wrath and sense of disappointment of his forgotten master, he tends to specialize in offensive spells that transfer his own negative emotions to large groups of opponents. The most potent tools in his arsenal are fueled, respectively, by his fear of crowds and his fear of falling.
Things of late have taken a turn both intriguing and alarming. The Historian has discovered that in periods of extreme stress, the illusionary grasping hands created by his primary offensive spell would become… more real. While the academic in him rejoices in the possibilities offered by the concept of trans-illusionary dreamspells and the related practical applications, his healthy sense of paranoia wonders at the implications for his sanity of this new development.
Excerpt from the personal diary of The Historian:
“Not knowing is the worst feeling in the world. And since this entire ordeal started, I am in a constant state of ignorance. For someone who takes prides in being a learned individual, this is untenable. I mean, I can describe in great detail and at length the bathing rituals followed by the concubines of the Calimshan emperors of old, prior to their first meeting with the reagent – which probably speaks loads about my success with the opposite sex growing up – or even the proper seating arrangement at most Tel-quessir courts, but cannot recall a single detail from my old life. Unsettling does not even begin to cover it.
I don’t even know if I’ve always been this nervous, or if it is a normal reaction to the trauma of losing your identity. I’ve been working with a cleric of Torm on this and I think I am slowly regaining control. Was I born a Tormite, I wonder. I do feel an affinity for their teachings. What if I am not and am currently committing heresy? I mean, there are attenuating circumstances, but some churches are not forgiving at all with their worshipers. Can’t think about this now.
At least I am not alone in my plight. I have companions, and though they and I do not always see eye-to-eye they are the closest thing I have to family and friends right now. And while I would rather stay in the safe confines of city walls, I know that my best chance to figure out what happened to me is through following them into adventure. I go now to rejoin them. I will not be afraid. I will not desist. I will not fail."