Baxter Culligan
Baxter's Early Life and Parental Influence
Baxter Culligan grew up in a household that highly valued magical prowess and academic achievement. His parents, Eleanor and Thomas Culligan, were both accomplished mages in their own right, and more importantly, proud alumni of the White Academy in Comosia. For them, attending the White Academy wasn't just an option; it was the option, a legacy they fully expected Baxter to uphold. They spoke of the Academy with reverence, recalling its teachings on ethical magic use, community service, and the pursuit of knowledge for the greater good.
From a young age, Baxter showed a natural aptitude for magic, but his interests diverged from his parents' more traditional, structured approach. He was drawn to the practical applications of magic, to the chaotic beauty of uncontrolled elemental forces, and to the raw, untamed power that could be found in the world outside of textbooks. He devoured stories of adventurers and hedge wizards, dreaming of a life spent exploring ancient ruins and discovering lost spells.
As he approached the age for formal magical education, Baxter became enchanted by tales of the Sunstone Conservatory, a more free-spirited institution located in a remote, mountainous region. The Conservatory was rumored to embrace a less rigid curriculum, focusing on intuitive magic, natural attunement, and individual exploration of arcane arts. Baxter saw it as a place where he could truly flourish, unburdened by strict doctrines. He even began to correspond secretly with a young mage from the Conservatory, exchanging ideas and practicing unique, experimental spellcasting.
When Baxter finally broached the subject of attending the Sunstone Conservatory with his parents, their reaction was swift and unequivocal: absolute refusal. Eleanor and Thomas were appalled by the idea. They saw the Sunstone Conservatory as undisciplined, even reckless, and certainly not a suitable environment for a young wizard of Baxter's potential. They considered its teachings "unrefined" and "dangerous," a stark contrast to the venerable and respectable reputation of the White Academy. Their arguments were less about financial constraints and more about reputation and tradition. "Our family has always studied at the White Academy, Baxter," his father would insist, his voice firm. "It is where true power and respect are cultivated." His mother would add, "We only want what's best for you, dear. A proper foundation. The White Academy will give you that."
Baxter tried to argue, to explain his yearning for a different path, but his parents were unyielding. Their decision was final. They truly believed they were acting in his best interest, guiding him towards what they considered the pinnacle of magical education. They envisioned him following in their footsteps, becoming a respected member of the magical community, and perhaps even joining the esteemed ranks of The Brotherhood of Aithra. Their love for him was genuine, but it was a love often expressed through a desire for control and a deep-seated belief in their own wisdom regarding his future.
The Shifting Sands of the White Academy
Unbeknownst to Eleanor and Thomas, the White Academy they remembered so fondly had subtly, yet significantly, changed since their student days. While still maintaining an outward facade of prestige and academic rigor, a creeping darkness had taken root within its hallowed halls.
The Brotherhood of Aithra, once a beacon of ethical magical practice and scholarly pursuit, had become increasingly insular and secretive. New, more stringent doctrines had been introduced, emphasizing power and control over the common good. Whispers circulated among the lower-ranking faculty about strange experiments conducted in the deeper levels of the Academy, and about certain senior members of the administration who seemed to possess an unsettling influence. The traditional curriculum had been subtly altered, with greater emphasis placed on obedience, conformity, and the manipulation of others rather than true understanding and benevolent application of magic.
Baxter, with his innate sense of right and wrong, and his independent spirit honed by his desire for the Sunstone Conservatory, immediately felt this unsettling shift upon his arrival. The "moral standings" he found himself clashing with weren't just minor disagreements; they were fundamental violations of the ethical code he believed magic should uphold. The uneasy feeling he experienced wasn't just new student jitters; it was a deep-seated intuition telling him that something was profoundly wrong. The faculty and administration, rather than embodying the wise and benevolent mentors his parents described, seemed cold, calculating, and at times, subtly menacing. He witnessed veiled threats, the suppression of dissenting opinions, and an almost zealous adherence to rules that seemed designed to strip students of their individuality.
His parents, blinded by their nostalgia and unwavering faith in the institution that shaped them, remained completely oblivious to these insidious changes. They received glowing (and likely fabricated) reports of Baxter's "progress" and interpreted his vague, troubled letters as typical student struggles with rigorous academics. They encouraged him to "persevere" and "embrace the traditions." Their inability to see the truth, born of their own past experiences and deep-seated convictions, would become a source of profound internal conflict for Baxter as he ultimately made the agonizing decision to leave the Academy.
Baxter's Rival: Cassian Valerius
From the moment Baxter Culligan arrived at the White Academy, it was clear that he and Cassian Valerius were destined for a clash. Cassian wasn't merely a student; he was the Academy's golden child, the living embodiment of everything the White Academy and the Brotherhood of Aithra now seemed to champion: tradition, rigid adherence to doctrine, and an almost zealous belief in the superiority of their methods. He came from a highly influential Comosian family with deep, generations-old ties to the Brotherhood, ensuring his path through the Academy was paved with expectations of brilliance and leadership.
Cassian was immaculately presented, possessing a sharp intellect and a silver tongue that charmed most of the faculty and administration. He saw himself as Baxter's natural superior, believing his strict adherence to the Academy's teachings made him the most "correct" and powerful wizard in their cohort. He was constantly trying to one-up Baxter, eager to impress professors and curry favor, viewing Baxter's unconventional approaches as a personal affront to the Academy's prestige and, by extension, his own.
However, despite his outward brilliance and academic accolades, Cassian's magic lacked a certain spark, a true understanding that went beyond rote memorization and precise execution of prescribed spells. He was a master of academic magic, but his practical application was often stiff, uninspired, and surprisingly inefficient. He could recite every line of a spell, every minute gesture, but he struggled to adapt or innovate.
Their rivalry became legendary among their peers, often culminating in public demonstrations where Cassian's rigid adherence to the textbook would inevitably fall short against Baxter's more intuitive and effective methods. A particularly memorable instance involved a practical exercise focused on Prestidigitation. The task was to create a convincing, albeit illusory, feast.
Cassian, with an almost obsessive dedication, meticulously followed the Academy's prescribed method. Each individual dish was conjured with a separate, precise casting of Prestidigitation, complete with a whispered incantation and exact hand gestures for every single item—a shimmering ham here, a perfectly steamed vegetable there, a delicate pastry just so. He took his time, ensuring every detail was "correct" according to the thick, leather-bound manual. The result was technically flawless, a visual marvel of individual components, but it felt… clinical, almost devoid of life. It lacked the warmth, the bustling energy of a real feast.
Baxter, observing Cassian's laborious process, simply grinned. When it was his turn, he took a deep breath, his mind focused not on individual components but on the essence of a vibrant, communal feast. With a fluid, almost casual wave of his hand and a murmur that sounded more like an amused him than an incantation, a small, intricate illusion of a bustling, steaming banquet appeared before them. The aroma of roasted meats and sweet pastries wafted through the air, colors seemed to shift and shimmer with life, and a faint murmur of phantom conversation could almost be heard. He'd achieved a multi-sensory illusion of an entire meal with a single, almost effortless casting, demonstrating a deeper understanding of the spell's true potential.
Cassian spluttered, his perfectly composed facade cracking, "That's—that's not how it's done! You skipped three steps! You didn't even use the proper somatic for aroma intensification!"
Baxter simply shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Did it work? Did it look and smell like a feast? Sometimes, the shortest path is the best one, Cassian. Magic isn't just about following rules; it's about making things happen."
Their professor, usually a stickler for rules, seemed momentarily flummoxed by the undeniable effectiveness of Baxter's display, while the other students murmured in admiration. Cassian, on the other hand, was left seething, his academic prowess publicly overshadowed. He'd try to out-perform Baxter in spell duels or practical exams, but his rigid, textbook-bound magic often fell short against Baxter's more adaptable, intuitive, and ultimately more effective approach. Cassian came to despise Baxter for continually exposing the limitations of his own carefully cultivated academic prowess and for challenging the very tenets of the Academy he so revered. He saw Baxter as a reckless upstart who sullied the purity of arcane arts. For Baxter, Cassian's arrogance and blind adherence to flawed teachings were both infuriating and, on some level, slightly pitiable. Their clashes solidified Baxter's growing unease with the White Academy, proving to him that its path was not only morally questionable but also stifled true magical innovation and understanding.
Baxter's Odyssey: The Search for True Magic
When Baxter Culligan finally walked away from the White Academy, it wasn't just an act of defiance; it was a desperate leap of faith. He hadn't planned his escape beyond getting out, and the initial days were a blur of nervous travel and scant resources. But beneath the fear was a quiet resolve: he wouldn't just survive; he would find someone, anyone, who could teach him magic the way it was meant to be – with integrity, intuition, and respect for its power, not just its control. His mind kept returning to the whispered tales of the Sunstone Conservatory, a beacon of what he truly sought. His journey began with a single, clear purpose: find a mentor. He scoured rumors, followed whispers, and kept his ears open in every inn and market he passed through.
Life in Comosia
Early days were quite a struggle for Baxter. Having abandoned the rigid doctrines of the White Academy, Baxter found himself adrift in the bustling, unforgiving streets of Comosia. The grand city, once a symbol of his parents' ambitions for him, now loomed as a labyrinth of indifference. Without the Academy's structure or his family's support, he was just another face in the crowd, often going hungry, sleeping in alleyways, and learning quickly that survival required more than just theoretical magic. He bartered minor illusions for scraps of food, kept wary of city guards, and honed a keen sense of observation, his initial idealism slowly giving way to a pragmatic resilience. One sweltering afternoon, his desperation led him to a small, struggling tavern called "The Rusty Flagon." The owner, a portly, perpetually sweating man named Earl Yardbeard, was loudly lamenting to his lone patron about the exorbitant prices of ice deliveries, threatening to shut down his business. Seizing an opportunity, Baxter hesitantly approached, offering his services. "I can keep your ale cold," he'd said, "with a little magic." Earl, skeptical but desperate, allowed Baxter to demonstrate his mastery of the Ray of Frost spell. The immediate chill radiating from the casks was enough to convince him. In exchange for keeping his perishable goods cool, Earl offered Baxter a cot in the back room and a warm meal. As word spread of The Rusty Flagon's refreshingly cold drinks, business boomed. Earl's fortunes turned, allowing him to expand, renovating the upper floor into a small inn. He even began paying Baxter a modest wage, recognizing the invaluable contribution the young mage had made. Baxter and Earl became fast friends, their bond forged in shared struggle and mutual benefit. For the first time since leaving home, Baxter felt a sense of belonging, even considering making Comosia his permanent home. However, the yearning for true magical understanding still gnawed at him. His brief stints in the tavern often had him overhearing travelers' tales, and one day, he heard whispers of the great seaport of Harnott, a place where, they said, all manner of people and knowledge converged. A new spark of hope ignited within him—perhaps a mentor awaited him there. After saving enough coin for passage, Baxter bid Earl farewell. "You're always welcome here, lad," Earl said with a warm smile, "anytime you find yourself back in Comosia." With a grateful heart and renewed purpose, Baxter set off for Harnott, leaving behind a newfound comfort for the uncertain promise of true magical enlightenment.
Early Successes: Scraps of Wisdom
Baxter's first few stops were in smaller towns and isolated hamlets, where he'd offer small magical services—chasing away rats from a shop owner's storehouse with firebolt, providing “ice cold refreshments” to weary travelers with ray of frost, and even being propositioned to “gain entry” into a forbidden building by melting a lock with acid splash —in exchange for food, shelter, or, most importantly, information.
His first true success came in the unassuming village of Oakhaven. Here, he encountered Elara, a reclusive herbalist who was also a surprisingly adept hedge wizard. Elara didn't have a formal education, but her connection to the natural world imbued her minor spells with a quiet strength. She saw Baxter's raw talent and his genuine desire to learn. She didn't teach him grand incantations, but she imparted something far more valuable: mindfulness in magic. She showed him how to attune himself to ambient arcane energies, how to feel the flow of magic rather than just recite words. From her, Baxter refined his control over minor cantrips learning Mold Earth and Acid Splash and also picked up the basic Knock spell just in case he needed it, gaining a deeper appreciation for their practical applications beyond the Academy's rigid theories. She was the first person who truly understood his "less rigorous and more practical approach."
Further along his path, in the bustling market town of Veridian's Crossing, Baxter stumbled upon Joric Stonefist, a gruff but kind retired adventurer who dabbled in arcane research. Joric wasn't a formal teacher, but he had a vast collection of ancient, unconventional spell scrolls and grimoires. He was more interested in sharing stories of magic's use in the field than theoretical debates. Joric helped Baxter understand that magic wasn't always about power; sometimes it was about cleverness and adaptation. He taught Baxter the defensive spell of Misty Step and the offensive spell of Magic Missile and Cloud of Daggers from some battered, non-Academy approved scrolls, emphasizing their tactical use in unpredictable situations, a far cry from the White Academy's sterile dueling simulations. He also warned Baxter about powerful magical items and the dangers of unchecked ambition, confirming Baxter's growing unease about the Academy's true nature.
Baxter’s most important lessons came not from magical training specifically. Having just arrived in the town of Summerville after a nasty goblin attack had decimated the townsfolk, many of the citizens were in need of some medical treatment. Baxter felt a need to help out in any way he could, at first offering to go after the goblins and enact retribution, but it was Clara Stillwagon who instilled in him the necessity of the current situation and to help by tending to the wounded instead. Not being trained in any way as a healer in a magical sense, and having no real faith to lean into to get divine inspiration from any of the gods, Baxter set out to learn a more natural and practical approach to healing. First, by understanding the anatomy of various species and how to treat differing kinds of wounds using natural and sometimes unorthodox techniques. This led to Clara taking him as an apprentice and training him so he could understand at a deeper level how to heal people of all species. Baxter spent quite some time in Summerville and earned quite the reputation while there, sometimes manning the local infirmary all by himself and tending to various injuries and ailments while Clara went off to other towns to gather supplies or help others in need. All of the townsfolk grew to know him and enjoyed his company, as he did theirs, but eventually, Baxter decided it was time to leave and continue his search for a mentor.
These initial teachers, though informal, were instrumental. They validated Baxter's instincts, proving that magic could be learned and wielded ethically, and that his intuitive approach had merit. He was building a foundation, one spell at a time, but he still felt a significant piece was missing.
