In fact, everyone in my family of elves has been born a mage. By age 21, my brother Tehlmar had joined the respected Cleric sub-class - making him often requested by parties for combat missions to serve as a healer. A year later, my sister Alaris' photographic memory and endless patience made her a natural Scholar sub-class pursuing the Professor quest line.
My parents of course, were brimming with pride. As lord and lady of the town, such success was expected from their children. Everyone assured me that any day I would wake up and discover my own sub-class and join them in furthering our family's legacy. But as the years went by, despite being the eldest sister, I remained simply a low-level mage.
It’s not that I had no magical skills. Over the years, I had slowly been able to level up some basic mage staples, such as arcane frost spells. These were not strong enough to be useful in combat, but helped keep me safe when travelling in unsafe areas or doing fetch quests. I even fully mastered [Dodge], another helpful skill for keeping out of trouble.
But the mastery of even these simple skills and spells had taken longer then it did for most, and perhaps more importantly, had never filled me any sense of excitement or motivation. I had abandoned many quests half-way through and returned tomes to the library without even completing them. My siblings meanwhile, were always training and happily discussing their levelling over dinner.
Although I often dreaded these meals as it reminded me just how much I wasn't shaping up, it was one such dinner that helped me finally discover the identity of my subclass. I'd nearly given up - while very rare, some people in the world of Oshiala just never found one due to not having an experience or quest which triggers it's use. I even had a list I kept in my nightstand where I crossed off the sub-classes I was confirmed not to have - and I had almost filled the parchment.
My brother had come back in a bit of a mood that evening. In some sort of tussle with a kobold, his favorite cloak had become singed. He had a training session the next day with his arch-mage and did not want to admit of the damage, as the cloak had been a gift only weeks ago. “I do not wish to disappoint him,” he explained, looking to the family for advice.
I assumed my father would jump in with some wise adage as he was often known to do, but was surprised to hear my mother addressing me instead. "Fanwen, weren’t you just learning some clothing repair magic?”
“Well yes,” I replied, “But shouldn’t he bring it to someone more experienced, perhaps in town? It’s quite a rare piece of equipment.” The truth is, I had only even been experimenting with the magic as a favor to a friend, who didn’t have time to do a side-quest and was wondering if I would pick it up. I had only started reading of the related spells that morning.
Tehlmar immediately perked up. “Oh sister, would you? Even if I left now, there’s no way I would get back it from that seamstress in time, you know how busy she is this time of year.”
And so that night I found myself at my crafting station, specifically the sewing table, with an ultra rare-cloak. I expected to be nervous as I reviewed the impressive stats of the fabric, but strangely I wasn’t. Instead, I simply focused on channeling my mana to prepare my mending spell and then began to sew. It felt natural, effortless, despite the fact I hadn't touched a sewing machine in years. Once it was time, I confidently cast [REPAIR] and waited for the glow of the material described in the tome. After only a few minutes, the cloak was as good as new. In fact, if my eyes did not deceive, it seemed nicer.
I excitably brought it to my brother, who confirmed it was in fact improved. He pulled up the stats. [+5 INT, +6 Defense, 15% mana regen per second when out of combat]. “That’s 5% stronger mana regeneration!” He exclaimed. “Thanks Fanwen."
And so I unlocked by subclass of [Tailor].
~~
After that night, I took on every small quest I could to save up gold. My siblings even joined me on a few, helping me with combat as I did fetch quests and gathered rare materials I could either resell or experiment stitching into a dress. I had worried that my family might be embarrassed that my sub-class was not that of your typical noble background, but just the opposite was true. My mother proudly wore my designs and even my no-nonsense father let me outfit him with some new tunics.
However, a part of me couldn't shake off the feeling that the pride was more like relief. At least their eldest daughter was doing something. Something in their faces didn't look the same as when they told someone about my brother's last grand adventure.
I worked with the elderly seamstress in town, who helped me level up my crafting and let me keep excess fabric to experiment with my own designs. She even gifted me some pattern books when I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, not everyone was as supportive as my family. Many of my so-called friends seemed to drift away once I was no longer attending scholarly sessions or combat lessons with them. No one had even heard of a [Tailor] mage before, as normally that was a sub-class of someone with the [Crafter] or perhaps [Artificer] class.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
But this did not dissuade me. I finally had direction, and the less personal ties to my hometown the better. I loved where I grew up, but I was surrounded primarily by other nobles and far away from the hustle and bustle of the more major cities. I had watched as my brother would be gone for weeks and even months at a time on his quests. My sister had residence in a respected university a town away. It was time to see the world.
Those years of grinding all paid off as I stood in that empty storefront in Windglen. My hands had shook a bit as I clicked [Purchase] for the space and watched the gold leave my inventory, but I knew this was the right move. Earlier that morning, I had officially signed up for the [Merchant] profession, and the specific quests had loaded into my journal. As I improved my rank, I could unlock more space and aesthetic improvements, as well as get discounts from local suppliers.
Windglen was an adventurer’s town, close to a nearby forest that many low levelled fighters and barbarians frequented. In fact, it was even mentioned in guides given to beginners as a great place to start their journeys. After years of waiting, a space had finally opened up that I could set up shop. It was close to a tavern and a well-respected potions seller, making it a natural stop for travelers with lots of foot traffic.
“We’ve done it, Rune!” I exclaimed to my familiar, a black cat with white spots. She immediately started sniffing the space and checking for any materials or loot the previous owner might have left behind.
Yes, the place was mine. Like the other starter shops in town , the space was not large, equaling that of your average dining room. There was a bit of dust, and the wooden floor had a couple cracks in it, but none of that mattered to me. It was my shop. The previous owner had sold hats and helmets, so there were some mirrors I could easily re-use in the dressing rooms and a coin keeper already built into a front counter. I couldn't wait to unlock more decorations and give the place some more flair. I would make this place a household name. I would make my parents proud.
As I started to unload some materials and spell scrolls, there was a knock at the door, which I had left slightly ajar.
My unexpected visit turned out to be a male half-satyr, lacking the hairy goat legs but sporting the traditional horns sticking out of a tussle of brown hair. He was dressed well in a satin tunic that clearly communicated wealth, with an impressive gold set of chainmail resting on top. “The new merchant appears,” he stated, giving me a look up and down.
I found myself stealing a glance at one of the mirrors to see if my blue hair was still in place after a day of travelling on some bumpy roads. My light blue hair was still in place, up in a high ponytail to keep out of the way. Nothing seemed amiss, although there were bags starting to form under my silver eyes and my wool green dress had wrinkled some during my travel. I'd certainly looked worst, at the very least.
“Yes, Fanwen, pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, holding my head high and trying to look confident. First impressions were important, and I hadn't yet met anyone in town other the landlord who sold me the space. I had planned to go around and introduce myself once I was settled, but nothing wrong with getting a head start. These people were to be my peers now.
“Enos,” replied the satyr, offering me a firm handshake. “Welcome to Windglen. Perhaps you’ll have more luck then the last tenant.”
I frowned. What a strange thing to say to someone you just met. But I recovered quickly. Maybe he truly meant well. "Thanks for the greeting... You must be someone quite experienced here?"
He leaned against the open doorway, crossing his arms. “So you haven’t heard of me, how interesting! My family runs the armory down the road, the Brass Forge.” He flashed his summary card my way.
[ Name: Enos
Class: Artificer, Level 15
Sub-Class: Blacksmith
Profession: Merchant, Rank 9 ]
Impressive stats to be sure, particularly for someone who looked close to me in age.
“Can’t say that I have.” I briefly remembered seeing the Brass Forge on the map of the area, but I hadn't done much research on the competition. I preferred success on my own merits.
This seemed to amuse him. “Well you see, we are kind of the respected name around here for worn equipment. Heavy armor, medium armor, shields…” He gestured at his own impressive equipment set, which I now realized included some very heavy metal gloves on top of the chain-mail and bulky steel boots. Frankly the whole thing was a bit much for just walking around, but likely served as a type of advertisement. Of course had to catch me in my travelling clothes and not one of my more impressive dresses.
“I suppose it’s a good thing I make cloaks, robes, and light fabric armor then,” I responded. I smiled, trying to remain pleasant even though I didn’t really like Enos’ tone. My faith in his goodwill was quickly slipping away.
“Sure, sure,” he said, tapping his foot lightly. “We don’t have as many of those to be fair. People just tend to prioritize buffing stamina and health point boosts over…whatever those do." He gestured towards my unloaded inventory. "Now mind you, I only say this because of the unfortunate fate of the hat and accessories place that was here before. Poor halfling, I think he perhaps ran out of his investment funds? He had to go back to his hometown - was here less then a year.”
“I appreciate the warning, but I believe I will be just fine.” A part of me wanted to explain the benefits of intelligence boosters and mana regeneration, but I was ready for him to leave. Rune, having picked up on my tone, hissed slightly as a show of support in Enos' direction. “Now, if that is all, I would like to return to my unpacking.”
“Of course!” He started to walk away before turning around. “Just wondering... what’s your shop name going to be?”
“Fanwen’s Fabled Fabrics,” I said proudly.
“You imply your designs inspire fables?” He raised an eyebrow.
I made sure to look him straight in the eye as I made the promise not just to him, but myself. “They will.”
--- Stats Sheet, Fanwen The Elf ---
- Class: Mage, level 8
- Age: 27
- Sub-class: Tailor
- Profession: Merchant, Rank 0
- Quests Completed: 25
- Agility: 5
- Strength: 3
- Intelligence: 8
- Charisma: 5
- Constitution: 6