| The Willow Sourcebook |
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Willow was born, a month early and perilously underweight, during a record-breaking thunderstorm. Over long hours his parents struggled to keep him alive. As soon as the rain lightened in the morning, his father, Schnorr Ufgood, rushed for the Aldwin, dragging him out of bed. Still groggy when he reached Ufgood Reach, the Aldwin accidentally blessed the baby's three-year-old sister and her pet pigeon before Schnorr finally put the infant in the Aldwin's arms. At once the Aldwin awoke fully and said, "I sense that this child has a great talent for magic." "Magic? Oh, no!" said Schnorr. "What about talent for feeding hogs or thatching the roof?" And Trada, his wife, siad, "Talent for surviving this day, what of that?" "Oh, he will live," said the Aldwin, and gave his blessing to the infant. The story is told in the village that at that moment the rain stopped and the morning sun appeared - and an ancient willow tree on the shore of Ufgood Reach fell into the river Freen. The omen was extremely hard to interpret, but the parents felt they could not ignore it. So they named the boy Willow. WILLOW'S CHILDHOOD Schnorr Ufgood, a gruff, practical man, had no use for magic. He was struggling to feed his family, and waiting impatiently for the day he could pull Willow out of the crib and put him behind a plow. He didn't want to hear about great magic. And so he ignored the Aldwin's words. But he was a loving father, and Trada a kindhearted though sickly mother. Under their tender care the baby grew into a small but healthy Nelwyn boy. Willow weeded the family garden, picked berries in the forest, and helped around the house. He daydreamed more than Schnorr liked - any daydreaming was more than Schnorr liked. And Willow lacked enthusiasm for farm tasks like cleaning the hog wallow. When he was six, tragedy struck. Trada succumbed to an epidemic that raced through Nelwyn Valley, leaving the villages devastated. Schnorr and his children toiled on alone at Ufgood Reach. Trying to be both mother and father to them, Schnorr took Willow and his sister, Soreen, to the festival. Schnorr said many times later on, "I still hope that wasn't the greatest mistake I ever made." MAGIC At the festival, Willow watched the tug-of-war, ate seven kinds of candy, and sang in the Wickerman ceremony. He ran climbed and played. Then, in front of the stage, he stopped in his tracks. A travelling entertainer, Pesto the Magnificent, was making birds appear from nowhere, pulling scarves from a child's ear, and showering the audience with confetti from his fingertips. Willow had seen the High Aldwin perform magic, but Pesto showed incomparably more showmanship and flair. Willow thought the magician had discovered a new, colorful realm, one he knew he wanted to live in. So began Willow's lifelong love of magic, stagecraft, and legerdemain. He pestered the village archivist to search the records for old magic tricks. He built double-chambered bottles and tables with trapdoors. He sewed his own cape with a secret pocket, preparing for a marvelous trick that would make an entire young pig disappear! As Willow grew up, Schnorr tried constantly to teach him good farm sense. "Magic? Aye, you may have your magic, and I will mend the fences and sow crops, and see which of us shall starve!" Schnorr would never starve, for he worked like a team of horses every day of his life. He slaved over his crops as though pulling food out of the soil with his own hands. He tended every animal like a family member, and drove every family member almost like an animal. Schnorr knew family survival depended on family effort. Perhaps it was exhaustion that caused Schnorr's death at a relatively early age. WILLOW'S SEARCH FOR MAGIC Willow's sister, Soreen, married and moved to a distant village shortly before Schnorr's death. Willow faced the farm alone, much as a haggard sailor, adrift on a raft, faces an approaching hurricane. Had he not found Kiaya and marital happiness, he would have failed. Though his workload nearly crushed him, Willow still found an hour every week or so to practice stagecraft. He longed to learn real magic as well. Every time he went into the village for supplies, he pestered the High Aldwin to take him on as apprentice. The Aldwin never consented, but he never chased Willow away. As the months of pleading turned into years, Willow wondered if the Aldwin was testing his desire to learn. One evening in early autumn, before the leaves began to turn, Willow visited the Aldwin again. "Willow, sit!" said the Aldwin, indicating a stool. "You know, I hope, that the lore of magic is shrouded in secrecy? That any student must swear terrible oaths never to divulge this lore to the unlearned?" "Yes, Aldwin," gulped Willow. "By the way, would you like a snack or drink or anything?" "No, thank you." "Forgot my manners... Where was I? Oh, yes, terrible oaths. Well, would you swear to keep your knowledge secret?" "Yes, Aldwin, yes!" "I have watched you for years now. If you only had faith in your own ability, you might already be a magician. But I am willing to test that faith, perhaps improve it. I have prepared a scroll with a couple of minor spells for you--" "Oh, thank you, Aldwin!" Willow shouted, leaping up. "Sit!" barked the wizard, and Willow sat. "I'm not making you my apprentice - yet. The scroll carries a few little cantrips that may help discipline your spirit. But we shall make locating this scroll an exercise in itself. I have hidden it somewhere, and you must find it." "Uh - thank you. But where should I look?" "Willow, is the study of magic important to you?" "Oh, yes!" "Well, I have hidden the scroll in the most important place in this village. You have until, oh, this time tomorrow to find it. Now go." Harvest time was drawing near. Although in a week Willow's family would face more backbreaking work than they could handle, just now they had little to do. Willow set out on the instant to search the village. He racked his brain trying to decide what places the Aldwin considered important. Council members' homes? Willow knocked on every door and politely asked to look around, but he didn't get very far. He didn't think the Aldwin would hide the scroll anywhere that might get Willow chased with a broom for looking. Perhaps the Articles? Willow caught the old archivist, Lardetter, leaving the building for the night. "Any scrolls here?" he asked Lardetter breathlessly. "About fefty tho'sind," the old Nelwyn croaked. "What d'ye wish?" Lardetter allowed Willow to stay through the night to examine the voluminous Nelwyn records of births, deaths, marriages, family histories, battles, stories, recipes, remedies, and old wives' tales. But though he pawed through dusty shelves and cubbyholes until his eyes burned, Willow found nothing at all about magical spells. He was ready to trudge home when inspiration struck. He ran to the edge of the village and approached the Aldwin's hut. Just as he was about to knock, the door opened. "Oh!" said Willow, surprised. "Aldwin, I was wondering--" "No, Willow, the scroll isn't hidden here, or anywhere around here," said the Aldwin. "Go home and go to sleep. Your family is worried." So he did, and so they were. Willow told them of his quest, and though he was hog-tired, as the Nelwyns say, excitement still lifted his voice. "Magic, Kiaya!" he told his wife. "It's somewhere out there, somewhere important, waiting! Just think, I could find it tomorrow, be the High Aldwin's apprentice by next week--" "Next week is harvest," said Kiaya. "Maybe you could wait until the week after?" They laughed. Kiaya warmed some leftovers from supper over the hearth fire, Willow ate, his son Ranon sang him a new song he'd learned, and the family went to bed. THE TEST'S OUTCOME Willow rose before dawn the next morning (having slept perhaps an hour), did his few chores quickly, and set out again for the village. As the sun climbed he checked the village market ("Food," he said, "everybody needs food!), the shores of River Freen ("Water, who could live without water?"), and the various bridges ("We'd never get across to the rest of the world without them!"). As the sun descended he checked the old mill ("Bread is as important as anything I can think of!"), the barracks of Vohnkar and his soldiers, and then, with increasing desperation, the smithy, alleyways, boat docks, and even the village dumping ground. No scroll. Disheartened, Willow mustered the courage to face the last important place he could think of. Burglekutt lived as only a village Prefect could afford to live, in a luxurious home facing River Freen. Its property taxes alone would have ruined Willow - but Burglekutt assessed property values and taxes himself. Willow found the Prefect shaking his fruit trees to chase birds away. "What do you want, Ufgood?" Burglekutt sneered. "Come to pay your debts?" "No, sir. I wondered if you might have seen a -- um --" "A what? Out with it." "A magical scroll." Burglekutt peered at him craftily. "Hmmm. Well, perhaps I haven't - but perhaps I have. What would you give for one, should I happen to possess such a valuable item?" Perspiring from the day's effort, shaky from lack of food, Willow wanted nothing in the world just then but that scroll. "Um, well..." "Would you give a half interest in your farm?" Willow looked around hopelessly. His eyes fell on a nest in the tree that Burglekutt had been shaking. The birds were returning to it, despite the Prefect's scowl. With disbelief Willow realized he was seriously considering Burglekutt's offer. "No, no, sorry," he said, staggering away. At sunset Willow stood despondently before the Aldwin's hut. "No scroll?" said the Aldwin. Disappointment haunted his voice. "I looked everywhere!" "You looked everywhere that others consider important. Never did you trust your own judgment of importance. Well, you have failed the test. But I will leave the scroll where it is. If you ever find it, you may still learn from it." Disconsolate, Willow headed home. Evening brought a gentle breeze from the river, with the crisp scent of autumn leaves. Amid lengthening shadows Willow entered the deserted village square, and his eyes lit on a large wicker statue. "The Wickerman!" he shouted, and ran to it. THE WICKERMAN The sculpture, a standing Nelwyn woven of thin wooden shoots, formed the centerpiece of every important village festival. It had been put up in anticipation of the harvest fair. Though it resembles the wicker structures once used by the druids, the Nelwyn Wickerman is entirely different. Its outstretched arms symbolize the Nelwyn way of peace and generosity. What place could be more important? Willow thought, rooting around at the statue's base for the scroll. Finding nothing, he felt around the legs and torso. "I'm sure it's here!" he said aloud. After a careful look around, he climbed onto the statue, thinking the scroll must rest in one of the hands. Or on the head. Or somewhere. Near the top, the statue gave a sickening lurch. Willow's weight was throwing it off balance. Afraid even to breathe, he clung to its neck like a child. Gently he leaned inward, bringing the statue upright again. He looked out around the village to see whether anyone had noticed. In the dying light - a candle-orange sunset framed by glowing pink clouds - Willow saw homes and the Articles and the blacksmith's forge, the entire village. Flocks of birds chattered loudly as they sought roost in the forest. River Freen flowed brilliant orange beyond the homes and around Ufgood Reach. Seeing his own home on this beautiful evening, Willow felt his throat tighten with happiness. His children waited there, Mims with her paintings and Ranon practicing magic tricks like his father. And Kiaya would have dinner waiting. Very suddenly Willow thought, What am I doing up here? With the thought, the wicker neck gave way. "Yaaah!" Willow said as he fell down inside the statue. One of its legs tore open and he spilled out onto the ground, a strange offering on the spot where in a few days villagers would offer garlands and fruit baskets. No one had heard Willow's shout. He looked at the Wickerman, which now sagged to one side like a weary traveller. "I know how you feel," Willow muttered. He set out for home with a sure pace, feeling more certain with every step. Arriving, he paused in the open doorway. Kiaya and the children greeted him, but he made no reply. "Did you find the scroll - Willow, what is it?" Kiaya asked. Willow was staring around the hut, at the stage gadgets and the cots and the wooden bathtub. His gaze ended at the hearth, where a stewpot simmered quietly. "What?" Kiaya repeated. Willow strode to the hearthstones and looked down. There was nothing to see. For a moment his faith wavered, but he knew what he felt. He closed his eyes, bent down, and touched... parchment. He opened his eyes. In his hand he held the scroll. Kiaya and the childrend gasped. "You found it!" "Here?" "It just appeared in your hand! How--?" "The most important place," Willow whispered. Over the long winter Willow studied the scroll, absorbing his first knowledge of true magic. Practice brought no clear results. For example, one spell supposedly kept away mosquitoes. But it was winter and all the mosquitoes were gone anyway. He never told anyone about his escapade with the Wickerman. But at the next town meeting Willow was the first volunteer to help rebuild it. ELORA'S ARRIVAL Despite the scroll's lesson, or perhaps because he had failed the test, Willow still felt reluctant to trust his feelings. When Elora Danan drifted into River Freen's shallows by Ugfood Reach, Willow feared her as a bad omen. Not trusting his fatherly affection for her, he urged his family to send her raft downstream and forget about her. Even as he grew to love the child and guarded her on the journey to the crossroads, Willow couldn't stick to his inner convictions. Though he mistrusted Madmartigan, he entrusted Elora to the rogue, and it took Cherlindrea (along with a couple of high-spirited brownies) to bring him back to his duty. Willow began learning magic and doing wondrous things. At the same time, he befriended Madmartigan and the brownies, then Fin Raziel and finally Sorsha. With their examples to inspire him, and understanding the urgency of the fight against Bavmorda, Willow grew in confidence. At the final battle in Nockmaar Castle, he found the courage and resourcefulness to bluff Queen Bavmorda herself, and so defeat her. Fin Raziel's gift of a genuine book of magic, a rare tome of great power (see THE BOOK OF MAGIC), set willow well on his way to mastery of the arts of wizardry. GAMING NOTES 1st (later 4th) skill-level magician SKILLS Farming, stagecraft, being a parent. Like all Nelwyns, Willow is better than the human average in moving quietly, hiding, and climbing. He has no weapon skills, but in front of Nockmaar Castle he showed a native gift for military tactics. During his adventures Willow learned horseback riding. Beginning as a novice in magic, Willow grew quickly in skill because of his native talent and Fin Raziel's expert instruction. By the end, Willow had become a 4th-level mage (or the equivalent in your game system), and knew all the spells of good or neutral nature appropriate to that level. He will undoubtedly rise even further soon. EQUIPMENT For Willow's magical possessions, see the entries for ACORNS, THE BOOK OF MAGIC, and CHERLINDREA'S WAND. During his adventures, Willow carried a papoose to hold Elora, and at the end he was given a fine white pony. |
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