Stately, yeah light of stature, I be. Body armor I hold in high disdain.
Heavy and cumbersome, infernal, itchy, and smelling as if something hath
donned it and demised. Much do I prefer a flowing robe.
What purpose, armor? Unaffected by armor my strength in defense save only
to slow me down, yeah easily without it I bruise. Any solid strike upon
my person is likely to cause my body parts to spew rapidly in each of many
directions.
The object of Zanoverian wizardry, my dear friends and apprentices, is to
never be hit to begin with. Gifted we are with the finest array of
defensive spells in the lands! Choose your foes wisely that they tremble
in your presence. Suffer yourself only to hunt where your skills reign
supreme over thy foes.
To legend and beyond! Our journey is long. Two steps ahead of our present
needs we stay. Our traits, our
skills, our
spell
selection, the society
we join all accomplished with an eye to the future.
Greetings and salutations extraworldly wagglers, all!
A high-maintenance profession, wizardry. By the spell I live; for
wont of the spell I die. At my age the broadsword is but a fashion
accessory, with rare defensive utility through treacherous terrain.
I do not allow blood to contact my blade, lest it tarnish.
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