Janus Finglonger was born to politicians Crius and Clothildis Finglonger in the prestigious Summer’s Bluff district of the town of Gate Pass. Janus was born four years after his older brother Æðelric who was first and favourite. The latter excelled socially and physically. He was one of the most popular children in the neighbourhood and more often than not the first choice of teammate in any given sport. Æðelric’s public successes even at a young age gave strength to his parentage and they encouraged this. It’s not that they were insecure or petty, but they believed that good in the world must be accomplished by means of politics and social dealings. They were proud of a son who could offer them the opportunity to grow their influence in the community.
Janus, by contrast, saw early the futility of standing in his brother’s shadow. He did not go out of his way to get along with the neighbourhood children and spent little time engaged in typical childhood games and fantasy. In the public gatherings he was often carted off to with his parents and brother he would pay little attention to the people around him. His attention was grabbed by the little things that fell beyond the notice of ordinary people such as the movement of a spider on the ground below or the shapes of the clouds. As soon as Janus could read he began absorbing the books in his household library. These were mostly books of history and mythology and, while he couldn’t yet understand all the words or grasp all the concepts, he reread all the books many times over.
Between Crius and Clothildis, neither could relate well to Janus as he grew older. They knew he had a keen mind, but could not understand why he wouldn’t apply himself to making friends. Æðelric was by the age of 16 being groomed to a life following in his parents’ footsteps. He had a wide circle of friends and was already showing signs of leadership. He was also a smart child, but like his parents showed little concern for affairs outside of Gate Pass.
Janus, 12, already believed he saw the bigger picture. While Gate Pass had only been conquered once, there were many much older historical accounts of such trade cities between nations having been conquered repeatedly. Janus shared none of the nobility’s delusions of safety. He hadn’t the tact to argue this with his parents much less anyone else but silently observed and studied.
As Janus grew older, his thirst for knowledge only increased. As soon as he began to receive an allowance he would visit the Saraswatin once a month and read until the librarians went home. On account of his age, the librarians would generally overlook his meager donations on each visit. It was at the Saraswatin he learned of the goddess Ioun and felt a greater affinity to her than he had ever felt to his family god, Bahamut. He kept his devotion secret from his mother and father and payed tribute through his dedication to knowledge.
Still, his parents tried to fit him into their world. At parties they insisted on him attending, he would be as gracious as he could manage (which was mostly being quiet until they forgot about him) before seeking the first opportunity to retreat to wherever the host stored his or her collection of books and read until it was time to leave. At one such party, larger and more lavish than most, he made his usual escape only to find that someone had beaten him to the house library (which actually was a library in this particular estate). In a low chair seated by a large shelf of particularly old looking books was a skinny old man wearing a red robe. The red robe was generally a marker of a student of Gabal’s school but this man’s robe looked almost as old as the man himself and was slightly (only slightly) more ornate than usual.
The man glanced up from his book and gave Janus a grunt and a glare. Janus contemplated just for a moment whether or not he should continue into the library but quickly fixed his resolve and found himself perusing the shelf of antique books, ignoring the continued glare of the robed man. Reading the titles, he saw that a large number of these were written in other languages and even many of those in his own tongue had practically incomprehensible titles. Quite a find. He grabbed the first whose title made any sense to him, “Exploration of the Arcane,” and quickly found a seat across the library. The man appeared to have gone back to his reading, but Janus could swear he felt the man staring more than once. A few pages in (and only a fraction of the words understood), the man in the robe spoke, “Do you understand what you’re reading?”
Janus looked up and met the man’s eyes. “Only a little,” he answered honestly.
“Whose son are you?”
“Crius and Clothildis Finglonger’s,” Janus again answered honestly. The man was blunt and Janus saw no reason to hesitate.
“Are you interested in magic?”
“Yes,” answered Janus, again honestly.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
With that, the man stood, replaced his book on to the shelf and left. Janus returned to his book.
Two days later, Janus’s mother and father told him they would be sending him to Gabal’s School. His father explained rhetorically that while they had wished for many better opportunities for their son, if they had to have a wizard in the family it would look good for them to have him study under such a famed evoker as Gabal. Besides, it would serve their relations with the school well to give in to Gabal’s request to teach the boy.
Janus’s adjustment to life in the school was surprisingly easy. He was among a small group of younger students but many of the classes were all-ages and for a change he was not pressured by those around him to be social or make appearances. Initially, he had to maintain a strict schedule and was encouraged to do as he always had and study hard. Most of his classes involved book learning and lectures with only occasional practical classes. He spent occasional vacation weeks with his family and while he never became more social, he would often appease his parents by performing little tricks of arcane magic at parties.
At age 18, Janus graduated and for practical reasons decided to give up the comfort of the school and its libraries for an apartment not far away. He maintained his affiliation to Gabal’s School and continued to study there, but he had come to realize that if he wanted to accomplish something good in the world he would have to practice applying his knowledge. Janus worked for a year or so doing odd jobs around town and, owing to both his silence and reliability, he made occasional income running bribes to certain city officials and politicians on behalf of the school. While not an outright public activity, such passing of bribes was understood as simply a part of the mechanics of city governance.
One evening after assisting a local farmer in ridding himself of a large wild dog that had been tormenting his animals, the farmer invited Janus in for supper and told him of the Resistance. Janus had heard of the Resistance. It wasn’t something people discussed on the streets in daylight, but it was something most were aware of. War was on its way, the man warned, and Janus’s skill could be put to better use in assisting the cause than in (rather majestically, he admitted) burning barnyard nuisances into oblivion. To this point, the thought of joining such a resistance hadn’t really crossed Janus’s mind, but the need for change was evident to him. The people of Gate Pass, while concerned about how little they’d been hearing from the outside world, held fast to the belief that nothing could touch them in their mountain pass town. The farmer told Janus who he could talk to about joining before paying him and sending him on his way.
The next day, Janus arranged to meet with this individual and offered his assistance to the movement. One year later, the real story began.
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