Malark Buckman

Malark Buckman - human, wizard, child prodigy, world traveler, intelligent beyond reason, weirdo

Malark Buckman, born to rural farmers, was found to have 'the knack' for magic at a young age, though his family could not afford to help him pursue those talents, the boy practiced as best he could anyway on the family farm. Without traditional magical schooling, Malark found himself wandering the family's farmstead without direction, it seemed. Oftentimes wandering many miles away from him before realizing how far he had walked. His parents often feared that his small stature had gotten him killed by some wild animal. No matter how far he wandered, he always came back home with a small smile on his face, covered in mud, filth, and the occasional injury.

When his parents found the maps in his bedroom, it became clear he was not wandering randomly, even if he didn't understand why. He studied his maps in his room for days on end, his family sometimes bringing food to him so that he didn't become malnourished.

Then the boy started scratching patterns on the walls of the family's home, much to the chagrin of his parents. He kept at it, no matter what punishment or consequences he suffered for his etchings. He drew. He scratched into the wooden posts of the barn. He never explained himself. According to him, he didn't know how to do so. It "seemed like the right thing to do."

Nearing his 13th birthday, when his parents were at their wit's end, a horrible storm came to the family farm. The family retreated to the cellar, save for Malark, insisting everything was fine even going so far as to step outside to show them.

Then lightning struck the barn. The electric energy filtered straight through the boys' etchings into the ground, filtering out harmlessly into the surrounding earth as the shockwave of thunder rushed past the boy's wide smile as rain poured down upon him. The glowing runes adorning the barn continued to glow for days.

News traveled quickly, and visitors to the farm asked the boy how he did that, but he could only shrug. After spending some time etching similar patterns into the homes, barns, and some equipment of the other farmers in the area, his home village pooled their money together to send him to magic school.

There, he excelled magically, but completely failed socially. Teachers consistently complained about his utter lack of socializing to his family. He made no attempt at friendships. He made no attempt to get to know his teachers. He absorbed all the arcane knowledge with little regard to anything else.

He graduated valedictorian in his class at the age of 25, prompting many of his classmates to ask the question, "...who is *that?"*

Specializing in runes, etchings, and physical enchantments, Malark began providing his services for a *very* modest fee, seemingly unaware that anyone might be willing to pay more than he was charging. He became famous in his area for his work. In fact, his techniques were completely of his own design, not being aware of the more established forms of rune scribing. He was written off by most established wizards and artificers.

Then, at the age of 30, he appeared in Sardovia to attend school again, but was rejected due to his already established expertise. It didn't take long until he had a job there teaching instead of learning.

It wasn't long after that, that a delegation of the dwarves of Dunkledur came to Sardovia, and Buckman followed them around, asking about their form of enchantments.

Malark went on sabbatical to the dwarven lands, and came back a different man, it seemed. Confident. Assertive. Profoundly intelligent, and somehow having gained a force of personality that rivaled some sorcerers. His shift in demeanor was not welcome to many. He was brash, rude, and acerbic…but very rarely *wrong.* He rubbed many the wrong way with his knowledge of the outer planes and his constant attempts to scare people into panicking about an *"imminent"* invasion from outsiders. This ultimately ended in him losing his job at the Sardovian institute. He did not seem troubled.

He traveled. To the ends of the earth, it seemed. Every time he returned, with a new collection of knowledge, each of which would have labelled him an expert, but together, he seemed to have an unlimited amount of space in his mind to collect more knowledge and to apply it to his runic techniques.

After some time, around his 50th birthday, was invited back to the Sardovian Institute as a professor again. His reply was, "If I thought any of you could be trusted with the knowledge I have gained, I would gladly share it, but your lack of historical perspective, coupled with your myopic worldview that leaves no room for preparation for possible apocalyptic scenarios leaves me with only one conclusion: You're all a bunch of fucking morons. I've got more important things to do than teach a bunch of mewling babies their alphabet. Get fucked."

Historians believe that he could have been that generation's Anthony Glersk. Had he shared his knowledge the way Glersk did he could have ushered in a wave of growth in the magical field hundreds of years before Glersk was born.

Malark Buckman never returned from his travels.

No invasion from the outer planes ever came.