What to expect: At first, a collection of episodic stories about Xanos and his fellow students in the days before the Undrentide saga. Later, a more cohesive retelling of the events of the campaign, with a decidedly Xanoscentric tilt.

Why: I'm honestly not sure if there is anyone else in the whole wide internet who actually likes Xanos, at least to the extent of desiring to read a lengthy collection of writing about him. I've certainly been frustrated in my attempts to find a single scrap of SoU fanfiction. But in case I'm not alone in my appreciation for the unrepentant narcissist, I thought I'd make my efforts available to the world at large.

Heartfelt Plea: If you like (or don't like) what you read, please let me know. The speed at which I write is greatly influenced by the reactions of others. Plus, feedback makes me happier than master Drogan with a barrel full of sour pickles.

One more thing: nearly every person, place, and event mentioned in the course of this story is property of Bioware and their associates.

Prelude- The Great Xanos Arrives

Strong and fearless, a black-cloaked half-orc strode through the frozen wastes, unaffected by the swirling snow. Well, mostly unaffected... Actually, he was certain that his mixed blood was turning to ice in his veins, but as long as he did not think overmuch about that, he was fine. Better than fine! He was Xanos Messarmos, fearsome fighter and gifted sorcerer, and no amount of snow was going to stand in the way of his destiny!

A sudden blast of wind set him to shivering, and he curled more deeply into the protection of his patched blanket- his cloak, he amended swiftly. He had been walking for what seemed like months in the piercing, bone-biting cold, with no shelter but rocks and trees, and no food save what he could catch on his own.

The need to survive meant the need to find civilization. After all, Xanos was meant for a life of wealth and luxury, not clawing out his existence in a snowy wasteland. There were other reasons he craved the presence of others, reasons involving more than his physical health, but those wounds were still too fresh for close examination. For now, he would be content with finding a meal and perhaps a pile of straw in a stable.

His unerring sense of direction had pointed him north. That was two days before, and though it was of course beyond possibility, some of the trees and rock formations he was now passing seemed very similar to ones he had seen before. And, now that he considered it, when had the Sun started to set in the south? Xanos watched it disappear behind the trees with a sense of despair that even his boundless arrogance could not forestall.

Winter nights in the Silver Marches truly redefined the meaning of "cold." The muscles in his legs started to seize up, making walking a test of endurance. Xanos was not fond of tests. He tripped, fought valiantly to regain his balance, and tumbled face-first into a deep drift.

"Curse you, you meddlesome, worthless, sadistic-" unable to think of a fitting epithet for the mindless snow, he simply smashed his fist into the drift and uttered a guttural yell of frustration. "You will not stop me!" he shouted. "Xanos will survive! Xanos will prevail!"

Unfortunately, his fit of rage had used up the scant energy he had left. He tried to get to his feet, but his commands were ignored by his exhausted body. He floundered uselessly in the snow, then lay still, panting. The snow no longer seemed so uncomfortable. In fact, he could hardly feel the cold at all. It was as if he lay in a soft, white bed, and the whistling of the wind in the trees was like a lullaby.

"Xanos will... take a short nap," he mumbled, and closed his eyes.

At first, Xanos thought he was dreaming. It had been too long since he had felt truly warm for it to be anything but a dream. There was also the matter of the soft hand that touched his face, then gently pushed the hair out of his eyes. Oh yes, he had had this kind of dream before. He grinned and opened his eyes to see what nubile-but-secretly-naughty nymph his subconscious had summoned for his enjoyment.

The hand was attached to an amazingly hairy arm, which was in turn attached to a short, stout old man with spectacles and a robust facial hair. Obviously, the man had used up his hair allowance on his arms and left none for his bald, egg-shaped head. The half-orc's grin disappeared immediately. The stranger noticed and smiled in what Xanos was certain was meant to be an encouraging way.

"Don't worry, my boy, I was only checking to see if you had a fever," said the man- the dwarf, Xanos realized. There was a long moment as Xanos simply stared at him suspiciously and waited for reality to catch up with him.

"My name is Drogan," the dwarf began. "You're in my home now. Yesterday, I found you nearly frozen solid in the forest a few miles from here."

"Where is 'here?'" Xanos asked. Behind his spectacles, Drogan's eyes widened in surprise.

"The town of Hilltop," he answered. "I had assumed you were on your way here and just didn't quite make it.".

"Of course I was on my way here. I was simply making sure that you were not a liar or a simpleton," Xanos said quickly. Drogan laughed.

"Well, assuming that I've passed your test, perhaps we could have the honor of your company for a while longer?"

Xanos mulled this over. At least the dwarf had some sense of respect for his betters... But who was this 'we' he spoke of? Xanos could see no one else in the room. If the dwarf was crazy, perhaps Xanos would be better off outside... In the cold...

"After all, there is no way we would be able to finish a whole pot of beef stew," Drogan added absently.

Then again, perhaps Xanos would be better off eating beef stew.

"There, I knew you'd see the right of it," Drogan said before Xanos even answered. "Come, friend, join me at the table. Aurora, please bring our guest a bowl." From the deepening evening shadows, a second person emerged. Unlike Drogan, she was tall and lean to the point of gauntness. Her cheekbones were prominent, her mouth too wide and rather at odds with the delicate slant of her eyes. Blonde hair hung in scruffy layers to her shoulders. Overall, she looked like a walking scarecrow, Xanos thought with a smirk.

Aurora was scrutinizing Xanos with equal intensity. Even as she ladled the stew into a ceramic bowl and brought it to him, her narrowed eyes never left his face, as if he were a stray dog that might at any moment lunge for her throat. Xanos took the bowl from her and snorted indignantly.

"Luckily for you, this stray is currently too hungry to bother with biting you."

He hadn't really meant to say it out loud. Aurora's eyebrows quirked in puzzlement, and she turned to Drogan.

"Master Drogan, are you sure-"

"There's nothing to worry about, Aurora," the dwarf cut in before the girl could finish whatever no doubt insulting question she had been forming. "I expect you to treat our guest with upmost politeness."

"Of course," she said answered, coloring under the dwarf's reproving gaze. "But he hasn't even told us his name."

"His name is his own to give, Aurora. Why don't you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Yes, master Drogan," she said reluctantly. "I'll be right outside if you have need of me." With a final suspicious look at Xanos, she left and closed the door behind her. The half-orc bared his teeth at the closed door, only just restraining the urge to stick out his tongue as well. Drogan shook his head.

"Don't worry about her, my friend. Aurora has a good nature, despite her excessive mistrust of strangers."

Xanos scowled.

"And I am supposed to believe that my being a half-orc had absolutely nothing to do with her abysmal social skills?"

Drogan regarded him sternly over the rims of his spectacles, and Xanos squirmed under his gaze.

"Less than you might think," the dwarf said, but elaborated no further on why that might be. "In any case, I did not bring you here to discuss my student." He ladled another serving of stew into the bowl and Xanos greedily set to wolfing it down.

"And why exactly did you bring Xanos here?" he asked around a mouthful of potato, then winced. He hadn't intended to let anyone know his name just yet.

"Well, to begin with, this home of mine is really more of a school," the dwarf said, readjusting his position in his chair as if he would be there for a while. Xanos groaned. Long, windy tales were inevitably pointless and boring, unless they were about Xanos. The dwarf continued to ramble, and Xanos decided to stuff himself with as much food as possible and then take his leave as soon as the story was over.

Later, when the fire had burned low and there was more stew in Xanos than in the cauldron, Drogan was still talking of education, apprenticeship, and adventuring. The last held some interest for Xanos, but he still wished that the dwarf would be quiet and let him digest in peace. His mind wandered, and he amused himself by finding shapes in the grain of the wooden table.

There was a leaping rabbit, off to the right of a misshapen boot. A bird with two beaks swooped down on the unsuspecting rabbit from above. And there, at the far end of the table: was that not Xanos himself standing with arms upraised, surrounded by fawning servants and piles of gold?

"-and that brings us at last to the matter of what you owe me, Xanos," Drogan's voice broke into his reverie. "There was your transport in my cart, the use of my skills to heal you, and of course the several gallons of stew you just put away."

Xanos sighed inwardly. The kindness of strangers was most definitely not something he had learned to rely upon, but he had been hoping that just this once...

"Xanos... has no coins," he admitted quietly, hoping that the stupid scarecrow girl was not listening by the door. Drogan nodded, watching him thoughtfully.

"All I ask in return is for you to spend your next week here and allow me to instruct you in the ways of survival, as I have with Aurora. After that, it is entirely up to you if you stay or leave."

Xanos was surprised, to say the least. Surely there was a catch in Drogan's offer, but the idea of food and a place to stay for a week made that seem a pointless concern.

"Very well. Let no man say that Xanos leaves his debts unpaid!"

By the third day of his stay at Drogan's house in Hilltop, Xanos began to wish that he had left his debt unpaid. Drogan was a harsh instructor, rewarding any lapse in attention with a stinging blow from his staff. Once again, the match finished with Xanos bruised of body and ego, and the dwarf unharmed by a single scratch.

Xanos left the training area cursing under his breath, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. If his training in the fighting arts was any indication, Drogan's instruction in the arcane would leave Xanos picking spell components out of delicate places for weeks.

Aurora was leaning against the wall next the door to his room, apparently waiting for him. Xanos glowered and concentrated on looking fearsome and important as he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers.

"Don't you have a cornfield you should be guarding?" he said, shooing her away with his free hand. Without a word, Aurora pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it out. Xanos snatched it from her and clamped it over his nose, which was thankfully scabbing over. "Well? What do you want? Xanos does not have time to stand and watch as you stare dumbly at his magnificence."

Aurora's eyes flashed, and she swallowed a return jibe with obvious difficulty.

"Master Drogan told me that you were driven away from your former home," she said instead. Xanos tensed, waiting for the accusations and insults to begin. The girl focused on the empty air next to him. "I was going to say that I think you should stay here. Not many people are as accepting as master Drogan. And if you decide to leave, well, good luck." She pushed away from the wall and strode down the hall to her room.

"Xanos has no need of luck! Xanos will forge his way in the world by strength of will alone!" he called after her.

"Someday Xanos will realize that sane people don't refer to themselves in third person," Aurora muttered.

"Xanos heard that! And he is less than amused!" A slamming door signaled the end of Aurora's side of the conversation. "Consider your ruined handkerchief a consequence of the displeasure of Xanos, scarecrow girl," he said to himself, looking at the bloodstained cloth with satisfaction.

Still, the child had a point. That Xanos should encounter by chance an adventurer of Drogan's renown was lucky. That a famous adventurer would then offer to help Xanos hone his skills and become a great adventurer in his own right was more than luck.

It was destiny.

Next Chapter: 'The First Few Years' Xanos settles in. Aww.