2015 #PitchWars Mentee Bio: Ethan Calof

My method of spreading messages.

A NOTE FROM AN URBAN SCAVENGER: This scroll was found tacked the side of a slightly withered, shabby red tree trunk a few miles outside of the City-State of Pitchwarsia. Nobody knows why it was tacked on the side of any tree, much less this tree. There is a corkboard in the centre of Pitchwarsia where rangers and rogues alike post their curricula vitae for larger parties and guilds to peruse. This tree was in the middle of a sleepy residential neighbourhood. The best possible explanation for this? Every day, the authors who live in this area come out and stare at the tree for precisely seven and a half minutes at a time. I'm not sure whether they do it out of deep contemplation on the nature of the universe, boredom, or to offset the sinking realization that there isn't enough coffee in the world. It's not my role to judge. I can only hope that the poor, deluded soul who decided to post on this tree found what he was looking for.

Friends, fellow Pitchwarsians, lend me your ears!

No, not those ears.

I, Ethan Calof, come to tell the tale of...myself. If an enlightened wordsmith decides to accept me into their party as a bard, I can provide fountains of ink, reams of paper, and stories for every waking hour. I also bring endless Harry Potter references, Arrested Development chicken dances, Avatar: The Last Airbender gifs, Mel Brooks impersonations, and Breaking Bad freakouts.

I began writing when I was about seven years old, inspired by Harry Potter and the rest of my family's library. I wrote about a child prince named Redhilltops who surfed down a rainbow with his talking monkey advisor. He later convinced a guild of horses to fight Lord Voldemort. This did not win me any prizes, but it did make me susceptible to the dreaded writing bug. My stories have evolved since then--the main characters have grown older and older, and my vocabulary has gotten bigger and bigger--but I still have just as much fun making words sing. My current work, which I hope you enlightened mentors see as befitting as a bard, is an adult fantasy set in a universe inspired by a mix of ancient Polynesia and other seafaring civilizations. A mother and her teenage daughter have to sail across the world to complete an ancient blood offering, and have to put aside their differences to dispatch the many threats on the ocean, including a demonic wind that shoots jets of water and large sea creatures at unsuspecting boats.

Wait, wait, I'm not finished yet!

When I do not expedition as a bard, I ply my trade as an English teacher in Taipei, Taiwan. I like to take my names for fantasy islands and races from how my students misspell words on their vocabulary tests; their errors are far more creative than my brainstorming. I live with my roommate, my roommate's plants, and the cockroaches that just can't resist sneaking in when I leave the door slightly open. They do not have names. If I name them, I give them power, and if we give the cockroaches power, they will soon take over the house and turn it into a scene from A Bug's Life. We only name the mice. They can be reasoned with. I choose to avoid them both, and write in the nearest coffee shop or McDonald's. When I'm not writing, I'm reading. I obsess over David Mitchell, J.K. Rowling, all shades of Russian literature, and any shade of speculative fiction with biting prose. 

But of course, you are not here to read my life story. I know that people require more than just cockroach naming for their party. As a Level 3 bard searching for an experienced mentor to accept me into their party, I am honour-bound to present my sheet. Now, personally, I find the basic sheet awfully crude. A listing of attributes should be unnecessary for a man of letters, more befitting to those who wound with their hands rather than their words like rogues or barbarians, but I digress. It is the way of the land for those who mean to boldly expedition through Pitchwarsia and its surrounding kingdoms, and boldly expedition is what I must do.

We will start from the top, with explanations.

As a level three bard, I have the necessary training to aid any party, although I will confess to not necessarily being proficient in all of them. My dexterity, I am afraid, only accounts for scribbling words and flipping pages, as I am useless with any weapon more complex than a stick. Likewise, I only have enough heft to heft potted plants. I am not the bard to rearrange carriages. Don't let my Chaotic Neutral alignment worry you too much. You see, my characters loathe me far too much for me to ever earn anything kinder or gentler. They do not seem to appreciate me killing their children, their parents, and their pets. I live in fear that they'll discover my meagre hit points.

I have spent time burnishing an academic's skillset. After all, a good bard and a good scribe must also be a good researcher! I consider my inkpen to be the most magical device that I could ever use, for worlds flow out of its end. I decipher all sorts of (manu)scripts, from the simpler Roald Dahls

to the more complex Fyodor Dostoevskys.

I come equipped with a heavy horse, for I am a heavy man. I carry a crossbow and longbow mostly for appearances. Don't crossbows and longbows look cool? They do, don't they? The key here is the ink and paper. A true bard must always be prepared for inspiration to strike, whether in the middle of a dream or the middle of a hike. I carry books of all stripes with me...significantly more than I should, considering my wanderings. I also carry a laptop, in case I ever learn to cast a spell to charge in on the road, and a sack of coffee grounds, because you and I both know that this will become necessary.

What kind of a storytelling bard would I be if I didn't have a feat in scribing scrolls? I have great knowledge of bardic music and bardic knowledge, but I'm afraid that I do require a shower to truly sing well. In addition to my well honed language skills, I also have above basic language proficiency in French, Russian and Mandarin, honed by my time living in Ottawa, Saint Petersburg, and Taipei. My draconic mostly comes from needing to find a way to communicate with my most rage-fuelled students.

These bard spells are all essential for me to practice my literary craft. As literature is magic, being able to read it would be essential. How can I read and write at night if I cannot create light? My level one spells are more stylistic choices. I write to inspire feelings, and there are few feelings more potent than fear. I can make myself sleep at the drop of the hat; some of my best sleeping spots include a pine box in the middle of the woods not usually meant for sleeping. And at times, when the darkness becomes too strong, it becomes necessary to cast uncontrollable, hideous, spine-bending laughter, to ensure that there's still some positivity remaining in your soul, no matter how twisted.

And no matter how much it confuses everyone around you.

So why would I be an ideal fit for your party on any venturing forth from Pitchwarsia? I may be a bard, but thanks to my teaching experience, I have the patience of a monk and a cleric. I weave my stories with a druid's love of nature, and a sorcerer or wizard's love of the magic of words. I write with no fear of barbarians, nor rogues, and explore them with the confidence of a ranger. I smash chaotic neutral against lawful evil and write the ashes as they settle. Whether we encounter a kobold, or something far larger, I give my bard's word that I will clutch my crossbow and my inkpen and stand boldly in the way. For if there are no tales to tell, then what are we fighting for?

I thank you for your time and consideration in reading my sheet and my script. Let us boldly go forth, together, from Pitchwarsia and into the dangers that lurk beyond.

No obstacles would be too much for us.

For more mentee bios, pop over to Christopher Keelty's site for the mentee blog hop!