The Master of the Shadow Tower, the Fallen, the Forsaken

[Invoker]

The Hunter Of Shadows

The figure rose from the mists and shadows whirling low, right above the ground. He was a strange sight, ill attuned with the dark, gloomy landscape of the ghost city: staggering, suffering, thinking, breathing. Alive.

He tried to remember how he had gotten here, and what had happened to him, but the memories were a confused blur of emotions and pain...mostly pain,its dark hooks deep within his pale flesh. A pain so intense it was even more evident now, given its sudden absence. He tried to remember where his robes and equipment were, or his travel grimoire, the most prized of his possessions, but memories of suffering and of triumphant, inhuman screeches were all his ravaged mind could summon of the last...how long had it been?

He was surprised to find his body in overall good conditions, and to be actually able to move properly. He would need it, given the situation: his familiar's bond and, even worse, his gift, had been completely severed. He could not feel the presence of Nightwing any longer, nor invoke the simplest arcanery. Alone in a desperate situation...deep within his mortal enemy's domain...rumors of battle all around him...weakened and defenseless, with only his mind to rely on...he smiled. "Free, at last...You should have killed me when you had the chance, dear friend. I will be back...and I shall be mindful. Make no mistake...".

Turning away from the battle noises and hiding in the shadows (how amusing...) to avoid the occasional walking dead along the way, he headed for the first building looking like a library that he could find on his way towards the city gates. He needed maps...

----------------------------------------------------------

His tunic gashed and matted with blood, he ran towards the lone building, towering on the forest from the high ground provided by a pictoresque rocky formation, as the immense Shadow Mastiff finished off his servant, chopping it to gnashed pieces with growling rage. He managed to get in and shut the gate closed only moments before the deadly hound began pounding on it, his heart racing. He stood there for long moments, leaning with his back against the wall, exhausted. Finally, he had reached the location marked in the scale reproduction of the shadow city and its surrounding forest that he memorized...
He had done so despite the Shadow Mastiffs INSIDE the library, where the model was located...the wraiths guarding the city gates...the perils of the forest...and now, the thrice-damned overgrown shadow pile of escrements which tried to use him as a chew toy. He had done so, despite his ability to weave and his equipment deserted him, and also his supernatural abilities were being less than reliable, often turning against him... "Another wonderful day to add to my recent Seldarine-accursed collection..."

Relying on the very special darkvision he acquired after his unfortunate demise and leaning heavily on the Shadow Staff he had picked up in the city's library, the Archmage made his way through the building's bowels, carefully avoiding the traps and finally reaching what looked like an arcane study. "Always my favourite room in the house..." he sighed, taking the furnitures in avidly: a strange fireplace, an inert portal of some sort, and on its sides an alchemical lab and a desk stacked with papers of all kinds, a magic strongbox laying beside it.

A wizard's dream...

----------------------------------------------------------

After a few candlemarks (more? Less? It was so hard to gauge timespans in this place...), he closed the book about "The Devourer" he had been reading with a satisfied expression. "Shovotar, hm? Glad you finally introduced yourself..." he cackled malevolently "and now, let's get what I need to finally repay you in kind for your invite here, and the hospitality offered...".

The strongbox spoke to him as he approached: "The man who invented it does not want it. The man who builds it does not need it. The man who needs it does not know it". "Oh...a riddle...interesting..." he caressed his chin pensively.
"Well, well...hmm...Wisdom!...no, does not fit...If the inventor does not want it, it might be something needed in case unpleasant happenstances come to pass...the one building it does not need it, meaning if an individual still has the power to create it, those "happenstances" did not take place yet...the one who DOES need it, does not know it...so perhaps he is oblivious...or forgot...or..."
He turned slowly towards the strongbox "...or he is dead. A Grave". The box clicked open, yelding him its treasures. Kael smiled, as he realized what this meant, to him and to his people. The time of reckoning was at hand...

The portal suddenly activated, and he hurriedly closed the new, improved grimoire he found in the box, one last ravenous glance to the engraved tortured souls on its cover before letting it slide in one of his tunic's pockets, and to the other treasures laying beside it, then he quickly wove a handful of essential wards preparing for his almost certainly unwelcome guest.

"Ah...so, here is the interloper..." the figure stepped trough the portal with confidence, an arrogant smile on his thin lips. A smile he knew very well. "Well, well...and who is this stunningly good looking individual coming to visit me?" grinned the Archmage. Whoever that was, he was mirroring his aspect. He had ripped people apart for much, MUCH less...

"You dare claim possession of this tower?!?". "Of course I do. Since right now. Do you have any problems with that? Feel free to voice your complaints..." The creature ignored him, as he rambled on: "Your aspect is not the only thing I will take from you, insignificant creature... Did you tamper with my research?" Kael spread his arms, an innocent look on his face "You mean...your primitive babbling on spellcraft? Well, no...I have outgrown children rhymes a few centuries ago..." Anger flared in his doppleganger's face. He must be unaccustomed to good banter, he thought with an inward smile "You arrogant little Prime...I surely know where to send the Devourer first, when I finally control it...". The Archmage grinned "I don't think you'll have the chance, from Hell...and when you get there, tell them Kor'Vain sends his regards..."

And so it began. The creature quickly closed the distances and wove his own version of Black Vise of Grief, following it up with an energy attack. The force prison began pressing on his damage resistance wards, and his quickened Mantle barely absorbed the other weave as he countered with his own force spell. The magic duel was quick and brutal, with offensive and defensive sorceries crashing one against the other.

When it seemed the ancient creature slowly but firmly gained the upper hand, a staggering Kael suddenly stepped towards it and touched it with his right arm. Channeling destructive energies faster than his opponent could weave, he whispered "die...". He could see the surprise and disbelief in the doppleganger's green eyes as life left them, drained by his power. The creature twitched once more, then reverted to its original appearance before melting into the very fabric of shadow. "Well...I cannot really fault you for stealing my astounding looks, when you are, in fact, a revolting tentacled monster..." probably a Phaerimm, judging from its strong magic, or something similar...he did not see very well. He did not care. Now, he had what he needed to protect and avenge his people...He was no longer the prey. He was the Hunter...of Shadows...

He produced a terrible sound that few would associate with a laugh, as the voice inside his mind keep whispering to him:

Kor'Vain...Kor'Vain...

[Invoker]

///OOC: before she received the sending.


A Voice...

The moon stood high as she looked out over the village from her chambers. Normal life took its way in the village, yet, she still had trouble to follow in line.
The taint was gone but she explored a deeper emptiness with Kael's death as she ever thought possible. Days passed over into nights, nights into days and Ithilwen barely even noticed. She did what was expected of her, she smiled and talked with the people, helped where she could but inside she felt a void. It was as if she watched her life through the eyes of somebody else...



She watched over her shoulder where the urn stood and the black staff with the golden engraved runes Kaienrai had brought to her to honor Kael. It felt still so unreal... The pain of loss, dull and ever present, sometimes cutting through her as sharp as a knife. But life goes on. When one is alive, one must do with the living...She had to go on, live life for him. Since that was his gift to her, life. Free of the shadow's taint.

She walked over to the urn and kneeled in front of it. She then closed her eyes and slowly let herself go in reverie. Then the dream came:

A soothing, pale light filled her mind...

...a whisper, feminine...sadness in it, but reassurance, resolve...

"Listen."

She then heared screams of agony, and exultant screeching.

"YoU wiLL scReAM, shE wiLl heAR YOu SCREAAM!"

The voice screeched and twisted in fury.
A thick blackness filled everything but through the darkness the voice sounded again.

"Listen."

Heavy breaths...an exhausted elf, male...something is familiar about the sense of it...yet all around, there is nothing but shadow.

"Listen."

The light returned, then faded, with a single word.

"Search."

Ithilwen opened her eyes as the last word of her dream sounded in her mind. The sunlight already touched her face and she squinted against the sudden brightness. Could that have been him? No... he is dead it cannot be... "Listen." That is what the voice had said. Who was this female voice? Listen... And then...search for what? For him? could he be...

A thought shot through Ithilwen then and the horror of it made her feel sick for a moment. Could the shadow entity still have him, his soul? Did it have him after all?

[Invoker]

A message from the other side...

Ithilwen came back to her rooms after another long day of work. She had met with sir Aelcar and Jarresh, together with Kaienrai. sir Aelcar asked them to become ambassadors for the Order of Lions, representing Dharasha. They both had accepted and many things needed to be taken care of. It was good she thought, it would keep her mind from wandering off too much, to that dark place, the void inside her. Life had to go on...

A few candle marks later, someone knocked on her door. It was Mendel. She told him to come in and he opened the door, entering the first mage's rooms with his head lowered. Standing close to her, he raised his head and looked at her, as if he was trying to figure her mental state.

"Greetings Ithilwen. I think enough time has passed and it is the right time to offer you my apology for not telling you the truth about what happened with Kael. I hope, in time, you will accept my apology and forgive me, but know that my only intention was to protect you and through that protect Kael. He sacrificed his life for you, that is how much he cared. By no means he would allow any harm done to you and that's what i was trying to do... Get you to safety."

He lowered his head again and waited for a reply from the First Mage.

Ithilwen listened to him, motionless. Her face in a perfect serene and cold expression. After a long silence, on the brink of becoming uncomfortable she started to speak.

''Brother, I appreciate the fact you wished to shield me from the pain at that moment. However, I am no child. The truth must be faced no matter how harmful it can be. Why delay the inevitable...We all...''

She stopped all off a sudden, her eyes widened and the mask slowly slipped from her face. She staggered backwards a few paces but managed to steady herself on the chair where the black robes were hanging. Her breathing increased and with haunted eyes she watched Mendel.

In her mind she heard a faint sending from what seemed to be a long, long distance.
She shook her head and closed her eyes, her lips made movements as if muttering something. Her eyes opened again and she watched Mendel, as soon as he tried to say something she stopped him abruptly.

''Shhhh!...''

She recognized the voice, albeit feeble, as Kael's. The message itself was rather shocking:

"Greetings, my dear.

Excuse my prolonged absence, I have been...tied up with some rather dark, sinister matters for a while...

This is taking a lot of my energy, so I will be brief: I am free, and well. I found the means to end it all, but as absolutely incredible as it sounds, I cannot do it alone. I need your help.

Get Marigold, Grimm and our willing brothers and sisters to the Shadow Plane...Find me in the Tower beyond the forest outside the Shadow City we visited on our first trip there. East Gate out, then the forest...

I will be waiting..."



''This can't be...Tell me it can't be...''

A smile started to appear on her lips, widening and widening, until she laughed. Laughed loud as she had never done before in her entire life.
She walked up to Mendel, her face all radiating of joy. She grasped both his shoulders and told him.

''He made it! It is him! I don't...How...?!?!''

Her expression changed into one of extreme worry then.

''We have to get to him...he...says...we can "end it all"...?!''

Mendel watched Ithilwen wide eyed and surprised."He made it?!?! Made it where... how... "

"Tell me sister, what is it we need to do? How can we get him back?

Ithilwen let go of his shoulders, pondering for a moment.

''He just talked to me via sending... He can't do it alone, he needs our help.''

She watched the ground as she recollected his words

''He is still in the plane of shadows...In a sanctuary, a tower beyond the forest outside a shadow city. The same city where we went the first time...''

She lifted her head and watched Mendel.

''He asks us to come find him there. To bring Marigold, Grimm and all those of our kin that want to join in this fight.... Mendel, I believe he has found a way to deal with the shadow entity for once and for all!''

She hesitated before uttering the following words.

''Would you be willing to go back there? Are you willing to take the risk? I understand if you can not. I will go however, I must go...''

[Invoker]

The Dark Master of the Shadow Tower

He watched outside the window towards the Shadow Forest, and beyond, the city itself. The beast's dark heart...its domain. This tower was the last one standing of an entire complex, a sanctuary against darkness. And he, its self appointed master. He had claimed it as his own in one of the hardest spell battles he had ever fought in more than 350 years.
The tentacled creature was powerful. And now, also dead. It was dead because of its power, paradoxically: it could weave faster than any mortal could, even faster than an Archmage of his power, and it knew it...this made it overconfident. He could still savor the shock in its eyes when he finally stopped its heart with his ability, faster than any weave could ever be.

Overconfidence had defeated the Phaerimm, or whatever it was...just as it had defeated him in his last meeting with the Nightwalker's minions. Before his death at the hand of the Trickster's , he had always been careful. Always prepared, never an unnecessary risk taken. He was already very powerful, but also well aware of his limits. After his demise, however, his abilities had grown exponentially...but so had his carelessness. This time, he barely survived...and he had no intention to give his enemies a second chance.

He turned around and walked towards his desk, almost invisible in the semi-obscurity of the room. Once there, his gloved fingers ran on the tormented souls engraved in his new grimoire. The Master of the Shadow Tower...but what of his kin? The marriage of Fhaeo and Raven had certainly been a wondrous ceremony...of course, if Fhaeo did not get himself killed without him to watch his back...He chuckled at the foolish thought that someone could actually best his brother in battle.

No, they would be fine...Mendel, Celundel, Fhaeo, Luthien, Elethineth, Kaienrai, Andariel...Ithilwen...they could outsmart and defeat any foe, and watch over the other members of Dharasha even without him. Perhaps, it was a good thing for old Kael to be in the Shadow Plane...he should have been dead, anyway...Why had he come back?

He lowered his gaze on his right hand, the one which could feel no longer. He had inadvertantly crushed the crystal vial he was holding. Why? Why did he come back? Why undergo the things he had...do the things he forced himself to do...when he could just stay in Arvandor? An eminent Archmage with more High Arcana than possibly anyone else alive, a loremaster like him, with all his knowledge could not answer this one, simple question. Or maybe he could, and he just did not want to...

He smiled enigmatically, and wondered how she was, and if she was thinking about him. He wondered if she still would, knowing the truth...
An inferno of flames consumed the moldy furnitures on the far side of the room, burning them to a cinder in mere instants. Clutching the Netherese Scroll in his left hand, Archmage Kael of the fallen Kalinor, Revenant defender of Dharasha and Master of the Shadow Tower hissed under his mask: "You are next, Shovotar. Now, I know who you are, what your are and how to make sure you cease to be a problem. The game has changed..."

[Invoker]

And The Story Ends, Part I

The Master of the Shadow Tower treated the tome covetously, almost lovingly as he read, delicately running his gloved finger on the intricate design on the cover. Tortured, screaming souls, probably damned. Sinister, some would say...but he was beyond that. Not even the eternal night of the Shadow Plane troubled him, nor his strange connection to this place of eternal death and despair. He could...feel...the shadow wasteland, its changes, its hatred, its hunger for life and light.
He could feel them coming.

Mendel was leading the group, obviously. A true friend, he would never have abandoned him, despite the huge risks, last but not least this whole setup being an elaborate trap of their cunning enemy. Master Grimm and Lady Marigold were with him, of course...they struck him as determined individuals, who definitely like to get things done, seen through...They were in the first time, it was only fitting they'd insist to come for the final act...He smiled. Nai, of course. She would never leave Mendel's side, not in such a dangerous predicament. Seldruin, hm? The feral sorcerer was an unexpected presence, if welcome...Ahh...the little dancer was with them too...interesting choice...a far more dangerous individual than she would like others to believe, but she could not fool him...oh no...
And then, of course, there was her...

He sensed them battling their way towards the relative safety of his small domain through hordes of shadow creatures. His servants. Shovotar was pressing them hard, but not as hard as he could have...he was nudging them onwards. He had unfinished business with him, and he did not want to waste the chance to...meet him again. Only, unbeknownst to him, this time it would be different. Very different...
He glanced towards the ancient scroll beside his grimoire with an enigmatic smile, clutching the dark gem in his black-gloved grip. Inert...for now. In a few candlemarks, that would change...

"Please, come in...welcome to my humble domain. I would offer refreshments, but I am afraid that won't be an option..." the wind he magically conjured carried his whispered words to the entrance of the tower. When the door to his inner sanctum opened, he stood without turning his masked face towards them: "It is good to see you all once more...make yourselves at home".

[Invoker]

And The Story Ends, Part II

"What is...What are you reading?!" Lady Marigold's alarmed tone joined the relieved voices of his beloved kin as the black-robed mage slowly and gracefully turned around to face them all. "I am glad to see you all as well...there is much to talk about, and little time to do it..." As Ithilwen and Mendel stepped towards him, smiling, Marigold's concern became more evident "Stay away from him...I'm not sure he can be trusted". Why was the woman so difficult, all of a sudden? If he could not be trusted, then it was too late to take counter measures: they'd be all dead soon enough, wouldn't they? With an amused smile in the depths of his cowl, he ignored the remark.

"I have the means to end it all, but as I said, shockingly enough I cannot do it without your help. The Rit-" his words were interrupted by Marigold's healing spell, washing over him. She grinned: "You looked hurt...here, let me help you.." she said, as the healing force kept washing over him. He gritted his teeth, the shadow hooks still inside him burning like blazing coals as if the positive energy had lit them. He grimaced under his mask, forcing himself not to grip his fists "Thank...you. Although, that was really not... necessary. As I was saying, there is a ritual I can perform to defeat Shovotar...permanently. But I will need you to fight him during the execution. My concentration cannot be broken..."

Understanding nods, words of approval and eyes filled with determination followed. Ithilwen just stared at him, something the others might perceive as devoid of emotion, detached...but he knew better. He could see through her. He knew all about her...as she, alas, knew all about him..."So...can I see that tome of yours?" Lady Marigold insisted, pointing towards the ample pocket where he deftly made it disappear. For the first time, he turned towards her, replying after a long moment: "No.". The finality of his tone drained her smile out, the joviality leaving her and exposing who she really was: an indomitable evil hunter. An exterminator. His lips curved in a thin, bloodless line. Knowing me...knowing you.

There was no time to reply. A horde of shadow creatures crashing through the borders of his domain meant the time for pleasantries was over. Darkness itself was out to consume them all, violating and thus contaminating the last standing refuge against the horrors of the Shadow Plane. Laughing softly, the Archmage began to weave his devastating spells as his allies occupied sound strategic positions without even glancing at each other: Grimm dashed towards the entrance, shadows all around him and yet unable to penetrate his defenses; Mendel followed through, a blur of steel and dark clothes; Ithilwen and Marigold began creating a storm of arcane and divine energies that craashed upon the foes with catastrophic consequences; Nai assumed the shape of a Dragon and intercepted the Nightwalkers coming for him, and Nea slipped in and out of shadows, gliding from one enemy to another with deadly grace, as Seldruin answered the enemies' weaves with his own, screaming wildly.
In the faint light of the glyphs of power he was tracing in the air at supernatural speed, murmuring in the arcane language of magic deadly formulas acquired from time-eaten grimoires, the Archmage looked even darker and more terrifying than the very creatures swarming the Tower...

"Voidal Pyroclasm"

[Invoker]

And The Story Ends, Part III: Apocalypse Now

The celestial inferno swept the room, destroying furnitures, damaging the ground, piercing the walls and roof of the building and hitting the incoming enemies with all the Archmage's fury. The pyroclasm only left his allies untouched, a testament to the caster's mastery. He glanced towards the entrance, and noticed his companions were doing an excellent job at arresting the lost souls' onslaught: Grimm and Marigold were forming a wall of steel and divine energy, stemming the advancing tide as Mendel and Nea danced around it in a blur of long and short blades; meanwhile, Seldruin's fire weaves and Ithilwen's piercing cold attacks were systematically destroying the dark shapes which somehow managed to get through. After successfully defending the dark wizard from the Nightwalkers clawing at him, Nai was standing between him and the advancing shadows, protectively.

It looked like an easy fight, perfectly under control, but he had no illusion: it would soon get much worse. When all of a sudden a large amount of shades began pouring into the room from every side, every dark corner or crack in the walls, he had already traced in the air the required glyphs of power, and completed the ritual with a smirk: "Experience true death...Killing Rampart!" he quickened pools of grease in every corner of the room, and ignited immense walls of consuming flames right on top of them, empowered with his own addition to the spells' classic formulas. He fought without sparing himself, knowing the more resilient they would prove to be, the quicker Shovotar itself would show up...and then, he would be unable to fight, anyway...he had to bring his power to bear right now. "Black Vise of Grief" he uttered, as one of the enemy spell casters was crushed by his force weave. "You're no match for my powers...but then, who is?" he laughed a terrible laugh, rejoicing as the maelstorm raged on all around him.

And then, the Walking Dead were gone. The devastated room was suddenly incredibly silent, save for his allies breathing hard, or the faint clang of their weapons and armors as they slowly and carefully changed their combat positions. How many attack weaves did they stop? Four? Six? Ten? Hard to say. He had used all the Aureal Incapacitators he memorized, and almost burned himself to a cinder with the amount of power he wielded, so...six or ten or more, he had enough. And the darkness engulfing the room, seeping in like a living being and obscuring the faint light coming from the fireplace, meant Shovotar shared the feeling. He had come, finally...

"Greetings Shovotar...I've been meaning to speak to you. Thanks for coming..."

[Invoker]

And The Story Ends, Part IV: All's Well...

The spell forms, traced all around him as his companions fought valiantly (and desperately) against the full might of Shovotar, ignited as he spoke the last words of power concluding the formula contained in the Netherese Scroll that began dissolving into his right hand. The war cries, the clang of weapons and armors, the crackling of arcane and divine energies...all was silence, the world around him still. Time stopped for long moments, its very fabric about to collapse under the strain caused by the sheer energy of the ancient binding ritual.

"It matters not how well you hide,
And though Darkness is your bride
I shall bind you with my spell,
And find you where you dwell.

This dark gem you'll leave no more,
And by the power gained through Lore,
Your ravenous hunger will be undone
Your essence trapped, forever gone.

As your ghastly form finally fades
And I erase you from the planes,
We will not speak of you again:
In eternal oblivion you will wane."

The dark gem in his left hand, inert till that moment, began pulsating of pure black energy as a ray of darkness hit the hulking form of Shovotar, beginning to channel his dark mass inside the crystal. With a delightful (for Kael, at least...) howl of pain, horror and agony, the crature was sucked into the jewel, vanishing forever from the world. "Meeting adjourned..." he whispered, as the injuries of Lady Winters and the Dancer were taken care of, and the group prepared to leave the ruins of his domain and the barren wastelands of the Shadow Plane.

He watched them go as they returned to the places they considered home. Grimm headed to the Troll Claws, Nea and Marigold walked towards Bladur's Gate, while the others crossed the Boareskyr's Bridge, nearing the Misty Forest. Nai had been adamant on the matter: he would not be allowed in the forest as long as he carried the Gem with his essence. Mendel had to regretfully agree, and Seldruin was too shocked to say anything at all. Ithilwen's expression was unreadable, though her eyes belied her calm attitude. At least to him...

Once reached the ruined tower overlooking the Bridge, the dark clad Archmage's pale lips curved into an amused smirk: "From the Master of the Shadow Tower, to the proud owner of the ruined, crooked one...My standards are definitely retiring...". Still smiling, he whispered a few words in the arcane language of magic, and his ethereal form crossed the massive sealed gate without effort, the first living being accessing the ruined fortification in a long time. Looking around, he summoned his servants and uttered in a blank tone: "Clean this mess up. Lady Ithilwen will visit me before the night is over, and I fully intend to provide a hospitality worthy of this name....

Time for far more pleasant things than shadow creatures and deadly battles. As for the Dark Gem...he did have a plan, of course. He always did...

[Invoker]

Happily Ever After

Meeting...


It was a cold summer night. Ithilwen followed the path from the pillars towards the bridge. It felt good to walk among shadows once more, without the feeling something or someone was watching. Liberating to be exact. All seemed to have worked out in the end. He was alive, she could not fully fathom it still. They all survived this peril, all was well except for Luthien... She hoped changes would start soon and she knew they would take good care of her in Ardeep. She made a mental note to contact Andariel first thing in the morning. Right now she had other things to do.

She looked up at the entrance of the ruined crooked tower close to the bridge and muttered. ''Not much for a wizard tower or even a grande mansion. Not even a beggar would want to stay here if you ask me...'' She chuckled softly and without knocking she entered as she noticed the heavy door was slightly opened.
"I heard that..." was the whisper carried by the wind, reaching her once inside. She smiled, shaking her head "Ohh, I know you did...where would be the fun if you hadn't?"

She followed the short, half ruined corridor to a partially crumbled set of stairs. She climbed them deftly, and when she reached the second floor she quirked an eyebrow at the sight: the large chamber, which had probably been a tactical room when the tower was in use, was completely cleared of dust and debris. The air smelled of old wood, musk and flowery scents, and indeed the faint candlelight and the additional tenuous illumination provided by very mild light weaves illuminated the various flower vases all around the room. A sizable, round mahogany table was set up in the middle of it, with two very comfortable-looking, throne-like chairs and a banquet of meat, fruit, bread, cheese, fresh vegetables and sweets was displayed on it, with bottles of red wine and cider.

"How did you..." She looked around suspiciously, only seeing Kael's dark figure sitting casually on one of the two armchairs You cannot have prepared all of this by yourself, so quickly...how..? The Archmage raised his eyes towards her, smiling warmly Guilty. She narrowed her eyes, suspiciously: Then...? Are you going to explain yourself? she stated in a mockingly imposing tone. Why, of course not, Your Highness... chuckled the black robed wizard. She sighed heavily, feigning irritation and holding her curiosity in check You are impossible, you know?. The pale Sun Elf grinned: Do you want to kill me too? Get in line... and before she could reply, he snapped his fingers and a human who looked like a bandit came forth. She was about to blast him to bits when Kael spoke: My dear, this is Robert, my new cup bearer. Well...for now, that is...His career will be...uhm...short. Robert, two wine glasses, please. Thank you... She sighed heavily, and this time genuinely. The man's absent eyes betrayed the strength of the compulsion weave Kael had placed on him. He WAS impossible...

Kael...thank you for this, I mean, it's really nice, but... instead of paying attention, the mage whispered something to Robert, who came back with a large bouquet of roses of every color conceivable: Thank you, Robert. That will be all as the dominated bandit walked away, she tried to continue, but he added: For you with another of his rare warm smiles. I...thank you. But Kael...you know we need to talk...about you...about that book of yours... the mage observed the content of his glass pensively for long, long moments. She began wondering if he even knew she was still there, when he finally nodded solemnly:

I love conversation. Most of all when it's about stunningly interesting matters, like my magnificent self, and the joy it is to behold me. Let's talk...

His emerald eyes locked into hers. And all the warmth was gone from him. That part of him just was not there anymore, vanished like if it had never been there in the first place.

''Kael, that tome you have, it is a spellbook isn't it? How did you get it and what is it's nature?'' She kept her now cold eyes on him, she hoped he could not see the worry in them she felt inside, nor any of her other feelings. She was a master at cloaking her emotions but with him... It became harder and harder... and she knew it. It was as if he could see right through her sometimes.

He raised his eyes from his still untouched wine glass and locked his emerald gaze unto hers. He seemed to weigh her, as if carefully considering what to say, and how, something the wizard rarely ever did, or needed to do. In the end, he drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly before replying blankly:

"It is an arcane grimoire, as I told you. I had lost mine when I was pulled into the Shadow Plane, and so I took this one when I found it, locked inside a magic chest with the dark gem and the Netherese Binding Spell. As far as I can tell, it's just as ancient. My spellbook was already extensive, but this one..." shakes his head, a wan smile on his pale lips "...this one belonged to the same mage for thousands of years. You do realize what this entails...it's value is incalculable."

He slowly and tiredly stood, walking towards the far end of the room, staring into the night from a broken section of the wall than once was probably a window. "The former master of the Shadow Tower was not a humanoid, albeit he was shaped as one. When I killed him, I had the chance to glimpse at his true, tentacular self...nothing you would want to see before dinner, I assure you..." he laughed softly "Regardless...given his mastery, how incredibly fast and powerfully he could weave, I believe he was a Phaerimm. It is a miracle I could beat him, even in all my magnificence...we are talking about creatures who destroyed the Imaskari Empire. Do you know what this mean? Imaskari and Netherese artifacts...the best of two worlds..."

He turned towards her once more, green eyes ablaze in the faint candlelight: "I am not sure about it's nature. It's probably suspicious, surely sinister, but no more than my own good self...I will not relinquish it. Any further discussion about my spellbook is nuncupatory. I do not know if there are any moral implications, but I am beyond morality, therefore to the Nine with them..."

Turning back towards the broken window, he murmured in a light-hearted tone: "Try the apple pie. His Grandmother's secret recipe..." nodded towards the dominated bandit "...How can you even become a brigand, with such apple pies?!"

Ithilwen never shifted her eyes from him as he spoke. Taking in his words, pondering them. She glanced towards the apple pie for a moment before turning her gaze back to Kael. ''Kael, can you promise me one thing?'' She made sure he looked at her before she continued. ''Never use that grimoir against us, or in a way it could harm us. You know I trust you. Many would think me a fool for such but I know better.''
She smiled at him for a moment before continuing. ''I just like to hear you say it. If you grant me that, I will not speak of it again.''

Without turning around, the black mage slowly replied:"You must know I would never do that..." was it a shade of sadness in his voice? She kept her eyes on him for a moment before adding. ''I do and I trust you. But I needed to ask, in preparation of what I will ask now...'' She sighed and a hint of melancholy dawned in her eyes. ''Please, Kael, do not use it to harm yourself either. This last period, I went through the Nine Hells and back. I thought you were gone, dead... that I would never see you again. I do not want to feel like that anymore... I cannot...'' She stopped and smiled at him. ''You have no idea what it means to me that you are here, alive and well.''

"Maybe I do. Maybe that is why I am back among the living in the first place. Maybe that is why I am who I am... what I am. I renounced Arvandor, and I will never be able to go back...not after...this. He turned around, smiling warmly at her But if I had the chance once more, I would make the same choice again.


He walked towards the table, sitting down and rubbing his gloved hands "Now, let's feast. Serious matters can wait for a while..."

[Invoker]

Nightmares

"You...brought me back...?!"

Those words kept coming back to his mind. The very first words he spoke as he returned to life...He could not remember much, nor why he had consented to return in the first place. Everything was hazy in his mind, memories evanescent, hard to grasp.
Protect Dharasha. Defend his new family. His friends. His last action in life was seeing his kin fall without being able to save them. He had failed, and had paid his failure with life.

This hollow feeling...this emptiness inside of him...could that be the cause? "You know the answer", said the voice inside him, before laughing darkly in a corner of his mind: "You know...". He looked in the mirror once more. The elf he saw looked like him, yes...but his skin was paler, his frame thinner, his eyes glassy and bloodshot, his hair shaded in silver... "Who are you?"..."Who are you? Answer me!" He punched the mirror with all his strength, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. As he stared at the glass on the ground, he noticed he was bleeding, as few pieces had cut his glove and his hand under it. He turned towards the creature, still silently sitting in a corner of his room, and he spoke in a blank tone: "This body is inadequate. Bring me what I need. And be quick about it...". His servant nodded, never raising its eyes, and disappeared into the night.

He rose, snapping out of reverie. It always happened to him, when he re-lived that day. And then, punctual like death itself, and just as inexorable, came the anger...

Shortly after:

He walked through the darkest recesses of the Misty Forest, his robes blacker than the moonless night itself. He was alone, and minimally warded. That would draw them out, he though with a sinister smile on his bloodless lips. As he navigated the forest's maze with confident pace, two arrows flew towards him from a vantage position ahead, while a huge Orc and his dire boar companion charged him from behind. His smile widened.

The arrows came to a standstill inches before his heart, blocked by the ward he had in place as he slowly turned around to meet his aggressors. The boar's heart stopped instantly as it met his stare: the huge beast was already dead when it crumpled lifelessly to the ground. The orc managed to land a powerful blow on his collarbone, a blow that should have cleaved him in two. He staggered backward, recoiling from the impact. Then his gaze shifted from the blade to the astonished Orc. He saw the fear in the creature's eyes, and he laughed. "You think you can stay in our forest, and prey on us, greenskin?" he caught the creature's wrist in a deathly grip. The Orc tried to struggle, but its powerful muscles had gone numb already, leaving him powerless. More arrows hit his back, blocked by the Dome of Air around him. "Introducing to you the true meaning of suffering...the very treatment you had in mind for us...". He murmured a few words in the arcane language of magic, and invoked one of the most powerful weaves he knew. A weave he had never used before changing, and never thought he would, back in the old days: "Necromastery" The creature fell limp, as the void inside him became...tolerable. As the arrows kept raining on him, he wove another devastating spell: "Curse of Years".

He was already walking away when the screams began. They had only seconds to live before wilting like flowers in a desert...long, painful seconds...

[Invoker]

An Old Acquaintance

The black robed mage smiled in the depths of his cowl as he advanced towards the eerie, ghostly figure. His companions behind him were ready to attack, both the Dharashans and their newfound allies, an odd dwarf named Grimm, stout and deadly and thus extremely useful in dealing with their current...predicament, and a tall human named Aiden, incredibly proficient with those elegant rapiers he seemed so fond of wielding.

They had slain countless of his minions...shattered his illusions...withstood his power. And now, there he was, standing right in front of them. An otherwordly, fluorescent blue-green light emanating from his dark figure. The man, Aiden, had called him John. The creature himself once maintained Davian was his name, before trying to lure some high profile Silver Rose members as well as Ithilwen, Mendel and himself into a trap in the Fields of the Dead. Almost everywhere on the Coast he was known as the Trickster, and believed to be an Illusionist. But the dark mantled wizard had an entirely different theory...

The Trickster declared he would tell them how to stop him, and that it would not make any difference...he was certain they would fail. The Archmage smiled a thin-lipped, bloodless smile deep within his hood:
"I think not. If you tell us how to stop you, you can either tell us the truth and envision us not taking the hint believing it a lie, or tell us a lie and hope we follow your advice in the illusion it's a path to victory. Either way, you cannot be certain we will fail. Your logic is flawed".
Of course, he knew better than that. This "Trickster", whatever he ("it", really) was, was no mere mortal, and certainly no mere mageling. Kael was himself immensely powerful in the arcane art, and yet his strength could hardly match this creature's, and his reserves of power were painfully limited compared to the neverending stream of raw magic coming from the mysterious being. An old, pagan god, perhaps? An ancient spirit, like the ones walking the lands of Rashemen? Or maybe a demi-god of some sort...

The ghostlike figure chosen by the Trickster as his new avatar turned towards the Dharashan Archmage, a sudden spark of life in his hollow eyes:
"You...you interest me. Just like Cecilia... and Aiden (yes, I see you, trying to hide over there...come back here, at once)...You will see me again soon. I am not done with you".
Kael smiled, as Ithilwen cried in anger and frustration: "No! Not again! After all we have done to get him back, you will not take him again! I will not allow this!".
He was not afraid. He was feeling empty, just as hollow as the Trickster's eyes...except...

Face to face with the monster now only a step away from him, Kael wondered if they did not have more in common than he thought at first. The dark hunger inside him stirred.
His thoughts lingered on the matter well after the creature had vanished, its dark words carrying an obscure, yet alluring promise echoing in the darkest recesses of his mind.

[Invoker]

The NightMan Cometh

The darkness rose at the foot of the hill. It was thicker than mist, more impenetrable. It swallowed the moonlight like a bottomless pit swallows a torch. In mere moments, the blackness surrounded the ridge entirely, the northern side of Boareskyr Bridge enveloped in its thick smoke-like embrace till half way up the slope towards Bridgefort.

The muscled man with an axe was the first one to die. They called him "The Marauder". Pale and spidery hands reached out from the darkness as he gripped his weapon, his still squinting eyes finally staring into predatory blood-red ones while his neck was snapped by his supernaturally fast aggressor.
As his massive body collapsed like a rag doll, one of the two magelings' attempts to cast one of the useless cantrips they optimistically called "spells" was cut short by a force weave which crushed him in a deadly vise, his ribcage crumbled and his organs squashed as a consequence.
The other man's spell died on his lips as his companion's blood spurted in his face. He did not have another chance. A blink of an eye later, all that was left of him was an acid-dripping husk, a dark pool of life fluids expanding under it.

A black clad figure stepped out of the umbra, two emerald eyes alight in the depths of his cowl the only discernible feature. The brigand leader gave a signal, and his three remaining men released a volley of bolts towards the newcomer. Those that did not miss bounced off right before reaching him, thwarted by an invisible force. The dark figure laughed, and it was a terrible sound, like broken glass dragged on a marble floor. The three men began to wither a heartbeat after, their decrepified bodies contorting and disintegrating in a feast of decay.

The Leader charged him, moving with speed and silent fury, but his attacks failed to connect with the spectral mage over and over again. The creature chuckled softly, before speaking in a sinister, low voice: "Despite my limited skill in Divination, there is something I can tell you about the future, Outlaw: you're not in it.". A blast of Arcane Fire enveloped the man in a deadly shroud, leaving only his charred remains in its wake.

Nonchalantly extracting the tip of a bloodless quarrel from his right shoulder, the black wizard nodded towards the darkness behind him: "Clean up this mess from my doorstep, then disappear before Lady Ithilwen comes. I already invited her, and this slaughter is an absolutely undignified welcome. Do not disappoint me, if you do not want to end up like them.... After a meaningful nod towards the dead bandits' remains, the mage slowly glided towards the ruined tower atop the hill, a shadow among shadows.

[Invoker]

Snowflakes...

Ithilwen followed the little snowflake with her eyes as it came down. Shortly before it touched the frozen ground she placed her hand underneath it, catching it gently in her palm. A small ray of sunlight passing through the clouds touched the flake's surface, lighting it up for a short moment.
She lifted her hand up as she kept her eyes on the snowflake.

''Where are you...''

She blew softly towards the little flake, making it lift off and it danced through the air, joining the other countless ones until they would touch the icy mountain terrain below them.

Ithilwen glanced behind her. She let out a slight sigh as she saw the new snow slowly taking hold on three iced statues. All three contained the frozen, dead bodies of yetis. She turned back around and lowered herself towards the frosted ground in front of her. She placed her hand on the ground, closed her eyes and started to mutter something in the arcane language. From under her hand a humming sound rose, filling the air around her, growing stronger as she kept on chanting the old incantations. A blue glow flowed up from her fingers, curling upwards around her arm, growing brighter and thicker as the chanting continued. She then stopped abruptly, opening her eyes and at the same moment the energy around her arm shot up through the snowflakes towards the clouds, leaving nothing but some glowing sparks twirling until they reluctantly dimmed out. With a hint of hope shimmering through her icy expression she looked skywards. Only moments later the energy seared back down to her, engulfing her, swirling around until it was absorbed by her body.

She gasped as she stood up, still partly shaken by the sudden power flow. As she took a moment to recover, her serene, icy mask slipped back on her face. She picked up the blanket from the ground and shook it once to remove the snow before draping it around her.



It was time to meet Kael. A smile formed on her lips as she muttered a traveling weave. A blinding white light flashed and where Ithilwen had been standing, only snow crystals remained covering what had been her footprints.

[Invoker]

Looking for Answers

The dark figure sat at the very top of the ruined structure, light rain stopping inches from him on an invisible air dome conjured right above him, the wind flapping his black mantle and ample dark robes. His emerald stare slowly scanned the landscape, piercing eyes studying the surroundings the tower was built to dominate. His tower, although not everyone agreed these days...

Slowly standing against the howling wind, Kael opened his arms wide and began murmuring in the arcane language of magic the formula of the most powerful detect magic spell he knew:

"Reveal what lays hidden.
Unveil what is shrouded.
Find what is lost.
Manifest, Unearth, Expose.

Obey...me."

[Invoker]

A Very Special Gift

It was dark inside, even for someone such as him. The faint starlight, only source of illumination in the moonless night, was surprisingly effectively shut out by the cracked walls of this section of the tower, a shadow of the bastion they used to be but still perfectly efficient in keeping any brightness from disturbing the sleeping obscurity within.

He confidently stepped onward in the utterdark environment, intimately knowing his domain. He avoided the large table and armchair, caressed the bookshelves as he lightly brushed by, climbed the remains of the staircase avoiding holes and missing steps he did not need to see. He knew they were there. Upon reaching the top floor, he moved towards a gaping hole in the wall which was probably a window once upon a time.

Right under it, was a sturdy ebony chest, kissed by a faint ray of light daring the shadows inside to swallow it. He slowly moved towards it, whispering a word of power in the arcane language of magic. By the time he stopped in front of it, the lock opened with a metallic click.

He slowly extracted the robe Ithilwen had gifted him from the depths of the chest, unfolding it before his eyes. It was made of the purest black velvet, soft to the touch yet magically protected against wear and natural damage of any kind. Obviously very old, it had belonged to a powerful wizard, likely a line of them...he was sure of it. The spellturning incantations and the sheer power of the persistent enhancement spells woven into it spoke volumes of the kind of use it was meant for.

Handling the artifact reverently, the Archmage finally began putting on a robe worthy of his status, his satisfaction evident on his curved lips.