Firestone

[Tiea]

Elves and the Daemons have warred for many moons. The Kin maintain a peaceful border and guarded it fiercely from the constant stream of Daemon invaders. Tol a powerful young mage determined to slow the threat has learned of an ancient and powerful pendant. The "Firestone," this evil artifact has the power to absorb souls and transfer power to the wearer. The Daemons needed this gruesome stone. They thought it to be the turning point of the war. The Kin knew they had to find it before , they knew the young one would not allow any other to retrieve it as he believed its power to be overbearing for just any to even lay eye on. Tol set out late with only his Magic Robe, Book of Spells and Staff he never leaves behind.

Tol had his quest; to find and destroy the firestone. He was alone on this mission, he and only he had the arcane power to destroy the artifact. It would be a perilous journey to reach the old ruins of the ancient tower. He had a vague idea of where to search but being a mage he assumed the magic of the pendant would call to him. He had a recall rune to a nearby, still functioning mage tower. He cast the spell, Kal Ort Por and arrived halfway across the world. Being a high level mage had some huge advantages, he smiled to himself. He arrived in a small mage tower nestled in the mountains. It was an old tower, small and stout, but it served as the home for all magic in this sparsely populated northland. Three adept mages and the tower master greeted Tol as he arrived, not accustomed to many visitors they were polite and kind, non the less. After exchanging greetings and news, Tol asked for maps of the area and for any ancient lore on the old tower that had once been nearby. The master mage took Tol into the depths of the tower, down to store rooms of ancient texts, accounts of long forgotten heroes, wars and magic's. Much of the ancient magic was wild and chaotic and the mages of this time simply cannot comprehend the ancient cypher. However, Tol knew his best chance of finding information on the Firestone would be by searching the ancient tomes of magic. A picture or account of the artifact could provide valuable insight into how to locate and possibly destroy the evil creation. Knowing time is short the master tower mage said he knew of the ancient ruins nearby and had spent a little time attempting to discover information, however, the texts were just unreadable. He grabbed a thick leather bound book and quickly located a picture of the ancient citadel. The language was foreign and forgotten, but the small map and exquisitely drawn picture showed an ancient and spectacular citadel perched upon a steep mountain cliff. Magical winged creatures circled the keep while stone golems patrolled the gates. The map indicated it was nearby and so Tol unrolled his map and made a few adjustments. The tower master excused himself and Tol was alone in the study.

He tried to read the passage under the picture but the words changed and shifted as he read and anything he could make sense of was instantly forgotten. Whoever wrote this tome did not want just anyone to read it! Thinking carefully Tol cast a simple unlock spell. The tome flashed brilliant blue as the magic washed over it. He attempted to read again but the spell seemed to have no effect. Tol decided to try a stronger unlock spell and cast again. The tome flashed brilliant red and began to smolder, catching fire. Horrified Tol watched as the book became nothing but a pile of black ash. Suddenly a huge gust of wind filled the dank study. Papers fly all over the room, books flew open and a glass vial was knocked down, shattering and spilling unknown liquid onto the floor. After the unnatural gust of wind settled down Tol saw a brand new tome sitting on the table in front of him. He cracked the cover and could read the language before him. In fact it was in his native elven! He scanned the pages until he found what he was looking for. The ancient citadel was the home of a long forgotten powerful daemon. The story went on to relate the evils that the daemon caused, the wars and the incredibly potent magic it possessed. The firestone was the greatest achievement of this arch-daemon, so powerful is the artifact, that in creating it the daemon sacrificed itself, pouring its very soul into the pendant. This power allowed the daemon to live forever. Tol sat back astonished at what he just read. He considered the implications of the daemons getting this pendant. The very essence of one of the most powerful daemons to ever walk the world was contained in a tiny pendant. The ancient magic is different from the magic now. Ancient mages got their power directly from the gods, making them more powerful then anyone could fathom. This passage didn't say how or why the pendant would be useful to the daemons but Tol knew it would be. He had to find it and destroy it first. He went on to read but the book was gone. It simply vanished and Tol was left with nothing more then his thoughts.

The next day Tol was accompanied by 2 adept mages who were eager to leave the confines of the tower. They had gear for a few days, the location of the ruins being less then a days journey. They set out early in the morning, a chill mist still clinging to the high mountains. Following an old worn path threw the mountains they came upon the ruins around mid-day. Eager to explore, the young mages rushed ahead and left Tol behind. Tol was more apprehensive and scanned the area. He thought he saw movement right as an arrow buried itself into the dirt by his horses foot. The horse reared back and Tol slid off, the horse ran off wildly kicking, spooked by the close encounter. Not being a war mount, Tol didn't sweat the loss of his horse. He stood up while casting a spell and a large bolt of lightning arc's off the end of his staff blasting the area he saw movement earlier. A second arrow was shot and then a 3rd, all missing their mark but giving Tol a much better idea of where his foe was. A large column of flame set the area on fire, the attacker screaming inhumanely and flailing about, Tol finished it off with another lightning bolt from his staff. Having dispatched his enemy and sure the other mages had heard the commotion he looked towards the ruins to see how they were fairing. One mage was dead, 3 arrows protruding from his chest, the black scorch marks on his face were the real threat however, as it indicated an enemy magic user. The last mage was fighting desperately to hold off a group of orcs who were pressing him. Tol let loose the spell he was casting, six arc's of lightning hit the group simultaneously, frying them where they stood. The young mage ran back to Tol and related what had happened. Then pointed as a daemon and another small group of orcs boldly approached the two mages.

Tol knew he could defeat the orcs, but the daemon would be a formidable opponent. He quickly told the young mage his hasty plan and prepared a powerful spell. The daemon halted about 100 paces from Tol and demanded that he leave at once. Tol was unfamiliar with a daemon being.. polite.. so he indulged the daemon,
"Why would you ask to spare my life daemon?" Tol demanded.

"I offer weaklings a chance at power to become one of us, one of the daemon brotherhood!" The daemon laughed, low guttural it sounded more like bellows of a forge mixed with a Yama don roar then a chuckle. "I am the most powerful daemon warlock in existence! I will destroy your soul!"

The young adept mage quickly dropped to his knees, putting his hands together begged the daemon for power. "Please give me power, I do not want to die and I am sick and tired of being a lowly apprentice!"

The daemon laughed again and the hairs on the back of Tol's neck stood on end. He knew he didn't have much time now, if the daemon succeeded in the transformation Tol would be in a bad situation, 2 powerful casters and a group of orcs. He quickly bust into action, he cast a fire field, hoping to reduce vision and scare the orcs, while he moved to a more defensible position. Finding a decent spot, high ground with some large boulders for protection, Tol rechecked his defensive and shield spells and began his onslaught. He targeted the daemon first, hoping beyond hope that the young mage would see reason. The daemon's shield's and defensive spells absorbed the magic bombardment, turning chunks of ice, gouts of fire and bolts of lightning aside with no effort. The daemon began casting on the young apprentice. Tol had expected this but continued his attack. He blasted fireballs, more bolts of lightning and finally a large swarm of fiery boulders.  The orcs lay in smoldering heaps throughout the mountainside, the daemon and the young mage still stood transfixed.  The daemon was in the middle of casting some powerful and ancient spell of transformation and the young mage was paralyzed unable to back out of his destiny now. Tol began casting again, a mind blast spell, the spell interrupted the daemons concentration and sent a chill wave of physic energy threw it. The daemon roared and a huge flaming piece of rock struck above Tol's position. Irate that it had been interrupted and now considering Tol more of a threat then previously, the daemon turned its attention to Tol. Rock and boulder rained down on him, bouncing off his shields. Unaffected, Tol cast another mind blast. The daemon responded by casting a strangle. Tol felt weak and dizzy as the unfamiliar spell bypassed his defenses. The daemon having apparently been prepared for that mind blast, finished a long unfamiliar spell and a large cloud of poisonous gas released where Tol was positioned.  Tol managed to teleport a few yards away and was mostly unaffected by the strange gas but was still choking and dizzy from the strangle. His concentration lapsing he was now desperate.

Tol produced his magic scroll from within his robes.  Hands shaking, his vision becoming blurred and mind foggy from lack of oxygen, Tol held the magic scroll in front of him, and began to recite the runes on the scroll, beginning his most powerful attack. As the spell finished, the runes on the scroll glowed bright grey, then white, then the scroll caught fire and curled up into a puff of ash. The power was on Tol's fingertips, the most powerful of elven magic, the death cry. A rare and powerful spell, the death cry is only achieved when a high ranking mage commits so fully to magic that they become it. The cry of death is all that remains of their presence on this plane of existence, a columniation of a lifetimes worth of study and dedication to magic in a single powerful spell. Only 3 death cry have ever been performed in elven history, and to cast the spell you must be a mage of incredible power.  This was a desperate time and desperate times cause desperate measures. Having been authorized by the highest elven officials to use as needed in search of the firestone, Tol had planned to save it for the actual destruction of the firestone.  However right now was more pressing. As he unleashed the Elven Death Cry, the world seemed to stand still, having no idea the effects of this spell Tol concentrated as hard as he could and put all of his energy, thought and power into the magic. A massive purplish sphere encompassed Tol. It grew and grew and grew until it exploded into a violence of noise and energy that completely tore the daemon and the apprentice to pieces. Nothing remained in a 50 yard radius after the spell was unleashed. A giant section of the mountain was gone and so were some of the ruins. Such magic was unpredictable and powerful beyond comprehension. Tol realized that he felt refreshed, almost invigorated. He no longer felt the effects of the daemons attack, or any of the fatigue normally felt after such a hard battle. A side effect of the death cry he decided. Tol lamented the fact that the adept mage was cowardly and betrayed him and had died for his betrayal. Tol hated the lose of life but understood the greater good. He had to achieve his goal. The elven nation was counting on him.

Recovering from the fierce but short battle, and considering his options he realized that he had but one course; to find the firestone. He took a quick look around and located the daemon's camp. Not much of value, but a few supplies to replace the ones his horse ran off with. He then scoured the ruins hoping to find a hint to the firestones location. He searched all day to no avail. The feeling of frustration, grief and hunger set in, he knew it was time to make camp. As he began walking to a good spot he stumbled and fell. Frustration turning to anger, Tol was ready to unleash a spell when he noticed a few steps hidden by a large boulder. He investigated further. On his hands and knees he scratched at the earth and found another step. He used a levitate spell and moved the boulder to the side.  A small narrow corridor twisted into the earth, ancient and foreboding.

Tol descended the steps, knowing this is where he needed to go. As the natural light faded, Tol's elven vision kicked in. He could see in the dark easily and needed no torch. The further he descended the warmer the air got, unnaturally warmer. He came to a landing a few flights down, with twisting corridors leading in all directions. Carved into the wall was an unusual map. Having studied daemons extensively he was able to read enough of the chaotic runes to know where to go.  His anxieties and frustrations abolished, Tol walked with purpose, quickly going deeper and deeper into the earth. After what seemed like miles, drenched in sweat and having a hard time breathing, Tol came to the deepest, darkest hottest part of the crypt. A massive ornate stone cairn sat in the middle of the chamber. It was carved with symbols of daemons and magic, embedded with stunning grand gems the size of an ogres fist. As Tol approached the cairn twin torches flanking, the coffin ignited and it cast a strange green light. Upon approaching the cairn Tol knew the firestone was inside. He could feel the evil pressing down on him, making it harder to breathe and think. He shoved the massive lid back and laying there inside the cairn was nothing but a bright fire-red-orange pendant on a heavy thick platinum chain. A noise alerted Tol to an enemy. He turned around just in time to see a large war axe come swinging down at him. He dove out of the way and the war axe crashed into the cairn, splitting off chunks of stone and sending a few precious gems flying. Tol looked up to see his attacker, a daemon skeleton in ornate gilded armor, a war axe and shield in its hands. Cursing himself for being so foolish Tol cast a wall of stone at the door way as he jumped out of the room into a hallway previously unseen. The hallway ran adjacent to the main chamber going off in both directions. Thinking this would buy him some time, he was surprised to see yet another daemon skeleton coming at him from down the hall. This one was equipped in similar armor but had a massive spiked flail. Rather then panic, Tol quickly accessed the situation. He dropped a small vial in front of him and backed up down the other end of the hallway. He quickly scouted behind him and decided there was no threat this way. Their was a smaller casket but it had housed the first skeleton. The wall of stone spell dissipated and the 2nd skeleton shuffled into the hallway. As the skeletons moved down the hallway one of them stepped on the small vial of liquid Tol had placed on the ground. The liquid was called quicksilver and was the most slippery substance known. The undead warriors instantly lost their footing and Tol seized that opportunity to dispatch them with a few fire spells. He moved back into the main chamber and looked around carefully. No more surprises lurked around so Tol set his eyes on his prize. The firestone lay in the stone cairn, glowing brightly, angrily, hungrily. Tol prepared his strongest anti-magic spell. Vas An Ort....


Tol was thrown back by the blast, he lost consciousness but only for what seemed like seconds. As he began to open his eyes he felt a sharp stinging pain. The firestone exploded into millions of tiny fragments to his surprise. He slowly began to rise up and reached, that is when he saw his hands. "Blood red yet not bleeding? Daemon blood!!" As he looked around he saw no death. Unsure what to think, he ran to the closest pool of water to wash the filth which he despised so. As he began to scrub his hands he saw a reflection. quickly he swung his Staff and began to chant. There was nothing there, he shook his head and turned back to the pool. Again he say the reflection but this time he moved slowly; realizing the reflection moved as he did, he froze. He couldn't believe it, he had been transformed into a daemon, twisted horns, serpentine like tail and blood red skin.

"This can't be! This....this is not right."

In a fit of rage Tol ran off, his screams shrill the lands, a mix between a Banshee and an Oni could be heard throughout many territories. Tiea, daughter of T'hane Elkenwind, heard not only the scream but was in close range of the beast. She sat quietly perched on a limb as she observed the strange behavior. Never had she seen a Daemon act this way, confused and seemed as if he were battling himself. She followed quietly for hours as he ran aimlessly through the forest until he reached a small cottage hidden between two Yew trees. He stood there staring with no movement, except his hands reaching out as he collapsed to the ground. Slowly yet cautiously Tiea moved towards him. She poked him with an arrow to see if he would respond. Lifeless he lay, his body blood stained in appearance. The thought of a Daemon disgusted her, as she knocked an arrow he whispered "Wapiti." Tiea hesitated yet never letting the arrow go. "Wapiti, how do you know this?" She kicked him as hard as she could trying to wake him. She stood over him for some time and decided until she could get answers she would hold him captive. Quickly she tied his feet and legs together then she bound his claw-like hands with vines she gathered. Sitting a few feet away from him she kept thinking of a reason he would know, if he understood what he had said and how he learned it. Her curiosity began to turn into fear, she stood and knocked another arrow. "I no longer care how you learned it. Daemon, you will die as he did!" As she released he turned to the side yelling to her, "Tiea no! It is me!" The arrow pierced through the robe he wore and that is when she realized.....



*written by Tol and Tiea*