Xandril idly traced her henna colored finger nails along the lines of the entrancing maze of black runes tattooed across her scalp, the only visible proof of the impossible power housed within her tiny female form. Standing high on a balcony overlooking Masters Keep, Xandril, using her magically enhanced vision, watched a battle on the ground below. Two men from the village at the base of the keep fought blindly, seemingly lost to as great a battle lust the two domesticate farmers could ever muster. Though Xandril had never seen these two men before, she had been roused from her studies by the telltale ring of steel against steel and immediately rushed to her only balcony to discover the source of the commotion. Any other wizard would have been infuriated by the interruption. Xandril, on the other hand had welcomed it. Years of near solitude and isolation left her desperate for any contact with the outside world, no matter how insignificant.
The fight ended nearly as quickly as it started when a woman, also unknown to Xandril and the apparent cause of the argument, threw herself into the midst of the brawl, and Xandril could see her lips moving in a desperate plea for peace. After a moment, Xandril gaped in disgust when both men dropped their swords and moved to embrace each other, the fight immediately forgotten. Deciding to change the outcome of the argument into one that was better suited for such melodramatic, useless humans, Xandril muttered a few phrases and with a twitch of her wrist, sent a hot bolt of black lightening down to the scene below. Immediately the smell of burning flesh swept into the air surrounding the keep.
Ignoring the screams of the dying villagerss and the shouts of those trying to douse the flames around them, Xandril tucked her hand into her robes and retreated from the balcony, into the hallway leading to her personal chambers within the massive keep. The tiny woman pushed away the hanging tapestry that served as a door to her chambers and as soon as her dainty toes met with the plush carpet of her outer room, she knew something was amiss. Instinctively casting a shield spell of protection, she took another step into the room, keeping the rage that was quelling up inside of her hidden under her usual inscrutable mask of steel. How dare someone enter her private rooms unbidden and unannounced? She glanced to her left, where her most loyal slave Karn, a decomposing dwarf stood, awaiting the command of his mistress. Karn apparently unaware of the trespass, stood as straight as his rotting limbs would allow with his eyes diligently averted from Xandril. Even in his undead state, Karn knew well enough never to look Xandril in the eye lest he meet a fate far worse than his current situation. An unbidden smile tugged at the corners of Xandril'ss full red lips, as thoughts of new experiments to perform on the dwarf crept into her tattooed head.
Xandril continued her path towards the center of the room without fear. Rich in carpets, drapes and chests filled to the brim with treasures that rivaled the hoards of even the greediest red dragons, the room offered a myriad of hiding places for anyone who dared to enter she-wizards quarters. But Xandril, having spent the last long decade magically sealed inside the walls, was able so scan the room in a heartbeat, immediately realizing what had sent her senses tingling. On top of her desk, amid bottles of gooey substances and half dissected corpses of unnamable creatures sat Xandril's scrying globe, her only window to the world outside the keep, was pulsing a deep red glow.
Relaxing her defensive shield and exhaling out some of her anger, she lightly stepped towards the magical globe. It had been so long since the orb had called her that Xandril had not recognized the magic it had been emitting. She let loose a short, wicked chuckle at her own foolishness and fear before composing herself and placing her hand over the globe. She uttered the secret word to unlock power within the globe and pulled her hand away to reveal the face of the wizard who had contacted her. Xandril couldn't help but wince at the image before her. Though the years had been good to Xandril and had only served to enhance her figure and features, it had not been so for the wizard she saw in the globe. His skin was cracked and dry and would have resembled that of a swamp alligator, if it were not for the unnatural grey hue it had taken on. Even the tattoos on his scalp, the intricate twisted lines that proclaimed him a Red Wizard had faded to a light grey color. His rich red robes, identical to those worn by Xandril, hung loosely on his withered frame and his scaly, skeletal fingers clasped tightly around a carved jet black staff, which Xandril knew was the house to all his power. Aside from the finery, the only feature left to remind Xandril of the man she remembered from her youth were his eyes. Burning deep with malevolence and hatred, his black eyes blazed with unspeakable evils and bore into Xandril like a searing blade. She looked away, willing to let the insult pass considering the situation. The old man must have forgotten himself, she mused. He is after all, well into his fifth century.
"Yes," she purred into her globe, as she seated herself comfortably in an overstuffed chair "you have need of me, Master?"
The old wizard looked at Xandril and considered immediately ending their communication. He curled his lips up in disgust at the satisfaction that played across the face of his first and only daughter. Born as an act of treachery by the old wizard's former sorceress lover, Xandril was an abomination. The minor sorceress, a mere play thing for the powerful wizard, conceived the child secretly. Once her pregnancy was confirmed, the sorceress had went into hiding, in the Dalelands. The old wizard had not even noticed the womans disappearance until many months later when a raven bearing his spell of enslavement, landed at his window and gave news of a wet nurse in Shadowdale, claiming to be nursing a child belonging to a great sorceress who bore a great resemblance to the wizards missing lover. Using a spell of seeking and telepathy, the wizard immediately sought out the sorceress and forced her back to his palace. With unspeakable magics, he confirmed that she had given birth to their child and had planned to use it and the child's hereditary gifts in magic to bring down the wizard and claim his territory and precious the precious artifacts stored within it as her own. A short sighted vision for a short sighted wench, the he mused.
Although begrudgingly, the wizard was somewhat inspired by the woman's plans for the child he had assumed was a son. Against his better judgment, thoughts began to dance inside his head. He began to imagine his son, born with gifts in the dark arts that far surpassed that of any other student in the Realms. He envisioned this child, under his strict tutelage growing to become a fierce, wicked wizard with power that would nearly rival his own. Together, the two wizards, father and son could overcome the Zulkiers that ruled Thay and take the land to rule as they pleased.
The old wizards dark dreams had come crashing down around him he finally uncovered the hiding place of his child, his daughter. He did not care to repress the disappointed sigh that escaped his lips when he drew his attention back to the face looking back it him from his scrying globe. Although Xandril was indeed born with innate magical abilities and had blossomed into a cunning, vile sorceress to be reckoned with, she was still a woman and a tiny woman at that. From birth, Xandril had been frail and her constant childhood illnesses were an ever present reminder to the wizard of plans that would never be realized. He had told his council that locking Xandril in this magical prison tower was to keep her hidden from the other red wizards and any plans they may have of using the woman or her powers to gain a hand over the old wizard. Although it was a logical concern and a strategical maneuver, anyone who dared to question may have asked the wizard why he did not just dispatch of her. There was, after all, no love lost or shared between the wizard and his offspring so why would he not just rid himself of her? The old wizard tried not to remember the answer though the memories of a fateful day tugged at the corners of his conscience. Unbidden, the face of Bane, the god of Strife, flashed in his mind.
"So," she demanded, tearing him from his thoughts "what is this about?"
"The time has come for you to leave your place of hiding" he said, noting the flicker of triumph that flashed in Xandrils eyes and again thought of abruptly ending the communication.
"You have finally recognized my abilities" she proclaimed with arrogance. It was all she could do to keep from screeching with malicious pleasure. Just when she was beginning to think her father would never free her from her prison, here he was doing just that very thing. She ran her fingers along her scalp, pride coursing through her.
"Not so much your abilities as your ungodly ambitions" the wizard smirked "you will be released at sunset."