Prologue

The night was still save for the wind amongst the towers. The castle's inhabitants had gone to bed after a night of feasting and revelry, revelry in honor of the announcement of the princess's impending wedding. Mindless of the chill night air, a single figure strode purposefully across the courtyard. As the clouds broke overhead, the moonlight revealed a painted face and hands, orange hose above glossy riding boots, and a striped doublet fringed with foppish pompoms. Entering through a side door, the jester snorted to himself as he thought of his arrival in Castle Trodain. The fat king's arrogance blinded him to the jester's true nature, and his true purpose there.

It was too late to stop him now, Dhoulmagus thought to himself as he ascended to the second floor of the castle. His goal nearly in sight, he hurried down the corridor, long white hair streaming behind him. Dhoulmagus slowed as he approached the last door, noting the two guards. They straightened as they looked at him. "Hey you're that jester, sorry but you can-" The man broke off as the magic lifted him and his companion and flung them back down the hall. The crash of armor and sickening sound of bone breaking drew several cries, but the jester never slowed as he blasted the doors off their hinges and began ascending the stairs in front of him.

"Yesss, at lasst," his thin nasal voice broke the silence as he reached the top of the stairs and gazed into the forbidden chamber. In the midst of the ancient runes scribed on the floor, stood the scepter, bolt upright as if fixed to the floor, and wrapped in chains. The dark wood shone in the torchlight, and the head of the staff, carved into the shape of a bird, glinted at him evilly. To Dhoulmagus it seemed as if the bird was winking at him, that he could almost hear it in his thoughts, promising, begging. The tingle of ancient magic played across his skin as he stepped into the circle etched on the floor. As he slowly reached for the scepter, a sharp voice broke in, halting his movement.

"Stop! You vile creature, I allow you into my home and this is how you repay me? I see now I should never have trusted you!" With a final smirk over the king's petulant whining, Dhoulmagus lunged forward and seized the scepter. A loud crack echoed throughout the chamber as the chains shattered and the king and his daughter were thrown across the room. At that same instant, massive vines of thorn, each as thick as a man, erupted across the castle grounds. The vines writhed and turned, destroying masonry and crumbling walls.

They quickly grew over the buildings and punctured the walls. As their growth slowed and the destruction ceased, a single light flashed from one of the castle's balconies and rocketed to the horizon, an evil cackling in its wake. And then, all was still once more across Castle Trodain.