Monten Bos'Liadon exited the dwelling of Philomina, Leader of the Dragonriders, and sighed. His shoulders slumped over in some kind of half relief, half resignation. He looked up into the sky at the cloudless mid-afternoon sky. The sun had just begun to sink into the sky, but was still bright enough to make him squint. A moment later she walked out of her mother's dwelling, the source of his new found happiness: Keira, daughter of Philomina. Suddenly the sun was eclipsed out with the silhouette of her taller figure as Monten looked to study her for a long moment. The red haired elven woman extended her milky white hand and simply rubbed his black hair. She kissed him on the cheek with her scarlet lips and suddenly no task in all of the worlds could have daunted him. Not even the one that had been laid before him by his future mother-in-law. She had charged him with the task of retrieving a stone from the destroyed temple of Aryian on the isle of Advica. The ancient battleground between the forces of Aryian and Malnar the Betrayer, last of the human kings who ripped open a gate to hell. Any sane person would have been scared out of their mind, but Monten was not a sane person. He was in love.
He simply smiled at Keira as the wind picked up and whipped through her red hair. He crossed his arm in a position much like that of a corpse and fell backwards. Before he hit the ground and before his beloved could sweep the hair from her eyes, he fell through the cloudy black portal he had cast into the ground. She recognized the scent of grapes and she knew exactly what he had done. A moment later he was standing at the shore of the closest island to Advica. Even this little speck of a rock felt cold and dead compared to the rest of the world. He could only imagine the frigidity of Advica proper. Monten had read about the freezing temperatures and hordes of ghosts that were doomed to replay their final days of battle over and over. He had prepared accordingly for this task after only a few hours of distracted studying of the lorebooks concerning Advica.
Extending his index finger into the freezing water he began to chant. The familiar arcane energies ebbed and flowed in him, extending into the ocean. The green energy sped through the water till it found a place to activate. The surface of the water was calm at first as Monten walked back a few paces from the shore. Then the water in front of him began to churn, slowly at first, then almost with the intensity of a maelstrom. Ocean spray pelted the young wizard and foam gathered on the stony shore. Then just as he had expected he saw the sails of a small caravel reaching towards the stormy sky. When the water settled, Monten gazed upon the remnants of the three-masted caravel that was dubbed "Maiden Voyage". Now all that was left of this historic blockade runner, was a hole laden wooden hull with half rotten sails. It would suffice for his purposes though, for now at least.
The short half-elf, garbed in his normal black and silver cloak, that temporarily was cast to keep out the cold, climbed atop his broom, kicked off the ground and flew towards the ship. The winds blew and buffeted him almost making him slam into the side of the vessel, but at the last moment he pulled hard and just skimmed the port side of the boat. He landed with a soft wet thud on the waterlogged main deck. His black goggled eyes scanned the rigging that was still intact. By his estimates they seemed to be well enough to make his trip to Advica. However he soon realized that he alone could not pilot this ship. Walking up the warped stairs to the upper deck he stopped to inspect the steering mechanism and wheel. It too seemed to be almost in disrepair, but he hoped it would hold together. Fumbling through his belt he pulled out a piece of string and a bit of wool and held it aloft in his left hand while muttering the words to an incantation and gesturing with his dominant hand. Blue arcanum shot from his hand striking roughly twenty different places on the deck of the ship. Nothing appeared, but the diminutive arcanist knew that the spell had succeeded when he felt the wind rushing past him in several directions and he could see the magical auras of many simple beings rushing around the ship preparing it for departure.
The Maiden Voyage seemingly hungry again for the open seas, lurched ahead toward the vast expanse of water between it and Advica. Monten thought about his strategy for claiming his rock from the sacred temple and absentmindedly tapped his boot on the deck. No doubt there would be ghosts by the thousands lurking around, wanting to feed on life force. He had done the best with preparing his spells that he could on such short notice, which was another part of his test of course.
After several minutes of thought he summoned a fiddle made of bone to play an eerie tune that seemed apropos for the situation. He listened to the haunting melody seep through the air till it reached his slightly pointed ears. This was his first true mission on his own and his heart ached for the company of his friends. If nothing else they were good for conversation after all. Not long after the sun had begun its final bow behind the horizon the grey island no longer loomed in the distance, but was engulfing his small vessel in its massive shadow. As he came closer he felt a strange wash of power drift over him almost like he had just gone through a silk curtain. Perhaps this was the magical barrier that barred all teleportation onto the island... The terrain looked exactly how the lore books had described it: dead. There were absolutely no signs of life. No plants, no trees, no life-force whatsoever.
Monten instructed his invisible servants to sail the vessel back the the island where he had first started and to await his return. He knew though that the magic that animated them would long be gone when and if he returned to that island. Still it felt good to actually speak to "someone." Monten gave a heavy sigh and set about the task of using his arcane abilities to protect himself. His hands moved with blinding speed and his voice seamlessly moved from spell to spell as shield after shield came into existence around him. First armor, then a screen of force, then necromantic black energy flowed in him as well as around him, a protection charm, and finally some transportation.
Out of the swirling grey mist that rose behind the caravel and threatened to swallow it came a black almost horse looking creature. It galloped across the deadly calm water and easily jumped the height of the ship to land, floating just an inch above the deck of the floor. The beast resembled a horse in the vaguest sense. It had the basic outline of an equine, but it had no mouth, smooth onyx colored skin, a gray mane and tail, and large round glowing eyes. Monten gave a low bow to the creature, then approached it slowly and stroked the region where its nose should have been. "Hello my friend," he said in a small graven voice, "It has been far too long since our last meeting." This quasi-real beast was one of Monten's favorite creatures in all the planes. Fade, as Monten so lovingly called him, was named after its uncanny ability to fade into and out of the mists he was summoned from. Fade knelt down so that his friend could hop onto his saddle. When the half-elf was safely situated atop his perch, Fade launched himself into the air and began running along the flat water toward the sandy shore.
The wind cut against the soft cheeks of the small spellslinger. The rate at which his mount could move was amazing, granted he was moving across flat water that looked like undisturbed glass. Looking over his left shoulder Monten almost did not believe his eyes when he saw the glowing outline of a ship rising out of the water behind him at an alarming rate. Then only alerted by the change in wind, he peered over his right shoulder to spy a similar ghostly ship arcing towards him, though it looked to be half submerged in the black waters. The two ghastly schooners cut their way into a pincer move trying to cut him off before he could reach the shore. Monten adjusted his goggles and whispered a command to Fade, then the animal jumped off the surface of the water, ricochet off the bow of one of the approaching ships, and continued to streak into the sky. Moments later, the two ships were mere glowing specs below them as they ascended into the sky.
The entirety of the land was dark. There were no lights to be seen anywhere. The island had certainly lived up to his expectations of "dead". He and Fade began to slowly descend just past the shore into what he assumed was some sort of vast plain. After they arrived at the ground, Monten hopped off his steed to inspect a particularly interesting scar in the earth. It looked to be some forty feet long and six feet deep at the center. It had the appearance that some enormous sword had slashed at the earth after an erred blow. He pulled back the sleeve on his black robe and ran his index finger across the edge of the wound in the earth. It felt oddly wet when he pressed it between his fingers, but it still looked like dust. Rolling his eyes at his momentary foolishness, he took off his goggles letting them rest atop his forehead as his eyes slip into the darkvision spectrum. That yielding no answers he reverted back to normal vision. With a simple flick of his wrist the goggles atop his head began to exude light. He tilted his head forward as he examined his fingers which were scarlet red. He looked at the slash in the earth and immediately realized that it was a pool of blood. Unfortunately he was not nimble enough to dodge the bloody mass that shot out of the pool, smashing against his face and sending him flying backwards. Skidding to a halt some twenty feet from the pool his once black robes were now awash with red and brown. Fade trying to move towards Monten was the next to suffer the wrath of this blood creature. It congealed into the viciously vague form of a large corpulent humanoid and surged out of its hole slamming its entire mass on top of Fade.
Monten slowly rising to his feet, thought wryly, "At least when he is killed he just gets sent to his native plane..." Having disposed of the closest entity, the bloody swirl charged forward. Now he could see the visages of people and beasts alike pressing out of the monster's translucent membranous skin in a feeble vie for freedom. Monten wracked his brain for a quick second trying to recall any information he could remember on such creatures. He as fairly sure that this was some variant of a golem. The creature hadn't ceased to scream ever since it had made contact with his skin. From a gaping black blood rimmed orifice came a sound like the unnerving wailing of a hundred tortured souls that were all headed straight for him. But the sound did not emanate from the mouth, more over as it existed because of the air being sucked in. The creature came short of the crafty caster as it slammed its gaunt arms against the now visible screen of protective energy and simply howled more.
This creature, born from the gloom of the island, continued to shriek and pound its fists on the protective aura surrounding Monten for several minutes, until the magic started to slowly die. Not wanting to expend the energy to actually fight this creature, he searched his mind for an alternative solution, as his eyes scanned the surrounding wasteland. Turning the full 360 degrees, his gaze fell back upon the nightmare before him. There was nothing but barren dirt as far as he could see. Loathe to waste any more time, he reached into his back left pocket and extracted a handful of diamond dust, sprinkling it around his feet. He called into being a large floating disk and climbed upon it. Standing firmly atop the slowly rising circle of force, the construct eventually disappeared into the darkness below. Not wanting a repeat of this incident, Monten dismissed his light spell so he would not appear as the only illumination in the blackened sky. His vision, which gradually returned to normal as he crested a small ridge, spotted a flicker of movement below. Then gradually more shapes began to appear all massed together. Dropping down about 50 feet he could make out their forms better. Elves and a few scattered humans clad in armor were waging war, but not on each other. Their foes seemed to be strangely absent from the conflict. Each solider glowed a pale blue tint as they flanked, maneuvered, and tried to dispose of their invisible enemies.
Then like the finale at Icingfest, series after series of fireballs and lightning erupted into the air and across the battlefield, briefly illuminating the sky. Light after light extinguished as soldiers perished on the battlefield. Starting at the center of the battle, two waves of fire burst forth from a single origin. Like a spreading hurricane of fire, the waves twisted out through the melee, biting and burning everything it could. This tsunami of pure destruction was like nothing he had ever seen. Perhaps this was the cataclysmic incident he had read about in his Advanced Abjuration class. The archmage of the human court, who came to be known in later years as Dallard the Dullard, eradicated an entire legion of the King's finest men due to his over zealous and frivolous casting of evocation without properly protecting himself first.
Still floating over the spectral battle field, Monten took in the spectacle as the entire battle began to replay again from the beginning, ending again with the massive waves of fire. These spirits were obviously doomed to repeat this battle for all eternity, never realizing that the war had been over for quite some time. After clearing the battlefield, the black form of the little wizard floated down to the ground, preferring to traverse the earth instead of the sky for some reason. A cold chill wind shot across the flat landscape and ran down Monten's spine. He wished he had prepared some spell to travel faster, but since Fade had been dismissed he was stuck on foot, for a while at least.
In the distance he heard a wailing like that of a thousand trapped souls coming his way. He pivoted to see the gloom creature he had encountered before. Apparently it had more intelligence than he gave it credit form since it had tracked him all this way. Monten turned about and took off in a run in the direction he assumed the temple would be. He quickly became tired though, not being accustomed to all of the physical exertion under this amount of stress and urgency. He turned back to see where the creature was because he had lost the sound of its shrieking. Not spying the beast he continued to look back and still run ahead, shortly after which he ran headlong into a stone wall. He landed on flat on his back as white flashed before his eyes and he saw the bloody orifice of his pursuer leaning over him, just before the darkness took him.
He stood up in the grass surrounding the Temple of Aryian and walked up to the polished stone wall before him. The sun shone across his back and filled him with such warmth that he felt completely at ease. Leaning against the corner of the temple to his direct left was a Elven woman wearing a silken garment the likes of which he had never before seen. Scarlet and cherryblossoms strewn across the garment with such precise skill that it looked like they had always been one. A wide purple sash adorned her small waist, tied in the back in a loose bow that hung down and gently wafted in the breeze. On her side she carried a sword, a curved blade indicative of someone who was not native to his region at least. Her face looked peaceful, her lips neither smiling nor frowning as she brushed her dark brown hair from her face. She strode over to Monten as he took his hand off of the temple and turned to fully face the woman.
"Why have you come to the temple of Aryian?" she cooly demanded sliding her feet apart to stand in a V form. Her steel gray eyes locked on his softer gray eyes and he could not blink, much less look away.
After a few failed attempts at speaking the black haired half-elf finally manage to find his voice. "I have come to retrieve a stone from the temple as part of a test. In order to marry my beloved, I must first prove myself to her mother. My name is- -"
" I know who you are," she cut him off. I have watched you since you came to the barren wastes of Advica. I sense no good in you, but no evil either. It seems you have yet to decide your path. As long as you are not committed to one side or the other, I can not allow you to touch the temple again." She placed her hand on her katana, sliding about an inch of the blade out of its sheath to let the sun glint off its surface. Monten's eyes wandered momentarily to the shining blade and then darted back to the woman's face.
" What must I do then to prove to you that I am committed one way or another?" he inquired of the elf.
She simply smirked and gave a small airy laugh. " Monten, it is not I whom you must prove yourself to. You are the only one who can decide what path you belong on. Now close your eyes and think."
He did as she bade and then opened his eyes again after a long moment. He was amid a huge battle. Elves and humans fighting one another with a few of the damned mixed in. He saw a blue robed man in the center of the fray, encircling his hands holding some substance in his hands as he gestured. Monten looked down at his body and saw that he was wearing the armor of the humans. Then everything clicked in his brain. Humans, elves, damned, wizard...He was in the battle that he had seen on his way to the temple. So that would make the wizard... Oh, no. Dallard! He ran at the wizard full force, knocking him to the ground. The mage rolled on the ground them promptly stood up and hefted a wand in Monten's direction. A bolt of lightning jolted through his body, striking him directly on his armored chest. After his flesh seemed to stop tingling, Monten unsheathed his longsword, which seemed rather familiar in his had now. He again charged at the wizard, who this time simply flicked his wrist at his attacker. Silver orbs of force shot from his hand and pummeled Monten as he drove his blade through the wizard's chest. Both fell to the ground and breathed their last.
* * *
Standing in the market at Vatross, just outside the square, a crowd had gathered around a booth with a yelling vendor. An old crone huddled inside the circle of people weeping as they harassed her. The crowd taunted and threw mud at the huddled ragged mass. Monten was carrying his books and was already late for his advanced abjuration class. He was really going to get it for being late again and the more late he was the worse it would be. He couldn't get expelled from the program or he would lose his funding and have to return home, which was a fate worse then death...well almost. He rounded the corner just in time to see the people start to throw rotten food at the decrepit beggar woman. Her face was full of shame; her one good eye could not meet the gaze of her assailants. Monten felt sorry for the old woman and he empathized with her situation, but he wasn't about to get involved. He was late after all. Rearranging the stack of books he was carrying, he turned around the corner and put the thought out of his mind. Racing towards the academy he saw students in the distance going inside to attend their classes. He climbed up the stairs to the third floor where the abjuration sub-school held its classes. On the archway leading into the north wing was inscribed the abjuration motto, "Art for the sake of Protection." That last word burned into his brain as he passed under it. Sitting down in his class, he had made it just before the professor started his lecture. Written on the board before him were the words " Today's lecture: Abjuration Applications." The professor started to talk about how to properly meet the needs of your adventuring comrades with the most efficiency and how to protect the less combat adept or physically weaker members. Monten began to sweat thinking about seeing the woman in the market not three minutes ago. He started to fidget and could not focus on his lesson. He looked to the open windows and the second the professor turned his back, he climbed on his desk, ran atop the desks of five other rather distraught students. He dove for the window nearly fizzling a spell as he fell towards the ground. He gently landed on the ground a few seconds later and bolted for the market. He reached the merchant's booth and saw the people actually had rocks in their hands! Yelling at the top of his lungs he pushed through the crowd, until he reached its apex. "Why do you harass this woman? Surely you yourselves have fallen on hard times. Has not one of you ever reached the bottom of your purse to come up wanting? You should be sympathetic to the woman's plight. Certainly it is through no fault of her own that she has come into this station."
"She is a debtor!" yelled a man from the crowd in a butcher's clothing with fresh blood stains upon his apron. "She drank herself into poverty!" came another voice from the crowd. Then the comments came flooding in like a storm of judging hatred.
"Have one of you ever wondered what drove her to drink? What sent her into such debt!? I am just as guilty if not more than the rest of you for not stopping this nonsense when I first saw it. Leave now before you cause any more permanent damage to your souls."
"Stupid kid, think you're so smart just cause you go to the academy. You are no better than any of the rest of us." The crowd took that as their que to throw their stones and pelted the half-elf for getting in the way of their rage.
* * *
"Keira's life or your that of your companions? Who shall die first? I won't make the request again wizard. You much choose now!" said a man in a red tunic as he looked over a chained Monten. He was in a torture room, filled with all manner of pain inducing devices. The walls thick with a coat of blood and anguish, gave off an odoriferous stink of combined sweat and other bodily fluids. Before him was Keira strapped into a strange looking bladed device that he might have been curious at how it worked had the circumstances been different. Darren was submerged in a tank full of water lying at the bottom chained to some metal loop, Kiandra trapped inside some sort of vice like Iron Maiden that was becoming ever smaller, Thorn with his wrists bound above him was dangling over a force walled container of acid, Arabella was strapped to a chair with some sort of reverse bear trap wedged in her mouth.
Pulling at the chains that dangled him a good three feet off the floor, Monten gave his signature sigh of resignation and slumped over. He moved one foot against the other and kicked his boot off, then with his bare food peeled off the other black boot, letting it fall to the floor with a hollow clunk. Not being able to bear the pain of looking at his cream skinned beauty he regretfully said, "The life of one is not worth the lives of many." He picked his head up slightly to barely meet the gaze of the man, who then turned and began walking toward the machine the elven woman was strapped into. Monten pulled on his chains with all his remaining strength, lifting himself just a little higher. He brought his bare feet in front of him and began to mimic the arcane gesticulations for a spell. Quicker than a flash of lightning he, his chains, and part of the stone wall he was anchored to sank backwards into a black-blueish circular field of energy that gave off a sizzling sound and the faint smell of grapes. Hearing the disturbance the red tuniced man spun about to face the spot where the diminutive spellcaster had been. A sizzle of magic and a second later, a dark shadow fell over the confused man as an troll sized portion of wall fell from a foot above him and sent him to the abyss where he surely deserved to be. The resulting crash shook the room, as the withered black robed form of Monten, still chained to the now horizontal potion of wall stood barefoot upon the stony surface. He crouched down low to assess the situation. He dispelled the wall of force around Darren sending water splashing everywhere, then expelled sheer force from his hands directing them to the various breaking points of each torture device for all those gathered. Bars bent and Kiandra wriggled out of her ever shrinking room of death, Thorn was blasted in the chest with a missile rocking him away from the acid pool as another bolt snapped the rope that held him, Arabella's chair broke into several pieces and she tore the contraption from her mouth, the last glowing orbs arced high and unerringly struck both the manacles holding Kiera in the bladed machine. He slumped over, not having slept, drank, or eaten for several days and again the darkness took him.
* * *
Standing in front of the unfamiliar elven woman, he had only blinked once for just a moment, but so much had happened in that moment. "So you have finally chosen a path. I hope you stick to it. You have a disregard for rules, which I can not understand, but you have chosen quite similar to Aryian herself. For that, you may enter the temple and retrieve your stone." The woman moved towards him with unnatural speed but she didn't stop. She moved right through him and for that split second they were connected he saw her entire life pass before his eyes. Years of training, devotion, and guarding the temple; Her legacy instilled in him the devotion that he had needed to continue.
Monten shook his head as the sky grew dark and the grass withered away into dust. Something wet was dripping onto his forehead, blood from the gaping maw of the horror leaning over him. He grasped something in his hand. It was the strange sword the woman had been carrying. He brought it in a wide almost clumsy overhead sweep, slashing the creature's right hand off. He rolled in the dirt away from the howling monstrosity and crouched ready to strike. His long hair was getting in the way of his eyes so he grabbed the back of it and cut upwards with the sword, slicing the back of his long hair off. He dug his left foot into the ground and charged the beast with his sword held high over his head. He slashed once across its stomach and once across its leg. Putrid smelling black colored blood issued forth from its wounds and it fell dormant. The creature finally unmoving, Monten focused his attention on the temple. He picked up a small rock from a crack in the temple and put it in one of his many pockets. He set the sword on the ground and pulled a black paw out of his backpack. Breaking the bones in the paw and uttering the trigger words, he morphed into a displacer beast and ran for the shore. Against his catlike instincts he plunged into the frigid water and swam for the barrier surrounding the island.
Swimming with his four hind legs he brought one paw out of the water and summoned all of his concentration. He drew upon the last of his most powerful talents, ignoring the cold water around him, and summoned a portal back to Home. He landed with a water splash at the doorway where he had first begun his journey. He shook off the water from his fur, then reverted back to his normal form. He strode inside the home of Philomina. Clearly surprised to see that the mage had returned at all she simply stared at him as he entered her domicile. Sweeping his cloak behind him, he placed the stone in her hand, looking rather drained and worn, he casually exclaimed over his shoulder," I'll be back in an hour to see Keira." With that he drug himself to his estate, took a much needed bath, and changed into some new clothes that Keira had apparently bought for him. Hanging his goggles on the door handle to his room he walked the long way to see Kiera, because that was just the kind of person he was.