I remember thinking to myself how rotten of a place the inn was. Only lowlifes and scoundrels belonged there. Unfortunately, I was in a position where I had to stay in a place of such low standards. I had recently left the Vizjerei on bad terms. I knew they had sent one of their Viz-Jaq'taar agents after me. I needed to stay in lowly piss-holes like the "Desert Rain Inn," as the one-eyed innkeeper had called it, to not draw attention to myself. I had stored away my red spirit-robe, known as a "Turinash," and replaced it with a plain, brown cloak. I needed to look like I was a member of the low class I saw around me so no assassins would pick me out of the crowd and follow me to my death. I kept reminding myself that I only needed to live with the rats for a short period of time. Let me first tell you how I came to the position I was in at the inn.

I had plans to become so much more than I was. I, Elymas, was already great. A powerful mage in the Vizjerei clan, I knew that my most talented peers paled in comparison to my skills. I became dissatisfied with associating myself with the sorcerers so below my status in that guild. I made my pilgrimage east from Kehjistan to seek out more knowledge.

During my journey, I encountered another powerful mage clan, the Priests of Rathma. I had tried to enter their domain so I could learn their secrets of necromancy. Even though the Rathma cult had worked with the Vizjerei in the past, they still refused to reveal their secrets to me. However, I am a determined man. The necromancer I was talking to was young in the Art and I could tell he had not yet built a strong resistance to spells. I used one enchantment on him that I had only used before on beautiful women resisting my charm. The spell temporarily put him in my command. The bond was weak, the time I had control of him was limited, and this apprentice surely did not have access to what I sought. So I used him in another way. I had him lead me to the great hall in the underground catacombs where the tomes of necromantic knowledge was kept. It was still a risky maneuver. If any of the other Priests caught a Vizjerei walking through the secret catacombs of the Rathma, I would probably be killed to "keep the balance," as they would say. We had to sneak around a lot. Spells to hide sound helped a great deal during my little quest. We finally arrived at a humble door with a single man standing next to it.

"Hey, you don't look like you belong here." The new man, another young Rathma cultist, was guarding the library. Like the Vizjerei, apprentices of Rathma were usually tasked with the annoying jobs, like guarding libraries and such. I quickly cast the same spell on this man as I did my other hypnotized companion. I ordered the guard to hand the key to me. He did. I then instructed both men to go to their chambers and sleep. This would buy me more time away from these two. I was sure I remembered my way out, anyway. I looked at the key. The head of the key was shaped into a skull, the teeth of the key looked like bones. I used the key to unlock the door. When I entered, I was immediately overwhelmed with the smell of poison and death. I covered my face with my sleeve as I peered around the hall. It was very dark. Candles were lit to give just enough illumination to navigate around the bookshelves. I could have, of course, cast a light spell, but I did not want to draw attention. After some time of looking, I came across a dirty desk that looked like it could have been grand at some point. It was very large and sat at the head of the library as if many years ago it seated a teacher giving lessons to apprentice necromancers on their dark Art. On the desk was a book much larger than any I had seen in the library. I noticed that, despite the amazing amount of dust covering the entire library, the book I now held was as clean as the day it was printed. I immediately felt the power emanating from the book. I knew this was what I needed. I turned back to leave the library.

There was a small clicking sound as I locked the door behind me. I dropped the key to the floor and headed back the way I came, hiding in the shadows as I did, of course. I headed back the way my magnificent mind recalled I came in. After some time, I had run into a dead end. Damn those dark catacombs! I got lost, more lost, and more lost. The spell I had cast that silenced my footsteps was wearing on my energy. Magic, you see, is in some ways similar to doing physical things. For example, both require energy. After casting many spells and using up all your energy, or mana, you can actually feel physically fatigued. I was at that point. I stopped and found a good place to hide and let myself recharge. I could have used a mana potion, but if there were any powerful Priests nearby, which I was sure there was, the sudden surge in mana in my location would draw attention to me. I could not afford that. I waited in the shadows until another necromancer came by. I used the last bit of mana I had to cast the mind control spell on him. I had immediately realized that it was a mistake to use the spell on that one. He was much stronger. The spell took, but not very well. I commanded him to lead me to the exit of the catacombs. I didn't even bother with subtly at this point. We both ran to the exit, drawing looks from every hallway.

Somehow, we had made it to the exit. However, just as I did, he shook off the spell. He saw what was in my hand. I heard shouting coming from the mouth of the catacombs. I no longer needed to hide. I had quickly retrieved one of my mana potions and drank away. When I finished it, the man I had hypnotized along with a score of other Priests were charging towards me to get the book back. Did I mention that I was a brilliant man? I pulled out a scroll that I was holding in case I came across this very scenario. Those scrolls were rare, but its effects were vital in continuing my quest. I quickly read the incantations on the scroll. I felt the energy from the scroll burn my hands. I dropped it to the ground. Fire spread across the ground towards the mob of dark mages and erupted into the air, killing a large score of the necromancers. The Apocalypse spell had worked quite adequately. I turned and fled into the hot jungle with the book in my hands. None came after me. I made my escape and continued my quest.

When I later arrived at one of the lodges of the Vizjerei, I was informed that I had committed crimes in the Art and was not allowed to enter the lodge until I went to trial and was acquitted of my crimes. I knew that killing a score of allied mages would not be a forgivable act. I would, I'm sure, have my amazing life ended. I could not let this happen. I turned to leave. The mage guarding the lodge, another apprentice, of course, told me I was not allowed to depart and I had to standby for escort to the nearby Vizjerei fortress for trial. He died quickly.

I was then officially a rogue sorcerer. I was marked for death and knew I had to go into exile until I could find a way to become too powerful for the entire Vizjerei clan to touch.

I knew that the safest place to be in exile would be a place that mages did not frequent. I spent about a year in the barbarian northlands in a small abandoned fort that I turned into my private domicile. I spent that time studying the book that I came to call the "Necrotome." It was not labeled. I named it as I pleased.

During my studying of the Necrotome, I came across a discovery I was sure no other mage had encountered. Many years ago, there was a small city outside of Lut Gholein called Muqdaya which roughly translated to "day of the magi." The city should have been named something that meant "death of the magi." The mages of that that city had learned a powerful spell that could wipe out an entire population…the spell of genocide! They attempted to use the spell on an ancient race of "snake men" that had been attacking the city with vile magic for years. Unfortunately, they were fools and botched the spell, wiping out their own city and population. The city, now called the "Lost City," was overrun with the snake men. However, in the city's temple, the secrets of the spell supposedly lay in a hidden chamber. If I could master that spell, I would become a sorcerer so powerful that all the mage clans combined could not compare to my might!

So I traveled from the lands of the stupid northmen and wound up in the Desert Rain Inn owned by and equally stupid man that kept bragging about his younger days when he was a bandit. I followed the man, Elzix, to my room. Once I was in private, I laid down some wards to warn me if anyone came to kill me in my sleep. I was in a city founded in magic. It would not take long for a Seer to pinpoint my location and send a Viz-Jaq'taar agent my way. Actually, I was pretty sure one was already on the way. No matter. I would kill one of them just like I would kill anyone that got in my way. However, I could not let such things weigh on my mind the night before such an important day in my life. Tomorrow I would exit the gates of Lut Gholein to go find Muqdaya. I gave Lut Gholein one last glance from my window before I went to bed. When I did, I noticed a shadow down the street quickly dart into an alley when I gazed in that direction. It was probably some thief waiting for a helpless victim to come sauntering by so he could acquire a few gold coins he didn't deserve. The whole city was a bunch of scoundrels. No matter. Soon I will have the power of genocide. This city would be the first to go.