Disclaimer: I own nothing referring to Dragonlance or any other
corporation's works.
Special Thanks To: Dalamar Nightson, for being such a "Dalamar Fan", I've decided to reunite Dalamar with his new Demi-God Shalafi. Sparks are sure to ignite...
Chapter Three: Shalafi Knows Best
"How long until these trees let us in great uncle," asked Seraph, "do you think we made it on time?" Raistlin's golden eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he replied in an annoyed tone. "That is not necessary anymore," Seraph could see his was upset, "I am no older than forty-eight...I am too young to be your great uncle." Those words hit home, just as Raistlin had expected. "Do not worry about the Forest either; I have just the answer...That is if they, heh, deny my entry." The golden archmage's maniacal laughter shattered the eerie silence of the dreaded woods.
"Par-Salian," yelled the Demi-God, "do not bar my path into this cursed wood!" Not one sound escaped the surrounding trees amongst the Tower, too thick were the woods. "This is your final warning," he called out in an even tone, "do you dare deny my entry?" Once more silence answered the archmagus. Growing more annoyed then angry, Raistlin took a silent step closer to the cursed woods.
"Stand back my kin, you too elf." Raistlin closed his eyes as he lifted the golden veil of his robes from his face. A dark mist began to swirl around the mage's body, and storm clouds began to darken Wayreth Forest. Once adjusted to the change, Seraph was finally able to point out that the mist wasn't magic, but the living dead. Ghastly images of warrior deaths, massacred innocents, and all sorts of souls floated closer and closer to the Golden Robe. To sheer amazement, in this sea of souls, Raistlin lifted one finger and beckoned a single soul to him. "My apprentice, Dalamar, I need your assistance."
Stealthily the soul of a dark elf, adorned with shreds of his Black Robes, crept closer to his former Shalafi. A dark and accented raspy voice came from the blood soaked mage. "You summoned me, my Shalafi?" Carefully choosing his words, Raistlin stepped closer to the mage's soul, with his right hand extended. "I wonder...Dalamar do you happen to remember the last time my hand touched your fair elven skin?" he was delving into the mage's darkest fears. "The magic I once held, and for your betrayal, I gave you those five blistering holes upon your chest. Do you remember the pain my dear apprentice?" Raistlin continued with a sly smile on his face, and a disastrous laughter caught up inside his throat.
"...Yes, I remember" Dalamar's crisp voice made Asylthas and Seraphs' hair stand on end. "How could I forget a lesson like that, Shalafi?" "I'm honored you still call me your master, but there is only one more thing you must do for me..." Looking into his Shalafi's eyes, Dalamar could see the cunning he possessed and the plan that he was formulating. "You wish to enter the Forest?" A slight smile parted the archmage's lips. "You have grown in skill since your death, but you are still no match for me...Although I would appreciate it if you did the work so I don't get my hands dirty." Raistlin began to laugh in his own ambitious way, for some reason it always unnerved those near him. No matter how used to it they thought they were.
"Dalamar, send your guardians and deliver this message to the master of the Tower," Raistlin paused as if to make up his mind. "Tell them, if they do not allow my great nephew and his companion to enter this Forest, they will face my wrath." Nodding in reassurance to his master, Dalamar quickly summoned his guardians and tried to go forth into the mystical woods.
A magical barrier barred 'all' entry to the dreaded woods. Not even the dead could pass its shield. Whosoever controlled this magic was in a grave bit of trouble as Raistlin stepped forward.
It was closing on the sixth hour on the seventh day of the seventh month, in one hour Seraph must be at the Tower, or risk missing his only chance at the Test. Raistlin for one was not willing to gamble his great nephew's chance at the Art. "That was your last warning, and now you will see what I am capable of!" Raistlin yelled as fire ignited with his ambition within those eerie eyes. The hourglass pupils were easily the only things identifiable on the archmage's face. Anger burned with malice, magic mixed with blood, and the taste of power filled Raistlin's mouth.
"Now you will see what happens to those who dare defy me!" Raistlin shouted as the spidery words of magic flowed from his tongue. "Rysk...esyt...avoc...tinous..." Raistlin chanted. White radiant light flowed from his feet and made his golden robes shimmer. "Intri...ens...estransia...xisca...siahh..." Green light shone as Raistlin took steps closer and closer to the barred woods. "Tahh...zais...kanr...ast...enct...xuah..." Heat filled the humid air, burning and charring the land it passed. "Shirak...daihhs..." Lightning streaked from the mage's fingertips, burning down trees as he pressed onward toward the Tower.
A dark figure could only watch helplessly as Raistlin's magic burnt and annihilated the woods surrounding his Tower. The Demi-God was too powerful for the Black Robe to challenge alone. Upon the last hundred yards from the Tower, Raistlin chanted the final words to his spell. "Ensa...desolatia...annihialstious..." Fire and magic of all color whirled around the mage, earthquakes toppled the trees. Lightning split them, and the rains drowned the dreaded wood. Light blinded the darkness of the Wayreth Forest, and a sphere of gold magic, was held in the palm of the greatest mage to ever live.
"Asti...noustos...natiovs...deathialta..." The golden magic exploded, branching out toward the rest of the forest. Raistlin, Asylthas, and Seraph, stood still as stone and the gold light flared to life and began devouring everything. With a final tremor of magic, the dust settled upon the charred and barren wasteland. The Forest of Wayreth was gone, and the Tower of High Sorcery, unprotected. With a sigh of relief, Raistlin turned toward Dalamar. "You should know better than to fail me, you disappoint me my apprentice..." There was no mistaking the tone of sympathy and sorrow in Raistlin's voice.
Before sending him away, Raistlin allowed Dalamar one last chance to redeem himself. "Dalamar, this is your only chance, what lesson have you learned today?" Carefully thinking his answer over, he answered. "Shalafi, I have learned you can't allow minor scratches to develop into flesh wounds, so to speak."
"So, my apprentice, you are telling me what exactly?" Raistlin asked with another sly smile on his face. An expression that was a dead giveaway, he knew what Dalamar was going to say. "Shalafi," Dalamar replied with a respectful tone, "always knows best..."
Special Thanks To: Dalamar Nightson, for being such a "Dalamar Fan", I've decided to reunite Dalamar with his new Demi-God Shalafi. Sparks are sure to ignite...
Chapter Three: Shalafi Knows Best
"How long until these trees let us in great uncle," asked Seraph, "do you think we made it on time?" Raistlin's golden eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he replied in an annoyed tone. "That is not necessary anymore," Seraph could see his was upset, "I am no older than forty-eight...I am too young to be your great uncle." Those words hit home, just as Raistlin had expected. "Do not worry about the Forest either; I have just the answer...That is if they, heh, deny my entry." The golden archmage's maniacal laughter shattered the eerie silence of the dreaded woods.
"Par-Salian," yelled the Demi-God, "do not bar my path into this cursed wood!" Not one sound escaped the surrounding trees amongst the Tower, too thick were the woods. "This is your final warning," he called out in an even tone, "do you dare deny my entry?" Once more silence answered the archmagus. Growing more annoyed then angry, Raistlin took a silent step closer to the cursed woods.
"Stand back my kin, you too elf." Raistlin closed his eyes as he lifted the golden veil of his robes from his face. A dark mist began to swirl around the mage's body, and storm clouds began to darken Wayreth Forest. Once adjusted to the change, Seraph was finally able to point out that the mist wasn't magic, but the living dead. Ghastly images of warrior deaths, massacred innocents, and all sorts of souls floated closer and closer to the Golden Robe. To sheer amazement, in this sea of souls, Raistlin lifted one finger and beckoned a single soul to him. "My apprentice, Dalamar, I need your assistance."
Stealthily the soul of a dark elf, adorned with shreds of his Black Robes, crept closer to his former Shalafi. A dark and accented raspy voice came from the blood soaked mage. "You summoned me, my Shalafi?" Carefully choosing his words, Raistlin stepped closer to the mage's soul, with his right hand extended. "I wonder...Dalamar do you happen to remember the last time my hand touched your fair elven skin?" he was delving into the mage's darkest fears. "The magic I once held, and for your betrayal, I gave you those five blistering holes upon your chest. Do you remember the pain my dear apprentice?" Raistlin continued with a sly smile on his face, and a disastrous laughter caught up inside his throat.
"...Yes, I remember" Dalamar's crisp voice made Asylthas and Seraphs' hair stand on end. "How could I forget a lesson like that, Shalafi?" "I'm honored you still call me your master, but there is only one more thing you must do for me..." Looking into his Shalafi's eyes, Dalamar could see the cunning he possessed and the plan that he was formulating. "You wish to enter the Forest?" A slight smile parted the archmage's lips. "You have grown in skill since your death, but you are still no match for me...Although I would appreciate it if you did the work so I don't get my hands dirty." Raistlin began to laugh in his own ambitious way, for some reason it always unnerved those near him. No matter how used to it they thought they were.
"Dalamar, send your guardians and deliver this message to the master of the Tower," Raistlin paused as if to make up his mind. "Tell them, if they do not allow my great nephew and his companion to enter this Forest, they will face my wrath." Nodding in reassurance to his master, Dalamar quickly summoned his guardians and tried to go forth into the mystical woods.
A magical barrier barred 'all' entry to the dreaded woods. Not even the dead could pass its shield. Whosoever controlled this magic was in a grave bit of trouble as Raistlin stepped forward.
It was closing on the sixth hour on the seventh day of the seventh month, in one hour Seraph must be at the Tower, or risk missing his only chance at the Test. Raistlin for one was not willing to gamble his great nephew's chance at the Art. "That was your last warning, and now you will see what I am capable of!" Raistlin yelled as fire ignited with his ambition within those eerie eyes. The hourglass pupils were easily the only things identifiable on the archmage's face. Anger burned with malice, magic mixed with blood, and the taste of power filled Raistlin's mouth.
"Now you will see what happens to those who dare defy me!" Raistlin shouted as the spidery words of magic flowed from his tongue. "Rysk...esyt...avoc...tinous..." Raistlin chanted. White radiant light flowed from his feet and made his golden robes shimmer. "Intri...ens...estransia...xisca...siahh..." Green light shone as Raistlin took steps closer and closer to the barred woods. "Tahh...zais...kanr...ast...enct...xuah..." Heat filled the humid air, burning and charring the land it passed. "Shirak...daihhs..." Lightning streaked from the mage's fingertips, burning down trees as he pressed onward toward the Tower.
A dark figure could only watch helplessly as Raistlin's magic burnt and annihilated the woods surrounding his Tower. The Demi-God was too powerful for the Black Robe to challenge alone. Upon the last hundred yards from the Tower, Raistlin chanted the final words to his spell. "Ensa...desolatia...annihialstious..." Fire and magic of all color whirled around the mage, earthquakes toppled the trees. Lightning split them, and the rains drowned the dreaded wood. Light blinded the darkness of the Wayreth Forest, and a sphere of gold magic, was held in the palm of the greatest mage to ever live.
"Asti...noustos...natiovs...deathialta..." The golden magic exploded, branching out toward the rest of the forest. Raistlin, Asylthas, and Seraph, stood still as stone and the gold light flared to life and began devouring everything. With a final tremor of magic, the dust settled upon the charred and barren wasteland. The Forest of Wayreth was gone, and the Tower of High Sorcery, unprotected. With a sigh of relief, Raistlin turned toward Dalamar. "You should know better than to fail me, you disappoint me my apprentice..." There was no mistaking the tone of sympathy and sorrow in Raistlin's voice.
Before sending him away, Raistlin allowed Dalamar one last chance to redeem himself. "Dalamar, this is your only chance, what lesson have you learned today?" Carefully thinking his answer over, he answered. "Shalafi, I have learned you can't allow minor scratches to develop into flesh wounds, so to speak."
"So, my apprentice, you are telling me what exactly?" Raistlin asked with another sly smile on his face. An expression that was a dead giveaway, he knew what Dalamar was going to say. "Shalafi," Dalamar replied with a respectful tone, "always knows best..."