Interlude One

It was a most disturbing limitation, that of having to watch all through a small globe of magical energy like the one before him. Unable to do anything. Trapped. While they were out there, free and alive. It irritated the entity to no end, especially when he was so close, in physical terms; but unfortunate circumstances were often alterable in time and he had eternity to spend for just that effect.

"Our noble Nehera," he mused, pacing around the globe, his only window into the Prime Material Plane; the robed figure of the gold elf was visible through the divination's fog. "So innocent, so full of dreams that could lead to the world's salvation and betterment. Yours would be a most entertaining process of corruption. Though disappointingly easy, I expect."

The pacing ceased, coming to a slow end, and the looming figure neared the magical globe as much as he could without its energies absorbing him into nothingness... or trying to. His own power was not to be trifled with, contained though it may have been within that prison.

"Yes," he solidified his previous observations. "You and I are going to spend many enjoyable moments together, frail prime being."

He inhaled deeply, as though the scent of that, or of the gold elf, could reach to him through the enormously thick layer of ancient wards and protection spells of immense power that the mages of old had cast to keep him there. Successful they had been, for so long a time that he had witnessed the face of Faerun fall off to be replaced by another so completely it had become unrecognizable. But a throng of eons, though unimaginably much, was not forever. Not eternity.

A smile-like flicker of life, of interest, crossed the entity's body when the globe shifted and the image inside became another. "And you, Toreen," he addressed the new figure. "Thinking you are strong in your crust... thinking your lack of compassion will shield you from any more hurt. So proverbial and predictable of you, my dear. And so contradictory to the fires that burn within. Fires which I can increase. I can make you TRULY powerful, Toreen. You will see."

Oddly enough, the moon elven fighter startled and turned right at that point, in the middle of her small globe, which was capturing her image and showing it off without her knowledge of it. It almost looked as if she had perceived her spectator... but no; it was just the wood elf returning from his scouting and taking her by surprise.

"Ahh, Ivendil," the entity sounded intrigued. "You and your mysterious nature. Your tendency to hide from even your friends, for the sole reason that unpredictability is a valuable asset. And your secret wish to be admired and respected. I can offer that to you, little pawn, if you will play my game. I am curious how one of your make would deal with it."

A moment of silence was expended. "Show me more," he then commanded his magic and it had no choice but to obey its forcibly designated master. It glowed and twisted and contorted until the vision was brought to the slightly taller and more restless silhouette of a mage. A human mage.

"Selvord Knave," the entity commented, invariably interested. "Too free-spirited for your own good, too independent. Your greatest fear, in itself, is becoming what others wish you to be, or doing as another commands. Always have you been your own master." He shook his head in a most disappointed fashion. "Incorruptible. You will need to be broken. Much to my own pleasure. Next one."

For a few moments, nothing happened at all. The sphere firmly held on to its already formed image, and the entity had to frown and come to hover above it menacingly before it decided to obey and switched. He wondered for how long he could still control this tweak he had found, this small breech in the almost perfect weave of energy enclosing him within this wretched plane between existences.

It showed more than just one person this time; there was a group of Clerics, led by a shady hooded man, all saying their evening prayers to their cruel, tempestuous Deity. Beside, a band of primitive thralls stood by their elegantly imposing leader, a confident smirk on her lips. And facing her, with utmost regret for how things had come to be, were her two brothers... and her aged mother.

"Amirah, Amirah," the entity amused itself by repeating, with a not fully benevolent fondness. "Unlike Toreen... who, mind you, shall hate you at the first glance, because you are the embodiment of all she cannot achieve despite how she wishes to... you truly are strong. You need no one to share emotions with, for you verily are incapable of feeling anything for anyone but yourself. So many weapons are pledged to your service, and yet yours shall come pledge itself to mine. I choose you as the bearer."

The magic failed for a moment, threatening to be extinguished and gone, but a simple jest of his held it in place when it switched to the next target. Another mage, elven, purple-robed and invariably sullen, one who did not even bother to look around as he walked.

"Xan... of Evereska," the entity mocked sharply. "Useless you appear, from all possible and impossible points of view. And yet discard you I shall not, for foolish is he who ignores any factor of an equation. I have a task for you, then; one I need not tell you to perform, because you are doing that by yourself. Keep the morale in check... we don't need anyone getting too... exalted, do we?"

This time, it was not a mere flicker; it was in every way what a normal human would feel if they grinned out beaming satisfaction. His body almost radiated his interest, and even the magical sphere sensed how wicked and ill-intentioned the reasons behind it were, for it drifted away, starting to shrink.

"No!" the entity hissed, commanding it to stop. "Of all there is in this desolate, empty place, YOU are mine. MINE."

The magic quivered and the images blurred for a moment, but then it glowered back to life, flaring brighter. Its bristle-like renewal caused the entity to drift away; for a moment, he was convinced the powerful, semi-sentient magic was trying to exact some unconceivable revenge upon the one whose will bound it to follow the group of primes. In a process so slow that it almost looked like reluctance from the globe to show its master any more, the image shifted again. A darker figure was its new target.

"The incarnation of confusion herself," snickered the entity at this new apparition. "The drow, as they call it out there. One who will easily mold into anything I wish to create. One who would follow me blindly, were I the right path he so avidly seeks to recognize and determine for certain. Yes, little primeling, you will serve me well once I have shown you. You will murder all of them as they reach the point where I can no longer use their services. And then, realizing how irredeemably wrong you have been all along, you will murder the last one... yourself."

The fulfilled snort was so powerful that it filled the air with sparks and flamelets who danced around him like a group of insane glow-worms blown away by the wind. A massive hand made of shades and void reached out for the scrying magic and tore it into little bits with a single wild slash, so hateful and passionate that it would have terrified the bravest of men. He no longer needed it, not for the time being.

The entity was left in the dark, alone to his schemes and thoughts, as he had been for longer than he could even remember. Truly, it was an achievement, in an odd kind of way, when one could not remember the reasons behind the punishment they had received. When one could not remember what terrible act they had committed and what mistakes had been made in the attempt to avoid retribution's far-reaching hand.

It didn't matter anymore. New chances were being offered, for the first time in so long, and all had to be planned carefully, down to the smallest and most insignificant of details. Finding pawns was not a problem; most often, they found themselves.