Elvadriel Gal'awen (Better late than never, eh?)
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It had been nearly a week since Elvadriel's tutor had passed away. Despite his meticulous research, his constant alchemical solutions, old age took him. She had always wondered why her natural parents..both elves with formidable skills in the Art..had sent her to a human for arcane training. They were much too short lived. It had left her feeling unwanted, secondary to her father's immediate goals. Drulin was a great arcanist in his own right, she had always been fascinated by his capabilities, his power..he was a God in her eyes, yet in the moments before his burial, he was nothing more than a withered, lifeless lump of flesh.
His passing was not easy on the young elf. She was now without a guardian, and without a home. She refused to aknowledge the option of returning home..to Silverymoon, the Gem of the North..the trip would be her death. Drulin's tower was located just outside Myth Drannor. Still angry at her father's lack of compassion, even if the trip was possible, she had no desire to return. Broke, cold, and homeless, Elvadriel assessed her situation quietly. She was quite disturbed at the fact, that she was strangely apathetic. She admired and perhaps even loved Drulin, but his passing brought no grief. No tears. Only the realization of her own mortality. She found herself alone, in a world surrounding her with death. She thought of Drulin's research, his memories, his accomplishments..now meaningless. She could not suffer this same fate. She concluded that she would live on, regardless of the hardships ahead of her.
The situation was not a good one. She had no allies, no friends, no relatives in these lands. Drulin cared for Elvadriel in a financial sense, but he was far from caring. His research and old age brought about his, and Elvadriel's, isolation from the world around them. With no one to turn to, she considered looting the remains of Drulin's wealth from his personal vault, but she knew she would never get past his wards and puzzling locks.
However Elvadriel was by no means stupid. She realized the dangers of the surrounding area and her situation in general, and quickly travelled to the nearest village. Left with few options, she resorted to using what knowledge she had obtained from Drulin, minor cantrips and manipulation through careful wording, to steal food, clothing, and what coins she could find. She lived for several months in this manner, moving from village to village, exploiting the peasantry and common folk.
Yet the life of a thief was not what she desired. She yearned to continue her arcane studies. The only way to delay death, she reasoned, was through power. Power over others who might wish to harm you. Power over your environment. Power over yourself. She knew she had centuries of natural life left, but the fragility of this life frightened her. A new teacher would be needed..a teacher that could understand her NEED for power. She decided to travel along the southern shore of the Moonsea, and head southward. Her destination, Thay.
It was during this trip, that Elvadriel found her calling. She had been traveling for about a week, following a dirt road that would lead her to the shores of Moonsea. The area was heavily wooded, and she soon found herself at the treeline of a thick patch of forest. She had no choice but to follow the road, as it was too late to reroute. It was late at night, the moon shone high overhead. She slowly travelled along the winding, faded path. Overgrown in many sections, even her elven eyes had trouble picking out the way. moments passed. Then hours. She was deep in the forest now, the trees around her huge and ancient. Even the moonlight was blocked by their canopies, and Elvadriel found herself bathed in almost total darkness. It was not long before the path disappeared from beneath her feet. Either it stopped, or she had strayed. There was no way of telling. The old, crooked trees that surrounded her, seemed almost mocking. The path was nowhere in sight. Wilderness survival was never one of Elvadriel's strong points. She swore, and conjured a small amount of light. Determined to find the path, she started off.
She searched for what seemed like hours. At every turn, things began to look even more unfamiliar to her. Furious with herself, she opened her mouth to let loose another set of elven curses. The crunching of leaves and twigs beneath her feet suddenly stopped. She froze, as a sound more horrible than any she had heard before echoed through the forest. A gargling moan, half between a tortured scream and the sound of a starving animal, rose up and outward from a clearing ahead. She quickly doused the light, and gave her eyes a moment to adjust. The sound was terrifying…but a strange curiosity overcame her fears. She felt drawn to it..and as silently as possible, she crept forward.
Moonlight poured down into the clearing. It was not long before she could make out the silhouette of a human..or, as it seemed, half a human. She crept closer, until she could clearly see the form. Matted, white hair stuck to the creature's head in tufts. It's face had sunken in...two dark eye sockets held the dry, shriveled remains of an eye. It's skin seemed to be peeling off, and she could clearly see patches of skull and jawbone. It wore the tattered remains of a simple tunic, nearly as moldy and rotten as it's skin, which seemed to be desperately clinging to the creature's frame, but slowly losing to gravity and decomposition.
Instict told Elvadriel to run, but she found herself unable to move. She had studied the undead, but had never dreamed of seeing one. This creature..this zombie..was fascinating. She kneeled in the brush, captivated by it's fearsome nature, and unquestionable beauty. Yes..this creature was beatiful. The epitome of perfection. It did not fear death. It defeated death. It had no use for warm blood..functioning lungs..a beating heart..for these were weaknesses. The fragilities of life...the 'gift', which she had never willingly accepted, nor asked for. It was in this moment that Elvadriel found the true solution to her fears. Her calling. She would strive for the answer, not delays. Elvadriel would spend the rest of her mortal life, seeking Perfection in it's highest form.
The zombie unleashed another wet, gurgling moan,and lurched forward. It staggered akwardly towards her. She shook herself free from her epiphany, and quickly realized it's nearly-empty sockets, were pointed in her direction.
She stood for one last look before she was forced to flee. Suddenly everything seemed so clear to her. Drulin's death, her abandonment..these were not a series of random events. This, she decided, was meant to be. It was her destiny. Her birth right. A twisted smile formed on her lips, as she surrendered her innocence to the dark thoughts already forming in her mind. The zombie struggled through brush and branches, and Elvadriel, finished with her observations, took a step back. It was slow, and she was confident in her ability to outrun it. Her ears perked. A sound..not her..not the zombie..footsteps. They were close, too close. Someone was behind her. She attempted to swing around and face her assailant, but she was cut short by a sudden pressure on the back of her head. With a sickening thud, her world went black.
((Will continue some other time))
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Reviewed, XP pending.
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She stirred. Her eyes fluttered, then slowly opened. It took her a moment to regain her senses. Memories returned to her. These memories were followed by panic, and a flood of questions. Where was she? How long had it been? Who had knocked her unconcious? Why was she not dead?
She regained her composure. She was alive. Obviously, her captor had a use for her. She turned her attention to her surroundings. She lay on a cold, stone floor. The only light source was a small candle, about ten paces from her. The room was circular, with a single, iron door opposite her. Other than the cobwebs, the room was mostly featureless.
It was difficult to tell how long she had been out. Her muscles were stiff and ached, she reasoned she had been laying on the stone floor for at least the remainder of the night. Though she could be wrong. She was not particularly hungry, but her lips were parched, her mouth dry as bone. She glanced around the room, looking for her pack. Gone. Perhaps these were bandits, believing her to be worth ransom. If that were the case, she may still be in danger.
She heard a chuckle. It was cold..taunting. She quickly scanned the room again, but saw nothing. A tall figure, in thick, dark robes, appeared several paces away from her, sitting cross-legged, observing her. She wondered how long he had been there. His hood was pulled up over his head, and in the darkness of the small room his face was hidden under shadow. He held a wooden, knobbed staff, topped with a small, grinning skull. His sudden appearance took Elvadriel by surprise, and there was a moment of silence before she was able to stammer out an intelligible question. "Wh..Who are you?" she asked. She frowned. Surely she could do better. She didn't really expect the figure to answer.
The hooded man knocked his staff against the floor, chuckling again. He spoke…his voice was shrill, raspy, and high-pitched. "Such a strange elf. Ye've nothing but a few coin and a bit of clothing. The forest is a stranger to ye. So young...and so interested in my...pet." How did he know about her troubles in the forest? He must have been following for some time, she realized.
The ensuing conversation seemed mostly unintelligible to Elvadriel. The man answered questions with questions. Statements with riddles. She came to the conclusion that this man, was a lunatic. A lunatic, but one with knowledge she wished to obtain. Elvadriel remained locked in her prison for a tenday. The man would spend hours speaking with her each day.
She began to suspect his confusing rambling to be a test of some sort. He was profiling her, to an extent. She slowly learned the secrets to deciphering this confusion, and these conversations took on a new meaning. While she was still certain he was a lunatic, there was genious to him. With mere words, he slipped in and out of her mind, learning things about her that she did not know herself.
His presence, while frightening, was also strangely comforting. She told him anything he wished to know, opening herself to him. She spoke of her strange attraction to his servant, the feelings she experienced after Drulin's death, her fears and goals. In return, he identified himself as Xer'thal, one of several local necromancers in service to Velsharoon, Lord of the Forsaken Crypt. Once he had gained her trust, and her his, she was permitted to accompany him around his lair. It was a large stone structure, built into the side of a hill. It was not soon after that, that Xer'thal took elvadriel on as his personal student, to teach her the ways of the Dark Arts.
Her tutelage was far from easy. Xer'thal taxed her strength every moment of the day, and fed her little. He would pit her against his servants, teaching her their strengths and weaknesses. Mistakes were paid for in blood and pain. A particular good job, was rewarded with another, more challenging lesson.
If there was any goodness left in Elvadriel before she came to Xer'thal, it was utterly stamped out before she left. He prepared her for the particularly gruesome aspects of the trade with the forced ingestion of numerous things. The flesh of the dead..the flesh of the living...the heart of innocent creatures and sentient beings, which she cut from the chests herself..this not only prepared her stomach for what was to come, but in certain cases helped her build up resistance to the common diseases encountered when working with the dead. She participated in horrible sacrifices, demon summonings.. Xer'thal tempted and twisted the elf into a creature as horrible as himself.
What taxed her most of all, was the constant channeling of negative energy she was instructed to perform. Her teacher insisted she master every aspect of this energy, due to the dangers it can pose to those not fit for it's use. This regular channeling changed her physically..her skin became unusually pale, even for a Moon Elf, and slightly withered, shrinking up against her frame and giving her an even more lithe appearance. Her eyes darkened, and her strength was drained. Despite these negative effects, Elvadriel was pleased. She became more like the creatures she longed to become. Perhaps the channeling of negative energy, until it flowed through her core as easily as her own blood, was the key to her perfection.
Elvadriel spent many years with Xer'thal. He taught her everything she needed to know to begin on the path of a Necromancer. Elvadriel suspected nothing when instructed by her master to drink a thick, noxious liquid. As her vision began to blur, and the world around her began to spin, she caught one last glimpse of her teacher, watching her silently, before slipping into darkness.
She awoke on the borders of Damara. Beside her was a pack, stocked with food and supplies. A note from her former teacher instructed her to travel Eastward, to more barbaric lands, where it would be easier for one of her kind to blend in and stay hidden. Several months of travel brought her to the land of Narfell. Her intentions were to only pass through..but this was not the case. These wild lands were perfect..and it was here, she decided, that she would begin her new life.
