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Copper Elven Vampire
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Posted - 08 May 2017 :  20:39:07  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote  Delete Topic
The early Adventures and Misadventures of Curudin Ahmaquissar.

Evermeet, 1274 DR

The alluring female moon elf looked down at her newborn child. The two midwives exchanged concerned glances at one another as she unwrapped her child with a quick gasp. For a short second or two she could of sworn the bright blue eyes of her beautiful elven son were swirling and dancing with tiny asymmetrical star-bursts, but once she blinked her own eyes they were gone. She gave a soft laugh and looked at the midwives, who stood silent wearing worried expressions of joy on their tired faces. It was a long and complicated birth for Evelyndis Ahmaquissar.

She had thought that her troublesome labor and difficult childbirth had somehow caused her vision and senses to play tricks on her when she looked her son in the eyes, but as she continued to unwrap her child she noticed two unmistakable tattoos on either side of her sons chest. Two asymmetrical star-bursts were tattooed on his skin and glowed a faint multi-colored hue in a chaotic, ever changing pattern. She gasped aloud this time and whispered a prayer to her deity that what she was seeing now was not just a trick of the mind or the result of an extended, painful birthing. As she held her son up before her fully naked, she giggled and began to chant a simple spell. After a few moments she cradled her child again and smiled with mischief on her lips. "my precious little Mischiefmaker, you have your fathers eyes."

Evermeet, 1284 DR

By the age of 10 winters, young Curudin was growing at a rapid rate that his peers could not begin to understand. Some of the more powerful families and Houses of Evermeet brought this displeasure to Queen Amlaruil herself during Council meetings. "Unnatural" some Sun Elf Houses would claim. "Comes from a strange Rogue Family", some Silver Elf Houses would gossip. "Gifted and talented", would say the Clans of Copper elves and Wild elves scattered throughout the Island of Evermeet.

And it just so happened to be true. All three claims were right. Curudin Ahmaquissar came from a Moon elf House of long lineage and reputation for worshiping the Trickster Deity of the elves. Erevan Ilesere was on the hearts and minds and spirits of all the elves of House Ahmaquissar for well over 20,000 years.

Curudin was born Trickster-Touched, but still had no idea what that may possibly mean for him now or in years to come. He was a child of 10 winters and cared not for Houses and rules and superiority of body and mind and will. He only knew that he was faster, more powerful, more intelligent and more wise than all his peers.

Every night at Midnight he would touch the asymmetrical stars that were Birth-marked onto either side of his chest. Tattoos really, as they glowed with a soft, deep blue radiance at times, or throbbed under his skin when his heart was racing, or calmed him when his emotions overcame him.

He loved the old stories of the elven gods and their mighty accomplishments and failures. He especially loved the stories of his personal god Erevan Ilesere, and the many adventures and misadventures his deity of mischief created or stumbled upon. One such story was when Erevan Ilesere challenged Corellon Larethian to a friendly duel of sword and spell. Although Erevan Ilesere was outmatched in both blade art and spell art, he proceeded to get the upper hand in combat and magical duels by sheer trickery and raw chaos.

It wasn't until the end of the battle when Erevan had the upper hand, that Sehanine Moonbow herself disrupted Erevan holding a Midnight Gambol in the Fey glades of The Seelie Court. The entire length of the challenge to Corellon had been a ruse. Erevan had successfully projected an image of himself that was real enough and quick enough, and believable enough to fool the elven god of Magic and combat while hosting a Midnight Gambol in the gardens of the Seelie Court.

These stories consumed Curudin Ahmaquissar. As the years passed, Curudin finally succumbed to his deities calling and cast his first spell at 11 years old. His ears were barely fully developed and rigid before he cast an Invisibility spell. He communed with Erevan himself at the age of 12 winters, when his god told him of the powers he controlled as he grew older as a Trickster-Touched child.

Before long, Curudin met like minded elves of many different races on Evermeet that also followed or worshiped Erevan Ilesere. He became a leader and a roll-model to his companions, but always with hesitation and modesty. He named his compatriots "The wistful Vagabonds." and they went on many unsuspecting endevours of stealth and mischief.

By the age of 20 winters, Curudin was asked by Erevan Ilesere himself to steal the Selu-Kiira of House Moonflower from the Royal Palace at any costs to prevent a future calamity to the elven nations of Faerun that still stood strong. And of course, he obliged his Trickster deity with a smile on his lips and a laughter in his heart.

Evermeet, 1294 DR

In the aftermath of her spell, Queen Amlaruil looked down at the six elven youths sprawled on the floor before her. As they lay immobilized on the steps below the ancient dais located within the Royal Garden her powerful gaze fell on the one elf that now stood up tall and without fear, unlike his companions which her simple spell had captured.
“He is very young and these six elves have seen no more than 20 winters,” she thought as she looked upon the standing elf.
He confronted her gaze smiling and stood in such a comfortable manner that Amlaruil instantly questioned her decision to summon her late husband’s Moonblade, as it flashed into existence in her hand.

The moon elf felt a palpable wave of fear and adoration wash over him, but he knew that the feeling was not because of the King Sword. As Amlaruil approached him, her power and aura caused an unbearable, all-engulfing sensation of sheer ancient power that his relaxed and confident mien collapsed into turmoil. He felt an odd sensation of terrible fear coupled with unbridled love as Amlaruil came close enough to touch him with the Moonblade. Mustering all of his willpower the moon elf shook off the effects of the Queen’s innate, ancient power. Raising an index finger the young elf half-bowed and said lightly, "I am Curudin Ahmaquissar of House Ahmaquissar of Evermeet, formerly of Keltormiir and allied by blood. I present myself to you as a rogue-in-training, thief extraordinaire and follower of Erevan Ilesere."

The Queen cast a swift, powerful spell around them both with a deft motion of her wrist. "So thief," the Queen said, "have you come to steal my husbands Moonblade?"
When an instant response was not forthcoming, the look on Amlaruil’s angelic face turned to a mixture of surprise, confusion and realization, all within the blink of an eye. She raised her hand to her brow and with a swift movement reached out to touch Curudin and then fixed him with her unnerving, ancient gaze.

As Queen Amlaruil looked upon him, Curudin Ahmaquissar experienced power he had never experienced before. The Queen looked into his deep, blue eyes flecked with forest green and seemed to drink in his very soul. While taller in stature than an average elf child, he was seemingly unaffected by her powerful aura; an aura which had compelled lords, kings and generals alike to bow before her in an instant. Amlaruil looked deeper into the soul of this dauntless elf child and found nothing but laughter and trickery and his wry smile deepened, the more she pressed her spell. The Moonblade of Zaor remained quiescent in her grasp and as her spell delved deeper, she understood that this Curudin Ahmaquissar allowed her to spell-probe him without resistance or complaint.
Her puzzlement showing, Amlaruil repeated her question. "Did you come for my husband’s Moonblade?”
The response was as swift as it was unexpected. "No my lady ... my Queen. I have actually come for you."

With a mere thought, Queen Amlaruil cast a Time Stop Spell and raised her eyebrow in anticipation. The world seemed to stop all around her, but she moved with the grace and speed of a demi-god. Curudin appeared transfixed in time before her, but with clever eyes, followed her every movement. For a moment or two, the Queen was aware of this and was taken aback. For the next 4 rounds, Amlaruil cast several augury spells asking the Selderine for advice and wisdom. Not a single deity seemed to answer her multiple prayers. However, right as the Time Stop Spell was about to end, she received an unexpected response to her augury. It was but a faint laugh at first. Subtle, unthreatening, yet commanding. Before the spell ended, the Queen, who both wise and old enough, knew she had heard that enchanting revelry in her youth. It was the laughter of Ereven Ilesere and she now understood that Curudin of House Ahmaquissar was Trickster Touched.

Faerun, In the Ruins beneath Elvenport, 1374 DR.

Curudin stepped aside with preternatural grace and agility beyond that of an elf his age. The clawed hand of the Glabrezu smashed into the solid wall which was just above Curudin’s head. As he rolled off to his right, he came up to his feet with a sword in either hand. Quickly mouthing the words to a powerful spell in his mind, he stabbed the Giant beast in the ribs with his Shortsword, as he skewered the massive chest of the Hulking terror with his powerful Longsword. Both left hand and right hand working in unison to destroy the Horror in front of him and his companions. The Glabrezu, a four-armed demon with pinchers that crush stone and magic that destroys the soul and spirit of all mortals, lashed out one final time at the Divine thief. With sheer laughter in his voice, Curudin Ahmaquissar released his powerful spell of Banishment as his blades tore into either side of the demon. With infernal curses and promise of torment, the Glabrezu was sent back to the Abyss for a century.

Terrindill Shaelarrah winked at Curudin for his stunning win against the Glabrezu and then went back to work on the magical trap before him. If not for the demon’s defeat, they would all be dead. Terrindill, a Gold Elf of superb skill and innate gifts in the art of Shadows, smiled yet again when the other three companions came along after true battle it seemed. They were all battered and beaten as Terrindill clicked his last lock-Pick on the Magick door and it popped open with a silent swish. With grins and laughs, the ‘Rogues of The Laughing Twilight’ left the extradimensional space to touch foot back in Faerun once again. Night was fast upon them in Elvenport when they heard movement up ahead, soon followed by screams of terror and the otherworldly roars of some abyssal beast.

Curudin signaled his five companions in thieves cant and told them to approach the clearing in silence. As they all came closer to the forest glade, the sounds of battle broke out with fair voices shouting and bestial snarls and roars filling the night air.

Curudin and his companions took a moment to cast a few spells on themselves and prepare for whatever battle lies ahead. After a few short moments they heard a piercing screech that reverberated throughout the entire ruins of Elvenport. Curudin and his elven rogues had heard that screech many times in the past few days exploring the long abandoned elven city, so they ran as fast and silent as hunting cats through the ancient woods. As they approached the clearing Curudin cast a spell on himself to increase his strength and another to increase his already inherent preternatural speed and agility, and a third spell to ward off evil in a large radius centered on himself. Several feet to his right he heard the soft chanting of Nym Nightsong, a Star elf Shadow Mage of considerable power that has been a member of Curudin's Thieves guild, known as The Rogues of Laughing Twilight for two decades now, and a trusted lieutenant and friend. As Nym was casting his Shadow Shield on himself, Curudin looked to his left to see Laeirlefain Starleaf, a Copper elf Swashbuckler of great renown in The Silver Marches, and another lieutenant of his guild, preparing himself with several magic items. Up ahead and to either side of the clearing, out of his sight, Curudin could imagine his other three companions flanking the small forest glen that the battle was taking place in. Far ahead stalked Pheyloo Audark, a Copper elf assassin that carries enough magical daggers to take down a Storm Giant. Right behind him to either side are the Wild elf siblings Saffrathila and Sathalindle Selorn, whom are both Rogue-Rangers of impeccable talent and skill. Saffrathila, the sister, being a Justice of Weald and Woe is a spell archer, and her twin brother Sathalindle is a Dervish without equal. With a count of ten to let his companions get into flanking position, Curudin sprang into the clearing alone and was sickened by the terrible sight before him.

Nine elves lay dead around the clearing. One elf was on his knees surrounded by three Fey'ri and two towering Vrocks to either side. "Never shall you retrieve the Shattering Swords of Coronal Ynloeth." the dying elf said with defiance. The Fey'ri leader stabbed the elf patrol commander through his neck with ease, as the magical blade drank his blood and life force. Before another move was made Curudin lashed out with a powerful divine spell that created a large multi-colored hammer, which flashed and flew across the forest glen smashing the Fey'ri leader to the ground with an audible crack before it instantly flew towards the Vrock demon to it's right, and smashed the beast in it's horrid beak, sending it spinning and staggering. The Fey'ri sorcerer to the leaders right, turned around and started casting a spell, only to end in a gurgling spurt of flowing blood as Terrindill Shaelarra Shadow Pounced from the darkness of the forest right behind the spell-caster and skewered the demonic elf with his fine, magical elven thin blade, right through his neck. Curudin couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight, as Terrindill Shaelarra; a Gold elf Shadowdancer, tipped his sword towards Curudin and chuckled at his brilliant handiwork. Terrindill then told his Shadow Companion, whom he named Vrax to attack the Vrock that Curudin's Chaos Hammer just smashed in the face and sent staggering.

The third and last Fey'ri drew it's twin blades and rushed at Curudin who stood alone in the clearing seeming comfortable and unconcerned about the two giant Vrocks before him. Before the demonic elf even went five steps towards Curudin, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a rapid flurry of magical daggers that seemed to come out of the black darkness of the woods itself. The Fey'ri turned around just in time to see the Assassin Pheyloo walk into the glade and toss one last dagger into its heart with a simple flick of his wrist that astounded the demon-elf before he died and fell face first into the soft pine needles of the forest floor.

At this moment, six spell-laced arrows shot out from high in the surrounding tree line and slammed into the Vrock closest to the edge of the forest. Each arrow carrying a different potent spell meant to hamper, cripple and kill its opponent. As the second Vrock recovered from Curudin's Chaos Hammer, it was met by a Wild elf who burst out from the shadows of the woods and threw himself at the large demon with abandon. Twin swords spinning and lashing and cutting deep into it's flesh before the beast even knew it was assaulted in melee combat. Just at that moment a powerful black lightning bolt ripped the night air and tore into the demon from behind and lifted it up into the trees with a deafening crack. By the time it landed it was charred and smoking as Curudin sped towards the monster and stabbed it through its skull with his powerful longsword. He chuckled as the beast lay dead. The second Vrock was enmeshed with a plethora of killing arrows as Laeirlefain quick stepped beside the Vrock and plunged both his rapiers into the demons face as it shrieked out a terrible scream that blasted all six rogues off their feet and shook the trees all around the glade. Curudin quickly composed himself and shook off the effects of the Vrocks death screech, while his companions took a bit longer to get to their feet. With a wry smile and a lasting grin he saluted his friends and cast a spell of Augury. After several minutes of casting the spell he came to and spoke quietly to his companions. "I see now that our next misadventure involves obtaining the Shattering Swords of Coronal Ynloeth from the depths of Hellgate Keep", he said with an impish smirk on his handsome face.

*Faerun, Deep in the Caverns of Taerymdoom. 1375 DR.

Curudin knelt before the pile of bones before him, convinced that this is the remains of the famed elven adventurer Taerym. His six companions spread out among the large cavern they now stood in, flanking all positions and keeping watch. He was further convinced of his realization by the love letter he found in a hidden pocket of the magic cloak laying under the remains of this well known elf. A love letter addressing him personally. Beside the love letter was a Wand made of Shadowtop bark and carved by skilled and ancient hands. Yes, this was certainly Taerym, the fabled elf adventurer of whom these caverns are named.

Curudin studied the wand for many moments, using all of his gained lore of ancient artifacts before his eyes lit up and flickered with inner light as he understood finally what this wand was, and how the trigger word was so subtly crafted onto the side of this curious item. He smiled and tucked the wand into the side of his belt as he stood up. Curudin then produced a medium sized flask from his pouch of holding and began a chant to Erevan Ilesere as he doused the remains and equipment of Taerym with Feywine to consecrate the bones of the legendary hero. AS Curudin held up the enchanted flask before himself, it refilled, and he poured it on the remains once more with a final blessing of his elven god. Finally, when it was empty again, he held it up to his face as it magically filled itself, and drained the entire flask in one fell swig as he looked upon the fallen legend with mischief in his eyes.

Once the enchanted flask refilled with the potent Feywine, he called over his six friends. The lieutenants of his strictly elven rogues guild, known as 'The Rogues of The Laughing Twilight'. When his companions gathered around him, he looked to his left and offered his flask of Feywine to them all.

First to drink was Pheyloo Audark, a Wild elf Rogue/Assassin/Quietknife who drank the entire flask in one gulp while praying to Erevan Ilerese to reveal the names of the Durugar and Illithids who enslaved him and murdered his family. Once the flask magically refilled, he passed it on to his left.

Second to drink was Laeirlefain Starleaf, a Copper elf Rogue/Swashbuckler/Shadowblade who chugged the flask in two swift pulls, while giving a prayer to Erevan for a mighty duel once they return to Silverymoon or Everlund.

Third to drink the Feywine was Saffrathindle Selorn, a female Wild elf Rogue/Ranger/Justice of Weald and Woe, that sipped several times until the flask was empty again, and prayed to Erevan for more divine spells to eliminate her enemies. Once the enchanted flask filled itself she passed it on to her left, where stood her one and only true love.

Fourth to drink the magical Feywine was Nym Nightsong, a Star elf Rogue/Wizard/Shadow Adept who prayed to Erevan that he may find an ancient spell-tome to study and use in his further adventures with his current friends and lover.

Fifth to drink was Terrindill Shaelarrah, a Sun elf Rogue/Shadowdancer/Shadowlord who prayed to Erevan for a more challenging trap to disable and bypass during this current adventure. He didn't think he was asking for much.

The sixth and last to drink from the sacred flask was Sathalindle Selorn, brother to Saffrathindle, a Wild elf Rogue/Ranger/Dervish who drained the contents in three great gulps and prayed to Erevan for a Cooshie companion since his Weasel companion died during combat against Countess Sarya of the Fey'ri over a year ago in the ruins of Hellgate Keep. As he passed the refilling flask over to Curudin, he vowed to repay the witch with the keen edges of his twin longswords.

As the enchanted flask was passed back to Curudin, he took a final swig of the Feywine and put it back into his pouch of holding at the back of his belt and said a final prayer to Erevan for the fallen elf adventurer Taerym, of whom these caverns were named.

It was at this very moment that a plethora of unearthly screams resounded from the tunnels to their right. An enemy approached indeed. The quick minded companions darted out towards the cavern walls on either side to ambush and flank the approaching danger. Pheyloo cast an invisibility spell on himself and flanked towards the right, while Nym began to cast a killing spell as he slowly walked towards the left of the chamber they stood in. Terrindill blended in with the shadows of the lightless cave and called upon his Shadow companion Vrax to aid him if needed. Saffrathindle called a spell to her lips as she pulled her mighty bow from her shoulder and followed the direction of Pheyloo as he turned invisible. Her brother Sathalindle had no such compulsions as he drew his twin longswords and rushed straight towards the tunnel the otherworldly screams came from and wore a sardonic grin on his beautiful brown face while throwing a wink at his deadly sister.

Laeirlefain stood ten paces in front of Curudin with both of his elven thin blades drawn and ready to kill. Each blade a powerful Rapier unto itself, but then he enacted a single ancient elven, innate word of mystery and his twin thin blades erupted into pulsing shadows. He turned his head back to Curudin who stood at ease and relaxed, and cast a knowing sly smirk to his long time friend before he jutted forward with trails of shadow following his blades. Curudin just stood there and quietly laughed at all his companions for their efficiency and skill at ambush and direct combat.

Followed by their horrific screams, a pack of 20 Vargouilles burst into the dark cavern. Disfigured human heads, with mouths full of long fangs and wriggling tentacles and long bat wings on either side of their heads, these monsters were from the lower planes, summoned by a greater enemy to devour and destroy any invader to the cavern complex.

Saffrathindle stood her ground 20 paces to the right of Curudin and let loose a full attack of spell-arrows at the front of the approaching creatures, unleashing a plethora of hindering and immobilizing spell effects that had the monsters behind crashing and diverting to fly freely around the enabled Vargouilles in the way.

Nym Nightsong unleashed a powerful stroke of pitch black chain lightning at that same moment, instantly dropping five of the creatures dead behind Saffrathindle's spell-arrows. Sathalindle met the first three Vargouilles head on with twin blades spinning and whirling and cutting and stabbing. His onslaught of melee mastery was too much for the monsters and they all three fell dead at his feet.

Not to be undone, Terrindill shadow-stepped beside four of the abominations and skewered two of them with his fine elven thin blade and light blade, while his shadow companion Vrax began to drain the lifeforce of the remaining two with claws and teeth. It truly still amazed Terrindill that Vrax looked exactly like him, but made purely of shadows. He laughed aloud and rejoiced in the irony as Vrax sprouted identical swords from his shadowy hands to continue killing the two Vargouilles he was battling. Terrindill riposted, feigned and delivered a double thrust that slayed both monsters he faced. Vrax was simply draining their life force with every shadowy hit of his shadowy blades.

Laeirlefain stood his ground also, with twin blades at his ready, enmeshed in thick, powerful, innate shadow. Three of the monsters flew at him with jaws agape, and he ducked, spun and somersaulted in one swift maneuver while slashing and stabbing his twin Rapiers and calling out to his innate shadow abilities to deliver death blows to the three Vargouilles his two blades connected with. As Laeirlefain lightly touched back down onto the cavern floor, he was greeted by the severed remains of the foul abominations falling about him.

The last five Vargouilles sped towards Curudin and he put his hands on the hilts of his twin swords, but never even had the chance to draw the blades, as all five fell dead ten feet in front of him pierced by daggers he knew so well. Casually walking towards him was Pheyloo, who breaking his invisibility spell with the attack asked a simple question... "Do we slay rodents of the lower planes all night, or do we get something out of this at all?" Curudin just laughed!!

Two days later the rogues came upon a underground castle. A temple perhaps. No guards, no security, no visible wards that a spell could discern. Built by hands, and no magic, It was a fortress glowing green with power. Curudin could feel the warmth sucked from his very breath. AS the companions took a moment to decide what the next plan would be, the massive gate to the fortress lowered and smashed into the cavern floor with a resounding clang.

Slowly and confidently walked two powerfully evil individuals from the depths of the fortress. The sheer power and presence of these two had all seven rogues rocking back on their heels. Curudin himself had never felt such unholy power before, not even from Bateezu or Tann'ari, devils or demons. Curudin gave a sharp whistle and his lieutenants acted accordingly, preparing themselves with spells and scrolls and innate powers. Curudin himself did no such thing.

Curudin Ahmaquissar, the Moon elf, Trickster-Touched Cleric/Rogue/Mischiefmaker of Erevan Ilesere would have no such preparations. He looked to his twin blades. His longsword was a Holy symbol unto itself, regardless of whatever trinket his deity demanded he steal for a symbol of divine spells. It was a Holy Longsword called "Hidden Smile", with its sister Shortsword called "Little Sneak". He looked back up into the gaze of the two powerful creatures before him. He yelled back immediately for his friends to not look upon them and to avert their gaze.

Before Curudin stood a Vampire Lord and a Werewolf Lord!

Out flashed Curudin's twin blades, and he immediately began to channel Erevan's divine energy to destroy this powerful undead lord, and his Lordly Werewolf companion. The Trickster-Touched Moon elf exploded in rapid movement, casting two spells simultaneously, while attacking the Werewolf Lord in melee combat. The first spell was one to protect him from evil in a large radius around him, and the second spell was to increase his size and strength. Laeirlefain and Sathalindle rushed forward ten feet, only to be smitten back by a sheer force of evil power. Saffrathindle fired off five spell-arrows meant to kill and they all fell short of their mark, disrupted by some powerful shield spell. She knew then that the Vampire Lord was a wizard, and the Werewolf Lord was likely a great warrior. She feared that Curudin was going to die quickly in this battle. All the companions looked on with such dread and dismay as they all ran forward to flank the two Lords before them.

The Werewolf Lord, a large bestial terror of immense horror and power, swung his greatsword with preternatural speed as Curudin ducked and then dived over the blade with a grace and agility that gave the Werewolf Lord pause. "You will never defeat me, the great lord Nixelshevin Blackmaw." The lycanthrope said with conviction. Curudin decided to maneuver the werewolf lord to his left to avoid the Vampire lord whom was casting a spell aimed solely at him. He met the Werewolf's greatsword with both his Longsword and Shortsword and aimed the block downward as to lessen the blow which meant to cleave him in half. Curudin was positive that Lord Nixelshevin wanted to eat his still beating heart. At the same time that Curudin was having these thoughts fighting the Werewolf Lord, a familiar spell washed over him. A powerful spell cast by the Vampire Lord to hold him fast and debilitate his every attribute. He actually let the spell take effect as he looked past the Vampire lord to see his Lieutenants screaming in helpless rage, unable to get past the powerful spell of evil the Undead Lord cast on the area around the battle. Curudin was helpless it seemed. To all appearances he was unable to break the bonds of the spell the Undead lord had cast upon him, while the Werewolf lord walked up to him in bestial manner, slathering and drooling over a slow kill.

"I am lord Harrowmont Velshadoom. Meet your grisly death wretched elf." spoke the Vampire Lord in a hissing voice. "May Lord Nixelshevin Blackmaw feast on your remains!!" He raised his hand back to cast a killing touch spell, and Curudin spoke a single elven word of power! Still clutching his Holy Longsword of Erevan Ilesere, Curudin simply spoke the word "DIE", and it was a greater destroying spell, full of channeled divine might and coupled with a compulsion effect. Curudin laughed aloud when the Vampire Lord, Harrowmont Velshadoom burst into a plethora of spraying blood and Ichor and bones.

Once seemingly released from the debilitating spell of the powerful Vampire lord, curudin quickly snatched the wand from his belt that he had acquired from the bones of the dead adventurer, Taerym and pointed it at the large fell beast and spoke its trigger word. The hulking terror before him paused his advance and began to twitch and contort, but the powerful beast shrugged off the effects of the wand and lunged at the Mischiefmaker, aiming to sever his head. With the circle of unholy blight dismissed with the Vampire Lords death, the six other companions ran to the pile of blasted gore that was the slain unholy Lord and began to cut off it's head from its destroyed body and burn the remains before it could regenerate back to life. Thirty feet away the melee fight continued between the Werewolf Lord and the Mischiefmaker, with Curudin displaying a flourish of cuts and stabs and ripostes that kept the massive lycanthrope at bay. With sheer brute strength the Werewolf Lord managed to wound Curudin several times on his arms and torso, but the speed and agility of the Trickster-Touched moon elf was far too great for the beast to land a killing blow against him.

Pheyloo, Sathalindle and Saffrathilia broke away from their other three companions who continued to finalize the destruction of Lord Harrowmont, and rushed to help their leader who was engaged in melee combat with the large terrifying lycanthrope. Saffrathilia fired off three arrows at the monstrous werewolf that found their mark in its back, but if the arrows had any effect at all, it didn't show. Pheyloo began throwing dagger after dagger, including several enchanted daggers and knives at Lord Blackmaw, but again, if they had any effect the beast just shrugged them off. Sathalindle raced forward to join the melee, but Curudin shouted to them all to stand back.

"You will die at my feet elf, and I will suck the marrow from your bones.", snarled Lord Nixelshevin Blackmaw as he disengaged his glowing greatsword long enough to swing it down by his feet, behind his back and up over his head with a blow that was meant to cut the moon elf in half down the middle. Curudin dived to his left and rolled ten feet away, coming up to his feet and turning around with his Holy sword raised high into the air as he called forth a spell that brought a column of divine fire down upon the lupine terror. The werewolf lord howled in agonizing pain as the power of the spell burned its fur and melted its skin in places to slide off his bones and fall to the floor.

When the spell was over, Lord Blackmaw stood there with smoldering fur and melted flesh, with a look of pure hate on his horrible canine face. Falling into a berserkers rage, the werewolf lord threw his mighty greatsword at the moon elf and pounced, screaming "I shall rend the flash from your body and feast on your heart." Curudin's companions watched in dismay as the fell beast flew towards the Mischiefmaker with dagger-long claws extended and canine jaws wide open for an overwhelming, bestial attack that would surely overpower and kill their long time friend. Curudin Ahmahquissar sheathed both his weapons lightning fast and just stood there relaxed and confident. All six of his lieutenants cried out helplessly as the large monster was almost upon him.

At the very last second, the Trickster-Touched Mischiefmaker just simply disappeared right before Lord Blackmaws eyes as he enacted his divine ability to Side-Slip. Within the span of a single heartbeat, he reappeared behind the monstrous creature and performed a sneak attack with his short sword "Little Sneak", that critically wounded the lycanthrope, and severed its spine in half.

Lord Nixelshevin Blackmaw collapsed to the cavern floor with a thud and lay there very still. As Curudin stared down at the disabled beast, he could see the look of pure, fell rage in its evil, orange, bloodshot eyes. The moon elf pulled out that curious wand again that he found on the remains of the elf Adventurer Taerym, and with a knowing wry smile he spoke its trigger word as a ray of white energy erupted from its tip and hit the monster in its massive chest. Blackmaw's hybrid body began to contort and snap and pop audibly as the convulsions twisted his limp form. Within moments the enormous werewolf lord was replaced by a tiny orange frog as the wand of Polymorph enacted its spell.

As the Mischiefmakers companions walked up beside him, he tucked the wand back into his belt and could not suppress a heartfelt chuckle as he said "May you continue to burn in the fiery pits of Gehenna, Lord Frog!!." He then stomped the werewolf lord-turned frog with the heel of his leather boot.

Faerun, In the Dwarven ruins of Ascore, 1376 DR.

The Night Hag cackled with delight as her Ghast and Ghoul minions swarmed the six elven rogues, and her Death Knight servant kept their tall elf leader busy in combat. She began to ready a spell of decay when three magic daggers suddenly sprouted from her chest, disrupting her spell and staggering her back a few feet. The Night Hag known as Zarlemina screamed out a curse at the handsome copper elf who stood before her, thirty paces away, smirking despite the forty ghouls and ghasts surrounding him and his companions. He suddenly ducked down to the ground as four black shafted, spell-enchanted arrows flew over his head to slam into Zarlemina in her shoulders and abdomen. Another furious curse came off the Night Hags lips, but this time bringing a baleful spell of withering that washed out from her in a cone, spreading 50 feet from her emaciated form, to encompass the handsome copper elf assassin who drew three more daggers in each of his hands, and past him to Saffrathindle, the wild elf ranger who peppered her with spell-arrows. Pheyloo shrugged off the withering spell as he began to throw his six daggers at the hag, but the female wild elf was not so fortunate as the terrible spell took hold of her and she clawed her own body as she dropped to the ground moaning in pain.

Sathalindle Selorn, the wild elf brother of Saffrathindle, could not hear his sisters screams and moans as he was engrossed in the combat dance of the Dervish, lopping off arms, heads and legs of the undead surrounding him and his fellow companions. To the right of Sathalindle stood the copper elf Laeirlefain Starleaf, who had a completely different fighting style, more piercing and slashing and precise strikes than the whirlwind of attacks that was the Dervish wild elf. Laeirlefain worked his twin elven thin blades with such skill that the undead coming at him couldn't even begin to claw or bite or overwhelm him. To the left of Sathalindle stood Terrindill Shaelarrah, a Sun elf Shadowdancer who was more talented at disarming and bypassing magical traps and wards than fighting hoards of undead with his rapier and elven light blade. All the same, Terrindill held his own against the ghouls and ghasts in melee combat with the help of his Shadow Companion and his innate abilities to warp and control the shadows around him.

Behind his three friends, Nym Nightsong had been silently casting a powerful shadow-spell. The Star elf shadow mage finished his incantations with a flourish and laughed aloud as a pitch black fireball erupted from his left hand to drive into the chest of the nearest ghast and exploded the creature into a thousand pieces as it arced into a chain of dark destruction that felled no less than thirty ghouls and ghasts as it made its way around the hungry packs of undead, burning and melting flesh and bone, and slaying all in it's path. Before the spell even ended, Nym began casting another deadly evocation. Behind him, Saffrathilla continued to writhe in agony as the Night Hags withering spell wracked her body. Before he could react, he saw Pheyloo casting a quick spell of invisibility and abruptly disappear. Knowing his Assassin friend was keeping the hag busy, Nym continued to focus on his spell and the undead monsters pressing in on them all from three sides. Sathalindle, Laeirlefain and Terrindill were fighting furiously to keep the creatures from getting past them and joining the Night Hag and tearing Saffrathindle apart as she lay there helpless in the clutches of the evil spell.

Curudin Ahmaquissar ducked under the broad sword of the Death Knight as the undead warrior slashed at his neck and came forward with a shield bash only to notice the tall moon elf rolling past him while chanting something he couldn't understand. As Curudin's roll came to a stop and he pivoted on his right heel and turned around to face the knight, he held aloft his Holy long sword of Erevan Ilesere and channeled the divine might of his trickster god and smote the death knight in its face with a multi-colored beam of power. The ancient death knight known as Sir Krestov stood there transfixed, with arms open wide, dropping his archaic weapons and bellowing a loud, low moan that sounded like relief as he disintegrated into a pile of ash and armor. The Mischiefmaker immediately turned his attention to his companions and a sour frown crossed over his handsome elven face.

Curudin seen Saffrathindle laying on the ground writhing in the hag's spell, being drained of her life-force, and came to the conclusion that he had two choices. He could dispel the withering curse and ignore this creature from the lower Planes, or kill the hag outright and hopefully end the affliction. Before the Mischiefmaker could decide his course of action, he noticed the assassin Pheyloo Audark appear behind the Night Hag with his two enchanted daggers buried hilt deep in either side of her neck. Her eyes bulged out in disbelief and she opened her fanged mouth to spit out a curse of death around her, but Pheyloo retracted one of his knives to slit her throat from ear to ear while whispering something grim that only she could hear.

Nym Nightsong finished his spell and called forth a dark Ice Storm of devastating destruction that froze entire packs of ghouls and ghasts where they stood, knowing that when the spell ended the undead would be slain by the sheer power of the cold damage he inflicted on them. Nym then drew out his twin short swords and rushed to join his friends who were engaged in melee with the remaining undead, and used every skill and trick he knew as a rogue to backstab and cripple their foes. He was smiling the entire time.

The Trickster-Touched moon elf rushed to Saffrathindle and laid hands on her, placing a hand on her head and on her chest while asking Erevan Ilesere to give him the divine power to remove the curse placed on her by the Night Hag. She lay still for a few moments before she opened her eyes and reached up to kiss the Mischiefmaker on his lips in casual thanks. Her brother Sathalindle and her lover Pheyloo Audark helped her up to her feet as she drank a healing potion for good measure. The companions were discussing their next move when suddenly a cold voice spoke from behind Curudin. "Impressive work Mischiefmaker. Very impressive indeed". All seven companions turned about to see a tall Shadovar wizard, surrounded by ten shadovar warriors. The individual was seemingly important due to his clothing and the green staff held in his hand, that glowed a faint purple hue as he finished his sentence. "I am Lord Darenfell Perithintine of Shade Enclave, Arcane adviser to Prince Yder, Arcane devotee to Lady Shar and emissary of the Netherese." Curudin walked straight up to Lord Darenfell and pushed him back hard with one hand while silently calling a powerful divine spell to his mind. "So, Lord Shade, I assume you watched our plight and did nothing to help us? Or else you and your fellows were so enamored of our prowess that you were entranced with inactivity." said the Mischiefmaker with dripping sarcasm in his tone. The Shade lord stood there measuring the Trickster-Touched moon elf for a few moments before he bowed before Curudin in an archaic sweep of his staff and replied, "Not many adventurers can defeat a Night Hag and a Death Knight servant, let alone a hoard of undead at the same time. I merely waited for the outcome before I revealed our presents." Curudin walked up even closer to lord Darenfell and almost touched noses before he stood his ground and looked into the shadovars eyes.

"Choose your words wisely and speak quickly before I lose my flighty humor on your facade." Curudin calmly placed his hands over the hilts of his twin swords as he finished his statement. The Netherese lord smiled and bowed again, coming back up with a grand smile on his swarthy face. "Prince Lamorak would like his tel'kiira back, in no uncertain terms." The unbridled laughter that came from Curudin Ahmaquissar at that moment was like the angry chimes of a thousand drunk pixies. "Prince Lamorak would like back his elven wrought tel'kiira, crafted in the ancient city of Sharlarion, that Vazzelshevril Ahmaquissar himself made before the Crown Wars?" said Curudin as he shoved lord Darenfell back with an open palm to his stout chest. The shadovar lord rocked back on his heels with the sheer strength of that simple push. "Your precious prince took the Selu'Kiira Rilan'Vae from the ruins of Hellgate Keep and has no claim on the gem. It is a sacred, divine work of art and power that should never have come into his possession. If your master is upset with the fact that I casually stole into the enclave and took back what belongs to the people, then so be it. Maybe your prince Lamorak is a fallible coward who sends little wizards to do his dirty work."

Lord Darenfell visually brimmed with seething rage at those words. The shadovar warriors surrounding him fell into a attack formation guided by their captain and awaited their commands. "I suppose you don't have the tel'kiira on your belongings at this moment you wretched elf, do you?"
"The Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae has a name." said Curudin with a wide, grim smirk on his lips. "Can you speak it's name lord Shade?" "It's the Shadow Gem of Sharlarion, is it not?" said the netherese lord. "Yes... and so much more. Please tell prince Lamorak yourself that I stole the gem from him as fairly as he found it himself in the ruins of Hellgate Keep." "It does not belong to him whatsoever!" said Curudin as he poked his finger into the chest of the powerful Shade lord. " You tell him this yourself and feel the shame of defeat as you and your warriors walk away with nothing but my gratitude in not slaying you all right now, right here." The Trickster-Touched moon elf looked at lord Darenfell keenly and spat in his face with a smirk on his elven lips. "You're a mere messenger, so take a message to your vile, weak Prince of Shar and tell him that I will bring down all of Shade Enclave before I give up The Shadow Gem."

Lord Darenfell Perithintine had enough of this verbal abuse and raised his green staff to cast a killing spell upon Curudin. But before the Shade lord could utter a word, Curudin reacted with lightning speed and drew a knife from his belt to find a home in the chin of the the Netherese shade. With preternatural quickness the moon elf opened the shadovar's neck from ear to ear with a spinning slash of his powerful longsword. At the same moment, Terrindill Shaelarra shadow-stepped behind the netherese warrior captain and skewered his skull with a single quick stab of his fine, enchanted elven thin blade. "Take this message back to your beloved Prince Lamorak... Next time I choose to enter Shade Enclave, it won't be to steal back an ancient elven artifact, but to steal the very life force from his soul." The Mischiefmaker looked directly into the eyes of the warrior to the dead wizards right, and compelled him to carry on the message with a mere glance. All of Shade Enclave will soon hear of this failure. Curudin Ahmaquissar could only smile at the possibilities it would bring.

1378 DR: In the Dire Wood, High Forest.

Galaeron Nihmedu blasted the Vampire Lord in its chest with a Shadow-Bolt of tremendous power, while leaping forward and hacking at the powerful, intelligent undead with his enchanted longsword. The Vampire Lord raised its broadsword to parry the attack as it fell back several feet from the force of the spell impact. The shadow bolt blasted the right side of the vampires ribcage away as the longsword came slashing down onto its skull. The vampire lord went down in a heap, but Galaeron couldn't waste the time to successfully destroy the vampire.

Aeron Morieth was busy casting a spell that destroyed the undead in a arc of shadow-force around the party of ten elves. His shadow spell was so powerful that it split ghouls in half and exploded zombies by the dozens.

Araevin Teshurr was walking slowly in a deep trance at the center of the party of elves, casting spells and talking in an ancient language of the elves of Arryvandarr. He was summoning the corrupted power of the Karse-Stone and weaving it into his elven spell of oblivion. This spell would take hours, and he hoped for the sake of Faerun that his companions could last long enough for him to complete his ancient elven high magic spell.

Curudin Ahmaquissar was in melee combat with Jingleshod; The Death Knight of The Dire Wood. The Undead Knights sword came down in a stunningly fast arc as he shield bashed at Curudin, who back-stepped and twiriled around in a half pivot to slash at the legs of the undead lord. The power of the Knights undeath prevented the twin swords of Curudin from severing them asunder, and he stood upright on broken legs still and surprised Curudin with a vicious attack of sword and shield.

Curudin knew time was an issue with the undead, and they would all rise from undeath again in a short period, so he planted his longsword into the swampy earth of the Dire Wood Bridge and called forth a powerful wave of destruction against undead that utterly vanquished the lesser undead, destroyed the intelligent undead and laid low the powerful undead in a circle around him that blasted out to two hundred feet in a killing zone. Jingleshod, the Death Knight of Wulgreth was dissolved into nothingness before the Mischiefmakers eyes.

Curudin had no chance to admire his power as entire herds of hundreds of undead attacked his party. A roiling blackness came from the center of the Dire Wood and out stepped a Vampire Lord of tremendous power that rocked the woods with a arching bolt of lightning that hit every companion and sent them all jerking and stumbling to the ground.

Ghouls attacked in packs and zombies were behind them. To the south a Mummy Lord fronted a elite group of Ghasts that closed behind the companions. A Ghost King herded them all at the Vampire Lords direction. A second Death Knight appeared to the dismay of the 10 companions and she called out Galeron Nihmedu to battle. Aeron Morieth belted her with several shadow bolts and a ray of acid that would drop a lesser undead. The Death Knight withstood the spells and advanced on the companions.

Pheyloo Audark shadow-stepped within 30 feet of the knight and let loose a barrage of enchanted daggers before he drew two knives and stalked towards the death knight.

Nym Nightsong cast a sphere of disintegration on top of the creatures head as he drew out his twin blades.

Whispertongue played his Lyre until his fingers bled. Using his own blood as a fuel for the spells he cast to destroy the undead. He had not yet drawn his weapons, and continued to sing and play his instrument.

Terrindill Shaelarra danced among the shadows, using his three shadow companions to his advantage as he stabbed and slashed at the undead around him. He just put his thinblade through a Ghast Lords skull, when he heard a wail that numbed him and made him stop his killing spree.

The Banshee's wail had powerful magic behind it. Several of the companions stood motionless along with the undead as the wail continued. Even Curudin was stupefied in his divine spells after the banshee wail.

Laeirlefain the wood elf was fighting furiously in a swashbuckling style of shadow and deception that left all watching in amazement. Ghouls and zombies were torn apart by his shadow-attacks. Laeirlefain confronted the Mummy Lord head on and ripped him to shreds before a Ghost crept behind him and laid him low with a chilling touch of epic power. The copper elf was blasted aside and left for dead as the Ghost King advanced on the main party, and the Mummy Lord re-attached itself from the swordsmans handy work.

Too many powerful undead were assaulting the party at this moment. A Death Knight, A Mummy Lord that cannot be killed by blades, and a Vampire Lord that was a powerful wizard in life, followed by a Ghost King of ancient Sharrven.

Curudin prayed to Erevan Ilesere for help, but his deity was silent as usual. He focused his ancient Longsword as a Holy symbol and called to Arvandor for guidance. "For the Mythal I need help" silently whispered Curudin to Queen Amlaruil. Nothing!

He knew he was alone. How could he save his companions? Not only did he entice seven of his top commanders along with him, he convinced three Legendary elves to come with him as well. Now they were all about to die because of his greed and needs. He reminded himself that his deity asked for him to do this, and it wasn't out of his own desire to call them all together. Erevan Ilesere himself asked him to do this, so it must be worth something. But what?

"I guess we'll all find out" he softly said to himself as he charged the Ghost KIng with both spells on his lips and duel swords in his hands.

Faerun, In Turlang's Woods; The northern High Forest. 1376 DR

Curudin Ahmaquissar, The Trickster-Touched Mischiefmaker of Erevan Ilesere sat in the oak throne created for him by the four dryads who protected this particular glade of the High Forest. It was The Midnight Gambol! The tall, handsome moon elf was pleased by the outcome of tonight's celebrations. As the ranking High Cleric of Erevan Ilesere in the Silver Marches, he was expected to host the Midnight Gambol once a month at a different location. This particular Midnight Gambol was something special indeed. Creatures and humanoids of all races and kinds gathered about. From the many races of the Fey, to elves and dwarves and a human or two. Animals both magical and mundane, monsters benign and feral. All were welcomed at Curudin's Midnight Gambol! Treants, dryads, quicklings, blink dogs, cooshies, fairy fiddlers, grigs, swanmays, Werebeasts, elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, humans and any other willing or fortunate being who happens to stumble upon the festivities.

Tonight was a special night. Terrindill Shaelarra, the sun elf Rogue/ Shadowdancer, Laeirlefain Starleaf, the copper elf rogue/ swashbuckler/ shadowblade and Pheyloo Audark, the copper elf rogue/ assassin were going through the ritual of the Shadow Walker. This ritual was imparted to Curudin by the Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae, as well as several other schools of shadow first discovered by the elves of ancient Sharlarion. It was Vazzelshevrill Ahmaquissar himself that created the Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae by the behest of Erevan Ilesere. The High Lore Gem contained the original lost arts of shadow, that has since been written down and shared among the other races as they are known today.

The five schools of shadow that the Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae teaches and imparts are as follows; The art of the Shadowblade. The art of the Shadowdancer. The art of the Shadow-Mage. The art of the Shadow Lord. The art of the Shadow-Walker. The art of the Shade. Any Cleric of Erevan Ilesere can obtain this information freely upon placing the Gem upon their brow. Many races have copied these skills and abilities and have watered down the true art form of the individual talents, but only the Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae imparts the powerful, ancient knowledge of shadow and trickery that Erevan Ilesere himself shared with Vazzelshevrill Ahmaquissar during the height of elven wisdom in the city of Sharlarion. The High Art of the Shadow Gem has been written down in books and passed down to other races to be utilized in lesser forms as we see today in the Shadowdancer prestige class , or the Shade template, but those are mere copies and a much lesser form of the true Art contained in The Shadow Gem of Sharlarion.

Curudin called for silence during the Gambol as he instructed the Sun elf to call forth his shadow companion and shadow dance together for the fey crowd as he began the rite of Shadow-Walking. The glade grew darker than night and the natural shadows surrounding the bonfire erupted into pitch black as Terrindill summoned his shadow companion to join in the ceremony. They began to dance to the sullen sounds of the faerie Fiddlers and the cacophony of the present fey beings that chose to stay invisible. The Mischiefmaker could only smile as Laeirlefain and Pheyloo joined the dance. Pheyloo cast an assassins spell to enmesh his body with shadow from head to toe, making him almost indistinguishable from Terrindill's shadow companion, as Laeirlefain called upon his innate ability of Shadow and Stealth and pulled shadows from his Unseen Weapons and willed them to cover his entire form as he continued to dance and leap and masterfully spin his blades that seemed to trail deep shadows as they cut the empty air. Curudin recited the words imparted to him by the gained knowledge of the Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae.

Pheyloo Audark, the Copper elf assassin, suddenly began to toss multiple knives and daggers at Terrindill and Laeirlefain and himself while they danced with his shadow companion. A steady stream of blades came at them all as they whirred and ducked, reached and bent for every last blade thrown at them or tossed back into the air by foot or hand in their trance. As they caught them one by one, they would send them back up into the air to be caught again as they fell towards them and thrown at their feet in a circle that resembled an asymmetric star. The shadows surrounding them and the shadow companion grew darker and more thick as they leaped and fell, and jumped and quickly turned about again to grab two long knives each from the ground and cut open his forearms and let his blood spill onto the forest floor. The surrounding shadows eagerly sped towards the open wounds and infused their elven spirits with shadow-stuff to the point of breaking. Curudin continued chanting and weaving his arms and swaying his body as the ritual engrossed him and brought him closer to the apex of the melding of shadow and spirit. He smiled and laughed and screamed in joy as his three friends neared the end of their dance, and his voice boomed and resounded with power as he spoke the last words to the ancient elven ritual. The entire glade was cast into a impenetrable darkness that lasted a few heartbeats and left a deafening silence in its wake.

Terrindill, Pheyloo and Laeirlefain heard the fading sounds of the Griggs, chirping their legs in harmony with the drums of the Redcaps and the melodies of the faerie fiddlers and the voices of the pixie warriors and the strum of the lyre being played by the elven bard known as "Whispertongue", that always attended Curudin's Midnight Gambols, as they drifted off into oblivion. The last thing they remembered was the laughing... the melodic laughing of a strange, powerful voice. "You are welcome. You are blessed. You are shadows in the darkness!" A voice they had never heard before, but also seemed to be very, very familiar. Then sweet silence as they fell into darkness.

When his three friends awoke, Curudin stood above them smiling and looking at them intently. As they stood up from the forest floor he noticed that their skin looked as if it was bleeding shadows, wrapping about their frames and dissipating in the soft breeze. Otherwise they looked as normal as they had always been. As they shook off the grogginess of the ritual and collected themselves proper, Curudin noticed that the shadows bleeding off of them were subtle and hardly noticeable. "Terrindill my friend, please get angry for me if you will." "Why in the nine hells should I be angry after such a remarkable moment?" "I implore you please. Find something that infuriates you and let the anger show." It took Terrindill but a short moment to find his anger and he closed his eyes and focused on it. Within a few heartbeats, Curudin noticed the shadows around Terrindill grow darker and and more collective. "Laeirlefain... How about you? Can you get angry for me, or sad perhaps?" The copper elf thought back to when his wife died beside him in a battle 20 years past against a plethora of Devils in the ruins of Myth Drannor. Curudin noticed the shadows begin to bleed off his skin slowly and in shimmering pulses. "Pheyloo, if I were to put a contract out for Lord Bevlihn Stormcrow of Shade Enclave, would you accept?" He immediately noticed the excited swirl of shadows bleeding off the assassin's skin and came to the realization that the degree of shadows whisping off his three friends depended on the level of emotion they currently felt. Their shadows were emotionally connected to their spirits, their feelings, and in the end, their control. "I would ask of all three of you to now suppress all your emotions and will away the shadow by sheer effort." The three friends looked at one another and without more than a simple thought the shadows surrounding them melted away to nothingness. "excellent, excellent indeed." said Curudin. "Now stand back and apart from one another and will your shadows to fully encompass you to its full measure." The three friends then separated and stood apart from each other and did as asked. The shadows seemed to dance and swirl and ignite as if it were living fire on each of them. The shadows roiling and churning to each elf's desire. "Splendid, simply splendid my friends." laughed Curudin. "Let us all come forth once again and be merry. Let us dance and celebrate this magnificent night." "Whispertongue, would you fancy us with a proper song of celebration?" asked the Mischiefmaker. The Mysterious elven bard nodded and began to strum his lyre and sing a song of power, of a time before the Crown Wars. The Fey minstrels joined in and soon it was a complete debauchery of excess.

"Are you guys alright?" asked Curudin later that night in private. "It was like the stars themselves darkened and pounced on me." said Laeirlefain. "For me it was as if a black hole suddenly appeared and swallowed me whole with a soft embrace." replied Pheyloo. "I fell upwards into shadow and was then slammed back into my body with the keen understanding of my new abilities." spoke Terrindill.
"I am very proud and envious of you all, my dear friends. Erevan Ilesere himself has spoken to all three of you in some way, as you all well know. We have known this was coming for a few decades now and it shall not get any easier as time passes." said Curudin as he handed over his enchanted flask to his friends to imbibe. "let us get back to our wenching and drinking and dancing before the sun rises in a few hours."

"Yes indeed. I'd like to test the bounds of my new abilities while drinking that dwarven gutbuster brew." laughed Terrindill.
"Not me my friend, I'd rather the soft burn of a Pixie Pint while discovering my newfound shadow powers." laughed Laeirlefain.
"You're all such drama-fey." said Pheyloo. "I'll just continue to enjoy the feywine thank you, and I'll figure out my shadow abilities as they come to me."

The Trickster-Touched moon elf burst out in sheer laughter and wrapped his three friends in a warm embrace and then suddenly disappeared before them, only to reappear back on the oak throne the Dryads created in the forefront of the forest glade with the bonfire centered before him.

An hour before dawn, as the nightingales went to nest, Whispertongue was awoken by a vision of himself creating a ballad of House Ahmaquissar and singing the lengthily ballad before the Princes of Shade Enclave. The vision ended with a blur of shadow and fire, shadow and storms, shadow and frost, shadow and stars! He packed up silently and walked out of the Gambol whistling the beginnings to a new ballad. One full of Mischief and trickery and coy elven deities. "To Evereska first, and then to Shade Enclave." Whispertongue thought to himself. The powerful dark elf bard could hardly contain a grin, let alone a full blown smile as he silently walked south into the heart of the High Forest.

Curudin Ahmaquissar watched Whispertongue depart the Gambol glade humming a tune. As he stood there silently in the midst of an invisibility spell, watching the elven bard deep in thought, he wondered what called the dark elf to depart the Gambol before dawn. "Where ever that one goes, he leaves behind a story worth hearing, and a surmountable plethora of mischief." Curudin whispered to himself under his breath.

Faerun, in the tower of Spellgard. 1476 DR.

"Beware the Litch!" yelled Pheyloo Audark as he tossed four daggers at the Fey'ri swordswoman who stood before him. all four daggers planted into the warriors face as she fell down dead. "To your right" yelled Laeirlafain at Curudin who dipped below the cunning blow of an axe aimed at his heaid from a Netherese fighter. The Mischiefmaker came up short of the swing with preternatural grace and skewered the Shade through his heart with his short sword and moved on towards the book they all seemed to want. The Lich cackled with glee as four ghosts came to its call and did battle with his friends and the Fey'ri, and the Shadovar, who all seemed to want the ancient book. Curudin asked himself several times, what are the odds of Fey'ri and Shadovar wanting this book and being here all at the same time? The Lich screeched out a ancient spell of death and all within 30 feet of the undead creature died on the spot, except for the Trickster-Touched moon elf who ran full speed at the walking nightmare to steal the ancient tome. The lich locked gazes with Curudin and raised up a hand, blasting the Mischiefmaker with a cone of force that sent the moon elf flying across the room to crash into the far wall. The other members of The Rogues of the Laughing Twilight were hard pressed on either side of the chamber fighting Fey'ri warriors and sorcerers, as well as Shadovar fighter/ magic-users.

Laeirlefain Starleaf, the copper elf rogue/ swashbuckler/ shadowblade stood alone after dispatching several Fey'ri warriors, and taunted the remaining demon-elves to come closer if they dared. At that very moment a hulking four armed fey'ri appeared out of thin air ten feet beside the copper elf, swinging his four bastard swords towards vital spots on Laeirlefain, who dropped to the ground and rolled into the fey'ri's legs to trip him up and get the beast off balance with all four swords barely missing the rogue swashbuckler. Laeirlefain then sprung up with both his elven thinblades spinning and stabbing and slicing and cutting in a frenzy of blade work that had the fey'ri swordmaster hard pressed to counter and working his bastard swords defensively. The copper elf Shadowblade then called to his innate ability to draw shadows from his thin blades and further confuse the hulking monster with trails of shadow following behind every swing and thrust of his blades. Laeirlefain scored hit after hit on the fey'ri, who roared in frustration. Finally deciding to end the fight, the copper elf swashbuckler cast Shadow-Spray on the monsters face and caused a multitude of ribbonlike shadows to instantaneously explode out

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 20 Jul 2020 21:15:26

Learned Scribe

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Posted - 09 May 2017 :  11:57:15  Show Profile  Visit Swordsage's Homepage Send Swordsage a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Not to dissuade you, because I'm enjoying your intriguing tale quite a bit, if I was your editor, I would have transformed your second entry into this:

In the aftermath of her spell, Queen Amlaruil looked down at the six elven youths sprawled on the floor before her. As they lay immobilized on the steps below the ancient dais located within the Royal Garden her powerful gaze fell on the one elf that now stood up tall and without fear, unlike his companions which her simple spell had captured.
“He is very young and these six elves have seen no more than 20 winters,” she thought as she looked upon the standing elf.
He confronted her gaze smiling and stood in such a comfortable manner that Amlaruil instantly questioned her decision to summon her late husband’s Moonblade, as it flashed into existence in her hand.

The moon elf felt a palpable wave of fear and adoration wash over him, but he knew that the feeling was not because of the King Sword. As Amlaruil approached him, her power and aura caused an unbearable, all-engulfing sensation of sheer ancient power that his relaxed and confident mien collapsed into turmoil. He felt an odd sensation of terrible fear coupled with unbridled love as Amlaruil came close enough to touch him with the Moonblade. Mustering all of his willpower the moon elf shook off the effects of the Queen’s innate, ancient power. Raising an index finger the young elf half-bowed and said lightly, "I am Curudin Ahmaquissar of House Ahmaquissar of Evermeet, formerly of Keltormiir and allied by blood. I present myself to you as a rogue-in-training, thief extraordinaire and follower of Erevan Ilesere."

The Queen cast a swift, powerful spell around them both with a deft motion of her wrist. "So thief," the Queen said, "have you come to steal my husbands Moonblade?"
When an instant response was not forthcoming, the look on Amlaruil’s angelic face turned to a mixture of surprise, confusion and realization, all within the blink of an eye. She raised her hand to her brow and with a swift movement reached out to touch Curudin and then fixed him with her unnerving, ancient gaze.

As Queen Amlaruil looked upon him, Curudin Ahmaquissar experienced power he had never experienced before. The Queen looked into his deep, blue eyes flecked with forest green and seemed to drink in his very soul. While taller in stature than an average elf child, he was seemingly unaffected by her powerful aura; an aura which had compelled lords, kings and generals alike to bow before her in an instant. Amlaruil looked deeper into the soul of this dauntless elf child and found nothing but laughter and trickery and his wry smile deepened, the more she pressed her spell. The Moonblade of Zaor remained quiescent in her grasp and as her spell delved deeper, she understood that this Curudin Ahmaquissar allowed her to spell-probe him without resistance or complaint.
Her puzzlement showing, Amlaruil repeated her question. "Did you come for my husband’s Moonblade?”
The response was as swift as it was unexpected. "No my lady ... my Queen. I have actually come for you."

Looking forward to what comes next.

The Swordsage
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Copper Elven Vampire
Master of Realmslore

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Posted - 09 May 2017 :  16:56:32  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Originally posted by Swordsage

Not to dissuade you, because I'm enjoying your intriguing tale quite a bit, if I was your editor, I would have transformed your second entry into this:

In the aftermath of her spell, Queen Amlaruil looked down at the six elven youths sprawled on the floor before her. As they lay immobilized on the steps below the ancient dais located within the Royal Garden her powerful gaze fell on the one elf that now stood up tall and without fear, unlike his companions which her simple spell had captured.
“He is very young and these six elves have seen no more than 20 winters,” she thought as she looked upon the standing elf.
He confronted her gaze smiling and stood in such a comfortable manner that Amlaruil instantly questioned her decision to summon her late husband’s Moonblade, as it flashed into existence in her hand.

The moon elf felt a palpable wave of fear and adoration wash over him, but he knew that the feeling was not because of the King Sword. As Amlaruil approached him, her power and aura caused an unbearable, all-engulfing sensation of sheer ancient power that his relaxed and confident mien collapsed into turmoil. He felt an odd sensation of terrible fear coupled with unbridled love as Amlaruil came close enough to touch him with the Moonblade. Mustering all of his willpower the moon elf shook off the effects of the Queen’s innate, ancient power. Raising an index finger the young elf half-bowed and said lightly, "I am Curudin Ahmaquissar of House Ahmaquissar of Evermeet, formerly of Keltormiir and allied by blood. I present myself to you as a rogue-in-training, thief extraordinaire and follower of Erevan Ilesere."

The Queen cast a swift, powerful spell around them both with a deft motion of her wrist. "So thief," the Queen said, "have you come to steal my husbands Moonblade?"
When an instant response was not forthcoming, the look on Amlaruil’s angelic face turned to a mixture of surprise, confusion and realization, all within the blink of an eye. She raised her hand to her brow and with a swift movement reached out to touch Curudin and then fixed him with her unnerving, ancient gaze.

As Queen Amlaruil looked upon him, Curudin Ahmaquissar experienced power he had never experienced before. The Queen looked into his deep, blue eyes flecked with forest green and seemed to drink in his very soul. While taller in stature than an average elf child, he was seemingly unaffected by her powerful aura; an aura which had compelled lords, kings and generals alike to bow before her in an instant. Amlaruil looked deeper into the soul of this dauntless elf child and found nothing but laughter and trickery and his wry smile deepened, the more she pressed her spell. The Moonblade of Zaor remained quiescent in her grasp and as her spell delved deeper, she understood that this Curudin Ahmaquissar allowed her to spell-probe him without resistance or complaint.
Her puzzlement showing, Amlaruil repeated her question. "Did you come for my husband’s Moonblade?”
The response was as swift as it was unexpected. "No my lady ... my Queen. I have actually come for you."

Looking forward to what comes next.

The Swordsage

That is wonderful. I like what you did very much and I will use it with your permission. More will be coming tonight. Thanks.
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Copper Elven Vampire
Master of Realmslore

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Posted - 11 May 2017 :  05:22:35  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Updated the story with the help of Swordsage. More coming tonight.
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Posted - 19 May 2017 :  05:07:39  Show Profile Send Amaranthae a Private Message  Reply with Quote
How about this?

Evermeet, 1274 DR

Evelyndis Ahmaquissar, a beautiful and alluring female moon elf, looked down upon her newborn child. The two midwives exchanged concerned glances at one another as she unwrapped her child and gave a quick and silent gasp. For a second or two, the mother could have sworn the bright blue eyes of her beautiful elven son were swirling with what seemed to be tiny asymmetrical star-bursts. She blinked her eyes however and the whirling glimmer within his eyes was gone and she gave a soft laugh. She then glanced over at her midwives, whose tired faces showed both joy and concern, remained silent by her side. It was a long and complicated birth for Evelyndis Ahmaquissar.

Evelyndis thought her troublesome labor and difficult childbirth might somehow have caused her vision and senses to play tricks on her when she looked her son in the eyes. As she continued to unwrap her child from his blankets, she noticed two unmistakable and distinct birthmarks on either side of her newborn's chest. Two asymmetrical starbursts seemed to dance in a chaotic ever-changing pattern and glowed a faint multicolored hue. She gasped aloud this time and whispered a prayer to her deity that what she was seeing was not just an illusion. As she held her naked son up before her, she giggled and began to chant a simple spell. After a few moments, she cradled the child in her arms again and smiled with mischief upon her lips. "My precious little Mischiefmaker. You have your father's eyes."

Evermeet, 1294 DR

In the aftermath of her spell, Queen Amlaruil looked down at the elven youths that lay sprawled out on the floor before her. They were immobilized on the steps below one of the ancient dais, which was in a chamber directly below the Royal Garden. However, the Queens powerful gaze fell upon one of the elven youths who was tall and stood without fear in his posture, unlike his five companions, that lay paralyzed from her spell. He was young and the six elves had seen no more than 20 winters, she thought to herself. He confronted her gaze and stood smiling in such a comfortable manner, that Amlaruil began to second guess her decision to summon her late husband's sword, the Ruling Moonblade, into her hand.

The young moon elf felt a palpable wave of fear and adoration wash over him. He knew it wasn't because of the King’s Sword, but the unmistakable aura of the Queen’s power. As Amlaruil approached him, her power and aura caused an unbearable, all-engulfing sensation of sheer ancient power that made his relaxed and confident appearance collapse into turmoil. He felt an odd sensation of dreadful fear coupled with unbridled adoration as the Queen came close enough to touch him with the Moonblade.

Mustering his willpower together, the young, tall and handsome moon elf shook off the effects of the Queen’s innate ancient power. Raising only an index finger, he half-bowed and said lightly, "I am Curudin Ahmaquissar of House Ahmaquissar of Evermeet, formerly of Keltormiir and allied by blood. I present myself to you a rogue-in-training, thief extraordinaire and follower of Erevan Ilesere.” The Queen then began to cast a swift and powerful fey spell around them both with a swift motion of her wrist. "So, thief," the Queen said, " have you come to steal my husband’s Moonblade?" When an instant response was not forthcoming, the look on Amlaruil’s angelic face turned to a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Without any hesitation, the Queen raised her hand to her brow and with a swift movement, reached out to touch Curudin’s face and fixed him with an unnerving and ancient gaze.

As she looked upon him, Curudin Ahmaquissar experienced a power he had never felt before. The Queen gazed into his deep blue eyes that were flecked with forest green. While taller in stature than the average elf child, he was seemingly unaffected by her powerful aura; an aura which had compelled lords, kings and generals alike to bow before her in an instant and without hesitation. Amlaruil looked deeper into the soul of this dauntless elf child and found nothing but amusement and trickery within his wry smile that seemed to only deepen, the more she pressed her spell. The King’s Moonblade remained idle and as her spell delved deeper, she understood that Curudin was allowing her spell to probe him without resistance or complaint. Her puzzlement showing, Amlaruil repeated her question. "Did you come for my husband’s Moonblade?” The response was as swift as it was unexpected. "No, my lady ... my Queen. I have come for you.

With a mere thought, Queen Amlaruil cast a Time Stop Spell and raised her eyebrow in anticipation. The world seemed to stop all around her, but she moved with the grace and speed of a demi god. Curudin appeared transfixed in time before her, but with clever eyes, followed her every movement. For a moment or two, the Queen was aware of this and was taken aback. For the next 4 rounds, Amlaruil cast several augury spells asking the Selderine for advice and wisdom. Not a single deity seemed to answer her multiple prayers. However, right as the Time Stop Spell was about to end, she received an unexpected response to her augury. It was but a faint laugh at first. Subtle, unthreatening, yet commanding. Before the spell ended, the Queen, who both wise and old enough, knew she had heard that enchanting revelry in her youth. It was the laughter of Ereven Ilesere and she now understood that Curudin of House Ahmaquissar was Trickster Touched.
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Master of Realmslore

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Posted - 01 Mar 2018 :  01:14:27  Show Profile Send LordofBones a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Why are you using game terminology? How is Amlaruil casting four augury spells in four rounds, when augury is a cleric spell with a 1 minute casting time?
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Copper Elven Vampire
Master of Realmslore

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Posted - 01 Mar 2018 :  20:41:44  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Originally posted by LordofBones

Why are you using game terminology? How is Amlaruil casting four augury spells in four rounds, when augury is a cleric spell with a 1 minute casting time?

I don't know, maybe she's a Chosen. How come you always have something negative to say about every single thing I post? Say something positive once in a while.
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Copper Elven Vampire
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1078 Posts

Posted - 01 Apr 2018 :  05:00:30  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
"We could all end up dead or worse you know." said Nym Nightsong.
"We could have a riot of a good time as well." said Pheyloo Audark.
Terrindill and Laeirlefain said nothing, but both nodded and smiled.

"Let us play then. Take out the Shadovar Lord and the Demonfey Prince, and I'll focus on the Lich Queen and her pet ghosts." said Curudin Ahmaquissar with such frivolous excitement in his strong voice.
"Here, Laeirlefain, take the Lich's book with you as she will think I still have her tome. I want the four of you to shadow-walk back to Everlund if things go bad for us in this next battle. There may be Fey'ri or Shadovar waiting outside or in the surrounding area. Make sure the book makes it back to our compound and I will meet you all there if we get separated."

All of them were invisible as they silently stalked back towards the chamber of the Lich Queen. AS they approached the archway leading into the massive chamber, they were awe stricken with the sheer amount of arcane power that engulfed the room. It was a three way mage duel, with Lord Dravick Aiudoothan, Prince Yarivh Dlardrageth and the Lich Queen doing spell-battle against one another. To the onlookers, it didn't seem as if any of the three powerful mages were winning against the other.

"Now!!" whispered the Mischiefmaker. On that que the five companions pounced. The three shadow-walkers pulled the shadows about them and disappeared, only to reappear on their marks. Pheyloo landed on the back of the Shade Lord and rapidly stabbed the shadovar in his neck several times with his enchanted knives as the netherese arcanist fell to the floor spouting blood and disappeared into the shadows and was gone.

Terrindill appeared behind the lich queen and drove his enchanted elven thin blade through her back, skewering her black heart in a critical sneak attack, while thrusting his light blade into her left jaw bone, as he was suddenly tossed back in a smoking heap of pain to land hard on the floor. He immediately rose to his feet, seeing an aura of pulsating grey flames surrounding the undead horror, and with his leather armour still trailing smoke he realized the lich had powerful contingencies about her. He smiled to himself and looked around the chamber to see what other diversions he may cause to distract and confuse their enemies.

Laeirlefain shadow-stepped right in front on the demonfey prince and with lightning speed slashed his powerful elven thin blade across the fey'ri's neck, causing the sorcerer/ warrior to grab its throat and gurgle a few small sounds while it's eyes opened wide in astonishment. The copper elf's sister thin blade tore into the prince's chest just missing the heart and released a blast of frost that almost ripped open the prince's left rib cage. Laeirlefain shook his head and smirked a derogatory grin as he disappeared in a cloud of shadow.

Prince Yarivh Dlardrageth weakly reached up to the pendant at his neck and teleported back to his unholy safehouse where he slowly healed and mended his wounds, planning a thousand years of torture on 'The Rogues of the Laughing Twilight.'

Now that Yarivh Dlardrageth and Lord Dravick Aiudoothan were both dispatched from the fight, Curudin and Nym entered the chamber to face the lich queen and her two remaining ghosts. Surrounded on five sides, the female lich focused only on the Mischiefmaker, who had stolen her ancient book of spells and knowledge.

"You do not have to be destroyed. You do not need to seek another vessel once you return to your phylactery." said Curudin with sincere overtones in his voice. "If you let me leave with the book, I shall return it in three cycles of the moon henceforth and let you be." The ghosts surrounding her suddenly dissipated into mist and she threw back her crowned skull and pointed at Terrindill.

"The tome for that ones soul."
"Come wench, see if you can take it." said Terrindill with a harsh conviction to his tone.
"You all die here tonight unless you surrender to me the brash elf that damaged my precious heart."
"come take me wench." replied Terrindill as he commanded the shadows around him to gather and dance and swirl with anger. He then silently summoned his shadow companion to come forth and position himself behind the undead abomination.

"There shall be none of that lady Saharel." spoke Curudin. I do not wish to harm you or your netherese book of power. AS I said, I shall return it in three moon cycles, never to bother you again."

"Fools!!!!" The lich queen, Lady Saharel of Spellgard tower, of ancient netheril was not one to give up her secrets to thieving elves. "Fools!!, you shall all suffer death this evening."

With those words she rose both arms and cackled out a single spell that unleashed a meteor swarm of fire upon the companions. A conflagration of flames erupted throughout the chamber filling the vision of all with blindness. Pheyloo and Laeirlefain both shadow stepped into the tower room beyond the chamber archway, and Terrindill also shadow jumped into that room behind his friends as the flames tore apart the chamber of Lady Saharel. When the spell ended and the flames dissipated, the lich noticed the tall moon elf and smaller star elf surrounded in a sphere of anti-magic. Lady Saharel, the lich queen, noticed the other three elves beyond the archway, and with a mere thought waved her hand and a prismatic wall suddenly blocked the chamber from the adjacent tower room they stood in.

At that moment Nym Nightsong released his anti-magic spell and dived for a corner with a killing spell on his lips, as the Trickster-Touched moon elf dived to the opposite side of the chamber, hoping to flank the undead horror. With hatred in her burning green eyes, Lady Saharel pointed a finger at Nym and he suddenly vanished from the room in a flash of purple light. Curudin seeing this from the corner of his eye was not pleased at all.

"Enough!!!" shouted Curudin as he drew out his Holy Longsword and sister Shortsword. "I will hand over the tome if you tell me where you just sent my companion."
"Your lavender tinged friend is enjoying a night in Avernus!" laughed the lich queen.

Seeing the prismatic wall blocking the entrance to the chamber and his friends, Curudin attacked the lich with uncanny quickness and agility, but every strike or slash he delivered was met with empty air as the lich queen simply vanished and reappeared across the room. Curudin sheathed his weapons and began to cast a spell of his own as the lich spoke a powerful word and cackled in enjoyment. Curudin was suddenly encased in a box-like prison that immediately began to shrink and crush around him.

Curudin Ahmaquissar knew the spell very well and tried to suppress a chuckle as the crushing prison closed in around him. It was a powerful spell indeed, a spell that many others would surely die from. Curudin wanted the lich queen to think just that same realization. He feigned terror and begged Lady Saharel to come closer as to reveal the words to open his bag of holding before her spell squashed him to a pile of gore and bones.

"You can have your book and all the contents of my bag" cried the Mischiefmaker.
"I'll pick the book from your bones dear priest." yelled the lich queen in a unearthly joyous croak, as the crushing prison became smaller and smaller, pressing in on Curudin.

"I cannot see through this prismatic wall." said Pheyloo in a annoyed tone.
"Shadovar are appearing from the shadows down the hall, we must flee or fight." whispered Terrindill.
"You heard what Curudin said. We must get the Lich's book safely back to Everlund at all costs." said Laeirlefain to his two companions.
"But what about Nym and Curudin? We can't just leave them in there with the lich queen." said Terrindill.
"Yes we can and so we shall." replied Pheyloo.
"Nym is as powerful a Shadow-Mage as any we've all dealt with in our years of adventuring. Perhaps even more powerful than most shadovar arcanists we've fought. Trust in him my friends." Laeirlefain sternly spoke.
"But we can't just leave Curudin to face the lich." yelled Terrindill.
"Yes we can and yes we will." spoke Pheyloo again.
"Curudin is Trickster-Touched and a powerful Chosen of our god. Have faith in one or the other my friend. Either way we must leave now or fight a battle with the netherese that we may not win." Laeirlefain said reassuringly.

The three companions nodded and Shadow-Walked back to their compound in Everlund with the ancient netherese tome in their possession.

The Trickster-Touched moon elf enacted his Shadow-Trick ability, and he was suddenly encompassed in a thick haze of impenetrable shadow for a few seconds, before he laughed out aloud and bypassed the powerful magical prison, only to side-slip behind the lich queen as he thrust his holy longsword through her skull while calling out a powerful spell of disruption that blasted and shattered her head into a thousand shards of dust. His holy short sword simultaneously pierced her dark lungs as he spoke a second powerful spell of disruption and her torso erupted in a shattered spray of bones and ash.

The Lich Queen's soul ran a tempest around the chamber wailing and shrieking in hate until it finally disappeared down an adjacent hallway that led to her personal chambers. Curudin thought of following the lich's spirit to her personal quarters to destroy her Phylactery once and for all, but then remembered his promise to return the book to her. He then heard voices and footsteps approaching from the main corridor and quickly produced a ring from his pouch and placed it on his finger. With one quick glance at where Nym had vanished, he turned the ring on his finger and spoke the command word, teleporting him directly to his private chambers back at the guild complex in Everlund. He had to gather his guild members and search for Nym somewhere in Avernus, and he had to do so quickly!

In the fiery Pitts of Avernus, The Nine Hells. 1476 DR

Nym suddenly found himself thrown to the ground with a resounding popping ringing in his ears. He looked up to see a desolate, crimson landscape of charred rocks and scorched, petrified trees that were gnarled and twisted unlike anything he had ever seen in Faerun. Looking to the horizon he noticed gigantic fireballs slowly streaming across the sky in every direction. He knew exactly where he was. Avernus, the first Hell of nine. He did extensive research of the lower planes in his youth before he was exiled from Sildëyuiri for discovering, by complete mishap and mistake, the Shadow-Weave. He gazed off in all four directions before he seen what he knew to be a landmark of this particular plane. Two enormous iron towers reaching for the limitless sky above. The residence of the Dukes of Hell. At that very moment he heard movement to his left and turned around just in time to see a Malebranche lunging at him with a huge greatsword in both hands. The large beast was at least seven feet tall and full of rippling muscles and large outward pointing horns. It's skin was ash black, and it's fangs were exposed in a feral snarl as the three inch claws on it's hands curled about the pommel of the flaming greatsword it held. Nym Nightsong understood he had no time to cast a spell, so he dived towards the Baatezu while pulling out his twin enchanted short swords, and as he rolled between it's legs, he slashed the creatures ankles with enough momentum to almost sever its bones. The Malebranche fell to its face with its greatsword buried beneath it. Nym ended his slashing roll before the move was fully complete and sprung back and around towards the devil with both his short swords aimed for its skull and spine, one sword severing the spine at the back of the neck, and the other severing the spinal cord just above its hip bones. As the devil thrashed and cursed the star elf, Nym finished the brute by skewering its brains with his short sword of frost and releasing a powerful burst of ice that split its head in five pieces.

Nym looked around wild eyed with adrenaline pumping through his blood, trying to calm himself and collect his thoughts. It was then that he seen the Pit Fiend appear out of thin air only thirty feet away from him. One hand raised with a fiery whip in hand, and another hand brandishing a large bastard sword rippling with lightning. Nym sheathed his twin short swords and began casting a powerful spell. He reached into a pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out several threads of shadow silk and tossed them high into the air and spoke a single word. Instantly the spell took effect, creating a miasma of entangling swampy bog beneath the hulking horror, keeping it mired in place, while a cloud of black shadows formed above the Pit Fiends head. The beast roared and struggled but couldn't free itself. At that moment, a plethora of pitch-black mithril javelins rained down on the major devil with the fury and force of Storm Giants. All within seconds the Pit Fiend was stuck in a shadowy pool that it could not free itself from, as it was skewered from head to toe by a raging storm of shadow javelins, each one ten feet tall and coated with dripping acid. The last bolt entered the devils skull from behind and protruded from its open fanged mouth to bury itself in the charred soil before Nym's feet.
Nym Nightsong heard more cries on the blistering wind, and looked past the hulking Pit Fiend to see a hoard of devils running at full speed towards him. With one last look at the dead Pit Fiend before him, he began to cast another powerful spell and was relieved to see the rip in the fabric of reality as the gate to Faerun appeared before him. He smelt the fresh air of the High Forest and heard the laughter of Wood elves. Before he could move towards the gate he heard a shuffle of sound behind him, and spun around with both short swords held aloft in a defensive posture. It was then that the 20 foot tall Pit fiend thrusted his hell-fire greatsword into Nym's abdomen, skewering him through his midsection like a piece of meat so easily. With his vision failing, Nym cried out in rage and pain, regret and sorrow, and he noticed a flash of bright light as Curudin emerged from a portal and rushed at the hulking devil with both swords ablaze with divine power.

It was then that Nym fell into complete darkness.

Curudin Ahmaquissar bolted out of his own planar portal as fast as lightning and stabbed the Pit Fiend in the back, skewering its spinal cord with his short sword, and swiping his long sword across from right to left, ending up splitting the skull of the hulking horror in half. As the beast fell dead to the ground, Curudin rushed over to Nym and cast several powerful healing spells on him to no avail. Curudin knew his friend was failing and passing beyond resurrection, and only one thought came to him. "Get home" he thought. With a mere thought he grabbed Nym by his cloak and Plane shifted back to the thieves guild complex back in Everlund. As they appeared in the common room of the guild, Curudin began to cast his most powerful healing spell he currently had to his roster of spells for the night. His spell failed as one of his best friends lay dying before him.

Curudin panicked and called to him the Shadow Gem. The Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae. He pulled the item out of thin air and placed it upon his brow. Within seconds he called forth the ritual of The Shade. He began to speak the words and call upon his deity. He used all his divine power to call forth the magic needed to summon the ritual. The room darkened, he heard laughing from the air around him, the darkness went solid and complete. Magic beyond his own power suffused the shadows around him and coalesced into a tall shadowy figure standing off to the side of the room away from the hearth. "Nym Nightsong has a role to play soon enough." said a whimsical, musical voice all around him. With that the tall shadowed figure vanished suddenly without a hint of realism and the room was once again as it had been prior to Curudin's spellcasting.

Had Curudin just seen Erevan Ilesere? Had he seen a Proxy? What had he just experienced? Curudin continued to recite the spells of this complex ritual of the Shade, and drew upon the shadows in the room and the shadows of the night beyond. He called to Erevan and spoke the ritual with tears in his eyes, knowing his friend was almost beyond death. He thought of revenge, he thought of redemption. He thought of slaying demons and devils alike in Avernus until he invoked the wrath of a lord of hell or a demon prince. His best friend lay lifeless before him as he completed the ritual of The Shade that The Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae instructed him. The room burst into roiling darkness and shadow... The room was vortexed by endless shadow and lack of light. Curudin heard laughter coming from the shadows though he knew he was the only living being in attendance. Erevan! His deity was laughing in pleasure. His regret was supplemented by sheer understanding of his gods will suddenly. He understood and his trepidation soon fell away. With the final archaic words of the Shade ritual leaving his lips, it seemed to Curudin that every single shadow in the room fell into Nym. The darkness itself fell into Nym and infused him with power and healing. The room became brighter as the shadows coalesced around Nym and sunk into him. The darkness of the night seemed to enter the room and stab into Nym Nightsong.

When Curudin was finished chanting his powerful ritual, and the morning sun cast shadows into the room, he sat back and pulled forth his enchanted flask, drinking a long pull of Fey-wine and looked at his friend. To his lack of surprise, Nym opened his yellow eyes and asked what happened. Curudin looked down at him and smiled. "I remember destroying a Pit Fiend... then I remember dying on the blade of a Balor." Nym Nightsong said to his good friend. I rescued you from Avernus and called upon The Selu'Kiira n'Rilan'Vae to save you. The words barely registered to Nym, as Curudin reached behind him to pull forth a large hand mirror and held it before Nym. The Star elf looked into the mirror and beheld himself in a new light. Nym seen yellow eyes looking back at him with dusky, dark facial features looking back at himself. He looked exactly the same as he had always looked, but darker, more grey and blackened somehow. His skin was black and his eyes were yellow. Nym dropped the mirror and passed out again due to his wounds and fell into a regenerative sleep.

When the Star elf woke up he stood in front of a large full body mirror and contemplated his new form. Dark... dark grey skin in place of his lavender tinted, pale flesh. Yellow eyes in place of his green orbs. He noticed that shadows were bleeding off his skin in wisps and tendrils. Shadows were bleeding off his out stretched arm as he cast a minor spell of protection against evil. The shadows curled and swirled around his arm as he spoke the words to his simple spell.

"What did you do Curudin?" Nym spoke in a panic.
"I saved your life." replied the Mischiefmaker.

Faerun, A ruined elven catacomb beneath Kryptgarden Forest; DR 1484

As ferlanthril heard the last click jumble into place he looked over his shoulder to Curudin Ahmaquissar. He picked the magical lock and didn't die doing it. The novice thief was full of pride and hope as he did his best to suppress his elation. Curudin was very proud of the young, novice thief. Curudin brought him to the ruins of Ascore just to test his skill at unlocking magical glyphs and traps.

Curudin Ahmaquissar, the mischiefmaker of Luruar, did his best to hone the skills of this newest guild member so that he can experience the adventure and possible misadventure of the young Sun elf.

Ferlanthril looked back at Curudin with eager eyes and then a cloud crossed over his handsome face as he exploded into a giant spray of crimson blood.

The Mischiefmaker turned around without looking, pulling both his longsword and shortsword out of their scabbards in a single lightning quick move, quickly casting a spell of defense upon himself and lunging into action. Before he even finished his swift spell, he chopped the legs off a dusky human to his right, while thrusting forward with his shortsword and skewering the human straight ahead, before pulling back both weapons and beginning a powerful supernatural ability. Within seconds, a blue-black shield of writhing shadows formed around him and protected him from both physical and magical attacks. It was then that twelve shadowy shapes stepped out from the surrounding shadows.

"Greetings again Mischiefmaker" said Prince Lamorack Tanthul.

1374 DR; During the battle against the Daemonfey

"Lord Sieveril, I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting with your daughter and her companions, but a group of elves just teleported into our camp seeking your audience immediately." said Thilsalin. Lord Miritar Sieveril turned around and waved his hand to indicate acknowledgement as he strode out of his war tent with his daughter and her 3 companions in tow.

Once outside, Thelisin bowed and declaimed "Lord Curudin Ahmaquissar of Everlund; Mischiefmaker of The Silver Marches; Guildmaster of The Rogues of The Laughing Midnight." Curudin dipped a low bow and swung his hand behind him indicating the twenty guild members standing there.

"I come to you Lord Miritar with help and knowledge and hope." said Curudin with a wry smile that seemed more extraverted than the Sun elf lord was used to. "My companions and I would like to exchange our services for a quick glimpse of the two Tel'kiira this Sun elf here holds in his magical pouch." The Mischiefmaker pointed at Aerevan Teshurr with a lazy finger.

"And whom may you be Lord Ahmaquissar?" said Aerevin with suspicion and sincere doubt. "I've never met you in Everlund, and I frequent that city every time I am in Faerun."

"My apologies Mage Teshurr." said the tall red headed moon elf with a flourish of smirking exaggeration. "The threat you face is not The Daemonfey, nor the Fey'ri. It is Malkizid, The Weeping King." said Curudin as he examined his dirty nails without a care. "The Demon-Lord is behind the entire army." "A relic of our elven past coming to haunt us all in our weakness." said Curudin Ahmaquissar in heartfelt empathy.

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 25 Jul 2020 06:12:58
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Copper Elven Vampire
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Curudin Ahmaquissar looked around and noticed he was surrounded. Not the first time he had been outnumbered, he calmed himself and started casting a spell with subtle skill and deception as he greeted the Shade prince.

"Lamorak... ohhh you silly fool." Curudin quipped with calm ease.
"Come here to steal back my family gem?" With these words Curudin slowly put his weapons back in their scabbards.

Lamorak Tanthul stood there with his red staff and eleven guards around him. Confident in his abilities and the skills and power of the personal guards around him, he spoke with indifference.

"Fools only come to light when they fail at their given task". spoke the Prince.

"Fools only lose their heads when they bite off more than they can chew!" laughed Curudin.

"Shall I pry the Gem off your dead hands, or shall I bargain for its worth? said Prince Lamorak.

Curudin Ahmaquissar erupted into a heartfelt laughter. "Dear Prince, by what means do you think you'll get anything from me, dead or alive?"

"Where is the Shadow Gem of Sharlarion?" said Prince Lamorak with subdued patience.

"You mean my family Selu'Kiira which you procured from the ruins of HellGate Keep, and by which I stole back from you, from under your very nose in your own Enclave?" said Curudin with a wry chuckle.

"You feeble whelp of an elf. Your fickle lame god shall kneel before Shar in all her glory as I pluck the Gem from your dead body."

"Lame god? I think you mistake the Fey Jester with Mask." blurted Curudin with a sly chuckle and a face to face grin.

"My friend was a talented thief. You killed him for no reason just now and for that I'll see you die by my own hands Lamorak." quipped Curudin.

"His death was certainly for a reason priest!" shouted Prince Lamorak Tanthul of Shade Enclave.

With all the banter and hate and chaos of the moment and the absurdity of the conversation, Curudin could hardly suppress an audible chuckle.
What the Shadovar didn't know, and what they were oblivious to, is that Curudin was concealing a spell that rendered the shadow weave inert and useless for a short time. As the Mischiefmaker spoke his last word, he snapped his fingers and burst into motion as the spell took effect, rending the Shadow Weave.

Prince Lamorak and his shadovar body guards all felt their spell-created protections fail them, as well as all their spell contingencies and shadow weave created items go inert.

With preternatural speed, Curudin lunged at the Prince of Shade Enclave and skewered him through the heart with his powerfully enchanted longsword, pulling up close to Lamorak's face and whispered "Fool... Dolt of Shar." Five of the eleven shadovar body guards recovered from their stupor and attacked Curudin all at once, and from all sides. Curudin Side-Stepped across the catacomb chamber and pointed his short sword at the confused shadovar as their swords and spells hit nothing but empty space where he once stood.

From the tip of his powerfully enchanted short sword, was released a bolt of chain lightning that struck Prince Lamorak first and arced among all five shadovar guards, making them dance and jolt and spasm and die one by one. Only Prince Lamorak knelt on his knees with head bent and smoke rising from his torn body.

The six remaining body guards shadow-stepped to the Mischiefmaker across the catacomb chamber with hate and murder in their eyes, only to appear in front of Curudin, who wore a wicked, wry smile on his handsome face. In that second of hesitation, Curudin sheathed both his swords with uncanny grace and agility as a thick circle of elven blades sprang out of nothingness and chopped, cleaved and pierced the remaining six body guards into oblivion before him, spraying his face and body with shadovar blood.

Prince Lamorak rose to one knee, trying to upright himself in defense. He heard the clicking of leather boots as Curudin stalked towards him. Knowing that the moon elf meant for him to hear his approach, he finally stood on weak legs, bleeding from his chest, and certain of death. The Mischiefmaker stood before him and kicked him between his legs, eliciting a scream of pain as Lamorak dropped back to his knees, which shattered under his own weight and caused him to roll onto his side. Curudin knelt beside Prince Lamorak and grabbed his head, holding it firmly between his hands and slowly began to press his thumbs into his eyes.

Prince Lamorak Tanthul of Shade Enclave was helpless as his screams of pain rebounded across the catacomb chamber walls.

"You murdered a new friend and apprentice of mine dear shade. All for a Selu'Kiira you can never unlock. Are you sure you don't worship Beshaba?" quipped the Mischiefmaker with glee.

Curudin pressed his thumbs deeper and Prince Lamorak howled in agony as he felt his eyes pop and fluid seep into his sockets. The Prince immediately fell into a darkness as he lost consciousness.

Curudin Ahmaquissar didn't kill Prince Lamorak in that moment and chose to let the scum of Shar live to suffer her own punishment for failure. He robbed the dead shadovar guards of all magical belongings and equipment before walking back to his murdered friend and fledgling apprentice. With care and love Curudin cradled the young elf's neck and whispered a quiet word into the air. His left ring blazed bright blue and they vanished from the musty elven catacombs and appeared in his private study back in Everlund, where he began plans for a burial-rite that would exonerate the young thief in the eyes of the Seldarine.

Faerun, The City of Luskan. DR 1487

The elder moon elf known as Filasteist Silverspear sat on top the tavern known as "The Shipman's Shrew" observing the city below through the eyes of the 12 magic eyes he had placed across the city. The elven wizard felt that he was far too important to have such droll responsibilities in this guild. Although he was new to the exclusively elven guild known as "The Rogues of the Laughing Midnight", he was thankful that the guild had rescued him from the slave pits of Skullport just a fortnight ago. What a bloody memory that still was to him. He replayed in his minds eye, watching the carnage and death of so many slavers and evil creatures, and innocent civilians during his rescue by the elven guild. The look of sheer delight and mischief on the face of the leader of the guild still haunted his waking thoughts.
What manner of elf could cause so much chaos and death while laughing as the "Skulls" approached the battle in fury, he thought.

Clearing his mind and focusing on the task at hand, Filasteist looked through all 12 magical eyes and surveyed the city as instructed. Nothing seemed out of order and all the guards were on the watch walls, or patrolling the city. He could hear the gorgeous melody of the Lyre being played by the mysterious Bard known only as Whispertongue wafting out from inside the tavern. Even though the Bard always wore a mask to cover the face, Filasteist knew the bard was an elf due to the voice and the ancient elven songs of sorrow and beauty and war that were sung.

As the song played on he felt an itch behind his left eye, indicating that something was amiss at the northern gate of Luskan. As Filasteist focused on the magic eye, he could have sworn that he had seen something small, and something large slip through the huge gate. Confused as to why the guards didn't notice or cry out in alarm, he had several of his other magic eyes leave their posts and swarm around the gate to get a better view. He then noticed that somehow the human guards were replaced by Drow elves in Luskan garb, opening the gate to a swarm of orcs, bugbears, ogres and more dark elves.

Before he could raise an alarm to his rogue's guild, a popping sound formed behind him. As Filasteist turned around he seen three drow elves and two hulking demons appear from a purple rift on the far side of the tavern roof. He had just enough time to bark out the words to a lightning spell as several bolts of drow darts thumped into his chest as he fell down either dead or asleep. His lightning spell struck the nearest Glabrezu in the face and destroyed the beasts mouth in a spray of teeth and ichor, but the demon was otherwise unharmed.

"Inform Itxchell that he has a valuable prisoner to collect." said the apparent leader of the drow elves to his companion. When no response came back to him, the drow leader turned around in anger to punish his companion for the lack of an immediate reply, only to see both his drow companions, one a wizard, one a powerful warrior, laying dead with their heads still rolling across the floor of the tavern roof.

Behind the two dead drow stood a tall Copper elf with two thin blades leaking thick shadows from the twin swords he held in his hands. The curious Copper elf wore a smile of satisfaction on his handsome face, and the drow leader also noticed that his shadow, cast upon the tavern roof by the quarter moon was irregular and shifting.

"Die you surface scum!!" screamed the drow leader as he compelled the demons to attack the flippant wood elf. The drow wizard leader also began a chant to a spell that would flay the flesh off the copper elf's bones as the Glabrezu and Vrock charged at the Wood elf.

The Copper elf, also known as a Wood elf, called out an elven word of power and his twin thin blades roiled with shadows much thicker than before as he seemed to melt into the shadows before him on the roof. He appeared 60 feet to the left of the demons and 20 feet behind the drow leader, running in a full sprint with both swords bleeding shadow as he fell to the ground and rolled headlong towards the drow wizard.

By the time the drow wizard even knew the copper elf had vanished, he felt the two thin blades burst from the front of his chest. He looked down to see his own blood gushing in spurts, and then he fell down dead, quite oblivious to what happened next.

The demons, seeing their intended target disappear and reappear behind them, burst into a frenzy of spells and brutal melee attacks on the lone elf before them.

"Before you die and are banished to the abyss for 100 years, I'd like you to know my name foul beasts." That gave the demons pause, for not many mortals in Faerun could withstand one demon, let alone two powerful creatures like these. "My name is Laeirlefain Starleaf, and you're both going to die now." With those words the Glabrezu demon charged at Laeirlefain, as the Vrock Demon began a horrid screech of unholy power. The Copper elf shadow-stepped across the roof behind them, and the Glabrezu ran directly into the waiting swords of Terrindil Shaelara, a Gold elf Shadowlord with a knack for finding the sweet death spot on any enemy he faces. With a face to fang sneak attack against the Glabrezu, Terrindil buried his rapier into the demons heart all the way to the hilt of his enchanted blade. As the Glabrezu paused in confusion and pain, Terrindill shadow-stepped behind the beast and landed on his massive back, driving his elven light blade into the demons skull, dropping it dead as he rolled off the creature and came to his feet.

The Vrock demon let out a powerful screech at that moment, rendering the two elves stunned for a quick heartbeat. Quick enough to cast a spell of evil blight upon the stunned elves. Laeirlefain and Terrindil both dropped to their kness in pain and fought off the effects of the blight spell with determination. With a sudden chance of respite, the Vrock demon called out to his abyssal home and opened a gate to the layers of the abyss to ask other demons to assist him.

In the span of a heartbeat a extra dimensional gate appeared and opened on the rooftop of the tavern between the Vrock and the elves. The two seasoned elves composed themselves and flanked the gate, waiting for the horrors to come forth while keeping an eye on the demon that opened the gate. Suddenly the gate belched forth a blazing burst of fire and blinding red light, and as the two elves looked, they seen a hulking, 15 foot tall Balor demon step through the closing gate.

It was then that Laeirlefain noticed the Vrock demon behind the gate stumble and lurch forward as if hurt. He was not surprised to then see Pheyloo Audark, a Wild elf, also known as a Green elf, and close friend swing around the demons head and skewer the beasts skull with two powerfully enchanted daggers, ending it's life with the precision of a master assassin.

The Balor Immediately burst into horrid flames and brought forth a flaming whip and burning greatsword. It spoke a single word in it's abyssal tongue and all three elves dropped to the floor in agony. The Balor lashed out with it's whip and caught hold of Terrindil's leg, and began to drag him towards the mighty beast.

"I am Boranaxizel, Master of the gates of Pazuzu. Witness now the pain and suffering I will bring you and your kin. Boranaxizel was about to say something else when a bolt of acid slammed into his face, making him howl in pain and rage, but otherwise unaffected. The great demon looked around the roof to see Filasteist in the corner of the south roof calmly casting another spell. Without a blink the massive Balor demon appeared before Filasteist and drove its greatsword through his frail body, pinning him to the wall of the tavern roof. Filasteist's spell died on his lips as the Balor bit off his head.

At that moment five shadow-bolts slammed into the back of the giant Balor lord, and sent it spinning over the side of the roof to disappear. Nym Nightsong, a Star elf Shadowmage walked out of the shadows nearest to Pheyloo and called to his companions to be alert and compose themselves. Boranaxizel suddenly appeared in the sky above and rained down unholy death in the form of black globular spheres of black fire. Laeirlefain, Terrindil and Pheyloo dodged and scurried about to avoid the killing damage, but Nym went invisible and shadow-stepped away from the demon, opening a dimension door to the street downstairs.

"Take the portal. Curudin is almost here to deal with the beast. We have drow in the streets to fight. Now my friends!!!" spoke Nym Nightsong as he blasted the Balor lord with one final spell of shadow.

All four elves used their abilities to shadow-step to the street below where they found orcs, bugbears and drow to fight, expecting to see the demon lord close on their heels. That never happened.

The demon Lord was about to vault over the roof and fly down to rain sure death on all who were below, but he was stopped short by a sheer name. "Boranaxizel said Curudin." The demon Lord stopped and turned around to see a tall Moon elf standing before him.

With unkempt short red hair, a witty sardonic grin, and eyes that blazed with asymmetrical stars, Curudin calmly advanced slowly towards the great demon lord. "Boranaxizel... what in the name of the abyss are you doing out of your cage?" asked the Mischiefmaker with calm ease.

"Ahhhh.... I remember you elf. The Tricksters chosen. Fey food for the lower planes." The demon lord growled and began to advance on the tall moon elf.

"You helped slay Abraxis in Faerun and left a calling card."
"I destroyed scum and had a party afterwards." said Curudin.
"She was pampered by Grazzt, and no match for me. Look upon your death Priest." roared the demon lord.

With preternatural speed, Curudin side-slipped the demon lords charge, and drew out his two enchanted swords. He had a moment to spare so he taunted the beast. "Thought you were going to rip me apart Boranaxizel"

"with ultimate pleasure!" roared the demon lord, unleashing a volley of lightning bolts like arrows from 30 men. Every single lightning bolt fell short of Curudin, who didn't blink an eye.

"You bore me sir demon." quipped the Mischiefmaker, as he darted forth with precision and skill. Laughter on the edges of his lips. Curudin side-stepped behind the demon lord and thrust both his holy swords into the monsters back, unleashing a Sunburst spell from the short sword and Righteous wrath of the faithful from his long sword.

Boranaxizel howled and screamed in agony and pain. Transfixed on the swords of the Mischiefmaker, and unable to even speak a word beyond guttural terror and the realization of losing clout among the layer of the abyss he guarded.

Curudin finally pulled his holy swords out from the beast and stepped back to look upon the demon lord. He smiled and cast Deific vengeance on the demon lord. followed by a Fey Ring spell, which caused 100 pixis, sprites and Grigs to further diminish the lord of the abyss.

Curudin started to dance. He was singing. He was laughing. The mischiefmaker stopped abruptly and rushed to the demon lord as he sat there prone and stooped before the face of Boranaxizel.

"goodbye Lord worm." spoke Curudin in a quiet voice as the Fey around them continued to sing and laugh. The Mischiefmaker plunged his shortsword through the jaw of Boranaxizel, entering his brain and coming out the other side of his skull. Curudin side-slipped 100 feet away to the street below to join the fighting as the demon lord exploded into a fray of blasting fire to melt half the tavern roof.

Curudin shouted to his fellow rogue companions on the street fighting and implored them to keep the drow leader alive if they encountered the dark elf. "We may have fun yet my friends."

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 25 Mar 2019 21:45:49
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Faerun, The Winterwood, DR 1488

Pheyloo Audark looked upon the overgrown graves of his parents. He was born and raised in this beautiful wilderness. His mother was a powerful Druid and his father was a Arch-Ranger, but they could not stop the horror of death that came upon them so many years ago. Wineberry, thistleglory and snapfey grew wild among the graves he had given them over 200 years ago. If only they could see him now he thought.

Pheyloo Audark was born in the Winterwood in the year 1272 DR. His father was a powerful arch-ranger of Solonor Thelandira, and his mother was a elven High-Hierophant druid of Rillifane Rallathil, and Pheyloo delighted in the stories of his parents deities, though his favorite tales were of Erevan Ilesere and the trickster gods adventures among the Seldarine and other pantheons of Toril. It was in those stories that Pheyloo heard the calling of Erevan Ilesere, much to his parents dismay. In 1286 DR, at the age of 14 though his clan was attacked by a hoard of Orcs, mold men and humans who completely obliterated his small clan of only 100 green elves. His mother cast a powerful spell that transformed her son into a great hawk to hide him from their enemies as he watched the battle from the tree-tops in horror. The last two remaining of the clan was his parents who fought back to back, felling scores of enemies until they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The last thing he seen was his mother looking up at him as she smiled and cast her last spell. The tree bough that his hawk form was perching on suddenly opened up and swallowed him whole, transporting him to an ancient oak tree far to the south of the Winterwood. Exiting the tree with screams of terror and rage, Pheyloo ran back to his clans dwelling while praying to Erevan Ilesere to grant him the power to slay his family's murderers. It was back at the site of the massacre three days later that members of the Eldreth Veluuthra found him and brought him into their organization with promises of revenge against the humans and orcs that destroyed his clan. As Pheyloo was leaving the kill-zone of his people, he thought he heard the mischievous laughter of a fellow elf behind him, but when he turned to look there was nobody there. A voice suddenly entered his mind as he followed the Eldreth Veluuthra toward the nearest human and orc settlement. "Now you will find the skills you will need to prepare you for your future."

After many years of professionally killing all types of humanoids and monsters, Pheyloo became a master assassin and earned the well deserved reputation and moniker of "Shadowcat" all across Faerun. Within the ranks of the Eldreth Veluuthra he gained many enemies due to his near-legendary exploits and relentless pranks and jokes on his fellow cell members and the Vel'Nikeryma (or Blade Lords) in the name of Erevan Ilesere. His career with the Eldreth Veluuthra came abruptly to an end in 1347 DR when his cell leaders under the command of the Vel'Nikeryma sent Pheyloo to Everlund to kill a innocent human wizard and his elven wife and half-elf children. After several days of watching and studying his Marks, he came to the conclusion that this family had done no crime or evil against the elven people and that the Eldreth Veluuthra only wanted them dead due to the half-elven children. He decided then that he would renege on his contract and explain himself to the Vel'Nikeryma directly, but before he could even leave his Marks property he was ambushed by all the members of his own cell and caught in the middle of several fireball spells aimed at the family's house and at himself. Pheyloo had nowhere to run, and soon felt himself being blasted back and buried under the burning building. Not long afterwards, Pheyloo came-to and opened his eyes and felt his lungs burning for air. He prayed to his trickster god and asked him to let him survive, so that he could recover from his wounds and seek revenge against the Vel'Nikeryma and his ex-cell members with the most surprising prank and joke he had yet played on them; The joke would certainly be on them all when they died realizing he was still very much alive!

With sheer determination Pheyloo envisioned the tavern down the street and cast a dimension door spell and disappeared from beneath the charred, smoldering house, instantly appearing on his back in front of the tavern. "Well there you are.", said a deep, melodic voice above him. Pheyloo opened his burned eyes to see a very tall moon elf with rakish red hair and piercing, bright blue eyes standing over him. "I was beginning to think that our mutual god was tricking me out of yet another winning game of dice, but alas, his message was true, and here you are." Laughed the strange moon elf as he crouched down and put a hand on Pheyloo's chest and prayed to Erevan Ilesere for a powerful healing spell. "Our mutual god?" asked the severely injured assassin. "We'll talk about that, and your future, after you're healed Shadowcat." said Curudin Ahmaquissar with a wry smile on his face. The wild elf thought he saw a plethora of multi-colored, asymmetrical star bursts floating across the moon elfs eyes before he passed out from his injuries.

Within the next six months, Pheyloo Audark hunted down his ex-cell members of the Eldreth Veluuthra that ambushed him and though him dead, and murdered each and every single one of them with a personal touch, ensuring that they knew who it was ending their life. After Pheyloo assassinated the entire cell, he went back to Everlund to accept Curudin Ahmaquissar's offer to join his thieves guild, and rose swiftly through the ranks of The Rogues of the Laughing Midnight., and ended up becoming great, lifelong friends with Curudin and the other high ranking members of the guild.

Now here they were.... The dead circle of trees that represented his childhood. 1488 DR. The only symbol of peace and good fortune was the gorgeous flowers overgrown among his parents graves. It stirred up hate and remorse and agony within his soul. He did what he had to do to survive and live a good life. With 22 members of the Eldreth Veluthra dead by his hands alone, he felt somehow pure at this most holy site for him.

With his friends and guild members camped about a mile away to the north, he felt he had the privacy to weep and mourn. Something he hadn't done since that awful day of terror. Pheyloo succumbed to tears and sorrow, yet he laughed and remembered times of bliss and playful joy. He looked at the Yew tree in the center of the ancient elven grove, the only tree not damaged by any spells or fighting and thought he had seen a shimmering glint of steel. He then heard laughter in his right ear. He turned to see nothing. Then suddenly the laughter came from the giant, ancient Yew tree. He was startled at first and drew four daggers to toss at the slightest of movement. Nothing! He walked towards the ancient Yew tree out of sheer reverent memories and his eyes fell upon a bundle of glowing items nestled in the crook of the trees roots. No, it couldn't be.... his mothers necklace, his fathers rings. But it was. As plain as day and as real as his trickster god, there they were.

Pheyloo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reached out to touch the items and heard a soft laughter in his mind. He kneeled down and touched the items of his parents, and immediately felt a wash of warm emotions fall upon him. He was unconscious at this point and could barely control himself as he picked up the items and put them on his being. He did so in a dream it seemed. The Yew tree fell over him at this moment and transported him to a realm far, far removed from reality. He saw elves, both young and old dancing and laughing. He saw a party of immense proportions that would make the Midnight Gambols look like lonely campfires. He stood there disbelieving. Just then a very, very tall beautiful elven male came out of the Yew tree and held his mothers ancient long bow in his hands as he drew an arrow and pulled back to aim at Pheyloo. Pheyloo ran away, or thought he had until he was back at the Yew tree looking at the very, very tall elven male, who now held his fathers twin sabers and slowly chopped at his head. Pheyloo ducked and darted to the right behind the Yew tree, only to find himself looking down at his parents graves once again, with the necklace and rings scattered about among the feygrass.

Pheyloo then understood that Erevan Ilesere was calling to him for some reason, here at the site of his parents powerful last stand.

Curudin quietly approached Pheyloo at that moment and asked his friend if he was ready. The Wild elf smiled a wry smile and placed his hand on Curudin's shoulder.

"I've never been more ready. Although I'm confused as to why my parents never trusted me with the knowledge of what they were guarding all their years." said Pheyloo with a sardonic grin.

"You were a child my friend. What guardian, even a mother or father would entrust the secret of a ancient lost Mythal to a child?" said Curudin with sorrow in his voice.

"Are we ready? I need to kill something before my boredom gets the better of me." quipped Laeirlefain trying to diffuse the sullen conversation.

"Yes, we are." spoke Curudin in a gruff manner. "My divination today tells me that the Mythal is about a mile underground, beneath this ancient Yew tree."

"Shall we all shadow-walk to it?" asked Nym Nightsong as he slung his haversack over his shoulder.

"No. There is more I need to tell you all." said the Mischiefmaker with a very serious tone. Unusually serious Nym thought.

"There are Phaerimm, and drow, and durugar all fighting for the secrets of the Mythal." said Curudin. "We will be hard pressed to even enter the cavern that holds the Mythal, let alone secure it's future for the elven people." spoke the Trickster-Touched elf with all seriousness.

"We could contact Evereska or Evermeet, and ask for assistance in retaking our ancient homeland Mythal." said Terrindil as he went through the measures of a faux fight with his Shadow Companion Vrax.

"No. Evermeet has exiled us all, and the Queen is either dead or lost to the people." yelled Curudin at Terrindil. "And Evereska wouldn't lend a single warrior to us even if Erevan Ilesere himself lit a fire under the asses of the Lords who now control that fair city."

"Then let us go and die for our Fey Jester." retorted Terrindil in equal frustration.

"I'm sorry for speaking so harshly Terrindil." said Curudin with heartfelt compassion. "We've all had the dreams, have we not?" asked Curudin.

"YES." said all five companions at once.

"It's almost midnight, and the moon is full tonight, so let us have our Midnight Gambol here at the decimated ruins of Ravenfrost, under the ancient boughs of the winterwood." said Curudin with eagerness and joy.

"Yes, let's drink and dance and call the woodland fey, the creatures of the forest, and whomever else stumbles upon us tonight." said Whispertongue as he began a ancient song of the old kingdoms of the elven people before the crown wars.

Nym Nightsong cast a beautiful blue fairy fire onto the ancient Yew tree in the center of the elven glade, and it illuminated the entire glade for 500 feet in all directions.

Curudin winked at Pheyloo, who began to dance to the melody of Whispertongue around the ancient Yew tree with abandon, drawing out two daggers and whipping his arms and hands around in a wild movement.After a few moments of dancing, Pheyloo drove the two daggers into the ground at the foot of the yew tree, while quickly replacing those daggers with another set of two from the back of his belt. These knives he set into the air as he continued to dance, and then he caught them with grace as they fell back to him, and then planted them in the ground at the opposite side of the tree. Pheyloo then began to pull every single dagger and knife from his body, which numbered around 30, and danced and leaped and spun and tossed all his blades into the air with subtle grace and swift accuracy. As he danced, Pheyloo caught them all one by one and planted them around the ancient yew tree until the ground looked like daggers and knives were growing from the earth itself. He ended his dance at the same time that Whispertongue softly ended his song of elven realms long lost to time.

Each and every single dagger and knife buried in the ground surrounding the tree was ablaze with archaic magic and light. The other four companions stood still in awe and wonder as they witnessed the ancient blade dance that Pheyloo just preformed.

"Hey, Ho!" yelled Curudin as he tossed his everlasting flask of Feywine to Pheyloo, who caught it swiftly and drank deeply as he spun in circles with one arm raised towards the sky. Pheyloo stopped spinning suddenly and walked a circle around the Yew tree spilling the never ending wine around the base of the tree and among the glowing daggers and knives, calling out the names of all the clan members that once resided there with him before it was destroyed.

Pheyloo then tossed the flask back at Curudin who took a deep, long draw of the feywine and tossed it at the other three members of his guild. They drank deeply and often as the night grew darker.

As Whispertongue continued to play his beautiful elven melodies, the forest came alive it seemed. A massive Treant came to the edge of the clearing and planted itself at the perimeter of the fairy fire glow, swaying back and forth as if enjoying the music of the elven bard.
A gorgeous Dryad phased out from the ancient yew tree to climb the ever tall branches and sit high above the clearing while softly singing in an otherworldly voice to the music.

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 25 Mar 2019 22:43:27
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Copper Elven Vampire
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Just then they all heard laughter coming from all four sides of the protected circle of the Midnight Gambol. Then a quickling burst forth from the south grove, and a grig to the right, a pixie duo to their left and a blink-dog from the north. Whispertongue played his lyre stronger and sang more forcefully as shouts of "Hail Curudin" came across the forest breeze.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a three-headed Leskylor leaped through the surrounding shadows of the ring of dead trees and landed at Curudin's feet, belly up. It writhed around, stirring the dirt and laid there with a smile on it's three faces.

Curudin never flinched as his companions all jumped away and drew their blades and readied spells for battle. All the Fey in the ancient elven grove laughed and sang and danced more profoundly when the Leskylor appeared.

"Hail Curudin, Mischiefmaker of the Silver Marches." said a familiar melodic female voice. "You wouldn't be avoiding your dear friends on a night like tonight. would you?" she spoke as she entered the light of the Faerie fire spell.

She was Felorna Nightstar, a moon elf sorcereress, a Feymage of great power. She called her three-headed Leskylor back to her and it appeared by her side and began to lick her outstretched hand.

"Where is your mischievous husband?" laughed Curudin as the other companions visibly relaxed.

"Right behind you." said Resynroux Selorn. Curudin nearly jumped from his boots as he turned to face the tall, handsome wood elf.

Resynroux, a copper elf scout, renowned for his silence, stood there before Curudin with a knowing smile on his young face.

"Rassiitath is patrolling the boundaries of your Midnight Gambol as we speak, making sure no enemies disrupt this sacred night." said the flippant wood elf.

Curudin embraced the copper elf in a bear hug and took him to the ground in a playful manner, while shadow-slapping him across the face and laughing all the while.

"Please release my husband before I choose to disrupt all the gathered fey in this ancient glen, and summon them to accost you in your silliness." spoke Felorna in a mild tone. "We have guests."

Both Curudin and Resynroux stood up and brushed off the dirt from their leather armor and faced Felorna with knowing smiles.

Just then, the Treant at the south end of the grove stepped aside and in walked three more elves under the boughs of the mighty guardian.

"Hahaha... Praise to Erevan as always for his midnight gambol." said another tall moon elf entering the clearing, who wore a large, wide brimmed hat and a wild smile on his handsome face.

"Seareghade, you're late." said Curudin with a hint of annoyance.

"By the looks of it, you don't need me at all. But yet I wouldn't miss the opportunity to find and retake an ancient Mythal even if you asked me to stay in Waterdeep, fooling Elaith for another tenday." spoke the moon elf with such uncanny disdain, that even Curudin lost his smile.

"Seareghade Shimmerstar is here to save us." quipped Curudin. "Our Master Beguiler... Master Illusionist."

Seareghade opened his arms wide and spoke a single word of power, and over 400 images of him began to dance and frolic and sing to the melancholy music of Whispertongue. The entire ancient grove erupted in chaos and laughter and fear.

"STOP!" commanded the mischiefmaker. Hints of a spell fizzled through the air as everyone quit what they were doing. All 400 images of the Beguiler in the grove vanished as Curudin waved his hand and the Gambol resumed apace.

"I wouldn't miss this adventure even if you paid me to stay behind." said Seareghade as he embraced his Trickster-Touched friend with love and admiration.

"I wouldn't have asked you to travel so far to meet me for the Gambol if it wasn't in Erevan's designs." said Curudin with a smirk.

Seareghade outstretched his left arm and beckoned somebody from beyond the circle of dead trees to come forth.

"I have a pleasant surprise for you my trickster-touched friend." said Seareghade with a knowing grin.

From the shadows of the dead trees outside the elven glade, walked forth a slender gold elf female. She was arrayed in black leather, and twin swords were at her hips.

"May I present to you, Miiramathra Floshin, of house Floshin." said the beguiler with reverence. "She has found me... found us, I should say, with the help of our deity Erevan."

Curudin Ahmaquissar eyed her with a knowing glance and stood up straight to greet her.

A renowned Bladesinger of no small fame, she walked into the light of the blue faerie fire and fell to one knee before him.

"By the light of my blades, and the light of this moon, I pledge my service to your cause for our shared deity." she spoke in a hushed voice.

"No, no, no... rise lady Bladesinger, it is I who should kneel before you in service to our deity." spoke Curudin as he touched her hand and asked her to stand tall.

"Erevan Ilesere has asked us all to gather here in the Winterwood, at the ruins of Ravenfell and embark on this misadventure together."

Whispertongue was ending a brilliant balled of Illefarn, when two more elves walked into the ancient grove, unaffected by the wards surrounding the site. Curudin knew who they were before they even came clear of the dead trees.

"Rassiitath!!" shouted the mischiefmaker over the noise of the gathered fey and elves and music.

"Aye, hail you tricky bastard." said Rassiitath with factious scorn.

From the west side of the dead trees walked Rassiitath Selorn, brother to Resynroux Selorn. The infamous rogue/ ranger of Erevan Ilesere who haunts the High Forest.

"Look who I have with me." said Rassiitath with sheer glee.

"Terrindill... you and your shadow-companion better have a spot open for me in your bedroll and your heart before you go and die on me." said Lornaveena Aelorothi.

Curudin raced forward with preternatural speed and embraced them both in his arms, as Terrindill faded into shadow to avoid the temptress of lust. His shadow-companion continued to dance to the morose music of Whispertongue, oblivious to his masters obvious exit from the grove.

Later that night

As Whispertongue continued to play his Lyre, and everyone was singing and dancing, and Terrindill's three Shadow Companions were darting about the revelry, dancing silently to the gorgeous elven music, a booming voice was heard to the south end of the massive city grove.
"Master Mischiefmaker, I have pressing news for you."

Just then, as silent as a shadow, a 30 foot tall Treant appeared within the glow of the blue fairy fire. Her might and power were so old and advanced that the female Treant bore a mighty crown of snapdragons on her wise brow.

Every participant of the Midnight Gambol felt the treants power as she spoke directly to Curudin as he stopped dancing mid-stride, while Whispertongue played his rapid and arousing melody.

"Master Mischiefmaker, you have four powerful chosen at the border of your Gambol." said the female treant with a booming musical voice that stirred the winds around her trunk and followed up her body to rise as a wind elemental off the tip of her snapdragon crown.

"My Lady Cinabellith" said Curudin as he bowed in a flourish of charm before the ancient treant. "Pray tell me what four chosen lurk outside OUR gambol?"

"Elminster Aumar of Shadowdale, The Lady Bard of the Seven Sisters, Lord Manshoon of The Art, and the Arch-Duke Thaselwindle Duskleaf of Sildiyurii." announced the treant queen. She bowed stiffly to Curudin and the revelry before she vanished back into the trees in an instant of forest noises on a windy day.

As the Queen of the Winterwood vanished, out stepped a handsome human Archmage with medium length raven hair and a smirk on his face. Next was Elminster, Storm silverhand and the elven Arch-Duke of the Star Elves.

"You have no idea what lurks beneath, do you Mischiefmaker?" spoke Elminster as he drew a long puff of his wooden pipe.
"Pray tell me sage and be quick about it, unless you intend to join our revelry. quipped Curudin.

Just then, three dozen other members of the Rogues of The Laughing Midnight walked into the firelight of the ancient elven glade. Members from all across Faerun were summoned to this Gambol, and were ready to do battle for the elven Mythal.

With a grin of annoyance Elminster loudly spoke. "There are drow, demons, devils, shadovar, Fey'ri and worse awaiting you near the mythal below us right now. All vying for control of its ancient power."

Curudin waved his hand and tall muggs of Feywine appeared in the hands of Elminster and his three companions. "And you're here to save us I presume?" asked Curudin.

"Something like that, yes." said Elminster as he blew out a long line of dark smoke from his pipe.

Just then, the Queen Treant emerged once again like a forest shadow and spoke in a booming voice filled with reverence. "Queen Amlaruil Moonflower has arrived to seek audience at your Gambol dear Mischiefmaker."

Curudin Ahmaquissar was taken by surprise for a mere second before he gained his composure and mentally opened the Gambol Mythal to the Moonflower Queen.

Within moments Queen Amlaruil Moonflower appeared and dipped a courtesy before she spoke dire words of death.

"Leave this Mythal alone Trickster-Touched." spoke the queen after drinking her entire cup of Fey wine that suddenly appeared in her hands. Both Elminster and Storm Silverhand beheld the most gorgeous elf they had even seen. Manshoon himself bent down to his knee upon seeing her grace and beauty. Amlaruil and Elminster had met only a handful of times, and every time he gaped in awe of her. Her otherworldly beauty was enchanting and disarming. Her absolute power was terrible and flighty all in one small package. A living Legend of the elven gods on Faerun.

"I implore you Curudin of House Ahmaquissar." said the queen as she grabbed his face in both hands and smiled at him. "Turn away from this path. The gods have sent me a vision."

"And Erevan has a path for me as well my Queen. My own path through his service. It's a wonderful experience if you've ever felt it Lady Moonflower." said Curudin with a cocky grin.

"We need to talk alone" said the Queen as she placed her hand on his shoulder and they vanished in a gate of pure white flame.


Curudin and Pheyloo watched the sun rise that morning and woke the camp up with stern warnings of the day to come. It would be death or dying. Fate or luck. The Fey Jester spoke to them all during the Midnight Gambol, and they all had a purpose, for good or for ill.

Curudin passed around his enchanted flask of fey wine to all his friends and lovers for one last round of divine drinks, as they began to descend under the Ancient Yew tree to find and recover the lost elven Mythal of The Winterwood.

Whispertongue sang one last song to the fey creatures and the beasts of the forest as his companions walked down beneath the ancient yew tree. Many Treants, Dryads and pixies fell to confusion as the song ended and he replaced his Lyre with a longsword.

"I hope that Erevan will not forget our unity and sacrifice." said the bard with a heavy sigh. "May the Faerie Fiddlers sing our song long after today is over."

DR 1491. Beneath the ancient Yew Tree of The Winterwood.

Curudin laughed and chuckled to himself. This will be a long night.


Abraxis laughed and howled. "This will be a long day".


The Dukes of Hell fell into place behind their master. Asmodeus himself would walk the earth tonight. Legions I command you to spill forth on the Abyss. The Veil is thin on Arvernus tonight. No longer shall we sit idle in our hells. Tonight we go to war! Tonight The Mischiefmaker is mine. None touch him but me." Just then a 15 foot Pit Fiend breached the gate from Avernus to the Plane of Shadow. "Doom" "Doom" was their unified chant.


The Raven Queen sat upright in her throne and mustered her shadow elf army to combat the evil about to spill into her realm. "We shall have no such thing as devils and demons among us."


Adimarchus howled in insane glee as he watched his Balor lords march towards the rift... the gate of shadows. "We shall destroy all before us". The Arch-Demon/ Ex Solar, pulled out his twin swords and walked towards the gate to the Shadowfell with an array of demon lords beside him.


As Pit Fiends and Balors did battle among themselves, and greater and lesser demons and devils destroyed one another, the Arch-Fiends waited for the signal to happen. The arrival of The Raven Queen and her army.


Curudin seen the elven Mythal within 40 yards and began to cast a ancient spell. His magic was empowered with all the hate he had for all his friends who died during this adventure. Friends he would never get back, no matter what resurrection spells he cast. He walked towards the Mythal with no care to anything but the end of this misadventure. Somehow, a gate to three different Planes had opened and spilt forth three different armies of powerful creatures. All seemed hopeless to The Mischiefmaker and he couldn't care less.


A plethora of Driders, Demons, Devils, Shadovar, Fey'ri and Shadar-Kai clashed in combat as The Trickster-Touched moon elf walked towards them. He cast every spell known to him to protect his body and soul, as he drew out his powerfully enchanted ancient blades, ready for melee combat. His guild-mates were protecting the Mythal itself as he submitted himself to death.

Curudin Ahmaquissar cast a greater invisibility spell and began his handiwork of trickery and deception. He cast a powerful spell that projected an alternate image of Elminster and started casting another spell through the Elminster image that placed a Rend Shadow Weave effect across the entire Mythal chamber. He felt a little better knowing the Shadovar Shade wizards and warriors would be much less powerful for a short time. Just time enough for him to awaken the forgotten elven Mythal and seize control of its powerful ancient magic.

The multitude of drow wizards and sword masters, shadovar shades of both spell and sword, hulking demons from the 507th layer of the Abyss, Fey'ri Spellblades, and horrific devils from the Ninth Gate of Hell, all fighting one another over the ancient elven Mythal was the stuff of legend. The entire guild of The Rogues of the Laughing Midnight were in the middle of that bloody battle. Spells were being cast furiously and blades were clashing in a frenzy. Over fifty members of the guild, along with the REAL Elminster, Storm Silverhand, the Archwizard Manshoon and the Star elf lord of Sildëyuir were fighting for their lives, waiting and hoping for Curudin Ahmaquissar to awaken the Mythal and unlock its ancient powerful elven high magic.

The Star elf lord was a powerful Bladesinger that reminded Curudin of a painting he had once seen of Corellon Larethian in the Grand Hall of the Elven Court on Evermeet long ago. Gracefully battling a Fey'ri Spellblade with his enchanted longsword, as he cast a forking lightning bolt at a drow blademaster at the same time. The Star elf lord was in the ancient trance of the elven Bladesong, weaving and casting powerful spells while seeming to dance in melee combat, artistically slashing and stabbing his powerful longsword in a flurry of spins and riposts.

Curudin's eyes were drawn towards the lone figure of Manshoon across the chamber as the Archwizard stood tall in his dark cloak, casting spells of such power that no demon or devil could long stand against him and his seemingly endless barrage of epic spells. Just then a giant red gate opened up in front of Manshoon and out walked a terrifying Bebelith demon that towered over the Archwizard at fifteen feet tall and blasted forth a wave of paralyzing fear before it. Several drow elves that were sneaking up behind the Archwizard were frozen in place by the sheer terror the Bebelith unleashed. Manshoon's grim face became harder as he pulled out two powerful wands of destruction and pressed forward towards the demonic terror before him.

Curudin's gaze was suddenly drawn to his beloved Rogues guild who stood in a circle, back to back around the ancient elven Mythal itself. Friends and companions, one and all, battling to the death against a vicious plethora of foes all vying for control of the forgotten Mythal of the Winterwood. Curudin knew he must act now or all would be lost and his friends would surely die, with himself being the very last to perish.

Suddenly Elminster floated above the chaos of the battle, spinning in a circle, raining down ray spells of death against all but the goodly elves of the Laughing Midnight. That was the signal they had all planned for. Curudin was about to burst into motion with his Greater Invisibility spell still active, but a soft voice spoke into his right ear and said "I will guard you and you will not die tonight Mischiefmaker." Curudin jumped aside and raised his twin blades to see a very pale elf dressed in black leather armor, with matching longswords in both hands, standing in front of him. This strange, alabaster white elf was shrouded by deep, thick shadows that seemed alive. It quickly reminded him of a Shade, but he could tell that this was no Shade of the Shadovar before him.

"I am Travenrez Greyfrost of the Shadar-Kai, and I will see that you do not die this day Mischiefmaker." Curudin knew that his Greater Invisibility spell was still in effect, so he wondered how this pale, strange elf could see him.

"Then follow me towards uncertainty." replied Curudin with a wry laugh and renewed hope. The Trickster-Touched Moon elf darted forward casting a Implosion spell on the nearest drow warrior, watching the spell slay every enemy he willed it to in succession,... two, three, four he counted as the spell killed more enemies while he dashed around the battlefield totally invisible, hacking and slashing and stabbing his way to the elven Mythal.

To Curudin's surprise, the pale Shadar-Kai elf was slinging spells and fighting furiously with both his swords, helping to clear a path to the Mythal. The Trickster-Touched moon elf knew immediately that this Shadar-Kai elf was a Duskblade, by the simple fact that his combat style of sword and spell was impeccable and well known to trained eyes.

The Shadow elf known as Travenrez Greyfrost attacked any and every Shadovar within the killing distance of his blades and spells. Obsessed with killing Shadovar, he soon found himself laid low by a powerful Enervation bolt cast by a Pit Fiend that stood in his way. Curudin Ahmaquissar leaped over the downed shadow elf and cast a Storm of Vengeance spell over the mighty Pit Fiend as Storm Silverhand bounded into the powerful devil with such fury that her broadsword almost went clear through its body. Curudin's spell of death didn't seem to bother her at all as she battled the terror amidst a raining flurry of acid, fire and lightning.

The Mischiefmaker paid the scene no more attention and focused on the Mythal. He was close indeed. 60 feet away he could see the pulsing lights of the Mythal and feel the resounding boom, boom, boom of its ancient power.

A Drider Lord blocked his path with 10 drow warriors standing before it. Although Curudin was still invisible, his path of destruction, deception and death were visible to the more powerful enemies he faced.

The Drider Lord hoisted twin battle axes and rushed the moon elf with his 10 drow defenders. Curudin cast a greater blink spell that thwarted the 10 drow warriors completely as he pulled out the Selu'Kiira N'Rilan'Vae and placed it on his brow. He immediately found an elven High Magic spell and cast it at the hulking Drider Lord, causing 100 furious images of himself to attack the beast. Within a single round the Drider Lord was dead in a heap of broken legs and severed limbs.

The Mischiefmaker sped past the Drider Lords dead corpse, still invisible and reached the Mythal. He placed a hand upon its surface and felt a wash of power flow into him. His invisibility spell expired at that moment and he was visible to all the factions that wanted control of the mythal. Almost immediately, the fighting stopped and all eyes were on Curudin. The Archwizard Manshoon was first to act as he cast a defensive ward around the Mischiefmaker, followed by Elminster who floated above them all and cast a powerful Spell Resistance affect on the Trickster-Touched moon elf.

Storm Silverhand rushed to help The Star Elf Lord who was hard pressed in battle against two Glabrezu generals and three Vrocks. The elf lord was a vision of art and beauty as he cast an endless amount of spells that bolstered his melee prowess tenfold. The mighty elf hacked and parried, slashed and riposted, bull-rushed and spring-attacked all five enemies surrounding him. His powerful blades opening wounds on all the demons attacking him. The Star elf Lord was graceful and poetic in his artform of blade and spell, as he seemingly danced in a circle of hulking demons.

The Twin Glabrezu generals were absorbed in their killing frenzy against the lone Star elf, as all three Vrocks screeched together in a slaying blast of sonic terror. The Star elf lord fell to one knee by the sheer terror of the attack, as a massive clawed pincher clamped down onto his left shoulder, and he screamed out in pain for help. Just then, a powerful arc of Sonic-Lightning smote the Glabrezu holding the Star elf Lord, causing the beast to reel back a few steps, giving the elf Lord just enough time to pounce forward and lop off the demons clawed pincer with his enchanted Ghost-Touch longsword. The second Glabrezu general teleported behind the elf and clamped onto his torso with his largest clawed pincer at his midsection and almost snapped him in half. The Star elf Lord bellowed in pain and dropped both his powerfully enchanted swords from his hands in agony. The elf Lord was sure that death was upon him as he submitted to killing the demon general in one last act of defiance and goodness.


A Shadovar Lord, a Fey'ri Lord, and a Drow elf Wizard all unleashed a miasma of death spells at Curudin to no effect. At that moment Travenrez Greyfrost 'Shadowstepped' among the gathered enemies and unleashed a frenzy of blades and spells that left a dozen dead in his wake before he lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground, riddled with severe wounds from the protection he gave. Curudin ran to him and looked at him with concern, but the Shadow elf waved him away and said "I defected for Erevan and I'm not with the Raven Queen's army. I'm here to help you as requested by The Fey Jester himself."

Curudin stood perplexed for a second and then winked at Travenrez in knowing surprise. He left the Shadow elf in the blink of an eye and dashed towards the Winterwood Mythal with the pure intent of ending this battle. Swarms of demons, devils, drow, Shadovar and Fey'ri blocked his path, all fighting one another for dominance. Then came the Shadar-Kai army.

The Shadar-Kai... The Shadow elves, erupted from their portal with a flurry of spells and swords and arrows that disrupted the entire battle. Killing storms and slaying bolts of death followed the Shadar-Kai in a haze of impenetrable darkness.

The Trickster-Touched Moon elf ran past a Bebelith and cut the spider demon deep on its torso as he darted past with such speed that the demon didn't even know it was wounded until it fell dead with its guts spilled under it. Curudin Ahmaquissar suddenly turned a half circle and sped alongside a Baatezu attacking the same demon. He tapped the hulking devil three times in the ribs with his longsword and shortsword and opened up a grievous wound on either side. Curudin laughed and cried at the same time.

Curudin asked the Mythal for its name and it replied 'Zaranzaxia' in his mind with such power and anticipation that Curudin grew weak and vulnerable for several minutes. He steadied himself quickly and pressed further into the Mythal. Zaranzaxia supplied Curudin Ahmaquissar with endless streams of ancient elven High Magic, she also gave the elven rogue the key to unlock the full power of The Winterwood Mythal.

Time stopped for a short moment. Curudin did not cast this powerful Time-Stop spell, so it must have been Zaranzaxia, the Mythal itself.
Curudin chuckled and looked around at the time-stopped battle. Three drow elf warriors were doing battle with a Mezzoloth. A Mage-Killer from his own guild was assassinating a Shadovar Shade wizard in mid-action. Devils and demons were pouncing at Manshoon and Elminster, who now stood together in frozen silence during mid-casting.

The Trickster-Touched Mischiefmaker felt a shock of fear when suddenly a gate appeared in a blistering purple flash of immense energy and power that rocked all the combatants back several feet. And out came Alastor the Grim; The bodyguard of Asmodeus, King of the Ninth Hell. The sheer terror that exuded from the massive Pit Fiend Lord was so intense that both Elminster and Manshoon were blown back several feet and the entire battlefield stood silent for a second time. Alastor The Grim was a Mighty Duke of Hell that protruded fear and terror like an aura of pure death.

Curudin was the first to recover when suddenly another gate arrived in a silent black flash of intense beauty and blinding fear. Then stepped forth the Raven Queen. Her glory and power was enough to wash out the terror of Alastor and bring a glimmer of hope. The two powerful entities clashed in a plethora of spell and blade that shook the entire chamber.

Curudin took advantage of the time stop spell provided by the Mythal and prepared three powerful spells for when it ended. A Plane Shift spell, a Stalking spell and a Epic Weird spell. Time began to resume as the massive battle carried on as if it never missed a step. Curudin remained hidden as he smirked in a wry grin and watched his powerful guild members and companions work in unison and put down any threat against them.

Lairlefain Starleaf shadow-stepped behind a drow warrior fighting a Shadovar spellblade and plunged his elven thinblade through the drow's neck. As the dead drow fell to the ground, he rushed the Shadovar spellblade in a flurry of Swashbuckling that made Curudin laugh out loud.

Terrindill Shalarra was shadow dancing with his three shadow-companions Vrax, Cyble and Vermezz. The three of them striking from the darkness they created. A blurring image of shadows interweaving in a gorgeous display of unity and skill.

As the Legendary battle continued to rage on, Curudin cast every powerful spell he knew of deception and guile behind his epic Screen illusion. None of the combatants seemed to notice The Mischiefmaker behind his powerful divine deception. He cast a stalking spell that assassinated every enemy around himself, as well as a legendary Weird spell of Queen Amlaruil who smote her enemies with something nobody could see. Followed by a booming sonic blast that knocked 25% of the combatants to the ground prone and vulnerable. Immediately a scintillating pattern was cast above the chaos and filled the ancient cavern with a mass of colours that blinded, confused, and bewildered all demons, devils, drow, fey'ri, shadovar and Shadar-Kai alike.

It was sudden and blinding and not a single entity on the Mythal battlefield could say where it came from. Curudin Ahmaquissar placed his right hand onto the Ancient Mythal and the world stopped for him. A Time Stop spell was triggered upon the Mischiefmaker for a second time, and he had little time to make things right in the favor of the elves.


Before Curudin could touch the Ancient Mythal, another gate opened up, brimming with heat and terror and glowing a green light that made those close feel sickened and hopeless. With an audible pop, came forth a mighty denizen of the lower Planes.

Four foot frontal horns burst through the gate. As a head snapped up and bellowed, a booming gurgle resounded. That howl had all heads turn towards the extraplanar rift. Out came Belixandixia of The 713th realm of the abyss. Demon Prince of sheer terror and murder. A balor of mighty presence, and power. Minion to Abraxas, the Lord of Madness.


Curudin Ahmaquissar touched the Mythal and time stopped once again. The Mischief Maker, the Trickster-Touched Moon elf Cleric absorbed all the keys and magic needed to open up this forgotten Mythal. With a simple wish, he cast a Mythal powered Banishment spell that sent all the fiends back to their home planes for a hundred years. The only entity remaining was The Raven Queen. As the final damnations of the Arch-Fiends lessened, as they faded away for a hundred years. the Raven Queen spoke.

"Mischiefmaker... I have heard little of you. Just faerie tales so to speak. I offer you salvation."

"I have a special place for you to put your salvation!" quipped Curudin. "Back to the shadows and I'll see you soon."

With a hand on the ancient Mythal, Curudin invoked another banishment spell, sending the Raven Queen back to the Plane of Shadow. All that was left was an army of Drow elves, Shadovar and Fey'ri.

Empowered by the ancient Mythal, Curudin spoke a single command. "STOP!!"

The entire battlefield stopped in mid-swing and mid-spell, entranced by the sheer power of the elven Mythal.

"If you all wish to die, please continue to fight, but I would suggest you take your wounded and leave here, never to return on pain of death from the Mythal itself." said the Trickster-Touched moon elf with a wry grin on his handsome face.

A Shadovar Lord named Xaxell aldukin stepped through the shadows and appeared behind Curudin, next to the Mythal. His sword came slashing down as a black spell-bolt shot towards the Mischiefmaker seeking to slay him quickly.

Curudin side-stepped to his left and spun around with his longsword leading, followed by his shortsword arching down from his upper-left. The Shadovar Shade leaped over the swing of the longsword, but was suddenly, and artfully skewered by Curudin's shortsword through his skull. The powerfully enchanted shortsword drove deep into the head of the Shadovar Lord and sank into his spine for good effect.

As Curudin kicked the dead body off his shortsword, he pointed a finger at the Mythal and said "death by acid." He circled his head two times with his forefinger and called forth a barrier of protection that protected all allies from the scid barrage. The Mythal empowered his spell once again.

Enemies died by the dozens. They were still outnumbered 3 to 1, when Curudin cast another spell that placed a killing storm across the battlefield. The storm never touched his companions. He was amazed. He did not cast that spell of his own will. The spell came out of him without his own consent.

The Trickster-Touched moon elf paused for a second, before he leaped back from the Mythal. He was too late. His body was wracked with insane amounts of energy and pain and lore and power. He understood that the Mythal itself was the monster, calling all this evil towards it, all these years now, ending up here at this point.

The Ancient elven Mythal was corrupted on its own. seeking a elven soul, not unlike a Lich searching for a phylactery. Curudin was the perfect spirit to use for its goals. He resisted with all his will, but the Mythal suddenly spoke its name to the Mischiefmaker, and he bent to one knee. His friends and companions fought furiously around him, Protecting him as he waged an inner battle against the Mighty ancient Mythal.

"Falisandriaminathindle is my name". Said the dominating Mythal. "I am known to all elves as "Middle-Mother.". The power in that voice was resounding in Curudin's head like a hammer on a bell.

"I was the central Mythal of a long forgotten kingdom of powerful green elves, full of magic and divinity." Spoke the ancient Winterwood Mythal known as Middle-Mother. "I was commander and lover of The People, until our Kingdom fell into chaos. I was death, swift and true, I was healing when your body or soul were broken." said the Mythal with a broken voice.

"I was a Handmaiden to Kings and Queens uncounted. Before the Crown Wars I was a gardener of our city. I grew life from a simple seed and became goddess of that flower. In time, I gave my spirit to the Mythal to save our mighty kingdom from the wars that began far to the north."

The female voice of the Mythal sounded almost pleading to Curudin Ahmaquissar. The Mischiefmaker found a reserve of luck and willpower and gritted his teeth with the struggle in his mind.

"I, Lady Middle-Mother, will not be inviting you to any of my Gambols, any time soon." said Curudin before he released himself from the mental grasp of the powerfully ancient Mythal.


Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 07 Mar 2020 17:49:06
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Copper Elven Vampire
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Posted - 30 Dec 2019 :  02:04:16  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
1493 DR, Year of The Purple Dragons

Using the immense magic of the decaying Mythal, Curudin transported twenty members of his guild closest to him to another anti-chamber of the Mythal city of the Winterwood without meaning to do so.

The shadow-cloaked Gnome cleric of Baravar Cloakshadow stood still as Curudin finished his spell. Outside the Clerics of Brandobaris and Vergadain waited with hated patience. This was a powerful tomb with powerful spells, open only to elven spell casters of a epic level.

"Back up, back up, back up and shield yourselves." said Curudin. "The ward is blowing, but the trap is safe." As the sonic explosion rocked the chamber, the Trickster-Touched moon elf felt around for a secret lever behind a painting of Torndhon fdalthmar, a wild elf bard of legendary reputation. Curudin felt the subtle click and grinned with a sombre smile and relaxed for the first time in weeks.

The next Gambol starts in 2 weeks and Curudin can't even imagine going to the surface. Whispertongue confirmed the sullen news to his living compatriots. Every member of the guild had too much invested to call it quits. The Elven Mythal boomed with resounding bass every three minutes or so. "Boom, boom, boom."

Curudin cast a spell to let his compatriots know what his plans were in this storm of chaos. They all heard his command and they acted as one.

First to react was Pheyloo, the Wild elf assassin was a frenzy of tossed daggers and knives. Killing every living body in sight with a mere flick of his wrists. Enchanted daggers and knives being thrown in a 360 degree spectrum. dropping enemies by the dozen. His endless supply of throwing weapons were innumerable.

The next friend Curudin seen defending him was Nym Nightsong. The Star elf Shade was casting powerful spell after powerful spell, slaying dozens of enemies with his shadow-craft. It reminded The Trickster-Touched Moon elf of how Nym first became a Shade, and he felt guilty. It was his fault after all.

Next was Terrindill, the Sun elf Shadowdancer, with his three shadow companions complimenting his every move. Darting among the chaos like flowing water, they killed and slew in abandon. Terrindill stepped through the shadows like he was a part of the Plane of Shadow, Stabbing and thrusting his twin swords at any and every enemy within range of his blades.

Curudin's gaze fell to Whispertongue, the mysterious drow elf sang out loud as he fenced his longsword in tune to his voice. An avid swordsman, he held his own against the chaos of the battle, but was soon hard pressed, and his song began to falter.

The Trickster-Touched moon elf bent down low and held his duel swords beside him in complete silence and shadow. He whipped his flaming red hair aside when he turned around in a blur to see Laeirlefain Starleaf in an epic fight, and was horrified and awe-stricken at the same time.

The copper elf Shadow-Walker was standing alone in a circle of deeper darkness, lashing out from the shadows to duel a swordsman on the left of him and a mage on his right. A Rogue behind him tried to sneak attack, but Laeirlefain shadow-stepped beside him and skewered the drow through his neck in a brilliant display of swashbuckling.

Curudin turned back to Whispertongue to aid him in his plight, when a sudden burst of gold light dashed across the cavern with tremendous speed and agility. The Mischiefmaker knew immediately that it was Trysiifith Oumryn, the Gold elf Trickster-Monk of Narbeth, (Shalhoond}. The Exiled King of The Great Wild Wood erupted into a controlled display of chaos and fury. Unleashing spells that damaged, killed and mislead his opponents in a blinding display of skill and power.

As Whispertongue fended off melee attacks and cast defensive spells through his voice, the divine monk Trysiifith exploded in a flurry of fists and feet, elbows and knees, with complimentary spells that left a clear circle free of enemies around the drow bard.

Terrible demons, diabolic devils and drow swordsman. Fey'ri sorcerers, Shadovar wizards and goblinoid priests. Trysiifith Oumryn slew them all in Whispertongue's circle of song.

Curudin Ahmaquissar crept around the outer stone of the Mythal-Shard that his group was teleported into by the Main Winterwood Mythal, and beheld a mighty scene... In a triangle, stood Seareghade Smimmerstar; the Beguiler of Illefarn. Tharnalith Weepingwood; Jester and Favored Soul of Erevan Ilesere. And The Shrinshee herself, all combining magic to imprison and crush the Altraloth Lord known as Graft'lux. The seven Night Hags that created the Yugoloth lord flashed into existence just then behind the trio of elves. Two of the elves were dear friends to Curudin, the last elf was a legend and a myth told to elven children all across Abeir-Toril.

Curudin leapt off the stone pillar holding the Mythal-Shard and onto the back of the nearest Night Hag with his powerful longsword in his right hand and a banishing spell in his left fist. His blade tore the Night Hags arm off as his free hand grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down under him, releasing a powerful spell of Banishment that sent her back to the Lower Planes howling in rage.

Just then Curudin Ahmaquissar vanished in the blink of an eye and was teleported to another Mythal-Shard in a different chamber. The Mischiefmaker tried to gather his bearings as he was thrown into a melee of chaos and spells and death. Still under the effects of his immaculate invisibility spell, the Trickster-Touched moon elf drew his legendary, ancient sister swords, prayed to Erevan Ilesere and smiled and laughed. He hacked at drow wizards, Fey'ri spellblades and human Shades. Pitching and leaping and darting through his foes and supporting his companions in this Spell-Shard section of the ancient underground Mythal.

Nym Nightsong glided across the battlefield slinging shadow spells of tremendous power across the elven cavern at all enemies that stood before him. The Star elf Shade raised his arms in one quick motion and screamed out an ancient elven incantation. As he brought his arms down and with it, the power he had created was unleashed. A storm of shadows whirled around the cavern stealing life force and weakening his enemies. Some lesser beings were consumed entirely into dry husks of shriveled death, while others fell prone in exhaustion, unable to lift a blade or cast a spell.

Curudin cast a powerful Mirror-Image spell and another powerful Greater Blink spell on himself and threw himself into melee battle. His blades slashed and pierced enemies by the dozens, without receiving a single cut on himself, due to the misleading magic he placed on himself. The Mischiefmaker laughed aloud as he was nigh untouchable for the remainder of his spells. Until a sizzling bolt of black magic smote his back and sent him tumbling, only to land on his feet in a lightning quick pivot and cast a Flamestrike spell on the Shadovar Lord that pierced his defensive spells.

The powerful Shade Lord was suddenly burned in a wash of divine fire of multi-colored hues. He screamed in agony before a longsword burst through his neck. As the Shade Lord crumpled into oblivion, Curudin seen that mysterious Shadow elf; the Shadar-Kai elf that whispered protection into his ear several days ago when the battle had begun.

Shadows roiled among the tall, otherworldly pale elf. He tipped his blade to Curudin and simply shadow-stepped across the chamber looking for another threat to challenge.

The Trickster-Touched moon elf darted forward to a alcove in the north wall of the spell-chamber. He chanted a quick, yet powerful illusion that filled the entire chamber room with dazzling multi-colored lights and phantasms that left all but the most powerful enemies stunned in terrible awe. Curudin picked out a Nycaloth that was fighting a group of Pixie warriors and he burst into motion, speeding across the chamber floor quicker than an elven arrow and pounced on the great Yugoloth with both swords drawn and a Dismissal spell on his grinning lips.

The Nycoloth was taken by sheer surprise and couldn't withstand his powerful dismissal spell and began to dematerialize, but not before Curudin stabbed a spell-laden jab with his Longsword into the face of the terrible yugoloth, watching its face explode into the void. The Pixie warriors all saluted the Mischiefmaker and flew off to battle a small group of drow clerics.

Curudin had to get close to the Mythal-shard in order to awaken this rooms magic. He had already awakened two other Mythal-shards, not including the Main Mythal itself. He just needed to awake this room and one more before he could control the ancient elven Mythal entirely. The sentience of the forgotten Mythal begged Curudin constantly to be awoken again.

With a mere wave of his hand, the Mischiefmaker opened a portal to the circular shelf that held the Mythal-gem, glowing bright orange like a sunny autumn day. In a instant he went through his dimension door and was already touching the Gem when a cavern shaking boom resounded throughout the chamber and a mighty Mezzoloth Lord burst into the chamber weilding a 10 foot trident that leaked black ice in a constant flow of freezing death.

Curudin Ahmaquissar gave a slight chuckle and turned back to the Mythal-Gem. He cast the ancient spell of awakening that the Main-Mythal had shown him and the orange gem burst into a cylinder of raw magic that shot into the ceiling of the cavern.

The gigantic Mezzoloth rushed at the moon elf swatting aside drow fighters and shadovar wizards. "Death comes for you elf." belched the insectoid monstrosity. "The whole Abyss knows your name mortal."

"Get in line O'boring lord of the stench." quipped The Mischiefmaker in lazy contempt. Curudin didn't flinch a muscle as the demon lord drove his spear into an image of himself on the spell-daise. In fact, Curudin was across the chamber as the Mythal teleported him into the fourth and final spell-chamber.

The Trickster-Touched Chosen of Erevan Ilesere was teleported into a horrific battle that reeked of blood and fire. The final chamber was ablaze with his friends and guild members fighting for their lives against drow elves, shadovar, and Fey'ri. Not to mention, the demons, devils and shadar-kai. The Mythal-Gem on the central dais was pulsing a bright red glow that illuminated the elven chamber with a crimson hue.

He looked upon Elminster and Storm Silverhand who were clearing a path towards the spell-gem. Manshoon was casting epic spells of death onto all who tried to accost Mystras Chosen. Once again a resounding boom shook the chamber as a portal to the abyss opened in a blinding white flash, and out walked Malkazid, The Branded King. The Fey'ri howled in glee and all others moaned in grief and terror.

Curudin knew his part in all of this and immediately teleported to the spell-gem, ignoring the pure fear that came with Malkizid. He transported himself at the front of the path Elminster and Storm had opened up for him and bull-rushed the gem with astonishing speed and grace. His legendary longsword and shortsword clove a path before him that none could withstand. Until Malkizid stood before him.

Malkizid raised a magical wall of force around the spell-gem as Curudin darted straight towards the very large fallen Solar. The Mischiefmaker invoked his Shadow-Trick ability and exploded into boiling shadows as he ran lightning fast at The Branded King. As Malkizid began to swing his gigantic two-handed sword at Curudin, the Trickster-Touched moon elf Side-Slipped and vanished into thin air, only to reappear behind the hulking form of Malkizid and pass through the magical wall of force with ease as his Shadow-Trick ability dissipated with the success.

The Branded King spun around with hate in his eyes and death on his lips as Curudin Ahmaquissar touched the spell-gem while laughing and winking, and then vanished once again. This time by the will of the elven Mythal.

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 11 Mar 2020 19:11:35
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Copper Elven Vampire
Master of Realmslore

1078 Posts

Posted - 11 Mar 2020 :  21:57:01  Show Profile Send Copper Elven Vampire a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Trying to figure this out story-wise.

Edited by - Copper Elven Vampire on 20 Jul 2020 19:32:14
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