Born To Hail

Prelude

"At last, there it is." He said to himself as he gazed at the ruins before him. All that remained standing was a lone tower. What a majestic place this must have been, he thought as he walked through crumbled rooms and hallways. Slowly making his way to the tower. After a long journey through the Upper Reaches, a land of nightmares, he found the resting place. Books of the forbidden arcane arts locked away in the tower and out of reach of corruptible minds.

Zarric walked up the stairs leading to the tower's entryway. Upon reaching the door he noticed a slight shimmer in the space before it. Carefully he made for the handle not knowing what kind of spells could be placed on it. Suddenly the door flew open and a force from within pulled him inside. Before he could react the door slammed shut locking him behind it. Inside was unnaturally dark. Zarric reached out for where the door should be but found nothing. Puzzled he walked a few paces in its direction, but still nothing.

"I need light." he said to the darkness. One by one all around torches sprang to life. He found himself standing in the middle of what appeared to be a giant vault. Filled with elation he gazed at the wondrous sights around him. The walls covered in paintings and tapestries of gruesome monsters and epic battles. Also beautiful landscapes ranging from grassy fields to snowcapped mountaintops. About the room lay implements of death. He came across a dagger, its make unlike any he'd ever seen. Instead of a straight blade it rippled back and forth, like small waves. Staring at the red blade he noticed it seemed to dance slightly as if it was made of fire. He reached down and touched the blade, burning the tips of his fingers. Jerking his hand back he knocked the sheath to the floor. Grabbing the dagger by its hilt he sheathed it and attached the dagger to his belt.

As he walked he scanned the vault over for a book case. Searching for the real reason he sought this place out. As long as the legends are true and the tomes were locked away in here. The legends got him this far no reason to doubt them now. No longer will he be a two bit illusionist. Unable to do more than simple parlor tricks. Laughed at by real spell casters who wielded such awesome power. Power that he thirsted for. Power that he must have at all cost. Focus, he told himself. Once he acquires this power they will pay. The world will pay.

Tucked away in a corner he spotted a bookcase, on it rested dozens of thick leather bound tomes filled with secret and forbidden ways to obtain power. Staring at them trying to decide which to open first. One seemed to call out to him. Neither the spine nor the cover seemed to have a title, or any indication it ever contained one. After carrying the book to a flat surface he opened it to the first page. It was blank so he turned to the next. Blank again; irritated he turned to the next. Again and again he flipped through pages, still nothing. Frustrated he slammed it shut. Zarric ran through the other books. All empty of a single drop of ink.

"What is this madness." he growled through clenched teeth. After all he's done to get here. All the time it took to find this place. He was brought to this place. He was sure this was the reason for being brought here. Memories of the foul creatures that stalked him ever since he crossed the barrier. The fear of not knowing which night would be he last. Anger continued to boil inside him. He could feel it burning inside him; building, begging for release. Fueled by his rage he grabbed the dagger and drove it through the book that seemed to call out to him. Expanding from the blade the pages began to char. In a rush of air all the books around him ignited.

No longer caring about the books he sank to the floor and watched them burn. In the smoke of the burning tomes arcane runes appeared. Circling around him the runes enveloped him in a tempest of smoke. Building in speed as they spun closer, and closer, Zarric sat there unable to move. The maelstrom of smoke, of magic lifted him in the air. Even with his lanky legs stretched he was no longer able to touch the floor. He was unsure of what was happening, trying to scream, but nothing came out. Drawing breath to scream again the smoke filled his lungs to their full capacity. Agony wrenched through his body, so overwhelming he wanted to rip the flesh from his bones. Unable to move, unable to scream, he had no choice but to endure and hope it would end soon.