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[Mephisto]

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I… am Mephisto. Here is my tale…

Several months ago…

I wake to find myself shackled to a wall somewhere dark and dank with the smell of death around me “Where am I?” I ask unknowingly aloud. My body is battered and broken and pain fills me with every breath I take. “How did I get here?” Somewhere in the near distance a torch explodes in flame and then another, one by one the torches all ignite. I look around to examine my surroundings and see that I am in a basement or a dungeon of sorts. Standing in the middle of the room is a Daemon! With a booming, rock grinding voice he answers, “You are in my lair, I brought you here.” Stark cold fear filled me as I scrambled and attempted to get to my feet, but alas I was too weak. With a trembling voice I ask, “Then you mean to devour me?” He roared with laughter that shook the very ground, “Nay mortal, I do prefer my meals to be freshly killed after all.” I reply, “Freshly killed? I don’t understand”. “No?” He says, “You were dead, and now your not. Now does that help your understanding a bit?” My head is reeling, the room spinning, gasping for air, “Dead you say? How did I die? And why am I resurrected and imprisoned here?” “Aye… dead and I know not how thy demise was met. What I do know is that the wind of rumor does claim thee to have been the greatest minstrel in all the ages, and I resurrected you to perform for me.” The Daemon walks to a sturdy oak chest and draws from it a golden harp. He throws it at my feet and says, “Play something soothing for me mortal.” I reach down and grasp the harp laying it in my lap. I sit there staring at the harp for uncounted minutes and come to the realization that I do not know how to play the harp. “I do not remember how to play, or who I am for that matter.” I say to the Daemon. “Do not toy with me Minstrel!” He growls. “The resurrection spell I used included a specific incantation to allow you to regain your skill memories, as for your name and other trivial memories, they are of no importance to me. Now play!” I braced the harp between my knees, closed my eyes, reaching up I strum the cords on the harp producing a sound that was something akin to a Harpy in heat. The Daemon screams in anger and reaches down and grabs the whole of my head within one hand and lifts me off the ground and slams me into the wall. “Dost thou take me for a fool?” He bellows. I should have been filled with dread; I should have wept from fear. Instead I felt... rage. He released his grip on my head and instead of falling flat on my face from weakness, I landed on my feet. Infuriated beyond compare, I raise my hands up high and shout, “Corp Por!” A bolt of intense energy burst from my hands and hits the Daemon square in the chest sending him reeling. Again I shout, “Kal Vas Flam!”, and the Daemon is engulfed in flame. Writhing in pain and fury the Daemon rises to its full height, raises his hands and begins an incantation of his own. What spell the vile creature was about to cast will never be known, for just at that instant, a blade exploded from his chest and his words turned into a gurgle as green blood spewed from its maw. Behind the Daemon stood a grizzled old warrior mounted on a horse made of shadow; hand on the hilt of the sword that protruded from the Daemon. The Daemon turned to face his slayer… his eyes widened in surprise, “I heard you… you said… he was a… minstrel.” The Daemon slid from the sword and fell to the ground in a heap. Removing his helm, the old man looked at me through eyes that belonged to a man half his age and with wisdom thrice that which he was. Smiling he says, “Welcome back.” “You know me?” I asked. “Aye, I know you, you are my friend. You were cursed and killed by an evil sorcerer. The curse was to force your spirit to be trapped in your body, when you were killed, that is where your spirit remained. The evil sorcerer then buried your body in a place known only to him. For a year I searched for the sorcerer and finally caught up with him and beat the location from him. He buried you in a grave marked with just one word”… “Minstrel” Feeling weak once again, my knees start to buckle and in an instant he is there with an arm under my shoulder. “It is time to leave, he won’t stay dead long” Nodding towards the dead Daemon. “Who am I?” I whispered. “That is a story for another time… for now, you were reborn into this hell… we’ll call you Mephisto. With a wave of his hand and a word of power, a blue gate appeared and I felt myself half walking half being carried into it...
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In reality, anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
In Sosaria, anything that does kill you makes you wiser.