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Reflections of the Past

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Dryzzid
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Joined: 30 Dec 2003
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PostPosted: Tue May 24, 2005 3:11 pm Post subject: Reflections of the Past Reply with quote

The soft glow of dusk crept through the window of a small stone house deep within the jungles of Trinsic. Leaves and vines obscured the view of the sole inhabitant as he gazed out the window in the direction of the city of paladins. The tall, slender man drug the sleeve of his robe across his brow to wipe away the sweat. How he hated the heat and humidity of this place. He turned away from the window and paced casually about the room with a thin smile creasing his lips.

“Too easy”, he spoke aloud to himself.

He glanced to a small black box sitting on a table beside his bed. Inside the box was the Mirror of Morgaz; an ancient relic possessing power that could rival that of the Ebon Skull. The Mirror was once used to seal away the first lich lord of the Skull, and it still carried an essence of his power. The Mirror was used in the ritual that brought the Order of the Ebon Skull back to Sosaria, and for many years since it had been buried underneath the Cathedral of Oblivion.

Until now.

The man sat down on his bed and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His plan had gone better than he could possibly expect. He had assembled a mock council and called them the Children of Morgaz, a group of cultists who worshipped the Avatar of Oblivion. He spread false rumors of thieves who wished to steal the Ebon Skull from the Order. He observed the Order’s every move as they reacted to his artificial scenario, and when they were at their weakest he struck, unearthing the Mirror of Morgaz and taking it from its longtime place of rest.

The man thought about his past experiences with the Mirror and the Order of the Ebon Skull. He, Tyranthraxus, the apprentice of Ezerak the Favored, once served the Order and led the first expedition that uncovered the Mirror. He knew the Mirror’s powers all too well. To whoever gazes into it, it paints a picture of the future, molded and shaped by the will and desires of the user. When Tyranthraxus gazed into it, it painted a picture of power.

The necromancer brushed a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. He looked to the box again and wondered if they would come for it. He reached over and opened the lid of the box. There it was; the object of his obsession. An elegant and intricate design was etched into the silver frame which encircled an obsidian face. He traced his fingers around the designs as his mind seemed to drift to other planes. Would they come for it?

“Let them”, he said aloud. “I will not be parted from it again.”

He removed the Mirror from its box and laid down on the bed, gazing into his future.
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