Role

Chapter 2

The High Tower of Sorcery is a school for magi. Within it's walls they each
learn how to gain mastery over their specific study of the arcane. From the
shapeshifters learning at first to change their eyes and ears, eventually
they learn to alter their entire being. The invokers who first learn to coat
their hands in elemental force soon learn to collapse mountains and twist
seas. Conjurers learn how to tap into the unseen, the extraplanar forces to
beckon them forth for aid. The necromancers, masters of death, learn how to
manipulate the living bodies function, and then that of the deceased.

Those who study the arts of transmutation are the real focus of this tale.
They are the ones who study the alterations of the living body. From
increasing the metabolism and watching a captive waste away, to liquifying
the innards of test subject, they are by far the most bizarre experiments and
lessons. The rest of the victims of the study are of little importance, we
focus our attentions onto but one.

Armonk Ironbeard was traveling with his merchant father from his home in
Akan. They were making an excursion to the storm giants home of Loch
Terridan. Along the path, they took a wrong turn and ended up with the Shadow
Grove. Armonk's father bested many a wraith as they wandered blindly through
the shrouded wood. For what seemed like days they wandered hopelessly. Then
they stumbled upon it, the magi tower.

As they approached the gates in an attempt to find salvation, the death
knights who bared the door began to utter incantations. A bolt of lightning
shot forth from the giant's hands, striking Armonk's father in the face. He
crumpled to the ground, smoke rising in thick plumes from what was left of
his blood red beard. Fear then gripped the young Armonk as he believed
himself to fall victim next. He attempted to run, but his body would not
move. Fear held in fixed in place. The duergar began to swing his flail in
short circles over his head, and lashed out wildly with it. Catching young
Ironbeard square in the temple, he crumpled to the ground.

The rancid smell of burning hair and flesh came to the nose of Armonk. His
eyes opened slowly, then closed again. As the smell lingered, he snapped open
his eyes and leapt to his feet. Or so he thought. His body lurched but moved
nowhere. Armonk's eyes shot around the room and he saw many a unfamiliar
face, and that is when the situation truly set in. The smell was coming from
his face. He wailed in pain, and thrashed in agony. "See how the flesh
becomes red at first then blackens? Shortly after it will peel and crack. The
beard is gone, as you can see. The hair is of little concern. The skin
beneath is where we focus our attentions." The voice came from a tall drow
standing directly over Ironbeard. The drow reached both hands down and placed
them on Armonk's face. With a few words the pain subsided, but only for a
moment. The once charred skin ripped and stretched, eventually coming
together and sealing itself shut. "That is how the flesh can be manipulated
to seal wounds class. It is not perfect by any means, but now this young
dwarf will not die before our lesson finishes. The magical skin however, will
never regrow the beard that is the pride of his people." The class snickers
and laughs at what apparently is a sick j