Role

Chapter 2

A dark-skinned and also aged half-drow, probably around the two-hundred
year mark, took the place of the old wizard whose blood pooled at the
foot of the altar. Long, unkempt white hair whipped frantically in the
energies created from the ritual. Dark red eyes peered towards the
center of the room, where an orb of pure arcane energy hovered, slowly
draining the life-essence of the young woman on the altar. Cackling with
glee, the half-drow took a step forward, ready to accept his gift of
life, his gift of youth.

His cackling turned to an expression of surprise, however, when the
power became unstable. His eyes darted back and forth frantically,
realizing he had to get out of there. Before he could react, however, he
was grabbed and held still by some unseen force. Horror replaced
surprised when he realized his life was now being drained. He turned his
own magical energies inward, defensively, holding onto whatever he was
able. At the same time, he reached out with his mind, trying to locate
the energy of the youthful woman. Perhaps he could still win this, he
could still reverse his age. Suddenly the struggle ended, and the power
of the ritual practically leveled the workshop.