Asharin the Master of Wind

Role

Chapter 7

Darkness. The soft whisper of the forest, surrounding him as
he lies there, taking stock of his injuries and vainly trying to
piece together the fragments of reality. He is badly injured,
of that he is certain. Through the agony enveloping his hands
he can feel that his left leg is probably fractured, he has been
stabbed at least once, and his body is covered in a series of
bruises that seem to have been strategically placed upon his
body to cause maximum damage. His thoughts are erratic, a
collection of confusions that he cant seem to defeat. Behind
his left ear is a knot as big around as a gold coin, obviously
the source of the dull throb resounding throughout his skull.

His eyes open, seemingly of their own accord. The sun filters
through the canopy, illuminating the surroundings softly and
sending shards of agony drilling through his brain. Too much.
Darkness.

He wakes to the sensation of water running over his fingertips.
Opening his eyes cautiously, he finds himself on the bank of a
stream. His pains are duller now, but still prevalent. Mustering
his will, he rises to his knees, scanning his surroundings. He is
alone. Leaning forward, he stumblingly crawls to the edge of
the water, leaning forward to splash water upon his face-

And sprawls upon his back, shock and confusion ruling him as
he recoils from the image reflecting back at him. Confusion
conquers, and blackness envelopes.

Darkness.

Role

Chapter 6

He is Asharin. He is a human. No, elvish. The pointed ears and
the azure eye testifies. But that cant be right. He has memories.
He wears robes of ebony, rings of obsidian. He wields a dagger
made of the blackest metal he has ever seen. Loving parents, a
splendid home in the elvish city of Darsylon. He is a mage. An
apprentice, maybe, but a mage none the less. He learns under a
wise elven teacher. But no, there he is, plunging his blade into
the heart of one such elf. What madness is this?

He is Asharin. He is elven. He will be a great mage. Success has
been guaranteed by his master. Who? The name escapes him. A
blackness arrives, leaving him curled into a ball, whispering to
himself.

Darkness. True darkness, this time. The coming of the night. As
the sun falls beneath the treeline, Asharin stands. The memories
retreat, leaving him to his newfound sanity. Confusion lingers,
however. He has lost most of his past. Replaced, altered, simply
destroyed, he cannot tell. Staggering, he leaves the clearing by
the stream.

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Role

Chapter 5

As he staggers up the path, his mind scrambles to unravel the
mystery surrounding his state. His injuries are severe
reach a healer soon if he is to avoid permanent scarring. From
ahead of him comes the sound of footsteps. An elf rounds the
corner, emitting a sharp gasp as he sights Asharin. He slows, a
cautious look coming over his face as he glances around. With
a gesture, he renders Asharin invisible before he himself fades
from view.

A whisper, "Who has done this? Do they remain?"

:He is a mage.:

Asharin blinks, staring blankly at the mage.

:He must die. You know this.:

Darkness.

He awakes on a bed. The room smells of flowers, and of death.
looking around, he sees the bed next to him is surrounded by a
group of elves. They weep openly, unashamed in their grief. A
second glance reveals the unknown mage, obviously the source
of grief, lying motionless in death.

Role

Chapter 4

Asharin rested in the eye of the storm, learning against the altar of
glass and platinum that stood in the very center. He was alone, for
the most part. The Benefactor was there, as well as the Abolisher of
Discord and the Transfigurist, but they never spoke much. Inside
his head, he was alone, and that suited him well for now. He raised
a hand, watching the spark crawl up his wrist to circle and weave its
way through his fingers. Idly running through his repertoir of spells,
hoping to gain a bit of insight and become more proficient, he smiled
softly as he created a flame, making it dance above his other fist. The
spark was attracted, almost as if sentient, and was quickly devoured,
seeming to feed the fire slightly. Ice formed below it, a ball balanced
perfectly upon his index finger. It in turn was melted quickly, and as
it ran down his wrist it formed a stream that seemed to find its way to
his canteen, multiplying itself and filling the container easily.

Asharin had just been introduced to the Island. It seems, after such a
long time spent traveling alone, he had a place to belong once again.
But was he hiding from his past, or truly trying to find a way to fight
this madness that afflicted him? Even he couldnt say. Either way, he
would now fight to maintain the Balance, placing his quest for sanity
to the bottom of his list of priorities. The Magic, which he had served
for his entire life..both lives, if his scattered memories were correct.
The Balance, his new task, the purpose that drove him. The focus he
would use in his quest to become one with the magic. Which was the
more important? Again, even he could not say.

Role

Chapter 3

It was said that Twist, the Lord of Magic, watched over the Island at
times. Certainly the thought of meeting the God he had unknowingly
served his entire thinking life, or lives, sent a thrill of anticipation into
his very core. Would words fail him, when the confrontation arrived?
Who could tell? He would not flinch, however. Certainly Twist knew
his mind already, knew where his loyalties rested. Perhaps. .maybe he
would even be able to aid Asharin. Help him separate the memories
that even now threatened to drive him over the edge. Explain the way
he reacted in the presence of mages, or ore specifically, elven mages.

Shrugging his head, his face brooding, Asharin flicked a wrist and the
flame vanished. With a look, the water upon his wrist dried, and the
frigid air surrounding him grew warm again. The future would bring
what the future wished to bring. No sense falling prey to melancholy.

Role

Chapter 2

Sitting on a stool in the Inn of the Eternal Star, Asharin sips his tea.
It is an excellent brew, given to him by Reniste upon his arrival. A
gesture he could always count on when he visited. Free, too, never a
bad thing. Through the noise and generally typical pandemonium of
the bar, he heard the door slam. An old habit had him facing the door,
an eye always upon the exits. Simply a matter of turning an eye up,
and he saw the elf enter.

Darkness.

He came to staggering, halfway across the bar room. His hands were
charged with electricity, flowing from his fist into the whip held now
at an angle behind him, ready to be lashed across the feet of a certain
hapless elf.
"No. Its not going to happen here." Shaking his head, he attempts
to clear his mind. It is hard. The other is strong, especially at times
like this, when he actively seeks to gain control.

:You cannot tell. I cannot tell. Does he wield the magic? You know
what I must do. This body I allow you to keep, but you will obey!:

Throwing the whip furiously, he staggers in the opposite direction.
Patrons began to scatter, sensing something odd. The elf seemed to
be unaware of the close call. Slamming the door open, he stumbles
out of the Inn and towards the Sumner crossroads. Uncaring of the
danger, he plants his feet firmly, grabbing his head and screaming.

"You make no sense! Who are you? Who am I? I cant understand
your motives, you shadow. Are you me? Am I insane?"

A chuckle was a very odd thing, coming from his own head.
:No, you are not insane, although you may well come to that state.
I pity you, really. Not strong enough to destroy me, too ignorant to
know who I am? My name? Perhaps. Someday. When you learn to
do as I say. My work is important. Together, we may make Thera a
better place. Your grasp of the magic is keen. Only to be expected,
considering your bloodline.: Again, the chuckle. Dry, sardonic.

:Magic is not infinite. It flows through the bloodline. All I require
is that you serve me by removing anyone that could possibly hold
your blood. It is for this reason that I chose your mother. Elves
are not numerous. It shouldnt be hard for you to resolve the issue
of these other mages.:

Insane. It made no sense. Growling softly, Asharin shakes a head
that seems corrupted with the fires of his magic, neary reaching a
boiling point as he ground the words out through clenched teeth.

"You are mad."

:Yes, I am. And should you disobey me again, you will wish for
the bliss of insanity to take your mind from the agonies.:

The world dissolved into a red haze and pain.

Darkness.

Role

Chapter 1

Wandering idly about the Island, Asharin paused briefly to
rearrange some rocks, taking solace in the relaxing feelings
of peace that he found in the simple and childish action. As
he stood up to step off, he caught a glimpse of his reflection
in the pool of water nearby. Smiling wistfully, he raised his
hand to softly run a finger over his ruined eye. It no longer
bothered him like it used to. Not that, nor the still awkward
fingers, or the rest of the scars that rested upon his body. As
welcome as an old companion they were now. He blinked
a few times as that realization came to him. .

And just what am I hiding from, anyway? Shrugging out
of the enveloping cloak that had became something close to
the trademark of his presence, he tossed it aside. Staring at
his face, catching his own eye in his reflection and holding
it, he determined to find a razor and rid himself of the hair
that covered it. Let them laugh if they wanted, he would no
longer cower beneath the folds, or hide in the shadows for
fear of embarrassing laughter.

The Nexus had done wonders for him, even as he strove to
continue serving to the best of his abilities. The atmosphere
to concentrate on his magic, freedom to carry on with his life
as he pleased, and a purpose that made sense and actually fit
with his personality. . All reasons he was glad to have taken
that first step off the dock and into the Sea. The Other hadnt
stirred in quite some time. Oh, he could feel him, coiled up
in the back of his mind like a serpent, waiting until the right
time to strike presented itself. Luckily, his tasks took him far
from Darsylon, and gave him leave to avoid those whose
presence ignited the fury and darkness that dwelled inside of
him.

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