Soelela the Spectre, Imperial Black Magician

Role

Chapter 5

A half-drow Necromancer paced back and forth within the Hall of Black
magic, in the Imperial Palace. Her thoughts ran wild, looking back on
her new life, so much has changed, and she's come so far. She began a
new life, youth restored, and once again set off after Immortality. She
looked up at a groan, the dismissed the noise, forgetting her undead
servants surrounded her.

"Soon..." She whispered, for the time for her to seek Immortality through
Undeath was coming, and she knew it. She had joined the Empire, a
bastion of orderly civilization, and risen through the ranks to become an
Elite among them. And on top of that, she was growing used to her
feminine body. Sometimes she even found herself blushing, or giggling.
A strange feeling, for sure, as if some part of that poor girl still
resided within this body. She quickly brushed the thought away, having
more important things to deal with.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs, she began to tap her finger to her
cheek. She would soon be seeking out Lord Emnon again. She had already
succesfully completed one task for him, and now he had only asked her a
simple question.

"What element of my practice closest fits me?" Her words came soft and
quiet, as she contemplated this. Letting out a soft chuckle she looked
to those who she had risen to serve her from death. "Simpler than I
thought, apparently." She finds it fitting that the Master had found her
in Galadon one day. From that day going forward, she had decided to
devote herself to him. To find hidden and powerful treasures to bring to
him. After all, who doesn't like treasures? With her answer, she once
again began to try and discern how she would move into undeath.

Role

Chapter 4

Basically she was once an old, aging wizard part of a dark circle of
magi. One of her cohorts had spent his entire life attempting to
discover another path to immortality. His research brought him upon a
ritual long forgotten. While not exactly immortality, he would just have
to preform it whenever he needed to renew his youth. Soelela (not her
name at the time) had learned of the ritual, and sought the power for
himself (at the time, he was man.) Killing the old human mid-ritual had
some unintended side effect. He forgot all his spells, and his innate
ability weakened. He got his youth back, at the cost of all his years of
experience, as well as his gender. Not willing to give up on
Immortality, he (now a she) sought to become a necromancer, knowing full
well he could never discover this ritual on his own. Due to his
experience in politics and working in an organized structure, he (she)
will join the Empire.

(I'm sorry about all the pronoun weirdness in this entry...)

Role

Chapter 3

The old wizard came to a few hours later, very surprised that a headache
was all he suffered. He then quickly reached down, more quickly than he
realized, to feel if his legs were still intact. Not at all bothered by
the fact that his robes didn't quite fit right anymore, he slowly stood
up. Finally realizing something was off, he reached his hand up to his
face. His skin was smooth, smoother than it had ever been. Simply
stunned, he went to adjust the robes around his torso, and felt something
odd.

"Breasts?" She whispered, stunned. Realizing the higher pitched voice
which he...she had just produced, the half-drow screamed. She
immediately went into spellcasting to try and reverse this, but stopped
just after she started. She couldn't remember. Her hand reached for her
spellbook, knowing she had it in here somewhere. The surprise was even
greater when she couldn't even figure out the simplest of what was
written in there.

Days passed before she finally figured out her new path. She couldn't
stay here for it wouldn't be long until there was nothing left but a pile
of ash. The other magi of the circle could be quite vicious, and would
gladly eliminate what was once the most power-hungry, backstabbing wizard
of the group. Without her accumulated knowledge, finding this ritual
herself was near impossible, even with an entire lifetime. She was not
willing to give up on immortality, however. Resigning herself to such a
fate, she sought out the guild of necromancers, as ready as she'll ever
be to restart her studies in the art of magic, and immortatity.

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.

Role

Chapter 1

Beads of sweat rolled off the grayed old man forming a rather large
ritual circle on the floor of his small workshop. This was it, he
thought. Having spent the last thirty years of his life searching for
this secret, he was glad he finally had it. He worked carefully, yet
hurriedly. The circle of magi he belonged were by no means kind or
altruistic, he had kept this to himself as much as he was able, for he
knew they would attempt to steal such a grand power. Immortality,
without the burden of becoming a disgusting, undead being.

He stopped momentarily to let out a chuckle at his thoughts. "Well, not
techincally." Realizing he had to get back to work, he shook the
thoughts out of his head. He could not afford distractions. Finally
done, he practically limped to an altar set up near the edge of the room.
His hands gently stroke the face of the young and beautiful woman tied
to it. He leaned down slowly, almost as if to kiss her, but instead
brought his lips near her ear. "Soon, your youth will be mine." He
laughed boisterously as she squirmed, and he imagined the noise she would
make if he hadn't silenced her with magic. Perhaps his carefree attitude
towards her sacrifice frightened her even more. The old wizard did not
care, for it was time.

He began chanting, words of a long dead language flowing from his tongue
easily. He had practiced this so many times, gotten every syllable down
to muscle memory. He need only to channel the correct energies, which he
believed he would have no trouble doing. An hour passed, then two hours.
His throat began to burn just the tiniest bit, but he could not give up
now. So engrossed was he with the spellcasting that he did not notice
the figure in the shadows. Completing his chant, the old wizard turned
towards his sacrifice, a shining, diamond-encrusted dagger in hand. With
a dark grin, he lifted the blade above his head, then thrust it down,
piercing the heart of the young woman on the altar. His grin quickly
turned to a look of surprise as a dagger was then thrust into his back.
Without even enough time to turn around, he fell to the side, dead.

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