The assassin crept into the lit tower. His masters had ordered the elimination of the recent dean of the school of illusion. The case itself was well known as it had caused a stir in many arcane circles.

It began with a theft of one of the restricted archives of the school of conjuration. The resulting investigation led to the Dean of Illusion, Mathyn Valdis. What made it even more interesting was that Mathyn’s father was long ago kicked out of the Conjurers Union for trafficking with creatures beyond the realms of sanity. Of course the most shocking event was the intervention of the crown that resulted in the banishment of the younger Valdis. All research on the target made this seem like an easy job.

The assassin crept up the stairs and saw the target packing some clothing and books in preparation for his exile….. all to easy… the blade sank deep into the person’s back. A small spurt of blood as the lungs failed to draw enough breath to make any noise.

“Lozorn Zesh” the assassin heard a voice elsewhere in the room although trained in spellcraft he wasn’t sure what had been cast, perhaps a defensive spell then.

“Val Toom” and then he surveyed the outline of an invisible person as gained the ability to see invisible. His feet then seemed to be slower and more sluggish maybe not a defensive spell after all.. best to finish this quick. With great haste the assassin lunged and drove his blade into the invisible figure, blood spurted. His legs became more leaden.

“Do not think wizard that invisibility could protect you for long” The figure tried an incantation but trying ward himself from the assassin’s blade he fumbled the somatic aspects of the spell. The assassin then lost the ability to move his legs.

“But my friend again you have struck that which isn’t real”... the assassin yearned to scream as the petrification completed.

Mathyn lowered his levitating form to the ground. Quickly using an incantation he shrank the assassin to managable form and added him to his charm bracelet. The Iskaleos had moved quickly with the contract and it was time to leave. The programmed illusion had worked well. Indeed everything had worked well. Accidental comments to the right ears had brought Sanvean to him to lure a foolish son into the path of his dead father. The only glitch was that he wasn’t slated for execution and instead was pardoned. A game perhaps by the king to confound the House of Death.

Mathyn chuckled. In a way he was following his father, an Alienist long dead. Indeed he had set out on this path long ago when discovering his father’s private research into the names of all manners of fiends. Thus he developed two personas. The first for the public was that of the dopey collegiate. The second was a lord of shadows summoning and binding creatures to his dark will. In time the constraints of the double lifestyle began to inhibit the research and lust for power so when Sanvean came with his shell games Mathyn was all too happy to accept.

The role of a jester is a useful one. Many times a lector is the jester of academia. The water veiled assassin may have damaged my facade (it is difficult to explain away creating a water elemental out of the fluids of another creature’s body as an innocent scholarly pursuit). However the efete noble concept should remain in place I am afterall my father’s child

Danyreis the copper dragon….. an odd creature nearly as imperious as myself. Her true form is powerful but not nearly as fetching to these elven eyes. Things have been learned today. Have I ever mentioned that some lessons are like an unwanted vegetable that you stared as a child, good for you but not very tasty. Well if this bunch seems ready to lay a dragom in it’s grave they should be quite capable of dealing with Sanvean Iskaleon and his toadies. Although being witha group of people thinking of “ambushing” a pair of dragons doesn’t make me feel safe.

Maybe the group should take the name “The Harmonious Discord”. Everybody seemed to be on a different page… well perhaps even different books, indeed some didnt appear to be reading at all.

Not that I personally care about casually given promises but I intended to hold the dragons to the looting deal to recover the priest and his effects as he seemed bent on getting himself killed. I will follow a proper pact like any decent wizard same goes for oaths but casual deals are like pillow talk… meaningless words that one thinks another wants to hear to cover what could be an uncomfortable situation. Anyway eventually the cleric achieved a modicum of sensibility and fled to fight another day.

Now we are drawn towards Furion’s Keep (sp?), with a small detour to an ancient battlefield that the hobgoblin, Joyobi, has been drawn to from dreams. At least in this current endeavour I was able to render some aid with a bit of malicious intent.

LIFE!!!! New struggles within the muted nether. Strange thoughts fill my mind within the stronghold. Trust is a hard commodity without a pact, however I almost trust these “adventurers”. Enough to sacrifice myself to save them??.....doubtful although the prospect of destroying so many creatures if I survived would secure my legacy and domination over those whom I would rule. It is tantalizing.


Shattered Solstice Gilheru