Black Staff

Raw, nauseating, palpable dark energy emanated in sickening waves of power. The black spiderweb of veins spreading up the gnome magi's arms burned like white-hot fire. The places where skin came in contact with the black wood staff had an ongoing sensation that resembled the pain of being bitten by a poisonous serpent repeatedly; oddly even the magical free floating mage hand was not spared this pain which was felt by the wizard in the form of a mind numbingly searing headache that flared to life almost instantaneously.

Holding onto the staff itself and preventing it from clattering to the floor was a herculean task, and strained both physical and magical muscles the Darkonian gnome never even knew existed.

There was a long pause as the gathered crowd peered down into the throne room scene and took it all in.
In that moment, a deathly quiet voice spoke which caused Eylylyn's blood to run cold. The voice had the intimate feeling of someone holding a blade to her neck, and whispering softly into her ears in a voice so low only she could hear it."Know that your fate remains at my discretion."

The black veins along Eylylyn's arms darken. "Should any other but you grasp me, they will die. Do not test me."

"Speak if you must." There was no emotion to this-merely a statement of permission being granted.

Cold sweat beaded on the Gnomes face and trickled down her back with a shiver. At first the pain had been too great for her to cry out. Falling back on techniques learned at her I structor's hands she walled off a place for the pain in her mind. It seemed to take hours, but she screwed her eyes shut and redoubled her effort as she swallowed bile.

Then the voice spoke, and the place she built for the pain nearly came tumbling down. She swallowed again, and turned her thoughts to the strange voice as she examined the unmarked staff.

"What... What are you? What do you mean?"

The voice replied, "As all things must be made, so too must they be unmade. I am that unmaker, the dissolver, the desecrator. I am the dark mantle. I am the ENDER", the black spiderlaced veins swell, as thin nearly invisible deadly tendrils of coal black smoke started to emanate from the staff and claw their way to Eylylyn.

"Your hands have been near me, but you have never been my avatar, my ambassador, my scion." The voice changes to the other ear. "If you prove able-you will survive. If not-you will become nothing itself."

Pinpricks of pain spiked their way down the gnomes chest, "If you permit any other to rest their hands upon me, I will unmake their being, their very soul. Their candlelight will be snuffed out. This is my meaning. You and you alone stand the chance of being my hands."

The staff's smoky claws gripped the edges of Eylylyn's shoulders, "I bring dissolution, devastation, and death. Not even your Azalin could take hold of me Or see my true power unleashed unless I permitted it. I was not fashioned by mortal hands, and will not suffer any save those I deem worthy."

The pain receded slightly, "I have not come to save lives nor will any be spared. With me-you will finally taste the true kiss of death, and it will be GLORIOUS."

Visions danced before her eyes as the thing spoke. They passed too fast to leave more than an impression. The feeling of steel sliding beneath skin to lovingly part muscle from bone. The smell of flame licking away fat. Cold, abyssal surrender as a heart beat its last.

Then more, a thousand fold visions of pain and destruction. Cities razed, mountains laid low, stars wiped away and the awful corpses of gods bleeding their lifeblood away.

And through it all, an overriding sense of absolute satisfaction. Joy. Purpose fulfilled.

The Wizard blinked rapidly, quailing before the sensory onslaught, bile rising up again into her mouth. She could feel black tendrils of power reaching into her now, clawing towards her heart with freezing power. She could feel tears tracing down her face and flecks of foam at the corners of her mouth. Without conscious effort she willed away the mess the moment she realized it was there, falling back onto one of the first spells she ever mastered. Still shaking, she took a breath for the first time in what seemed like an eternity and gripped the staff harder, slowly planting it before her in trembling hands and sent a single thought back to the thing trying to take her over.

"No."

She laced the word with all the power she could muster, treating it as a spell more than a simple commandment. She drew up her own memories and girded herself with them, wrapping and insulating herself with her identity; though much of the mental armor was of shadow obscured even to her. She felt the dark touch stop just before reaching her heart, as if curious. She delved deeper into the vaults of her mind and drew yet more strength from there.

"I am Eylylyn Stonestream, daughter of Archmage Gyndrylyn Stonestream! I am of the Kargat, Eye of Azilan and Right Hand of Order! I am Fugitive, Runaway, the Resigned and Liegelost! Even as I serve my Lord's purpose, I swore off Lords when I forsook my life! I will never bow to another master, be they Vampire, King, god or creepy death stick! I say to you now I will not be your puppet. I will not allow anything to stop me from completing my mission and I will strike down any who stand in my way. I know the ways of the true magic, and I will not bend it to your purpose or any other's!"

She She could feel the well of her own magic rising up and pushing against the blackness, swelling with the words as she thought them.

"I don't know who made you, or why. I don't know what the Hell that priest was doing with something like you hiding in a box. I don't know if I'll survive the next ten minutes. But I do know that while I breathe, I breathe a free woman. I've killed more men in the last year than I ever thought I would even in service to the Kargat, and the Eye knows I have more killing to do before my job is done. You may either help me in my work or you may go back into that box and collect dust until the next Wizard visits this city in a few centuries. I have use for tools. I have no use for those who would suborn my purpose."

The tendrils recede, slowly, but steadily until they are little more than wisps of air. The blackened veins likewise begin to return to their normal color, though they do not vanish completely.

The whispering voice speaks again, this time with no less lethality in its voice but far less civilized, more closely resembling a ravenous snarling beast: "Yes...resist me...turn away from my calls! Ignore the cries in the dark of your own heart...the black desires that you hide away from the world! Your cravings will only continue to grow...and when you finally succumb to me-then deaths kiss will be all the sweeter--aged like wine!"

There's a sharp inhaling of air, as Eylylyn's hair stands on end drawn towards the staff. The voice returns to the more civilized tone, "It smells of another." A dark mirthless laugh.

There is a long pause, "Or-you can wreak havoc little by little. Yes-your bloody path must continue...more to be undone, more tiny candles to put out, Devestation. You can ignore the inhibitions that tell you enough is enough...cast aside the need to moderate yourself-briefly each day. Satisfy destructive desires and maintain control. Feed the needs in yourself to become an unmaker. I, ENDER will not seek your undoing this way."

"What say you, spawn of Greyshadow?

Eylylyns instincts screamed at her to leave the staff and walk away. She'd heard stories like this before. Bargains made with unknown magical entities rarely ended in anything but tears.

But what if the tears aren't mine?

Visions danced again. True, this power was vile, but death magic is just a shade of the spectrum of magic. No different from the other shades. She knew through years of study and practice that one form of magic can become another through applied will and practice. With the power this staff offered...

She could keep her friends safe. Restore the Kargat to their true mission. Heal her broken Homeland.

Get back at everyone who hurt me...

The thought was gone before she realized it had been there, but it hid its self again in the shadow armor she wove from her mind. She shuddered, feeling shivers dance along her back.

Maybe I can change this thing instead... If I can learn how it works then surely I can bring it around to serve light and life...

"I... Think we can work together. As long as it is understood that you serve my will, in the fashion I chose."

"Greyshadow's dottir-ENDER is NOT a magic trinket or some lowly blade or wand to be drawn arbitrarily." This whispered phrase is punctuated by a renewed assault upon the wizard's defenses, hitting into them like a thousand battering rams striking in perfect unison.

The magical attack is relentless and does not abate as the voice speaks, "I serve none. I end all. I break wills as easily as tearing flesh and pulverizing bone."

"I am the ENDER, I will not--...." There is another brief silence before the staff's voice is heard. In this silence, the blows that had been raining down in torrents cease-the feeling eerily similar to the eye of a storm.

The beastial voice mutters, almost sounding like a child that had been scolded, "A djinn has marked this one--how?! that one! Damn him!! We must end him firstly!"

The civil voice spoke but it sounded distant as if merely talking aloud instead of to Eylylyn, "He will remember us." The voice resumed its normal tone and was back in Eylylyns ear, but noticeably less demanding, "I can have no master, but an agreement may be permitted. It is agreed that we have a shared path. Should you call to me-I will answer, not because you command me but because our goals align." Savage voice interrupted, "I can't change what I am!"

The civil voice replied, "This is true. I am the unmaker. You must resist me if you wish to touch my power...if you can't-your Will is mine."

"Is this agreed?"

Ah. So it can hear my thoughts too. Interesting. And terrifying.

Even as she redoubled her mental defenses, she could feel them yielding to the frenzied assault, but they did not fall. She considered for a long moment, thinking back to her recent meeting with the Archmage. Seeing him had brought old memories to the surface, and reopened old woulda she'd forgotten about.

"You'll just be another voice whispering in the back of my mind. If I must fight you, I will fight you."

Her own thoughts dropped to a whisper as she gripped the staff hard enough to pop knuckles and planted it firmly at her side.

"I have spent too many years at the mercy of those with more power than I. Now, it's my turn..."