Lómëar Lúhtalócë's Story

Lómëar Tumna Lúhtalócë, a figure in a tattered purple cloak, stalked down an empty trading path in northern Eldanoore. The sun was high in the center of the sky, and he had been walking on for many leagues. Finally, he spotted a pond in a grove of trees a little ways off the path. He walked to it, and rested, looking out at the pond, which was filled with water lilies, spindleweed, lotus flowers, water hyacinth, marshmerrow reeds and he even spotted two Drazroot plants. He resisted the urge to start plucking plants. Many of them have magical or alchemical properties, but he would have no way to preserve them while traveling. He stood and walked closer to the pond, now at the water's edge. He pointed at the pond and muttered "Mórë," the Elven word for "blackness." Suddenly the water grew murky and dark, the darkness spread to the lotus flowers and turned the beautiful white petals black and the center yellow flower purple, it darkened the maroon shades of the spindleweed, it turned the purple flowers of water hyacinth to a darker shade and turned the green black, likewise with the water lilies, the marshmerrow reeds and the Drazroot. Then he muttered "Húna," the Elven word for curse. All of the plants gave off a faint purple glow, then returned to their still colored but non-glowing states. The plants would now all have negative effects where there would be positive, and the water is now poisonous. And lastly: "Ulundo," meaning deformed or hideous creature. The fish in the pond all twisted and shifted, some elongating, others growing spikes, all growing razor sharp teeth and glowing eyes. The fish were now beasts that would attack anyone who put so much as a finger in the water.

Lómëar smiled slightly, pleased with his work. It always pleased him to destroy things, whether it be violently or subtly as the pond is now. He enjoyed altering life for malevolent purposes and pursued studies in such areas, even though it was considered evil. He shrugged at his thoughts. He now wondered what the new effects the plants would have, but he still was unable to test it. The three spells also left him drained as if he had just ran for a league or two. Manipulating energy and the elements was elementary work, easily done by anyone who knew the basic principles of magic. Altering things was much harder, and in some cases nearly impossible, and doing so would kill a lesser magician. Nevertheless, he was quite happy with his new oasis of death. He sighed now, realising his counterproductiveness. He had come here to rest from walking all day, and only tired himself more. He shook his head but stood up anyway. He had to keep traveling, he was close to Eldanoore's borders now. The path lead on place, and that's why it is no longer used. Lómëar just hopes that the man he intends to visit will cooperate.

Lómëar Lúhtalócë continued along the wide trading road, heading farther north. Soon enough he saw a dark spot on the horizon. As he neared, he could make out walls and towers, a castle, as it was far too large to be an ordinary fortress. About twenty minutes later, he noticed something... odd. A dark mass had gathered in front of the castle, and it was then that he could tell that they were soldiers. He raised an eyebrow. How could such a force be here without anyone knowing? Were the Elves? Men?

Undead.

Once he was a league away from the castle, he could tell. They had no auras, yet still possessed a spark. They were not hallows, they were possessed corpses. Friendly spirits didn't posses corpses, it went against their nature, no these spirits were made to be called upon by magic, and he was well versed in necromancy enough to know. The undead stood eerily still, as if a horde of statues guarded the castle. He smiled. Clever little display, but he would not walk in without a display of his own. He flared up his aura, which was so big that it was a globe meters out from his body, and glew a striking purple with raw energy so powerful that the air around him buzzed and hummed and shimmered. As he walked, the ground beneath him was scorched from his aura, and a trail of purple flames followed his wake. He walked in between the legion of unmoving undead, where they were parted at the gate, and entered the castle. He stalked the empty halls, unimpressed, while slowly shrinking his aura and letting it fade back into himself. When he reached the throne room, he pushed open the iron double doors that started with a squeak that echoed throughout the empty castle.

Lómëar walked three quarters of the way to the throne on which the Dead Father sat, placed an arm across his chest, and bowed deeply. After the bow, he placed his right hand across the metal mask covering his face and pulled it off, revealing the features below. He smirked , looking up at the Dead Father through strands of wispy white hair, and said, "I have arrived."