The Beginning

It would probably be best to start with my name, after all, I AM telling the story. My name is Vanelir B'Riva, of House Bragnaer Rivanal. I am an only child, decreed so by the fates, and the dark ways of the elves of Undercity. I follow the dark arts, the art of death and undeath. Necromancy. Most people speak the word in hushed tones, believing it to be dead to the known world, or just a fairy tale to scare children into going to bed. It is an art long thought forgotten and lost to all but the sages of Telon. Few study its mysteries, for fear of the unknown. I embrace it whole-heartedly. What is life without death?

I learned many things during my time in the Undercity, and although I was of noble birth, I had no desire to play games of intrigue with the other houses. Their petty squabbles meant nothing to me. I had a passion for one thing only. Power. Power beyond even the wildest dreams of the most long-lived sorcerors. I craved the power of the dead. To bring life to what was once dead, including myself. I studied hard and passed numerous magical tests with flying colors and some to spare. I was hated and revered by all around me. More than once I checked my back, waiting for a dagger to find its way to my heart. I dared them to try, to look into my eyes and see their was no hope of success. Oh how I relished it!!

I was only about a century old when I left the Undercity. I had long since graduated from the Academy, and they put me on menial tasks such as patrol duty, afraid of my growing prowess. That was well over several millenia go. I assume you understand the longevity for most elves, and usually they come no where close to even two millenia, but ah, with the powers of the dead, I have lived to see my sixth thus far. But I get ahead of myself. Once I left the Undercity, I went in search of legends. Of once grand cities now reduced to rubble, with ancient libraries stretching across the span of a castle! What magical runes might I find within these books? Over the years I have accumulated quite a collection, and many are the spells I know that most thought lost to the past. Resurrection of things long dead however, is my forte.

I wandered from land to land in search of lost treasures, artifacts, spellbooks, anything that would help further my quest for knowledge, and ultimately power. I wanted to be the most powerful magi to have ever lived! Ah, but the ways of the dark one are mistaken. I grew anxious as I gathered close that which I had sought. Even the gods themselves began to take notice. I was never so foolish as to challenge one, though more than once the thought crossed my mind. The spirits told me to wait. I would have time later. For they knew the future, the very existance of Telon was held within the Weave, the magic surrounding any and all things. They knew the calling would come soon, so they urged me toward my goal. I was to be the one to set them free from their unrest. To give them shape and form. To coax life to where there should not have been. Clerics have the power to resurrect newly dead allies or foes. But I, I sought to be able to resurrect ancient races. A cleric can resurrect because they have a soul to work with. I steal souls with which to work with. The fabric of the Weave itself warped and snapped under my fingers.