One Star, Two Princes, Three Dragons
Spellslinger with bright blue hair
—The human Yakkob Brale was 31 when he met the elf Telandris Dragontail. He was already an accomplished mage who had just received an appointment as Magister in the Order of the Argent Rose in Sharn. She was a young applicant to the Order, just undergoing her probationary apprenticeship. They instantly fell in love.
Not many moons after their meeting, the trouble began. A late-night attempt to murder (or kidnap?) Telandris made her fear for her life. The criminals were slain in the attempt, and the only sign of left on their corpses was a sigil of a red orb being eaten by a demonic skull – the sign of the Blood of Vol. Telandris had seen this coming, and pleaded with Yakkob to leave Sharn. If they knew where she was, they would come after her. She must flee. Yakkob – love-stricken and driven by honor – wed the young elf, resigned his post, and set out to travel.
The pair began their new lives as traders of goods, magical & mundane. Yakkob’s formidable skill as a mage and Telandris’s natural charisma made them effective traveling merchants. Though they always lived under the fear that someday the Blood of Vol would return for Telandris. Soon they had a son, whom they named Demetrion Brale.
Demetrion grew up on the road. He learned to forage in nature, and the art of bartering. As he met new people in every town, he quickly learned how to make friends easily. Demetrion had some of the natural magic bent that his father did, but on the road there were always too many new things to be interested in. Nor did his father have the time to teach him the fine art of wizardry. So Demetrion did not grow to understand the eldritch motions & chants that mages used to channel arcane energy.
Though to him his parents were simple merchants, Demetrion sensed the ominous cloud that his parents lived under. On his 10th birthday, they gave him two gifts. One was a cloak which granted invisibility for a short time. His parents told him that, should someone break into their camp, he should use it and hide until the interlopers were gone. The other gift was an ornate ring. His mother told him that it was the only key to a book she carried which told the history of his people. The ring should never be given to anyone but Demetrion’s own child. Until that day, he must safeguard it with his life. When the time came, she would share the book with him. So even his birthday presents, while full of wonder, brought fear in to the boy’s life. This fear surrounded him as he grew from a child to a man.
And as he grew into a man, Demetrion learned that he too had magical powers. But his magic did not require study or arcane tomes. No, it came from his very nature. He could create a tiny flame in the bare earth and make his saliva poisonous.
Then they came. One cold winter’s night, 4 days after Demetrion’s 15th birthday, Demetrion awoke to a bright flash of searing light. His father had burned the flesh off of an elf sneaking into their camp. Demetrion, young & brash, desperately wanted to help his father. But the repeated warnings from his parents to hide took over quickly. He donned his cloak, and hid in the woods.
As soon as he gathered his wits, Demetrion saw that the camp was being attacked by elves. His mother was unconscious. His father – the meek trader – fought like a lion. Lightning, fire, blasts of radiant light were blasting from his father’s fingers. As he was locked in combat with two elves, another started to steal away with Telandris. Yakkob blasted one of the elves into the sky on a pillar of fire. With a wave of his hand, he grabbed the elf holding Telandris with a giant golden fist and drew them back towards him. Too late, Yakkob noticed the azure blade of the remaining elf as it plunged toward his head. Yakkob’s desperate dive only served to put his left leg in the path of the sword. His focus unbroken, Yakkob spoke a word which carried the life force from the sword-wielding foe to the mage in a black ribbon of necrotic energy. The last thing Yakkob noticed before everything went black was how cleanly his wound was cauterized by the sword. As instructed, Demetrion watched as his father slipped into unconsciousness and the hand around his mother faded into nothingness. Demetrion watched his mother was taken away by one of the same men who had maimed his father. Demetrion watched – and did nothing.
(To be continued)