The Fear That Binds Us (Solo)

[Taliel Escabre]

(OOC: You can look- don't touch.)

It was quiet, like a very long calm that he had been expecting for a while. The sky, darkened and dreary, seemed as if it could make even the firmest of mountains shake- and as such, the scribe's weak legs were but an afterthought. Everything around him seemed corrupt, dark, and vile. Rocks protruded from the ground as opposed to flowers, and there was no grass in sight. Only ash and soot. Cracks twisted and weaved their way in all directions, acting as deceitful arrows in which a traveler should follow. No, they were no signs, just the wrinkles of an aged earth that had matured too long ago.

And there he stood, one man amongst thousands of demons. He stuck out more plainly than a drunk in a group of the upper class. For that was how he felt- all those around him spoke of subjects which he had no idea. The Crimson Crusade's trade routes, Hawkthrust and his dark plots to launch a military campaign; even the most simple of subjects to these demons were completely foreign to Taliel. He knew nothing about the dreamfont weed, or the sickle spice. It was overwhelming as well as frightening. The darkest of fears had crept into the spell scribe's heart.

He had not chosen this place. He would have chose Salvar or Corone, even his old buff of Raiaera. But not Haidia. Not in one hundred years of study, preparation, and courage would he have chosen this dark, desolate wasteland of despair. But that is not always the way of things. Sometimes, the most life-changing experiences are ones we do not expect. Taliel was about to take part in one of these experiences, one that would shake the very fabric of the pillars which he had built his life upon.

The scribe new this day would come. It had been long preached to him by the scholars at Istien, and he had grown used to, even comfortable with, their foreseeing of him traveling to a dark land. They called it a quest for glory, one that would allow his name to be etched in stone for all eternity. This was a lie, thought Taliel. He had known the wizards of his old school to be bold with their teachings, but this simply seemed too farfetched. And even more so, now that he had entered the forbidden realm. No, this was no quest for glory. This was a disturbing test, one that the mages had set him upon so that he may feel a deep, brooding pain. His face grew red with anger, but he knew that there was no turning back.

He had traveled far from Istien University, and he knew that if he returned empty handed, his punishment would be expulsion. That was not something Taliel could live with, not after the countless months of studying he had put into his craft.

"This...this is so dumb!" he whispered to himself, staring across the vast, barren desert that lay before him. He had left the thousands of demons behind, for they would only interfere with his training. "I know nothing of what they want of me...oh for Heaven's sake...what do I do!?" he cried helplessly, staring at the dark, brooding sky. It let out a quiet roll of thunder, as if it were laughing at his despair. Annoyed with this psuedo-response, Taliel kicked the ash out from under him and began to walk. He fingered the hilt of his rapier uneasily, doing his best to avoid staring ahead at the distance that lay in front of him.

"Go to the Demon Homeland, they said...find yourself they said. What, in Althanas, could that mean? I am not some poet who speaks in riddles like they do. This is hopeless." Each passing moment only seemed to make him realize how hopeless the situation was. Did they wish for him to travel until he had an epiphany? Did they want him to meditate at some great alter? "The least they could have done was given me some extra provisions or something...I mean, these won't last me but a few days!"

And so the scribe trudged on, fear gripping his heart so tightly that it made everything around him appear much, much darker.

[Taliel Escabre]

The day had grown late...or so Taliel guessed. It was roughly three days since he'd began his trek into the vast wasteland of Haidia, and he saw no progress being made. Every time he turned to gaze at what was behind him, he only proceeded in angering himself. It was the same in all directions: a constant field of grey, separated by a cold dark line which he guessed were very distant mountains, before turning into the lighter grey of the sky. It was a very dismal sight, and he soon found his eyes becoming pained with the monotony of it all.

He stopped for a moment to check his supplies. Shuffling through his bag eagerly, he pulled out the last loaf of bread he had brought, and broke it into a small chunk. It did not sedate him in the least, and only made his belly groan louder. Rubbing his stomach a bit, he continued to move along, running a hand through his dusty hair. The ash had began to filter in, and it turned into a more musty brown than it's usually vibrant color. His mouth was dry, as he had run out of water earlier in the day. He would not last long if he did not find an oasis of sorts, and he feared that he might die of dehydration long before then. Still, something made him continue walking.

***

Things proceeded as normal, and there is not much to tell of the next day or so of Taliel's journey. Only that he managed to ration the last bit of his bread, and found a small, grungy puddle from which he was able to extract a bit of clean water from. That soon ran out, however, and we rejoin our favorite scribe in a miserable mood.

***

This particular day seemed extra dark in the world of Haidia. The sky was cloudless, which even for that dark place is rather odd. It seemed to way heavily upon Taliel's already downtrodden spirits. Luckily, or unluckily, as you will later see, things took a sudden turn. The wind gently picked up. It was not a pleasant breeze, but a choking one. It made the scribe's lungs tighten as they tried to block off the excess ash and soot that was being blown into them. Small bits of rock and strange, dead plants blew by. Taliel was forced to shield his eyes, as the breeze was beginning to pick up.

Soon, what had started out as a calm wind turned into a heavy, violent storm. Sand was all around him, a tornado of sorts rushing towards Taliel. It took him mere seconds to notice this, and soon he was running. He did not know in which direction, for now the monotony of it all had weighed down so heavily that he lost all track of north, south, east, and west. The storm gained on him slowly, as if it was headed directly towards him. Within minutes, Taliel's pace had slowed, and the storm overtook him.

"This is it! They sent me to my death be- woah!" his complaining was cut short by the sudden force of a thousand horses beating down upon his back. He felt as if he would break under the pressure. Soot and ash mixed to form a stinging substance that assaulted his eyes, nose, and mouth. Small cuts were forming on his face from small rocks and the like that were being blown into him. The chaos frightened Taliel to no end, and soon he blacked out, completely unaware of all around him.

[Taliel Escabre]

Grey. That was all that surrounded him yet again. He had hoped it was a bitter dream, and that he would wake up safe and warm in the comfort of his bed in Raiaera. But luck was not on Taliel's side this day. Every part of him ached, from his back, to his face, to his fingers, to his toes. Each individual member felt as though it had been stretched, battered, cracked, and slammed more so than they were used to. For a long while he just laid there, trying to work up the courage to open his eyes once more. They stung, and he imagined they were quite bloodshot. He remembered the storm vividly, and would have let out a shudder, had his body been able to muster one. Instead he lay limp and silent, afraid to move or disturb anything.

The ground was cool, and felt somewhat good against his face. It was the only relief he received from the brutality of the storm. The dark winds had smoothed over the ground, and now smooth earth lay where cracks had once been. It became evident quickly, however, that Taliel must stand and move away quickly before any should find him in such a state. He was not altogether too familiar with demons, and was afraid of what it might mean should they find him in a vulnerable position.

So using every ounce of strength he had, Taliel forced himself up. His legs shook dangerously, threatening to collapse under him at any seconds. He stood still for a few moments, doing his best to maintain his balance and concentrate on keeping off the ground. Soon he found himself standing again, and at least comfortable enough that he could walk, albeit at a slow pace.

A more pressing matter suddenly rushed into his mind, however, and he realized how desperate the situation was. He no longer had any food or water, the scrolls he had prepared and brought with him had been lost in the storm, and he had no idea which direction the town was. Unable to help himself, he fell to his knees. The scribe was too overwhelmed to cry, so for a long time he simply sat there, staring off into oblivion. There was nothing but pain and complete anger inside him. He pounded the ground in frustration, and suddenly felt the urge to lay down again and hope that some demons found him. It could not have been worse than going mad in the desert from deprivation of food and water, could it?

He began to stand again when something caught the corner of his eye. His head turned slowly, and there, in the distance, stood a large black pillar. It seemed like a beacon of sorts, a dark protrusion sticking from the ground. The spire was black and twisted, and looked almost like a gnarled tree with all it's branches tilted upwards. Dark clouds loomed close to it, floating around it in a strange pattern at rather quick speeds. Taliel's heart raced, there was something dark and evil about this tower. He chewed his lip, but quickly stopped after he realized that it was covered in ash. His first inclination was to spit on the ground, but he realized that would not be wise. He was parched enough, he needn't deprive himself of the little liquid he could gain.

So slowly Taliel began, his feet dragging slowly but surely. At the rate he was going, he knew it would take him a good bit of time to get there. As long as he could get there, though. That was all he was worried about. This was finally a bit of hope, and he did not consider the consequences. The once frightened Taliel was now eager to reach this dark pillar, just so that he may perhaps have some food and drink. Demons were not entirely evil, were they?

[Taliel Escabre]

The black citadel's dark doors boomed, an ancient sound that has not been heard for many a decade. Some elders spoke of it, but when they did, it was only in hushed whisper. The tower was a symbol of darkness. It did not wish to be disturbed, nor did it's keeper. No one knew it's purpose, but some spoke that it was created by the first demons to enter Haidia. The evil that surrounded it flushed out any good, and it's horrible image could break even the most courageous of men. And yet, it called to Taliel. It wanted him, and he it. It was a strange attraction that the scribe could not explain. He wanted more than anything in the world to run from such a place. It felt as though it was choking his heart from all sides, as if a dark, gnarled hand was wrapping itself around his core and squeezing every inch of life from him. But still he continued.

It had taken him a few hours to reach the dark spire, and now that he was there, it seemed as though no one was inside. Again he knocked upon the large doors, and the sound reverberated, causing the dark clouds to quiver and slow, as if to check his figure. His lip trembled a bit as he stared with wide, fearful eyes. Slowly the gates opened, and the darkness beckoned Taliel forward.

He stepped inside, but saw nothing around him. It was completely dark inside. Not the simple dark that most folks know, but true blackness. It flooded his insides, and he felt lost. Lost an frightened. The darkest images of his past flashed through his mind in a montage of horror. He had never experienced such fear in his life, and he felt as though his head would explode. All around him, terrors flashed, dark creatures that even nightmares could not conjure up. Madness began to take him, assaulting his mind with words of doubt, fear, heartbreak, and all imaginable forms of disaster. And then suddenly, it all stopped.

"I know what haunts you, Taliel Escabre. It is the same thing that haunts us all. You fear it, your friends fear it, your father feared it. You know of that which I speak, do you not?"

The voice inside Taliel's mind spoke from a distance place, yet it was familiar. He was sure he had never heard it before, but nonetheless it sounded as though he'd spoken with this being many times. And to the question of which he asked, Taliel was quite confused. He feared many things, not just one.

"Oh, that is not true, Taliel. You may fear many things, but only one thing truly keeps you awake at night. Only one thing makes you wish you were no longer living so that you would not have to endure the pain. You fear it, as do all Taliel. You are afraid of fear itself. They say it is noble, yes, but I know better than that. Fear is not tangible...it is not something you can simply dispose of. You are weak for fearing this."

Taliel's heart raced. The strength he had lost in the storm was returning in a frightful way, and he was looking desperately for a way to escape. There was none, only darkness.

"You...who....who, what...er....show yourself! Who are you!" his voice quivered. His lip trembled terribly, and his eyes grew red as if to let a flood of tears rush out of them.

"I am your fear, my friend. I am what keeps you up and night. It is I, and it is I who will bring about your demise."

[Taliel Escabre]

The dark continued to creep around Taliel, and he grew more and more frightened. It seemed like forever before he heard the voice again. It's words gripped him like an icy claw, tearing at his insides with a dark sickle, trying to break him apart and rip him up from the inside. He would not let that happen. His will was strong, even if his courage was not. Determined to find a way out of this situation, Taliel extended his arms and began to walk around, trying to feel for the door through which he had entered. He seemed to walk forward forever, before turning in another direction and walking forward. Yet he never felt a wall, always just the dark, musty air that filled his prison.

"Have you not gone mad yet? Do you not understand that it his hopeless?" the voice mocked. It had a strange, cold tone to it. Each word crept through him like some sort of virus, and he could feel a vibration with everything it said.

"Show yourself! D-d-do it! I am a p-p-powerful m-magician! Show yourself now!!!" Taliel screamed. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face, and he grew even more frightened as well as frustrated

A deep, bellowing laughter filled the area, making Taliel's legs quiver dangerously. He had never heard such an evil before. The fear he had only increased, and he searched frantically for a way out of this hell hole. Yet no matter how much he looked, he stood no chance. It was obvious that this room held some sort of magic, that he could tell from the outside. But had he known of the darkness that lay in wait, he might have tried a bit harder to resist his urge to investigate.

"So this is what they send to vanquish me. A cowardly scribe, unable to even accept his own fear. I will crush you Taliel Escabre. You do not realize the measure of my power, and soon you will go insane. They all do. You know nothing of the task that has been set before your, nor the number of students from your damned school that have failed in the past. You will parish, like all who came before you!" The voice had quickly turned from it's sly, maniacal tone, to a booming, monstrous roar. It practically made Taliel vomit, and for a while he felt as if it would do him some good. Yet nothing came, and he found himself standing silently, trying to get a grip on himself.

"I...I'm not...I'm not afraid of y-you. Ha...haha!" It was obvious how forced the scribe's laugh was. The meek whimper that followed it incited another booming burst of laughter from the mysterious force. Things did not appear to be making any progress, as Taliel was determined to stand firm and not give in to the maniac. But more than one trouble began to weigh in on his mind. He also was extremely hungry and parched. His stomach ached and moaned horribly, and his mouth was beginning to dry so much that it was troublesome to talk.

Things did seem hopeless, and Taliel began to let a bit of doubt creep into his mind.

[Taliel Escabre]

Apparently, this small amount of doubt was all that the creature needed. Taliel again felt a whirl of demons and frightful images filling his head. He grasped his skull tightly and felt as if he would give anything to pull the sights from him. A groan of terror escaped his lips, and he shouted in pain, falling to his knees. At least, he thought he did. Suddenly, Taliel felt as though he were falling. He feared when he would finally hit the ground, knowing that the impact would most likely kill him. And all the while, his brain was filled with images of anger and hate, fear and sadness, sickness and death.

With a sudden shout, Taliel's eyes burst open and he stumbled backwards. Around him was a plain black room. The floor was a dull grey, the walls were a sullen black color (if one may call black a color), and all around the room felt dismal. Taliel was at least happy to be able to see again, though he had no idea where the light came from. All around him the room was empty. No lights, no doors, no windows, nothing. Some magic kept this room lit, and that simple fact made Taliel uneasy. At least the voice had stopped.

"Oh, you foolish scribe. I am having so much fun with you, you must understand that I would not simply allow you to leave my tower." This time, the voice had a face- and O what a face it was.

The features of the man's handsome face were sharp and sleek, as if they were chiseled from marble. His skin was a dark, dark grey, and was dotted with strange red symbols. He wore little garments, a simple sort of loin-clothe to cover his privates. Other than that, his bare chest and legs were revealed. His body was covered with the odd red markings. The coloring made Taliel's stomach turn. It was a dark, shining crimson. After staring at them, Taliel soon realized this was no paint. They were designs carved into his skin, no doubt by some evil blade which did not allow them to heal. Still, Taliel could not vomit, for he was too dehydrated already.

Atop the man's head sat not a bold head of hair, but instead it was bald, covered yet by more scars. His eyes pierced Taliel's heart, staring eagerly at him as if ready to assimilate the scribe into him. Curling off of his chin, a sharp, sleek goatee. It looked pointed and as if it were made from stone. That alone sent shivers up Taliel's spine.

"Who...what...I..." he simply stuttered. The scribe could think of nothing else to say, and he feared angering this man who had already put him through so much pain and suffering. The man paced around the scribe slowly, not making a sound, but simply sizing him up. They were roughly the same height, and yet Taliel felt so small compared to this man. The voice matched perfectly with the one he had heard in his mind, but it did not seem to match the face. Again, Taliel's mind was beginning to ache, though this time from confusion, not fear.

"I am sure by now you are wondering about this predicament you are in. Well, allow me to explain..."

[Taliel Escabre]

"Young Escabre. I am sure when you first embarked upon this noble journey, those fools at Istien told you that this would be a most extraordinary endeavor. I am sure they filled your head with thoughts of glory and rapture, and that it would be rather simple. Oh, they were ever so wrong, Mr. Escabre. They have done nothing except sent you to your death." The man's words gripped Taliel like a vine growing over a fence. Everything he was saying was true. The scholar's had promised him so much, and told him that he had a chance at glory and power. And Taliel had accepted it fully. Now that it was all laid out upon the table, Taliel would have easily given up the glory and power. Nothing was worth this pain.

"Now, to tell you my true name would be foolish. Men hold debts against those with names, yes? But some call me the Dark Poet. Others refer to me simply as Him. And yet, some give me less flattering alias', those of which men do not have words for in your common tongue. They are curses that would tie your tongue one-hundred times over, and still leave you confused at their meaning. But alas, I digress.

No, I am not here to tell you my name, but simply to tell you what is going to happen. I have the option of slaughtering you right now, mercilessly, and assimilating all your power to make it my own. I have done this to countless other students in the past. All whom your masters see as perhaps worthy foes. As I'm sure you can imagine, my powers has grown so much so that it would probably rival that of the Ancients of Haidia. I created this fortress...as a place to practice my dark arts. I spy on you and your obnoxious teachers, watching and laughing as you try so hard to think of ways to destroy my power. Of course, you are all ignorant to think that is even possible."

Taliel listened as intently as he could, trying his most to remain calm. Perhaps there was some way out of this, and perhaps not. For now, though, he could do little more than abide by whatever this 'Dark Poet's' wishes were.

"I do not envy the thought of having to end your life, young Escabre. You are in this by no fault of your own, and for that I almost pity you-" the fashion in which he said these words made Taliel doubt very much so that this creature felt anything, "but I am willing to give you a chance. I would like for you to destroy the council from within. I will go with you, of course, and give you a small fraction of my powers. No longer will you have to use your scrolls, for I will teach you a much more powerful form of scribing. You will take over Istien, and you and I shall destroy the Council!" A dark smile had formed on the man's lips, and his eyes glared directly into Taliel's. It made it very hard to breath, Taliel thought, and if he was not thirsty enough, it dried his mouth further.

"Why would you want to spare me? Of all those before you who you could have enslaved?" Taliel had begun to find his voice, and although it was weak, it was a question he truly held. He had no intentions of helping this man destroy that which he knew and loved, but he was searching for a weakness. Taliel was beginning to regain his wits, and he knew he would need to stay composed to save more than his own life.

"Because, you idiot! I am tired of those damned wizards always sending their blasted students to me! I have done nothing to upset them! They simply fear that which they do not understand! They fear it, you fear it! It's all about fear, Taliel! Do you not see it?"

The only thing Taliel was beginning to see was that there was a bit more to this situation than one side being evil while the other side was completely innocent. It seemed they had driven this man mad, those whom he followed, and now they were trying their hardest to contain him. The pulsing growing in Taliel's head slowly made it harder to think.

[Taliel Escabre]

"I cannot help you. I w-" he found the words a bit more troublesome to get out then he had originally planned. "I won't....betray them. I won't betray my friends!" he finally managed. The words had taken every ounce of courage he had. He remembered Damon, Hazaar, and all the other friends he had made back at the University. He also knew that a worse fate awaited him if he were to betray them all. The pain he felt would be similar to that which the Dark Poet had put him through. Or perhaps that was his plan all along...

"But if...erm, if you say, sir, that you have such great p-power...why can you...not...defeat them by...y'know, yourself?" he said meekly. He was afraid of the rage this might incite, and he was quite right to fear it. The man stood silent for a while, staring at the scribe with those cold, brooding eyes. The silence made Taliel far more uncomfortable than a loud outburst. Instead, the man slipped out with his cold, dark voice, his reasoning.

"Because, while I am extremely powerful, I can do little to stop a ball of fire in my back. It is an army, against myself...I would need someone to watch my back, and I was trusting you would not be so ignorant as to say no. But since you insist, I have no choice but to draw out your power and suck the life from you. You had your chance, Taliel Escabre. Your death will come as no surprise to those you left." With that, the man drew closer to Taliel, a coy smile on his face. Taliel stared at the dark figure approaching. He could do little to resist, especially if this man's power was as fast as was told.

The scribe slowly backed up until he was stuck in a corner, unable to go anywhere. The man's hand lashed out and grabbed Taliel by the throat, squeezing the air from him. His lungs searched desperately for air. The man's touch burned Taliel's flesh, and he could feel magic beginning to seep from his body. A strange symbol upon his forehead began to glow, and it seemed the power was being drawn to that. His strength was waning, and it was becoming more and more difficult to resist. He would be dead within a matter of minutes if he did not think of some way to stall. So, doing what he could, Taliel lashed out with kicking and flailing of his arms. He felt his knuckles connect firmly with something, and the man was sent reeling backwards.

Taliel stood straight and stared, too frightened to move. The man drew to his full height and glared at the scribe. Then he began to chuckle, something Taliel did not expect. Not wanting to necessarily know what it was that this man was smiling about, Taliel drew his rapier. The man stopped and stared at the blade, a bit amused by it.

"My ignorant friend, mere metal does not do anything to my flesh." He cackled once more, and Taliel soon began formulating a plan.

"I...say I am interested.....in...you know, helping you......tell me about this advanced scribing you spoke of." The man seemed slightly interested and actually began to indulge. The long winded response that he gave Taliel is of no real concern to you or I, for we would not understand half of what he said anywhere. To give you the basic background of such a barbaric practice, the man carved spells into his skin. That was when Taliel realized the most obvious mistake that this Dark Poet had made, and found a small bit of hope amongst all the despair.

[Taliel Escabre]

"So you see, if you join me...your power may one day equal mine! Though I would not count on it!" The man let out his cold laugh and rubbed his temple where Taliel had connected. It seemed to him that the scribe was finally falling into his trap, and that soon his troubles with Istien would be over.

Taliel, however, had different plans. He now had a plan, and was beginning to gain a bit of confidence.

"So you say if I carve the symbol of a particular spell onto my body, then I will be able to use it permanently? That sounds like some sort of dark witchcraft to me," the scribe mocked, trying to appear skeptical about the whole ordeal. The man shot him a devilish glare, and Taliel was soon humbled. The scribe knew time was running short, and it would be no easy job doing what needed to be done. The time he'd bought with the explanation had regained some of his strength, but he knew he was still weaker than this man. Taliel decided now was the time to put his plan into action.

"You may be more powerful than me, Dark One, but I do possess a powerful mind. Perhaps this quest was pointless, and perhaps the scholars were sending me to my death. But I should trust their decisions and tales more so than yours! You are evil and....and I...I intend to cleanse it!" And with those words, Taliel took the blade of his rapier and carved the same symbol on the back of his hand as the one on the man's forehead. Dark eyes widening, the man suddenly howled.

"NO! You fool! You will di-" but before he could finish, Taliel was letting out a loud wail of main. The scar began to glow and shimmer, and it burned Taliel's whole body. Blood covered his hand, but soon the light overtook it and his hand was dry and clean. The scar remained, however, and now the tables had turned.

"You are so ignorant to think that your magic will be able to stand against my own. I am Demietrios, Demon Lord and future throne-holder over all Althanas! My power is enough to challenge even the gods who gave creation to this land!" His voice bellowed deep and strong, echoing from distant areas, even though the room was small. Taliel did not wish to wait for this wrath to be given a chance. As the man stood and shouted in anger, the scribe rushed forward. he was intent on putting his rapier through the belly of the man.

[Taliel Escabre]

Before he had the opportunity to do so, however, the man had conjured his own blade. A dark dagger that looked as if it was made of pure darkness. It clashed with the rapier, and their faces were brought close together. A vein appeared upon Demietrios' forehead and he bared his teeth at Taliel.

"I will slaughter you, spell scribe!" The words made Taliel shiver and the two separated. Holding his rapier out, he knew he was no good with such a weapon- or any weapon for that matter. Spinning the blade around, the two clashed again and began their battle. The man made his moves fluent and effortless, whilst Taliel did all he could not get himself killed. No magic was used, which Taliel was fortunate for. Though a part of him wondered why.

"I know what you are thinking, Escabre. I am not so stupid as to use magic in this place. It would destroy everything I have worked for. No, I am not interested in my own undoing, only your own!" And with that he lunged forward, catching Taliel's shoulder. The scribe let out a loud moan and moved to grasp his shoulder. This point of weakness allowed the man to slash across Taliel's face. A dark, deep cut appeared across his cheek, and the scribe fell to the ground. The man tensed his muscles and walked to the scribe. Luckily for Taliel, however, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

Quickly reaching into his pack, Taliel threw his Cloak of Hiding over him. In a quick wisp of air, the scribe was gone from the man's sight. In anger, Demietrios swung his dagger to and fro in a fit of rage, eager to destroy the pest. Suddenly, however, he felt a blade sink through his chest. It's cold steel illuminated from his front, and he dropped the dark dagger in amazement. Taliel pulled his cloak off and grinned. He had been triumphant, or at least he thought he was.

The man groaned in pain, so loud that it shook the foundations of his fortress.

"You are a fool! This building will topple and bring the both of us down! Hahaha! You think you have won but you have not! I will be reincarnated, and again my rain shall-" and with that, the man began to scream in pain. His pleads went unheard, however, as the area around the two began to shake. Taliel was pressing his hand firmly against the man's throat, drawing his magic out. A power so shockingly entrancing flowed through him.

He felt the sorrows and pains of each of the former students who had died under this man. Each one he released from servitude. There was one he kept, that of the man as a young child. The suffering he had caused could not go undone, and Taliel wished to see fit that he at least powerful enough to get out of this new situation alive. Feeling invigorated by the new found power, Taliel pulled his blade from the dead one and threw him upon the ground.

The building shook horribly and Taliel knew there had to be some way to escape. His mind searched and searched, yet he could think of nothing.

"Is this it? After I've fought and toiled so hard, I am now to die in this dark prison? It's not....it's not fair..." he said to himself. Turning to look at his bag, he suddenly realized who foolish he had been. "Of course! My Scriber's Handbook!"