Shadow of Dar

Damiel, Glioca Priest of Mileth

*smiles, remembering* I remember a tale of Dar. *looks at the patch placed stone*

A young wizard came to Mileth. He went to the laboratory and began research on his own. He explored the crypt. It was lonesome. He gathered obscene ingredients and continued his research.

He once happened upon a tome in a tomb. Lost from the eyes of man for centuries or more. Nightly he read it. Nightly he studied it, attempted to understand its cthonic secrets. Little by little, with the passage of twin moons night touched him. Power of the night he harnessed.

The crypt, horror to step into, became his familiar ground. He walked among the dead as easily as among the village-dwellers above ground. He learnt the dark secrets of the tome. The secrets filled his mind, blocking out, moon by moon, thoughts of family, thoughts of boyhood friends. He forgot what his family looked like one night. The day next he passed by his brother without saying Hello. As incredibly, his brother passed him without saying Hello, either.

Moon after moon, he continued his mad studies of the tome. He became renown. Wizards came to him to learn his secrets. Little by little, they learned too. But he was seen less and less often. He must be studying a graymayre, one would say. He must be mulling over the Elemental Lore, another would offer.

The nights of his study, the knowledge he had learned, replaced his physical body. All that was left was a shadow. He became a green cloaked, green hatted phantasm. His mother never saw him again, and never saw his mother. She even wonders what had possessed her to consider a name such as "Dar" for a child.

Winter, Deoch 9

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