Asharak-The Tainted Elf

When Asharak was a child, he traveled with his family to the High Tower of Sorcery, where his father intended to negotiate a peace treaty between their native Shasarazade and Miruvhor. In addition to his parents, his family included a sister, and their father encouraged them to meet the Lords and Ladies of Miruvhor, hoping to charm them with the children's innocence. Once the time for the negotiations had arrived, their father dismissed them from the room and left them to look after themselves having served their purpose. His sister pos- sessed a rebellious and inquisitive nature, and soon set out to explore the strange sights of the tower, with Asharak trying his best to keep up with her. The rooms that fascinated her most were the ones with warning signs to stay out, and trying the door of one such room she found it unlocked. Despite her brothers urging to come away and return to where they were supposed to wait, she opened the door and stepped inside. Her screams resounded down the hall, seeming to fade slightly as if she was falling from a great height. Unthinking of the danger, Asharak ran into the room after her.

He felt himself falling, yet it seemed he fell only the height of one floor. He found himself surrounded by a darkness too dense for even his elven eyes to penetrate. Suddenly, he felt hands reaching out to grasp him. Their touch burned him, but it was the cold burn of ice rather than flame he felt. Just before he felt himself starting to slip into unconsciousness, the touch of the hands receded and light slowly returned to the room. On an altar in the center of the room, he saw his sister, pinned faced down by a spear running the length of her body. Before he could react, a black blade appeared out of no- where, and sliced down cleanly through both the spear and the young elven girl's neck. The light faded once more and the hands returned, their touch draining the life from him until he slipped into a dark sleep.

When he awoke, he was in a temple. Before him stood a priestess he took at first for an elf, but soon realized that she was a drow. Strangely, he did not feel the hate and anger he would once have felt at the sight of the dark elf. Instead, he felt accepted. He stood to his feet, and as he did something fell from his clothing. It was a piece of the spear that had held his sister down. As the spear left his body, he was struck by a strange weakness. He felt the urge to pick up the spear again; to hold it, caress it, and serve it. As he lifted it, strength flushed through his body, and he felt stronger than he ever had before in his life. In time he found that the spear gifted him with powers that Dark Knights take years to train. He also found that things that had once disgusted him now seemed strangely appealing.

As an example of how far he has fallen, I leave you with his parting words to the author of this tome: "Why do you torture a baby from his feet up? Because then we can see the expression on its face. I had once thought this of the utmost horror, but that pure look of pain makes my day even now."