Solomon Grandymire: Lesson Number One

The storm crashed over the tower of Izer Reef. Seagulls spun chaotically through the air trying to gain control in the winds, and seals were barking out from their rocks to friends lost in the waves. Deep beneath the urchin infested rocks and clam clouded sea murk were the dank dripping catacombs of the tower. In the darkest depths of Izer Reef, a noble sorcerer holds the destiny of two mage outcasts in his oppressive hands. Lord Dekarus stood over the bodies of subjects 115 and 320. The light was scarce, and the way it twisted down Dekarus's face concealed his eyes and sharpened his dagger-like features. He looked to the two remaining subjects, 181 and Grandymire. They were filthy with blood and dirt, and the sacks they wore as clothes were torn to mere fragments. 181 was shaking with fright, but Grandymire stood tall with a clenched jaw. For such a small beautiful creature, she possessed an impressive amount of fortitude. Dekarus's mouth twisted into a grin, and he raised his hands to his captives as he spoke to them. "As I have said, only one of you can be the psion I seek. So we will have ourselves a little game- no... a contest," Dekarus paused to let out a chuckle, "forgive me if I seem a bit animated, it has been quite some time since I had the pleasure of... testing two ideals. Let us begin immediately, the rules will becomes clear as we proceed."

Dekarus waved his hand again, and the chains burst from the captives' wrists, causing Grandymire to flinch and 181 to fall to the floor. Keeping his hand clenched in the air, Dekarus moved the struggling mages to opposing ends of the chamber with unseen forces. Once the two women were in place, Dekarus chanted a few words of power, finishing his incantation with several complicated gestures. With the last word of his spell, two large round glowing sigils appeared beneath the women. 181 and Grandymire were forced to their feet, and the spell held them in place above the seal. Pleased with his exemplary casting, Dekarus spoke again. "The rune beneath your feat will hold you in place. More importantly, it will greatly inhibit any arcane powers you possess. Only a psion will be able to truly break the seal."

181 spoke out nervously, "What do we do then?"

Dekarus laughed, "You really don't know? You have to kill one another, of course. The survivor will be my psion. Oh, and you have three minutes, starting now. If neither of you succeed, you both die."

181 gave pause, stuttering as if she didn't understand what Dekarus had just said.  She panicked, and fell to her knees examining the seal, trying to decipher how the spell was woven. Grandymire remained calm, standing rooted in her position, focusing intently on 181. She didn't care how the spell was woven, she didn't plan on disenchanting it. As the time ticked away 181 began sobbing in her frustration as she attempted to understand Lord Dekarus's spell. She followed every line of the rune, searching for a weakness in the casting, but found none. Every few moments 181 would glance up at Grandymire and see her intense focus, her complete lack of concern.

Dekarus paced around the room the whole while, quite pleased with himself. "Hurry, now. Time is almost up." Between her sobs, 181 called out to Grandymire, "496, please! Please don't do this, I beg you!"

A droplet of sweat fell down Grandymire's face, and she relaxed her body and stood up straight, as if giving up. As 181 began to relax as well, Grandymire said, "I'm sorry, 181, but you were dead the moment you entered this room." She waved her hand across the ground and roared, sending a huge crack through both the ground and Dekarus's seal, ending the enchantment. Free from imprisonment, Grandymire waved her hand twice more, petrifying and then shattering subject 181. Dekarus let out a malicious laugh at the sight of it. "Excellent! You are a psion! How perfect."

Grandymire turned to Dekarus and tried to slay him next. She let loose a spray of fire from her fingertips, engulfing Dekarus but doing no harm. Then Dekarus was gone, appearing behind Grandymire. He placed a hand on her shoulder, quickly said a few words in the language of dragons, and she fell unconscious. "You are a feisty little mage, aren't you? No matter, you will learn your place soon enough."

Dekarus walked to the chamber door, ended his muffling spell, and swung open the door. Parius had been leaning close to the door, trying to eavesdrop. Dekarus kicked the scrawny mage aside and spoke to Larker, who was standing several feet down the hall. "Congratulations to you, Larker. Grandymire is the psion I have been waiting for. You have done well, and I release you and all the other mages here from my service..."

"What- I... I don't know what to say, Lord Dekarus! Thank you, I am so glad that you have found your psion-"

"...permanently"

Larker seemed confused, and he looked around as if the answer might lay somewhere near by. "I beg your pardon?"

"I release you from my service permanently."

Parius began to voice several complaints, and Larker backed away from Dekarus, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been used. As he backed away, he bumped into a large armored creature behind him. Horrified, he turned to see a hulking black dragonborn looking down at him, followed by several more dragonborn. The massive creature grabbed Larker by the head and twisted. The Lead Practitioner's head popped off like the blossom of a dandelion, and rolled along the floor towards Parius, who was now screaming. Dekarus laughed, and roared to his minions. "Grab the psion. Kill the rest! Leave no stone left of this tower!"

Lord Dekarus climbed the stairways of the tower of Izer Reef for the last time. Armored dragonborn were everywhere, slaughtering the exiled mages and their captors. Fires had already been lit, and the tower burned around Dekarus as he emerged onto the roof, followed by a dragonborn carrying Grandymire. Dekarus smiled, showing a grin filled with sharp teeth. Dekarus's eyes glowed green, black scales tore from his human flesh, and horns grew out from his temples. His body lurched and grew, twisting and expanding into the shape of a colossal black dragon. The dragonborn minion knelt and bowed his head. "My Lord, Dreadustraszus."

The dragon named Dreadustraszus growled in return, picking up Grandymire in his claws as he spoke, "You have served me well, wyrmling, and you shall remain here to ensure the tower crumbles to dust."

Dreadustraszus leapt into the air and soared into the storm, unaffected by the powerful winds. The dragonborn and mages were left to burn and die in the tower of Izer Reef. The tower crumbled into the sea, leaving nothing behind but sour grief and painful memories. Now the black dragon had his psion, and his plans could unfold.