The War of the Races: 1. The Obsidian Sword

The gnome, being the light-hearted, chaotic creature he was, quickly brightened to the point of open glee. He grinned broadly at his elf friend, bowed, and skipped out of his quarters, humming and grinning.

***

The two walked quietly down the warm, silent corridors of the compound, a place secluded from the bustle of the cities, devoted to- and created for the study of magic and all things magical. The High Master's Main Hall loomed ahead, its gilded doors shining vaguely with the waning light from gigantic windows. As they approached them, the doors swung open grandly, revealing the lavish, beautiful chamber wherein the High Master performed his own studies.

The man himself was seated at a small wooden table far to the other end of the colossal hall, stooped over some tome or another. The hood of his brown robes rustled as he looked up at his guests. The face revealed therein was that of a human, fair and pale, black framing it. Pale, sightless eyes peered knowingly from a knit brow, searching the guest's souls if they could not search thier physical features.

"Welcome Daerkin, Raylshon, please have a seat." the High Master's voice was warm, almost grandfatherly, though he was equivalently the same age as his two longer-lived guests. Elf and gnome seated themselves uncomfortably, wary of the piercing, sightless gaze.

"I am sure you have noticed, my gnomish friend, that your magic had been waning. No, no, don't deny it; all of ours' has been of late. I beleive I have come to understand why- that is the reason I have called you here." the High Master handed Daerkin a piece of parchment with a broken seal on it. If it had a seal it must have been important.

The gnome unraveled it, slowly digesting its contents. After several long moments, he peered up into those gray, knowing eyes, searching for something in them.

Daerkin slowly dropped the note in Raylshon's lap, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. Urkien. That foul beast the gnome had thought he had slain so many years ago, when he was a mere youth of thirty-seven years. And, not only was the creature alive, but it was the reason magic was failing all over the continent. Now the High master would surely charge he and Raylshon with bringing down the creature.

"You know what I am to ask of you," the High Master's eyes seemed to indeed be able to see in, through, and all around the gnome's mind, despite their blindness, "You must find this dragon, this Urkien, and you must kill him, though if it comes to it, retrieval of the artifacts is your top priority. The Scry Masters should be able to help you at least find a starting place on the road to finding the beast. You know where they are found, yes? Good. You are dismissed..." the two started to rise and exit the hall when the High Master's added words stopped them, "Raylshon- you are to accompany Daerkin on this journey. Do not lose him. Remain always at his side, never waver, and help him to the best of your abilities. Now, you are dismissed."