Terian Wreathwood

   "If you'd only consider the it, and evaluate the calculations I've--" The old proffesor held up a hand to silence Terian.     As Terian's echo finished bouncing off of the dark stone walls, the old man heaved a sigh. "We've been over this a million times, Terian. It is not wise to tamper with the Weave in such a way, reguardless of how impeccable your calculations no doubt are." The old mans eyes shone with pride at this last. This went unnoticed by Terian.    "It's perfect! I'm telling you, if--no, when we pull this off, we'll have access to unlimited magical knowledge! Can you imagine how many people we could help with that kind of power?"    The old man fixed Terian with a silent stare of understanding. "Terian..." Terian cut him off, shoving the long-suppressed feelings of dread aside. "No. Look, this isn't just about my mom's illness! It's about so much more!" As if in mutiny of their owners words, Terians eyes began to water. "We--We can help so many...And know more than any wizard, human, or mortal being has ever known! My math is perfect and it will work! Just give me what I need, and I'll prove it!"    The old proffessor fixed him with a stare, seeming, if only for a moment, to consider it. "No." His gaze had turned stern and cold, a look that Terian knew was a final answer, and not negotiable.    Sighing with defeat, Terian gave a respectful bow before slinking off to his dormitory. He knew the old man would say no, had accounted for that. All he had wanted was his blessing. No matter. I've already got what I need. Even as he thought this, guilt tugged at the forefront of Terian's mind.      Several hours later, Terian stood before his elaborately established ritual, reviewing his notes for what seemed the fiftieth time that night. The room was unusually dark for how early it was, as the sun was only just setting. But, of course, Terian had accounted and planned for this too. At this hour, this classroom was too dark to be used for conventional means, being on the Eastern side of campus. Jars of arcane light flickered brightly in many corners of the room, having been conjured by the young apprentice who now stood gazing, eyes glazed over, at his ink filled notebook.    "Yes...everything seems to be in order." He said to himself as he set the notebook down. Terian gazed back down at the notebook yet again, mouthing the words he knew by heart before closing his book with a snap. "I'll show those old fools. True power means taking risks, and nothing has ever been accomplished without a risk." Squaring his shoulders, Terian began to chant, weaving his hands in a strange, unusual fashion, even for most spellcasters. However, it seemed that whatever he was doing seemed to be working as his various runes etched into the floor began to light up, one by one. Of course it works. I'm not an idiot. He thought, even as doubt flooded his mind. Silence weighed heavily in the air for a moment, as if the entire world were holding its breath to see what the young apprentice could do.    The arcane lights flickered feebly in their jars, guttering out as Terian began to manipulate the Weave itself. An unnatural darkness drew in close and a great crackling sound filled the air. From the center of his circle of runes, a rift had opened, and was spewed purple, staticy arcs of magic across the room. A great roaring filled the room, shaking every stone in its place. Terian staggered backwards, fear gripping at his chest. Shouts. He could hear shouts down the hall. But at this rate, by the time they got here, it would be too late. The mass of power would explode as they arrived, killing Terian, along with those who were now rushing to his aid. I need to disrupt that rift before they get here. He staggered forwards, barely thinking about what he was about to do. The arance energy greedily lapped at Terians skin like a fire as he trudged on, having to square his feet to not be blown back by the force of the energy now erupting from the rift. He gritted his teeth against the pain from where the magic burned and tore his skin. Terian squeezed his eyes shut and hurled himself forward, into the rift. I'm sorry, Proffessor. There was the sound of a distant explosion and a flash of purple light as Terian was whisked away on the very currents of magic itself.       The whispers of Everything filled Terian's mind as images and spells from every plane of existence filled his every last thought. His head ached and he begged for it all to end. But it did not. He spun on and on, his mind crumbling, tearing under the pressure of the Weave. Broken. Broken, and beyond all help, his essence was scattered through every magical plane that ever was, or ever shall be. Until a blinding blue light seemed to consume every last inch of Terian's being. A cacophonous boom. The sound of wind roaring in his ears, followed by the feeling of plunging into salty waters.      The Dark Star. For the first time in Gods-only-knew how long, it had reappeared, and just in time for a deafening noise to silence the usually-bustling town of Freeport. Many stood to watch, confused, and unaware of the thing--the man--that had just plummeted from that very spot.     Dark. Everything was dark. He was surely dead, a mere fragment of what he used to be. Quietly, he waited for the Gods to claim his soul as he drifted down, down through endless, murky water. He supposed it was cold, though that mattered little. For soon--if not now, he would be--Pain. Pain lanced through him, white hot and burning. Burning like a thousands Suns. Terian was dimly aware that something--something with tentacles of acid had pulled him into its embrace. Distantly, a drum beat seemed to sound, even as Terian screamed soundlessly. THUD. One pound of the bass brought him farther down, the pain intensifying into something beyond what he could even imagine. Surely, surely by now he must be dead, Gone, but...What was this? This pain? This misery and helplessness he felt all the same? Was this his personal hell for defying his master so? No. Terian was not yet dead, instead left to suffer by whatever creature held him in its grasp. He stuggled harder than he had before, water filling his lungs until, at last, Terian went completely and totally limp.    Yesss. Fiinnnallly. A worthy vesselll whichhh I cannn takkke for my oowwnnn. Terian floated lifelessly through the water as a pulsing red light emenated from somewhere behind him. Give. Give unto meee your boddyyy. Sooo Hunnngrrryyy. Sooo long, has it beennn. These tentacles that still sent spikes of pain through a now (surely?) dead Terian pulled him ever closer, until he reached a center, a cacoon of writhing, burning tentacles. A pulse of excitement from the strange object pulling him in. Finally. Writhing tentacles encased Terian as the reddish geode glowed all the brighter. Miinnneee.    He pulled himself on to shore, his chest giving one thud as he did. Everything hurt. Why? Why did everything burn? His throat felt like it had been attacked with shards of glass, and his head pounded wildly. But worst of all was his chest. Terian went to rip open his shirt only to see that on the backs of his hands were strange, dark stars, one for each hand. A chill of foreboding jittered down his spine. He ripped open his already-tattered clothing to reveal--where his heart had once been was now a slightly protruded reddish glow. THUD. Terian recoiled, as if to escape the thing now living in his chest. THUD. The thing beat slower than a heart, and more...aware. Aware was a word, alright, a word which Terian would never forget.       Arhor'ha. He had never heard of this before, and his inquiries about Baldur's Gate were only met with blank stares and confused faces. Freeport. Where and when in the world did the Weave send Terian? It took weeks of eavsdropping and loitering around merchant and pirate ships for Terian to learn more about where he was. One day, as he listened in on a merchant speaking of heading to Crystallis (I haven't got anymore Boots of Elvenkind. I'll need to go to Crystallis to get more), Terian heard a sound behind him, a slight scuff of feet.    "Don' move if ye know whats good fer yeh," A sharp something pressed its way in between Terians shoulder blades and the raspy voice plunged on. "Just give me all yer gold, and yeh can leave with yer life."    THUD. The thing in his chest pulsed, as if in response to this threat. A cold chill entered Terians veins as his emotions seemed to freeze in place.    "I haven't gotten any, I'm sorry." Numb. Everything was numb, and worse still, Terian could feel his limbs beginning to tingle.    The raspy voice behind him chortled, almost amused. He pressed the blade deeper, breaking skin. "Lies. Now give me--" THUD. A pulse from the thing in his chest, and blood--his blood--spewed from the newly created wound into the man's face. "ARRRGGGGHH!" The man staggered back, blade clattering to the ground. Terian spun around and raised his hands, purple static crackling about his fingertips, and hurled a bolt of fire into the man's chest. He flew through the air and crashed into the stone wall at the end of the alleyway, where he moved no more.    Terian's heart skipped a beat as he realized what he had just done. Panic set in, and Terian ran. He hadn't even meant to hurl a firebolt, so how? How did he send a firebolt, when all he had wanted was to throw the man back. And the purple sparks...Terian rounded corner after corner until he at last drew to a stop. He stared at the star the back of one of his hands as he tried to catch his breath. A chilling realization fell over him. Cursed, Terian was cursed and could no longer rely on his magic.      There was only one city Terian knew of that could hold his answers, so he set off (by stowing away in a merchants carriage) to the City of Crystallis. Surely some student or scholar there would have the answers that he so desperately needed? Surely some of the greatest minds in magic would know something? He would soon find out that no manner of testing, analyzing, or studying would ever find the answers that he needed.    All seemed to be lost...until Terian met her. Cecilia. She was a beautiful caretaker of a local colleges gardens, who seemed to have an almost ethereal atomsphere about her as she tended to the plants. Some that seemed near death only seemed to flourish under her care. During Terian's many comings and goings, he found himself stopping by more and more just to say hi. Just to see that lovely smile. Until the final frustrating day when Terian was again sent away with baffled scholars scratching their heads and wondering just how his magic had gotten so...chaotic. Unpredictable. He was still brooding as walked past the gardens, completely lost in his own muddled thought when he heard his name called out from behind him.    "Terian! Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with--" Her sentence fell short as she approached from behind. "--Terian? What's wrong?"    He glanced up at her, his frustration quickly dissolving into a swarm of butterflies. "Er, nothing, really. Just more inconclusive tests, I suppose." Terian had told her all about the Weave, but negleted to mention the force in his chest. He took a breath, gathering his courage. "Er--look, there's not much else that can be done. That is, there's nothing left for me at this college." Cecilia's face looked remarkably crestfallen. "Oh...I see," Her face smoothed over in an instant, taking on the appearance of sculpted marble.