An enclosed enclave...

[wangxiuming]

The Sacred Circle. Once, an ancient and secret organization dedicated to the preservation of Balance within the universe. Now, all that remains of their once powerful Order is but a small assortment of souls, each still desperately clinging to their ideal of restoration and rejuvenation. Where once they numbered thousands, now barely a hundred remain. Internal strife and corruption of power had thrown the Order into rebellion. The Inner Circle, once believed to be the absolute authority on Balance, Judgment, and even-handedness - they were shown to be manipulators, mad entities with the desire for godhood. Only by the sacrifice of nearly the entire Circle was their threat abolished.

A small group of Circle Elders gather in one of their few surviving shrines. They are led by Ander Idyllian, a druid imbued with the powers of a red dragon. Alongside him are Alara Lothandrian, elven servant of the Earth Mother Chauntea, and Balarius, Archmage. Two circle initiates stand guard behind them, their faces vigilant and emotionless.

The three Elders gather in a circle next to the great tree that shelters the enclave. For hours, they meditate in complete silence.

Balerius is the first to speak. His voice rasps against the chill breeze. "So, Ander... why do you call us here once again? What new plague rears its head upon the last of the order?"

Ander responds with quiet serenity. "I have called us here today to decide the fate of the one we know as Andal, your son Alara, and my most favored apprentice."

"I have no son, Ander. And neither is he your apprentice any longer. He has failed us twice and abandoned the order," says Alara, with a bitterness that invades her every word.

"I agree," replies Balerius. "Andal Lothandrian is of no more use to our great Order. His failure at Mhordiem, his loss of control at Empyrea - if we had not intervened, who knows what havoc he would have wrought!"

Ander's reply is heated. "His failures are few in contrast to his success, my friend Balerius, even you must agree with me on that. Who was it who assassinated the Warlock King of Ishmeral? Who was it who tricked the orcish hordes of Bograk Vesh into attacking each other?"

Balerius waves his arms, as if to dismiss Ander's statements. "All through borrowed power, Ander. And he has proven himself unable to control it any longer. What use do we have for a swordsman that does not know when to sheathe his sword?"

"That is precisely the reason why we must keep him close to the Circle. Though we may have stripped him of his shape-shifting abilities, his own innate powers will soon grow to be just as strong."

"I have seen none of this so-called power," Balerius scoffs. "If he truly poses such a threat, we should have killed him when he was within our grasp."

"This is how you repay a member of the Circle who has dedicated his life to our service?!" Ander turns on his apprentice's mother. "Alara, have you nothing to say at all?"

Alara stands up. "I have said once before, and now say again. I have no son. And I am done with this. Do what you will with him, this is not my affair." With a twirl of her cloak, she is gone.

Balerius follows her lead, saying as he leaves, "Best you forget about that apprentice of yours, Ander. He is more trouble than he is worth."

Ander shakes his head in disappointment. It appears my plans will have to wait...at least for the time being.

[wangxiuming]

Months later...

Tired and weary from a long day keeping the goblin population in Sharahan in check, Andal made his way slowly to the druid glade. Winding through the hidden paths of the Viridale, he stopped every few minutes to look over his shoulder. He had heeded the words of Alertness, his rabbit guide within the Silvanite Circle, always watching his back to ensure he was not being followed. In the distance, the powerful magic of the shroud came into view. Shielding the grove from unworthy adventurers and unknown dangers, the shroud was a beacon to Andal; a star guiding his path home.

As he made his way further into the forest, his path crossed the main road that led to Mossclaw Meet. In the distance, he saw that a lone man was standing on the only bridge to the gnoll stronghold. Several other men stood across from him, weapons drawn. Andal edged closer to find out what was going on.

The lone man spoke first. He was a tall and muscular human male, rugged and unshaven. A bastard sword was strapped across his back, and his left hand held ready an iron tower shield. "I, Tolus the Mighty, have claimed this bridge. If you want to pass, you'll have to cough up gold."

Andal inched closer still. The other men were nothing more than simple peasants and farmers. One held what looked liked a hastily-crafted scythe. Another had only a rake. They seemed to be pleading with the warrior on the bridge.

The man with the rake spoke. "Please, good sir. One of my children lost a family heirloom in there, it's our greatest treasure!"

Arcus stepped toward the farmer, inspecting him closely. The farmer seemed to want to shirk away, but met the warriors' gaze steadily and determined. Tolus smiled to himself slowly, then in a single swift and brutal stroke, cleaved the farmer in two. Panicking, the other farmers ran as Tolus laughed heartily. He shouted after the fleeing peasants: "That would have been his fate had you ventured in there anyway! Consider yourselves lucky! And this bastard's treasure will be payment for saving your coward skins from the gnolls!"

Andal frowned. He wasn't about to let this go unpunished. Apart from the blatant brutality, this human actually had the audacity to claim he had a right to the forest. As if Silvanus would ever allow it.

He stepped out from behind the trees. "This forest is under the protection of the Treefather Silvanus, human. Depart, and your transgressions may yet be forgiven."

Tolus just laughed. "What are you going to do about it, puny elf?! You think you're a match for me?"

"That was a mistake, my friend. You truly you think you can challenge a servant of Silvanus within the forests?" With those words, Andal began to cast. With his hands, he swept a circle of magic and then flung it almost carelessly at the human warrior. Vines sprang forth when once there was nothing, encircling and ensnaring Tolus in a mass of vegetation.

Tolus hacked away helplessly at the growing lump of vine and underbrush that had latched onto his legs and torso. He looked up from his futile whittlings with a faint sense of fear in his eyes.

Andal wasn't about to waste any time. He had already began a second incantation. He felt his body lift into the air for a brief second as power coursed through it. The air sparked with electricty, and lightning fell from the skies, hitting Tolus squarely in the chest; the warrior screamed in unbridled pain.

The smell of burning flesh and hair invaded Andal's nostrils. Confident that he had made his point, Andal released the vine mine and watched as the warrior ran off with his tail between his legs. Smiling softly to himself, Andal brushed off his leather armor and turned back to the path to the grove.

From out of the shadows, another figure appeared. Youthful and with crimson locks of hair and ruby-red eyes, the figure stood almost six feet tall. He yawned lazily, simultaneously stretching out leathery wings that reached almost twice his height. He had elven facial features, but had a noticeable scale-like quality. His eyes seemed to flash fire as he spoke.

"My young apprentice...it certainly has been a long time."

Andal's smile turned grim. "Master Ander."

[wangxiuming]

Ander Idyllian spoke with a quiet confidence. "There was a time, Andal, when your spells would have left nothing but ash in that pathetic, worthless mortal's place."

Andal placed a hand on the hilt of his blade. "There was also a time, my Master, when you didn't consider yourself so much better than they."

"Now now, my apprentice. There's no need for hostilities here." The dragon disciple extended a leathery wing to rest upon Andal's blade-holding hand. Andal looked at his former master carefully, then released his sword from his grip.

With an acidic tone in his voice, he asked "What, exactly, do you want?"

Ander smiled, his scaly face stretching unnaturally. "I want you to return to the Sacred Circle, Andal. As you may now know, we suffered terrible losses when we were betrayed by the Inner Circle. Even now, we do not fully understand their agenda..."

Andal remained expressionless and impassive. "Get to the point."

"My, you certainly are in a cheery mood today," Ander's fiery eyes steeled themselves onto Andal's emerald ones, their gaze matching perfectly. Andal was the first to look away.

Ander smirked. "In short, Andal, the Sacred Circle needs strength. Our purpose...the restoration of Balance within this world can never be complete, and with the ... abilities we are willing to give you again, you can once again be our greatest...asset."

"Is that still how you think of me? A tool, your sword and spell, your tongue and dagger?!" Andal's temper was fast rising, something noticeably uncharacteristic of his demeanor. He drew his weapon in one swift motion and raised it, with the point leveled at his former master's face. "I will not let you use me any longer! Begone, or I will -- "

Ander didn't even blink. "You'll what, little one? You may have been a master of the power we lent you, but you are nothing more than a purposeless wanderer now. Without the powers we gave you, you can effect nothing."

"You --!!"

"My dear apprentice, you weren't even this angry with that pretentious little human. What does that say about how dedicated you are to your precious...Nature?"

Andal couldn't control himself any longer. His face twisted into a violent snarl, and then his whole body began to change. The leather armor that he was wearing seemed to sink into his skin, as brilliant white fur burst forward. A shaggy mane replaced his hair as his nose elongated and his eyes enlarged. His fingernails sharpened into claws, as his hands covered themselves in the same white fur that had now encased his entire body. He had taken the form of a dire bear.

He launched himself at the dragon disciple who stood before him, arms and paw extended. He swiped down violently, but his terrible claws caught only air in their trail. Ander had unfurled his leathery red wings and leaped into the air. The Elder of the Sacred Circle smiled to himself as he looked down upon his former apprentice. With a clap of his hands, magical grease formed underneath the bear's feet, causing him to slip and fall violently.

Ander laughed heartily as the bear struggled to regain his footing. With a few more magical incantations, a fiery spray exploded from his hands, setting the grease on fire. Andal howled in anger.

Unable to compose himself in bear form, Andal shifted back to human form. As the fire seemed to wrap his frail form, he waved his arms, almost wildly. A forceful gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, extinguishing the flames immediately and blowing away the grease.

Determined, Andal began casting more of his own spells. For the second time that day, his form lifted into the air as he felt energy course through his body. Electricity coursed through his body and lightning flew downwards from the sky, towards his master's form. Ander let loose a derisive laugh. A blade appeared, almost as if from nowhere into his scaly hands and with a single stroke, he deflected the lightning bolt into the earth.

"Is this all your great Silvanus can do for you?! Pathetic!"

Andal howled furiously. "Taste of MY wrath!!" Bolts of ice condensed and launched themselves at the dragon disciple. Ander dove from his position into the sky, dodging the ice shards casually, and flew with his blade aimed at his apprentice's neck.

Another gust of wind blew him off course. Struggling to gain cover as he repositioned himself, Ander took a deep breath and unleashed a maelstrom of fire from his mouth. Overpowering Andal's spell, the flame breath ignited the entire region, showering fire in all directions.

As Andal brought his arms up to shield himself from the flames, his former master appeared beside him, a smile stretched across his draconic face. He grabbed his apprentice's arm firmly and held on tight. Brilliant light began to emanate from the region of contact as pain engulfed Andal's body; his scream was blood-curdling.

Ander let go of his apprentice and backed up a few steps. He watched as Andal began to change...to shift. Different forms burst forward one after the other, violently and without any control: A drider, a kobold, an elderly dwarven woman, a gargoyle, a young, grey-haired human male. Each form seemed desperate to stabilize itself, to take control, but each was swallowed back in, only to have another replace it. Andal's scream altered chaotically as his vocal cords transformed.

Finally, the energy from the Elder's magic seemed to abate. His face strained with the effort, Andal forced back the other forms to regain control of himself and his body. Exhausted, Andal collapsed onto the floor and slowly began to slip away into unconsciousness. With his final waking moments, he heard his master speak.

"A small taste of the real power you've given up, my friend. Join us, and it will be yours once again...think about it."

[wangxiuming]

A room in the Menacing Mariner...

Rook awoke with a start, his heart pounding heavily into his chest. He was lying in a bed, the sheets and pillows in a convoluted mess. To the bed's right was a small desk and oil lamp, to its left was a dirty window; A brilliant morning sunrise was pouring through it, dancing across the room.

What was he doing there? The last thing he remembered was being trapped in a dank cave somewhere in the Neverwinter Wood, locked in combat with some sort of shapeshifter...and things were not going well for him. For all his skill with the blade, the monster was too much for him; all he knew was that one moment a giant minotaur was brandishing an axe and charging at his already broken body, and the next he was...lying in a bed.

He sat up, gingerly at first, but as he felt his sides with his rough hands, he realized that his wounds were completely gone. Healed. Strange...he didn't remember befriending any clerics. And these were no minor injuries...he distinctly remembered bleeding profusely out of one eye, hearing one of his own ribs crack, and watching as the shapeshifter (in the form of a dire tiger no less) smash his leg. Literally.

Rook got out of bed slowly, and as he stood up, he stretched his arms and legs out, amazed at the apparently miraculous recovery. His right arm had a strange tingling sensation, but it wasn't painful and it was a small price to pay for the recovery of the rest of his body. He would surely have to thank whoever had done this for him.

A firm knock on the door broke the stillness of the room. Lazy and still feeling a bit weak, he shouted to the door, "Come in!"

A tall figure stepped opened the door and stepped in. Rook's eyes widened slightly at the sight of this new and unfamiliar character...mostly because of the enormous and leathery wings that seemed to have a life of their own as they twitched and unfurled. The face was elven, but had a distinctly scale-like quality...indeed, anywhere Rook could see skin he could also see scales. What most captivated him was the figure's eyes. They were an intense ruby red, and seemed to burn with a passion as he spoke.
"So, feeling better are we? I'm glad to see it." The figure smiled widely, flashing neat and white teeth. Rook was certain he was one of those dragon disciples. But what did he want?


"Very much so, good sir. Was it you who saved me? How did you find me, I was certain no one would come to my rescue in that cave."

The dragon disciple smiled again, though his eyes shared none of his mouth's merriment. They were piercing, and seemed to flash fire as they stared into Rook's soul. "I suppose you could say I saved you, Rook. Certainly, without my intervention you would not be here at all."

Rook was beginning to feel a bit nervous. He didn't know much about this elf/dragon, but he didn't like the tenor of his tone. And how did this person know his name? "Well, of course you have my most gracious thanks, good...er, I don't believe I caught your name."

"Ander...but that's not important." Ander walked over to a long mirror in the room as he spoke. He leaned forward to examine his face, baring his teeth and picking at something there with a long fingernail. Extracting it, he flicked a fragment of meat away before turning back to Rook.

"I have a task for you, Rook. You are currently in a room in the Menacing Mariner...a tavern in Port Avanthyr of the lands known as Sundren. Somewhere here is a druid known as Andal Lothandrian. I want you to find him for me. Rumor has it you are quite skilled in tracking people down; will you be able to do this for me?" Ander folded his arms across his chest, as if waiting for an answer he thought was assured.

Rook stared at Ander. "Why do you want this druid? And how do you know so much about me?"

"I'm afraid I can not say - but I must ask if you will honor your...debt of life to me and complete this task." Ander's eyes flashed brighter still.

Rook weighed his options. Certainly he was honor-bound to complete this venture if Ander did indeed save him. Still, Rook was not fond of secrecy...at least not on the part of others. "Sir Ander, you seem quite capable. Surely you can locate this Andal on your own."


Ander smirked. "Perhaps...but let me assure you, Things will be so much more interesting this way. And perhaps you may even discover a few self-revelations along the way. All I ask is that you honor your debt to me, dear Rook. Is that so much?" His eyes flashed dangerously as he finished speaking.

Rook had no intention of antagonizing this being. "If you put it that way...I suppose I would not want to seem ungracious..."

For the first time that night, Ander's smile was sincere. "Most excellent."