The Darkmatter Endeavor
Age: 2 years, 9 months, 1 week
Born: August 20th, 2017
Adopted: 2 years, 9 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: August 20th, 2017
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
“No… please!” He shrieked as the arms locked around his own tightened, the hands gripping his ankles turning bruisingly tight. He struggled fiercely in their hold as they took him to the altar he had stood before so many times before. His body was slammed heavily onto the flat surface, vines ripping up from the ground to pin his limbs to the wood. He grit his teeth as he called upon his own magic to free him from the restraints.
“Use even a sliver of your magic, Mordred, and I'll take your life within seconds.” He went rigid at the elder’s voice as his shadow fell over him. The old elf's ears drooped with age while his long and grayed hair dragged along the ground as he walked.
“Please, Dcer,” he pleaded, uncaring of the tears coursing down his cheeks. “I would never have done those things… I swear on Mayli I didn't do what you're accusing me of!” The elder gripped his staff and Mordred’s breathing stuttered as hooded elves approached on all sides.
“There is only one magic that could have killed those families, Mordred. You cannot deny what is clear to see. For your unforgivable crimes, you will be swiftly punished.” He nodded at one elf who stepped forward to place a cool crystal on his exposed chest.
“N-no, no-not that… No--” His plea turned into a scream of pain as the figures lifted their staffs to send magic coursing into the crystal.
Within his body his magic shattered and twisted like glass impaling him from inside. It seeped into the crystal as he continued to writhe and screech in agony. His ears curled within themselves while his body burned and shortened. It felt like hours before it was finally done and it felt as if a vital piece of his soul had been ripped from him to leave an aching void.
“Your harmful magic has been sealed within the crystal so you will never be able to bring pain to those around you again. You are no longer welcome in Elesia and are hereby banned to a world without magic. You will never be able to abuse the gifts of magic again. May you leave this world in peace, and rot in another.” His lips moved yet his tongue felt too heavy and full in his mouth to form words. The vines slipped away from his body to be replaced with hands. He whimpered as he was dragged off the wood, splinters cutting into his back. They ignored his cries of pain as they hauled him up the stone stairs. In front of him he could see the elder trailing after them with his staff in the air and a chant spilling from his lips. Behind him a high-pitched shriek began to rise in volume.
“Begone, demon!” The elder screamed at him and he felt himself be lifted in the air and tossed forward. Blinding light and excruciating pain engulfed his awareness.
Mordred jerked awake with a scream, hands flying to the crystal that sent pulses of pain across his chest. He grimaced and swung his legs over the bed as he tore his fingers through his sweaty hair. After a moment of breathing he rose to his feet to find the mirror he hung close to his bed. Even after almost a century the image in the glass surprised him.Soft curled ears. Brunette hair. Plain brown eyes. And a crystal embedded within his chest, threads of flesh wrapped around it. Eventually it would completely be hidden under his skin. His jaw set and his eyes hardened.
Not if he could help it.
He walked into his small kitchen to see the clock glowing 3:44 at him. Making coffee was a mindless task and soon he was heading to his basement stairs.
“Sorry to wake you,” he called as he shut the door behind him. He flicked on the lights as he went and was greeted with rows of cages, some encased in clear walls. Inside were things people would call supernatural. A werewolf, smaller than him, howled and clawed at the glass. A scaly creature was curled up in a few feet of water and trembled violently within their container. Yet it seemed there were even some humans trapped within these vessels and they wailed just as loudly as their supernatural companions as he passed. However he ignored them all to stand in front of the fruition of his work. A large stage opened up before him, it's wooden platform glowing with runes of all cultures with bloodred hues. Metal bindings lifted from the floor to encase ankles, wrists, and throat. Crystals hung suspended on either side with wires that dug deep into the smooth stones then laced back around into the stage floor. Slumped within the restraints was a withered corpse. Their skin was wrinkled and dry, tight against bones like a grape left in the sun. Hair was scattered around the floor from where it had fallen from their head and their clothes hung loosely on their skeletal bodies.
“Oh good, I didn't wake you at least.” Mordred sipped on his coffee as he examined the glowing crystals. “Humans always have such a low level of magic… yet it seems to have been enough. Hmpft. They said there wasn't magic here… How idealistic they were to imagine we were the only ones with gifts. Well,” he paused and took a gulp of his drink. “I cannot wait to show them my findings.” He slammed down the mug on a nearby table and moved forward to unclasp the husk from the platform. He took them easily onto his shoulder, bending down to pick up their arm that snapped off with the sharp movement. The occupants in the cages were silent as he walked past this time and he hummed to himself as he reached the furnace that warmed his home. He put a log on the low fire and stirred it to life before carefully sliding the body into the metal container. He waited until the flames licked at the dried skin before shutting the door and heading back to his creation.
Mordred breathed deep before reaching out and laying his hands on the crystals. His head snapped back and he screeched as the stored magic raced down his arms like fire. It slammed into the crystal within his chest, burning the flesh around it and ripping cracks through the smooth material. He stumbled back as smoke rose from his skin and the stones ceased their glow. He raised a shaky hand and traced his fingers across the broken edges of the rock that had caused him agony for so many years. He giggled before it turned into full blown laughter, tinted with mad delight.
“Yes! Yes! It worked! Haha! I can't feel all my magic, but I can feel it…!” He scrubbed at the tears that had gathered and turned towards the cages. “You'll help me get it back. And when I do… I'll show them they were wrong and what my magic can truly do. Then I'll find the one who set me up and tear them apart.” The exiled elf stalked towards the containers and grinned widely at the wails that began anew.