The group of children cheered gleefully, as the rest of the patrons in the tavern could not help but to smile with excitement. After a moment, the crowd settled into their seats comfortably and focused their attention on the old man.
Elandar eyed the room full of Halflings dubiously. He repositioned his chair and briefly adjusted his robes before sitting down once more. "This particular story," he began abruptly, "happens to be quite old.
"It takes place in a more peaceful time, centuries ago," the old man said dramatically, with a peculiar gleam in his eye. "Before the fall of Targonor, before your village existed, before the taint of the dead had even arrived in our lands.
"Thestra was a much different place then," Elandar explained, his voice changing tone. "There was a culture of learning. Knowledge was more valuable than any lost treasure. And no where was this more the truth, than in Leth Nurae, the majestic city of the elves.
"After what seemed to be an eternity of war and rebuilding, the elves had finally returned to their homes and were free to pursue that which they coveted the most. Ancient knowledge thought forever lost after the breaking," he paused, "began to reemerge.
Morgan smiled quietly to himself. He had heard this story before, many times in fact. It had always been one of his favorites. He glanced at his companions sitting around the table. Zanadar was leaned back in his chair, his large frame barely able to fit on the seat. The big man listened politely. The mayor and his two cousins all gazed at Elandar attentively, excited expressions on their faces.
Equally enthralled was the stable hand, Renna. She sat contentedly, elbows on the table, with her chin resting firmly in her hands. She'd had a long day. They all had. Sleep would come easily tonight. The ranger looked back to Elandar. Had Morgan not known any better, he almost would have suspected the cranky old man was enjoying himself.
"The greatest mages in all the lands flocked to Leth Nurae, to take part in these exquisite discoveries. But the elves were very protective of their secrets," the old man continued with a shake of his finger, "and so they turned away all but their own.
"For years they continued with their research. Delving continuously deeper, into their long forgotten past. Among them, one in particular stood out. A mage," Elandar said darkly, "and one of considerable power. For it was this mage who made all the most important discoveries and it was this mage who gained all the power with which they came."
"What was his name?" one of the small Halfling children asked.
Elandar drew back sharply as the crowd leaned in. "His name," he said in a whisper, "was Silas Lucertae."
The old man continued on. "Silas was one of the most respected leaders in the elven community. He, for years, unearthed discovery after discovery and gradually began to assume political power within the city. He ignored it for the most part, caring only for his research. Silas spent weeks upon weeks arduously laboring over single passages in ancient tomes, hoping to unlock whatever secrets they may be hiding.
"Then, one night something happened. He found something in one of those passages. Something he had not anticipated. He locked himself away in his home and entered a frenzied study of his new obsession.
"It was not long after," Elandar said quietly, "that he began to summon forth magic not seen in over a millennia. Powerful magic. Though nobody knew to what extent, it changed Silas. He emerged from his study invigorated and began to take notice of the titles and positions that had been bestowed upon him.
"In a small amount of time Silas became the most prominent figure in Leth Nurae. And though he took a keen interest in the running of the city, he seemed distant - aloof. He continued to gain power at an alarming rate. So much, in fact, that many of the other mages began to fear him.
"This was a fact that Silas very much took advantage of, as he bullied and intimidated all those who opposed him. He grew arrogant, and venomous. He viewed the other mages as beneath him. Powerless magicians, whose purpose was simply to further his own interests. His arrogance grew to contempt, and he guarded the secrets to his power jealously.
"For a while, there was an uneasy understanding among the elves. They feared Silas, but there was nothing they could do to stop him. Until one day, his boldness took him too far. During a dispute with another ranking mage, in a bout of anger, he killed the elf. There were many witnesses and a trial was called almost immediately.
"He was stripped of his authority and forbid from continuing his research. This only angered Silas further though, and he struck out against his peers," Elandar exclaimed sharply.
The old man went on to describe, at some length, the atrocities which Silas inflicted upon his own people. His voice rose and fell, hardened and softened at all the right moments. The old man was a skilled orator, which for some reason surprised Morgan. He was also most certainly enjoying himself.
Elandar continued with his story, telling of the effort to subdue the rogue elf. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Silas could not be contained. All who rose up against him were beaten back viciously, powerless against his newfound magic.
"Why couldn't they stop him?" a small boy asked at one point.
Elandar raised an eyebrow and peered back at the young halfling. "Because he was too strong. Lucertae, as he was now called, was unrivaled even amongst the most powerful mages."
"Was he more powerful than you?"
Elandar huffed at that, and leaned back in his chair with an amused expression. He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. "He was mighty," the old man said, "but he was no Elandar."
Zanadar groaned audibly and rolled his eyes back in his head.
"How did they stop him?" another boy pressed.
"Well if you'd quit asking questions maybe I could get to that," Elandar scolded. He let his hand fall away from his thick beard and continued. "The elves lived in a constant state of terror. Trying desperately to appease Lucertae, but the more power he gained the more insatiable his lust for destruction became. Any who disturbed his study were slain, and their homes destroyed.
"All those who challenged him were tossed aside, broken, as if they were mere children. Conventional weapons were useless against Lucertae and no mage in Leth Nurae had the power to oppose him. He closed the city, allowing no one to enter or leave. Any who tried were put to death. His evil began to taint the very earth upon which the city sat."
The crowd remained silent as the old man then told of a peculiar stranger who arrived one night, somehow managing to avoid Lucertae's detection. He was adorned in full, dark robes, which masked his features, and spoke with a deep, commanding voice. In the night, he made his way through the city, gathering what few high mages remained alive from wherever they hid.
The small group of wizards, just six men strong marched through the darkness towards the entrance to the city. Led by the mysterious robed man, they began to cast a spell. It was not long before Lucertae stalked into view, eyes blazing.
"What is this?" he demanded. His voice was twisted, and no longer recognizable. "Who dares defy me?"
The six wizards continued their spell, ignoring Lucertae. The air around them began to shimmer and blur. The tainted elf roared furiously and began to cast a spell of his own, but before he could finish the robed man suddenly broke his concentration and looked up sharply, directly at Lucertae. He spoke a word and in an instant, all seven mages vanished.
Elandar paused as the crowd inhaled audibly. He went on to describe the wizards appearing leagues away and the immense magical battle that ensued. This was, of course, the best part of the story and Morgan found himself watching the crowd rather than paying attention to what the old man was saying.
The young children by the fireplace gasped and covered their eyes as Elandar described how Lucertae battled the six mages. The older Halflings all sat still, paying full attention to the old man, occasionally sipping their drinks. They were a good audience, and Elandar surprisingly enough, was a very good storyteller.
With a grand sweeping gesture he brought the tale to a finish. Lucertae was defeated, but at a great cost. Only a single mage from the six survived. He returned to Leth Nurae, badly injured and incoherent. He lived for a short while, but in the end his wounds proved to be too grave and he passed. The bodies of the other four elves were never recovered, but a tomb was erected in their honor.
"And that," Elandar said expansively, "is the end."
The audience applauded the old man loudly for several moments. Elandar bowed his head once and then continued to scowl until everyone had taken their seats. By now, the sun had long since fallen and the crowd started to disperse.
The young boy who had spoken earlier walked up to the table, a curious look on his face. He stopped a few feet shy of the old man and looked up at him politely.
Elandar glanced down at the boy out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he asked.
"What happened to the man in the robes?"
The old man shrugged. "What do you think happened?"
The boy thought hard for a moment. "I think it would be better if he got away," he replied.
"Then that is how it happened." Elandar answered. He turned back to his mug and began to take a deep drink.
"I don't know though, the evil wizard was very powerful," the boy continued, "How much magic did the robed man have?"
Elandar swallowed and turned back to the boy. He looked at him for a moment, and then held his hands several feet apart. "This much."
"How much magic do you have?" the young halfling asked.
The old man frowned. "Don't you have parents?"
Zanadar grinned and leaned forward. "In other words," he said, "Less than that."
