Fall of the House of Reon
  He stood in the room with his infant son close by. The sounds of death and destruction came from all around and seemed to engulf them. Something heavy was hurled against the door, and wood and metal plates started to give. The master of spirit stood his ground. Upon the second ramming the door crashed inwards and a foreboding creature stepped through the splintered door. A mastling of huge size entered, and the black vapors of evil surrounding it filtered into the room making the torches flutter and go out. The glow of the glow lanternís casting an eerie light on the thing. Seven feet tall it stood and three wide. Its thick birdlike feet held it balanced and with itís shaped stone warhammer, it came forward for the Telumaster.
   The guardian of the child turned and focused his mind with one arm outstretched.  In his thoughts he held and image of the creature and spoke strange words coldly, ĎShantari Lith!í Suddenly the mastling stopped in its tracks and crashed forward onto the floor and lay still. Already the death vapors dissolved into the stones on the floor for it was dead in that instant. Itís heart had been turned to stone.
   Without hesitation the wizard pulled forth from his cloak a fine silvery powder and cast it across the room towards the doorway. Again he uttered strange words. Another mastling came at the ruined door and as it tried to breach the opening, a rainbow arc of light shit through it and it was hurled backwards, with a rending howl. It lay on the floor just out of sight and didnít move. Its burned body was a smoking ruin. Kraylinar knew that this spell wouldnít last long, for he could already feel his hold over the doorway waning. He turned towards his son, who lay screaming on the floor before him. Pulling out a long knife from beneath his robes, he cut his wrists with sharp strokes of the blade, while uttering arcane words of power. Blood shot forth staining his black and gray robes. He ignored the searing pain and reached down grasped his infant son by his swaddling clothes. He raised the boy above his head. His eyes rolled back within his head and words flew forth from his lips. A great power stirred and listened intently.

Mani noh iku dia, repa nev.
San iku crastog, san iku tih.
Mani swar tes erok aa Imaratil ib var.
Mani ver iku blio erok aa.
San tes ima ine nar rei.
Miten tes dia.
Imaratil te detar!

I give my life, for another.
Take my blood, take my spirit.
I offer this to you, Imaratil
I show my worth to you.
Take this green gem of power.
Save this life.
Praise be to Imaratil!

   The bleeding man still holding aloft his son with one hand and chanting, lifted the crown from his head. The green gem was shining forth brilliantly now, knowing that its maker was being called. Imaratil listened to the words, and decided to grant them for his own reasons. The howling presence of his power shown forth and the walls of the room were blasted outwards, destroying everything that stood near. The spell of the rainbow doorway dissipated like leaves in the wind. Green light enveloped everything, as suddenly the child disappeared. Then the green gem vanished as the silver crown fell from his dying hands and clattered to the blood covered floor. Kraylinarís arms dropped to his side and his head bowed as he slid down to his knees. Then the green light was replaced by darkness as he fell forward on the cracked stone, and his spirit was torn from him by a towering will of power.
   Silence reigned. Slowly the mastlings approached the room and peered in. Before them, the glowing body of the Telumaster shown for an instant and turned to dust. The darkness of the mastlings moved forward to seize the crown of silver, all that remained of the powerful man. But suddenly the mastlings halted in fear themselves and quickly stood aside as a man came forth from among their ranks. His hair was of silver and his eyes of gold. But a living man he was nonetheless. He came forth and picked up the crown in his hand, knowing full well that he had failed and had claimed none of the prizes he had sought except perhaps the crown and the kingdom.  The gem was gone, as was the child. Even the body of the last Telumaster was but dust in the wind and could not be raised from death to serve him. He turned and cursing the fates ordered the mastlings to spare no one. The mastlings gibbered in glee and turned from the grand hall, shuffling forth to feast on the wounded and dying.