History of Phoenix Cove, ruled by Lord Mystile

This is but a small peek into the immensly large and complicated life of a wood elf who was lost from our dimension, one who befriended the phoenixes and gained a portion of their power, one who mastered the arts of conjuration, and one who is loyal, brave, intelligent, and skillful in his deeds. This is the story of Mystile, the high templar of the kingdom of Phoenix Cove, and his mystical deeds.

~*/*~

"What the- Hey, where's m'wallet?!?"

A large man turns around and quickly spins the other way. A wood elf is also rotating, but away from the line of vision of the man. Snickering quietly, the elf tip-toes away from the scene, but not fast enough.

"You! Elf! You took m'wallet, didn' you?" "Uh, well sir, it just kinda slipped out, ya know, and it flew into my fing-" "GIVE IT BACK!!!"

Enraged, the man runs after the young elf, but humans are no match in speed with elves. Laughing gleefully, the elf races away, but he runs smack dab into a knight. With a speed gained from intense training, the knight quickly puts the elf in a tight hold, preventing him from fleeing.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" "That elf took m'wallet!" "Really?" the knight says. Turning to the elf, he asks, "Is this true, friend?"

Dejectedly, the elf nods. He holds up the wallet, for the knight to see. Shaking his head, the knight puts the elf down, but keeps a tight hold on him.

"Now, young feller, why don't we walk over to the nice man, and return his wallet, whaddaya say?"

Nodding, the elf lets the knight lead him over to the man. Eyes twinkling, the knight says, "Now, Lugor, I've told you too many times not leave your wallet sticking out of your pocket like that. This here's an expert thief, not like those other bumblers. He can take and run without you feeling it, unlike those other kids. Do keep it somewhere safer, will you? I can't run around watching for thieves all the time."

Scratching the back of his head, Lugor smiles sheepishly. "I know, but I can' reach m'wallet when 'ts in my shirt pocket gooder 'n when 'ts in m'pants."

"Well, you were lucky this time, but next time, you'll lose all you money, an' ther ain't much we can do then, eh?"

Apologizing, but managing to look menacing at the same time, Lugor snatches the wallet out of the offender's hands. The knight also darkens. "A young thief on the loose isn't so good for society, is it?" the knight asks the elf. "No sir, it ain't," the elf replies shakily. "Looks like yer going to jail for sometime."

The knight doesn't notice the elf's chalk white face as he drags him off towards the town. He also doesn't notice the shadow watching from the roadside.

~*/*~

"And what is your name, sirrah?"

An wizened old man writes down the information as it is given for dungeon records.

"M'name's Mystile, sir, but most people just call me Myst," the elf replies, still shaken by his sudden imprisonment.

The old man loweres his glasses. "Myst, ye say? Ye don't happen to be Mystile of the Thrinj Wood clan, do ye?"

Gulping, Myst nods. "We've received a letter, saying that Mystile of the Thrinj Wood clan has run away, d'ye know that? And we're s'posed to deliver 'im straight back to 'is home. Know anything about that?"

Face devoid of color anew, Myst shakes his head. Tapping the feather on the table, then old man comtemplates for a bit. "Y'know, I used to be a wizard. Conjurer, ye know. I've been gettin' mighty bored the last coupl'a years, it'd be nice to have an apprentice. If you agree to become my student, I won't turn ye in t'yer clan. I guess everyone, be it human, elf, goblin, has a right to freedom. What d'yer say?"

Face shining brighter than the sun on a cloudless day, the elf nods repetetively. "Oh, yes sir, I'd love to become your apprentice!" Face falling, he asks, "Do I have to stay in the jail though?" "Naw, yer kin stay at my place. Now, if I get one bit of trouble outta the locals with you, your going straight back to the Yolingwood forest, y'hear?"

Gulping, Myst nods, wondering what sort of bargain he had made. At the same time, the old man's shadow nods, out of sync with the man's movements.

~*/*~

"No, no, it goes hocus, pocus, gabbledegook, gringy, fringy, diddlydoo."

The elf nervously tries to repeat the words.

"Hocus, pocus, grabbledegook, gingy, fingy, dildelydoo..."

All of a sudden, a giant, purple-spotted lemon appears out of thin air in front of Myst's redwood wand. Sitting down heavily, Myst kicks the giant lemon. "I'll never be able to do this! I can't even make a drop of water appear without the rest of a river appearing too..."

Sadly, the old man sits next to young Mystile. "Now, now, you'll get the hand o' this someday. Today's jest not the day. I thought today would be a good day to try conjuring a roasted chicken; the market's outta 'em, I checked this mornin'."

The man shakes his head slowly. "Ah well, you'll manage that someday. Remember, you can conjure up an ice cream sundae without the incantation and wand! Now that's something to be proud of."

A slight smile appears on the elf's face. Suddenly, a roasted chicken appears on top of the lemon. Looking up, Myst's mouth drops open. "Master, look, a roasted chicken! And I only thought about it, about how nice it'd be to have roast chicken for lunch, and there it is!"

The man opens up into a warm smile. "See? I told yer. Ye jest hafta put yer mind to it. Incantations and wands jest help yer focus yer own magic, but the real power comes inside, in your brain. Keeping that in mind, yer kin conjure anything up, s'long as yer mind's clear."

Smiling happily, the elf nods. Suddenly, a large, flying blue cow appears, zooming across the room. Quickly, the old man banishes it, then puffs out a sigh of relief. "Remember, don't keep yer mind too clear, or whate'er yer thinkin' about will be conjured." ~*/*~

Dodging a large fireball, Myst rolls to his feet.

"Master, he's too fast, I can't concentrate!"

Wheezing loudly, with a sword through his side, the old man hoarsely cries, "Don't ever give up, Mystile, you are like a son to me, and you will never let me down!"

Myst chances a quick glance at his master lying on the stone floor, coming closer to death with every breath. He quickly conjures a large shield to block any more fireballs, then runs over and sits next to his master. Everywhere, dying knights call for help, their wives, mothers, childhood girlfriends, anyone to comfort their passage from this world.

"Master, you can't die, I won't let you!" Tears well up in Myst's eyes as he looks into the fading blue eyes of his master. "You promised you would tell me your true name when I became a true conjurer. That moment hasn't passed yet, so you must live to tell me your name, so I may remember you forever!"

Gasping heavily, the man holds onto Myst's arms. "You ARE a true conjurer. You have always been one, and you will always be one." Laughing hoarsly, the man coughs. "You have the greatest destiney of any of my pupils. YOU must live to see the light after this battle. If you live, you will know my name. This is a test of courage: do you have the strength to carry on after your old master is gone?"

Sobbing quietly, the light of understanding flickers on in Myst's eyes: He won't see his master again after this day. Rage filling up, Myst stands up and surveys the scene: the wizard Rasynk and his undead minions slaughtering the Knights of the Scepter, women and children crying everywhere over their lost fathers, brothers, sons, even their own mothers, sisters, daughters; all are slain before the hand of the necromancer Rasynk. Finally, unable to control his rage Mystile of the Thrinj Wood clan fulfills his destiny with a mighty cry of anguish, standing next to his dead master's body, seeing to death, pain, and suffering of the world's people. As his body glows a deep orange, Myst chants words to an incantation he never learned, but always knew, as a bright fire slowly appears in the center of the town. The flame slowly expands, and it glows brighter and brighter as the flame gets larger, until it slowly shapes into the form of a bird, a rather large one, one that is gifted with eternal life.

"Fii'neks," Myst whispers in awe. "It's a phoenix..."

As the phoenix finally gains a stable shape, it swoops to Myst, who still stares in awe. The phoenix floats down to the dead conjurer, and the body's shadow is sucked into the essence of the flaming bird. The bird then cries a sharp, beautiful note, and it flares brighter. By then, all fighters, even Rasynk, pause to gaze in wonder at this phenomenon not seen in this world for eons. Then, head angling sharply, the bird folds its wings and shoots straight for Rasynk. Panicking, the necromancer sends flights of spirits and fireballs at the phoenix, to no avail. As it closes in on the evil sorcerer, the phoenix lets out a strong cry, heard throughout the world, as its razor sharp beak pierces Rasynk's body, into the place where the heart should be but is not, and through the back of the chest. Rasynk's body freezes, a large, gaping hole in his chest. Suddenly, his body explodes in a flare of white light, leaving nothing at all to denote his former prescence. The phoenix flies over to Myst's arm and sits quietly, while Myst stares in astonishment at the spot the magician was just earlier standing in. With a shriek of triumph, the phoenix lifts off - and dives straight into Myst's chest, but leaving no mark. This event occured so fast that Myst didn't even blink, but he feels the warmth of the phoenix's spirit still enclosed in his body. He tries to envision a phoenix like to one he just saw, and with the same majesty as before, a phoenix appears and sets itself on Myst's arm. At this sight, all of the enemy soldiers kneel and surrender, while undead minions crumble to dust from lack of a master. Feeling quite reassured, and much wiser than he thought he was, he walks over to the leaderless soldiers, banishing the phoenix with a quick thought, and speaks, though his voice does not feel his own:

"All of you soldiers who fought for the cause of Rasynk are now leaderless. You have nothing to gain from fighting the men of this town, only a painful, vengeful death. If you want to live, I advise you to drop your weapons and start running now. If I ever hear of any of you soldiers causing any more trouble in this world, I will personally find you and...make sure you don't make any more trouble. Understand?"

Not even waiting for Myst to finish his words, the soldiers all drop their weapons and race for the open fields, away from the wrathful conjurer, summoner of phoenixes, and savior of the city. Feeling very lightheaded, Myst suddenly falls to the ground, unconscious. In a dream, he sees his old master, as spry and sharp- tongued as ever.

"Well, well, m'boy, seems ye'ved passed the test. I am, well, not going to return to you in a human form again, though I will always live on inside you. Did you see my shadow join with the phoenix? My name is Jikleham; I am a god to beasts, though I was incarnated into the body of a human, to bring about a new conjurer whose name will be remembered throughout this world. You have saved this one, so you deserve a rest. You have mastered the arts of summoning, even the beautiful phoenix, as your future was foreseen. You will now go into a sort of sleep. While in this sleep, you will never die, nor lose your power. Your abilities will actually get keener, I'm sure, and you may have trouble controlling them for a while, but the new world you will find when you awaken will be in greater need of your strength. As I have foreseen, you will leave this world, now forgotten, and you will enter the realm of Shadowmere, a place of much evil and turmoil. You must try to end this evil. This is your destiny, I'm afraid, and as you have gained immortality, you have also gained a role in all the worlds to come, to protect them and keep the evil from spreading too far. I'm afraid you won't remember anything when you awaken for a while, but it will be fun experimenting with your new powers."

The old man smiled. "Just remember that the strength of a conjurer lies in his imagination, his ability to create wondrous tools and beings with a thought. Now, never forget your responsibility, for the day that Mystile of the Thrinj Wood clan denies his destiny is a sorrowful day for all."

With that, the wizened god waved his hand, and Mystile knew no more.

~*/*~

Trapped in an empty dimension for countless days and countless nights, a lone wood elf lies on a limestone cot. Breathing heavily, the elf tosses and turns, his face frowning, and finally, his eyes snap open, and he lay there, panting, as he tries to remember. Remember himself, his home, his heritage. And finally, he recalls his name...
...Mystile...

The Legacy Continues