[b]Icarias Leversol[/b]- [i]Something Wicked This Way Comes...[/i]

[color=f26522]"When it comes to harnessing magic,"[/color] Icarias said to the moderately sized lecture hall the White Hand had insisted he use that was about half full of his students, [color=f26522]"Restraint is everything. If you don't hone your ability to reign in and limit your spells, you'll never be able to control them. They won't go where you aim them, they'll strike friend and foe alike, and they'll create entirely unnecessary collateral damage that you'll be made to pay for. Trust me on that last one, I know."[/color]

A series of giggles resonated through the hall as most of the class chuckled at the joke. These were his "First Years," the ones who had newly come into the White Hand with some background in magic that were leaning to channel it into combat. Today's exercise was the creation and maintenance of orbs of elemental energy. A relatively simple and easy concept, but one that formed the core of many of the well-established spells in the world. 

[color=f26522]"Now, we've all proved able to conjure raw elements in our hands. What we do now is take it one step further,"[/color] he continued as he held out his hand and generated a small orb of frost just above his palm, [color=f26522]"The most important part is-"[/color]

A sudden pulse of magical energy from elsewhere in the fortress drew his attention and made him break off mid sentence. Several pulses of it, actually. One of the things Icarias had long discovered was his capacity to sense when magic of a certain degree was being used. He'd learned to ignore things like enchanter's spells and other cantrips, but what he was feeling now...

[color=39b54a]"Professor Leversol?"[/color] called a student, bringing his attention back to the orb, thankfully still intact.

[color=f26522]"The most important part is the containment. Conjure up your raw element, and then visualize a spherical cage around it, made of your will, preventing its escape. That's it, very good..."[/color] he said as the class followed his instructions slowly. All the while, the pulses of spells being fired grew "louder," as it were. Some of them he didn't quite recognize, but many of them belonged to his Third Years, the ones who were able to actually handle themselves in a fight. He was called away from such thoughts, however, by a few small bursting orbs.

[color=f26522]"Careful now! Don't fill your cage too quickly, or you'll be intimidated by the element and your containment will falter. Don't fear the elements- [i]master them.[/i]"[/color]

As the class dragged on, the pulses continued, but with each passing moment another one that he recognized was silenced. His worry began to overcome him. And then, a sudden pulse that dwarfed all the others came and sent dread racing down his spine. It was a dark, cold feeling, a chill entirely unlike Frost Magic. This was no natural spell being used, it did not spring from the life and soul of the caster. In fact, it was the opposite- it seemed to surge with the power of undeath itself. And it pulsed from the same direction as his students' magic had. For Icarias, who cared for his students like a second father, that tore it.

[color=f26522]"One moment, please. I've something I must attend to. While I'm away, please study your books in silence. I'll be right back."[/color]

With that, the Magus for Hire was racing through the keep as fast as he could, occasionally aiding his travel with a Blink cast. He'd only ever felt a pulse of that sort of dark workings in one place- the Plaguelands, where he'd once spent a month offering assistance to Light's Hope. If what he presumed was occurring was true...

By the time he reached the area where the fighting had occurred, his rune inscribed battle staff in hand, the sounds of combat and the pulses had all died out. He moved into the room behind the various chevaliers, and beheld one of the Hand's upper staff holding a Sin'Dorei woman at his mercy. And all around him was the stench of both death and undeath alike. And the corpses of several of his students. It made Icarias sick, but he somehow managed to hold his lunch in the confines of his stomach. When he spoke, it was with a level tone that belied the storm of emotions he was feeling, and preluded by the sound of his staff striking the stone with an abnormally loud [i]THUNK[/i].

[color=f26522]"And just what is the meaning of all this?"[/color]