As time passed, the elves living at its base started to exhibit side effects of these auras, starting to possess uncanny proficiency with the magical art. They still had to study them like anyone interested in them, but they were extremely adept at learning them... *much* faster than others in Faerun. However most enjoyed the comfort of their community and chose not to leave it. Ely on the other hand along with some of his generation had the inclination to explore the rest of the lands and journeyed out to find out more about their world and themselves.

He himself was young but had already showed extraordinary prowess and would likely become something special.. there was no question, and he himself knew it. But much like most youngsters, he never learned to bite his tongue and learn the values of integrity. Travelling to the neighbouring Elven lands, he quickly managed to rub many the wrong way by his quick and clinical magical methods, outshining and cleaning out the clocks of many other young magis in magical contests and feats. He gained the attention of many of questionable intentions as well as those who were simply very jealous.

Adventuring his way through the continent (and also solving many quests and problems that many more proficient than him couldn't), he also developed a sense of bravery from his abilities that also assisted him greatly. A true hero in the making.. but..

His story finally ended when he stumbled upon an aged hermit after a long days travel, and sat down with him in his cave for shelter. The man seemed kind and hospitable, but the truth was, he was anything but - previously a magi who had explored his arts, he had eventually become corrupted by the power itself and had been driven half-mad. The last thing he would have ever wanted would be to been shown up by some young upstart.

And that was exactly what happened.. watching the young magi twist and twirl his magical energies around him as if it was a silken thread, the aged hermit became enraged, and unleashed a cursed spell upon him that he had been conjuring for years in his cave.

It crushed Ely - robbed him of all his self worth, his bravery and his self confidence. Not being able to rob him of the prowess himself, the hermit robbed him of his own truth. And when Ely Starias left the next morning, he was scared of his own shadow, of the fact that he could not use any weapons to any significant prowess and most of all the fear that his magics might fail him at the worst time, resulting in his cold cold death.

Travelling back home, he seeked solace in his old school and his masters who discovered the fabrics behind the spell on the young sorcerer's mind and realised that while they theselves could not fix it, they knew of something that could. The Ffolk - people that worshipped the Earth-Mother were known to infuse the lands themselves with their powers in the Moonshae Islands. All Ely needed to do was to travel there and spend time within the radiating auras of the land where the powers of the Earth-Mother was greatest. Her natural magics would conteract the chaotic ones infused on him and would drive them away.

Before he left, his master told him:

'Ely Starias, this curse of yours will fall and once again those velvet strands of magic will spin around your fingers. Learn to control that power and to hide it, as well as be more wise about the lands around you. Fame lies ahead for you son, but whether it is as a corrupt war-magi or as one that was a saviour to many, only you can decide'.

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