Vancelmar, King of Spirits

In older times, the separation between the real and unreal was less sharp than it is today. Creatures of the upper aether commonly wandered our lowly earth, and students of the occult found the power to climb into the very heavens, therein to commune with unearthly creatures and powers.

One such student was the half-elven Vancelmar. He was born from a joining of the material and the ethereal, an encounter fleeting by nature. Vancelmar grew up longing to see his father, and hoping that he would one day visit Vancelmar's mother again. But he never did, and Vancelmar became increasingly convinced that he would need to gain the knowledge necessary to escape the earth's clutches and visit his father on his own accord.

Thus Vancelmar sought out a teacher, a hedge wizard of middling skill, studying with him for two years and abandoning him once he had learned everything the man had to teach. Again Vancelmar traveled in search of a suitable master, once nearly losing his life to bandits who numbered an occultist of their own. Spared by chance alone, Vancelmar emerged from the encounter sans most of his possessions, and came to the Lorn citadel of Kornan by the Waters barefoot and hungry. He was taken in by Jerel Thriceslain, widely considered the greatest wizard of the age, who trained Vancelmar in exchange for fealty and service. Vancelmar studied the arts under Jerel for three years more before he was deemed worthy to first climb into the upper aether.

Underneath the light of three full moons, Vancelmar conjured the Fivefold Stairway, and began the long ascent. He climbed for a time both interminable and fleeting; the nature of reality being worse-defined then, it is true both to say that he climbed for ninety and nine days, or that same sum of minutes. He neither tired nor hungered nor thirsted. Wonders and horrors presented themselves to him on all sides, just beyond reach from the stairway: lush gardens and abyssal chasms. Vancelmar's heart was set on his goal: to finally meet his father. And it was said that in the realms of the unreal, one's power was limited only by will and knowledge. By virtue of both, Vancelmar ended his climb exactly where he wished to arrive: at the gates of Sain-Kentailoth, realm of the aetherial elves.

Vancelmar wandered Sin-Kentailoth, finding it deserted, save for small pests defeated with ease. At length, he found a missive left on the grass, explaining that Vancelmar was the result of a casual dalliance. The elves (not excluding, the note noted, Vancelmar's father), being of a superior race, did not care to waste their time dealing with Vancelmar, and therefore did choose to show themselves to him. They would not have left this note, Vandelmar read on with increasing indignation, but the sight of him offended their stomachs somewhat.

Vancelmar was enraged by the elves' offhand spurning of Vancelmar's lifelong ambition. Deciding not to return to the earth below (where his master still expected Vancelmar's return), he set a new goal for himself: he would dominate the aether itself, gaining power until even the haughty elves declared him their master.

Setting out at once, Vancelmar began hunting down minor creatures of the aether, pressing them into his service. Those he could not co-opt, he destroyed, sucking their souls into himself and augmenting his already formidable talents thereby. The aetherial realms, in those days, were enmeshed in perpetual chaos, rendered disorganized by the ever-shifting aether; and thus Vancelmar was able to mount his campaign with scant resistance. Forcing his will upon the very aether, Vancelmar created a stable Kingdom for himself, which he ruled with an iron hand. He launched relentless campaigns, crushing the Numinate with a horde of were-goblins, annihilating the Realm of Twilight and thereby co-opting the Shadow Lords to his service, and (after two disastrous campaigns) placing even Sain-Kentailoth under his iron heel. Vancelmar's own father knelt to give him homage, surrounded by Vancelmar's honor guard of Shadow Lords and Elementals.

Vancelmar had achieved all he dreamed of and more; yet his ambition, fueled by his power-hungry lieutenants, knew no limits. Summoning a half-dozen swirling portals to the surface he had left (subjective) years ago, Vancelmar, King of Spirits, led his legions onto the vulnerable earth below on a campaign of total subjugation; the greatest army the world has ever seen, before or since.

The fate of Vancelmar, his followers, and his foes is a tale for another day.