Historically, fire templars have reigned supreme in their capacity for combining skill in physical combat and the destructive magics of fire. First appearing as the generals of the human and srryn armies in the War of Fire, various templar warlords of this element have appeared throughout history.
| Fire Templar Skills | Fire Templar Spells | Notes From the Legends |
Ordinary Spells |
Fire Sphere Spells |
Fire Templar Spells |
You awake within the chamber of fire. The hour is late, most of the tower's scholars having long since departed for the night, leaving the initiates, yourself included, to tend to the cleaning of the guild.
You are unsure why you awoke. You recall no sound, no touch. Nonetheless a certain.. energy.. hangs in the air.
With a sudden roar, smokeless flames shoot up about you, offering no burn, but uncomfortable warmth. You glance frantically about for egress from the flaming chamber, stopping suddenly at an ancient, rasping voice.
"Ah.. one who would.. learn.."
You whip your head about to view the source of this voice. A spectral figure walks through the flames, glides, rather. A nefortu by all appearences, a charred black tunic over translucent ashen skin. The only part of him appearing real are his eyes; glinting pools of midnight black. His wizened features are twisted into a creul, if bemused, smirk.
The figure speaks in a rasping hiss, "I.. am Kirasect.. initiate of the flames. Listen.. and perhaps you shall survive the night.." The spirit's voice loses itself in a dark cackle as it finishes the sentence. "You wish to know of the inferno.. initiate..? Heh.. then I shall teach.."
Kirasect advances upon you, invoking gutteral chants as he does so. With each completed incantation the aura of heat about him grows in intensity. He ceases inches from your face and hisses through an expession of intense seriousness, "You seek to control the powers of destruction.. initiate. The flames are indeed powerful.. if you are not careful.. however.. they will ..consume.. you."
Another dark cackle rises in his throat as he continues "Winning is a matter of.. happenstance. There are those who would have you believe you should fight with.. honor.. Those people.. initiate.. are fools."
"How should you fight then..? Heh.. When the foe least suspects. Patience is a ..useful tool. When you see a ..potential victim.. involved in his.. training.. leave his sight.. and prepare a nova.."
Kirasect chuckles, a malevolent gleam in his eye, as if remembering some most amusing joke. "If he.. survives.. the blast, a few well thrown bolts of fire should make short work of him."
"Other tactics may serve you as well. Walls of fire to injure.. if not finish.. fleeing foes. Fireballs and blazes to remove those whom would hide from your sight. Destroying the armors of your foe as you sear them to their body."
Kirasect speaks after a pause, "Heh.. and let us not forget the value of.. traps."
Drawing a wispy blade of black from his side, he tosses it to the floor before you, uttering a chant. The ghostly form motions for you to pick it up. As your hand closes around the handle, an explosion of flame erupts from the weapon, sending you back, clothing and hair singed.
Stooping to pick up the weapon, Kirasect speaks "Imagine.. if you would.. The result of someone picking up a pile of things so enchanted before they.. realized.. what they were.." Taken with the image in his mind, an dark laugh echoes from the spirit, sending a chill through your spine.
The laughter fades, yet Kirasect still wears a sinister grin, malice glinting his his doll-like eyes as he continues "The simple cantrip of faerie flame shall prove most.. useful.. in keeping rogues in your sight. And.. should you find yourself poisoned by a shadowblade.." A gutteral chant interrupts his speech as flames shoot through his form "..the flames can remove it.. ..for the slight price of pain."
The spectre pauses a moment, a distasteful look passing over his face. "There are those, however, who resist the flames.. templars of the waves.. They are best avoided when they are not.. weak. Should they catch you.. however.. recall a most useful manner of escape." A final chant erupts from his throat as his form suddenly grows diffuse, seeming to invert on itself before exploding-and disappearing-in a blast of fire. The force of the explosion throws you against the wall, and blackness decends, faint cackling echoing in your thoughts as you lose consiousness.
You awake in the morning to find the chamber seemingly untouched, with nary a scorch mark to be found within it. A dream..? You touch a hand to your singed hair and glance to your burnt clothing. No.. If not a dream.. then what? As you begin to pick yourself off the ground a faint whisper dances past your ear.
"..until later.."