When it came to study of the arcane, that field tended to be occupied by elves, sylphs, and other races more attuned to magic. The odd human wizard or satyr druid certainly existed, but the stigma against them made attaining respect difficult, and without the natural aptitude that others possessed, their career was often an arduous, difficult one. And gods forbid that you be neither elf nor human, but instead a mutt of the two, as Valena was. The middle child in a wandering family of traders, entertainers, and chicken thieves, she was about as far-removed from her colleagues as one could be. Where they had spent their formative years studying their craft, her childhood and adolescence were spent on the road, with what little magic she knew either being discovered on her own or taught to her by her rogue of an elven father.  She had always had a elf's fascination with magic, but unfortunately, she lacked the natural talent.<br/><br/>She was nothing if not persistent, however, and over the years since striking out on her own, had studied relentlessly to hone her magic. Derision from her peers and a desire to prove herself drove the girl to take risks many others weren't willing to take, attempting spells that were often beyond her skill level. Sometimes, she surprised herself. More often than not, it blew up in her face--often literally. Nothing, it seemed, could discourage her from continuing to push herself, to prove her worth as a sorceress.<br/><br/>It was the drive to be better than any thought she could be that led her to the ruins that day, in search of a relic of the past. Supposedly, a great magewar had been fought here, although the details had been lost to time. All she knew was that something had been sealed away and hidden deep in the ruins--something that could potentially be bent to the will of whoever controlled its prison tome. She was playing with fire, she knew, tampering with something so old and dangerous, but that caution was pushed to the side. She would find this tome and the creature within it, and prove to the others of her coven that she was a true sorceress regardless of bloodline.<br/><br/>The caverns below the tower were treacherous, but she would not be dissuaded, and as she stepped through a tunnel into the main chamber, a floating ball of magelight illuminating her surroundings, Valena grinned as she felt a hum of magic in the air. Towards the middle of the cavern, surrounded by rubble, the ground rose upwards. Upon that mound were bleached bones half-buried in the dirt, and as she stepped carefully closer, she realized that there was something nestled within the ribcage. The half-elf knelt, brushing away a bit of dirt. In the pale light of her floating orb, she caught sight of rusted metal and stained leather. The whisper of magic seemed to increase as she reached for the book, gently extracting it from its tomb. Unlike the skeleton, it seemed to have weathered the passage of time rather well for something covered in dirt for a few centuries. The cover was embossed with symbols, a language that she recognized from her studies but was not overly fluent in. Intrigued, she settled down on a nearby rock and studied the cover. From what she could glean, the runes were a spell of containment, but they had begun to degrade with time--that would explain why she could practically feel the arcane energy seeping out from the book, like heat from a smelter. There was definitely something in there, something very old and very powerful, and for a moment, despite her triumph, she hesitated. Evoking whatever was contained in this tome was a risk, she was fully aware of that, but perhaps the risk wasn't worth it. Perhaps she really was biting off more than she could chew.<br/><br/>...At the very least, thumbing through the book wouldn't hurt. Without a spell of summoning, whatever was in there would stay in there for now. Carefully, she cracked it open, wrinkling her nose at the cloud of dust that detatched from the yellowed pages. More runes were inked onto them, and from what she could translate, they were a warning. The word "Zargga" was mentioned several times, as was the direness of his deeds. Releasing it, the page warned, would mean certain doom.<br/><br/>These cheery words didn't bolster her resolve much, but she knew better than to merely call something up and let it loose. Binding rituals were key when it came to evoking demons, monsters, and other potentially dangerous beings. So long as they were bound to follow their summoner's word, even the most destructive creature could be steered into using their power for good--whether or not<i>they</i>enjoyed it was another matter, but that hardly mattered.<br/><br/>She hummed to herself, tracing a finger across the page. With power like this, there was no limit to what she could accomplish.