[Tancred]

Amidst the chaos, wizards run hither and thither, casting spells and shrieking as the Sphere of Annihilation busily munches through the Netherese ranks. The party launch themselves wholeheartedly into the assault; there's no longer anything to lose.
Amidst it all, there's a paladin; but holy ideals and noble pretensions can all go hang now. As far as he can see it, these are the scum that killed his friend, and he's going to have his pound of flesh no matter who gets in his way. Swinging the defiantly non-magical blade in his hands with the finesse of a butcher, Tancred whirls and chops and carves like a madman; little caring if his blows have any effect. Screams are all around him, and the paladin can barely distinguish shapes as hot tears of rage blind him. He pushes forward, no longer caring about anything.
Suddenly, there is a flash of light; and a Netherese mage is before him, a glowing black blade held in his hands. Tancred strikes, but the blade meets resistance from a glowing wall of force surrounding the mage. The riposte is a cruel one, of a speed hardly believed, and misses the paladin's head by a whisker.
The mage is forced back, if only through the sheer ferocity he faces; but anger like that is impotent against an impenetrable force as magic. The mage stops using his sword, and begins chanting. Tancred furiously lashes out with blade and fist, striking nothing but a shield of energy, but he is powerless to prevent the mage completing his spell.
Bolts of energy lance forth from the mage's outstretched hands, slamming into the paladin's body. Tancred is knocked sprawling, the sword sent skittering across the stone floor.
The mage advances, sword raised to strike the final blow. A few of the party catch sight of what is happening - some cry out, others dash to help - but too late, too late. Tancred is stunned by the force of the spell, unable even to see the attack coming.
The sword comes down...

There is a TERRIFIC noise, and a blast of dark light that blinds everyone in the room. The mage fighting Tancred has barely time to look around before his body simply dissolves into ashes. He has barely time to scream.
The paladin sits up, shocked. He blinks furiously to clear the tears, to find the source of his salvation. Confusion rings through his mind. The collars, the collars make magic like that impossible. Only Wah, or the apprentice...
"You know, send a REAL Forgotten Realms mage against these Netherese rabble and they soon learn the real meaning of power."
Tancred looks around, his mouth gawping. That voice!
Standing before the battle is a man; tall and powerful, in his prime. A red, gilded robe covers his body, and powerful energies flicker around his hands. He rests against the wall, as the Netherese back away; a sly, knowing smirk is on his lips.
Tancred stares at the figure in a mixture of wonder and horror. "It... it can't be..."
The figure stretches out his hands, and flames begin to appear around him. Slowly, the fire coalesces, covering the body of the man but somehow focused, being channelled into something far greater than mere tawdry flame. The fires rush across the red robes of the man, funnelling between his hands as he brings them together. The intense heat and light give the man an almost demonic appearance.
"I've been waiting for this a LONG time... holy-boy."
The fireball is released, and Tancred rolls aside, the ball of flame rippling past him, bursting apart, singing the flesh of the Paladin's back. Tancred runs as he gets to his feet, Netherese and inn customers alike backing away from him as he runs towards something.
The sword.
He snatches it up. There may be little left in Tancred's mind that makes sense, but from childhood it was told to him everything will be alright as long as he had that sword.

Karnas doesn't even bother to laugh. His next spell is already flying through the air, even as the paladin darts to one side. The fools of this world tried to destroy him - and loosened his bonds. He would make them pay - but first, necessary business. The sword COULD be a prison once again, Karnas knows - but only if the bloodline of Foesmite survives...
Maybe there is regret.
Maybe.