3 The Meeting (1/2)
Mordred
Shiria
A servant had interrupted my study and spoke of a commotion at the tavern, so naturally, I had to investigate. I have so many problems to deal with, I think I'll get a drink while I'm there. I entered the tavern only to stare in horror at the scene before me. The people of the tavern were collapsed on the ground, screaming in fear and agony.
”Oh my God, who did this?” I twisted my ring and channeled my energy through it. I was instantly assaulted by an overwhelming force of evil, death, fear, and darkness. What powerful magic. The magical signature reminds me of something. Hmm. All signatures leave distinct impressions, but I don't recall this one. Shaking the feeling off, I sensed scattered remnants of a second magical signature.
Following that until the trail ended, I came across a man with golden hair standing in the middle of the street. Renewing my sight, I twisted my ring and inspected him closely. The man glowed brightly with a golden aura. He is a mage like me.
”You there, do you know what happened in the inn?” I asked, jerking my thumb towards the offending area.
”Já, you p-part of the town gu-ard?” His voice was surprisingly light and high-pitch, and he spoke in a slight Nordic lilt.
When he turned around, I heard the clink of chain mail. This guy is wearing armour? This could get bad. I am not a fighter. I twisted my ring nervously.
”No, I happen to be the lord of these lands, Mordred Leporum. And who might you be?”
I studied him a bit more. He had a longsword hanging at his hip and a bow casually slung over his shoulder. He was in full chain mail and his stance portrayed the years of experience he had, but his youthful appearance belied his power. His eyes were a sharp blue. A messy mop of curly blonde hair sat on his head. With an impressive height of 6 feet, he easily towered over me. His skin shined a pale gold. He'd be a formidable foe, if he wasn't drunk.
”The na-namessss Solskin, I'm kinda-a new in town.”
”Can you tell me what happened back there in the tavern.”
”Well, I-We, we got drunk, a tavern brawl started and some guy made some smoke and put everyone there on the floor.”
”How specific.” I drawled, ”And where would this man be?”
”I went after him, but I lost him. All I know is some kind of person wearing black followed him.”
Xavier
I hoped I lost the two tailing me. Damn. This is not how I wanted to spend my evening. I slumped to the ground in an alleyway and looked up at the pale moon. It was almost a new moon, and I could feel the throbbing in my arm. I need more time. I need to find Epoch. He is getting stronger each day that passes. I clutched my bandaged arm and stared at it, willing it to go away. I sighed at my wishful thinking and examined my clothing. Ten years of hiding in the forests really have done a number on them. They were torn at every place possible and were barely held together by a few stray threads. Might as well help it along. I tore off my army uniform, revealing the scratched surface of my leather armour. Time to get this old old thing repaired and some new clothes. I got up and began to trek back to the tavern to retrieve my things.
As I headed back, I saw two figures standing before me. I recognized one of them as the man from before, the one who wanted information. Now that I looked at him closely, it was clear that his face was youthful, but his cold blue eyes reflected his inner demons. He was ready for combat, his sword drawn. His stance left little openings for attack, but he tethered from side to side from the dwarven pint earlier. He was still obviously drunk. I then studied the man next to him. He wore a flowing purple robe that marked him as a noble of some sort. Past his robes, he was a twig of a man. His jet black hair was combed neatly and greased into place. His well-maintained visage suggested he spent hours in front of a mirror. He twisted a ring nervously on his finger that was topped with a ruby. It glowed faintly with magical energy. I am going to have to talk my way out of this one: Two on one with a mage isn't the best odds.
”He-ey, you from the tav-ern. Th-hose p-p-people are in agony 'ause of you. You're gonna pay for th-hat.” Still swaying, the man with the golden hair tensed and prepared to strike, but the noble stood in front if him, looking pensive.
”I would would prefer not to fight this one, Solskin.” He turned his gaze toward me. ”You there, what magic did you use? While I have seen a similar spell used before, never have I seen such a… painful variant.” He continued twisting his ring as a nervous tick. His face clearly expressed his discomfort in this conversation. He was obviously not a fighter, yet he had a certain sense of power to him. ”But first, allow me introduce myself. I am Lord Mordred Leporum of these lands,” he gestured with his hands around him.
”Name's Xavier,” I said abruptly. ”As for the tavern, I just broke up the fight. Why are you so hostile?”
”Th-hey 're still in pain, ya know. You shooould 'a been nicer,” grunted Solskin. His grip on his sword relaxed, but it was still drawn and ready. Some progress.
”I wasn't aware of that,” I attempted to reassure him, ”It was a new spell I learned recently from a friend.”
Mordred was still twisting the ring. He looked at me.
”That was certainly not a normal cast. Was it modified somehow by your friend?”