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Thread: Drinking. Magic. All in a day's work. [Red & Maybe Magdan]

  1. #1

    EXP: 2,370, Level: 2
    Level completed: 13%, EXP required for next Level: 2,630
    Level completed: 13%,
    EXP required for next Level: 2,630


    Drinking. Magic. All in a day's work. [Red & Maybe Magdan]

    The clomp of boots on the cobbles. The gentle sigh of the wind whistling through the eaves of the stalls lining the street. The rattle of the “bone-cart,” full of its charred corpses. The dull shouting of people claiming that they saw the offending mage just around the corner. The scream of women as somebody puts up a wanted poster for some serial murderer.

    “I’m fairly sure most cities don’t have these issues.” Jacques muttered to himself as he fumbled with the lock on the door of The Bounding Tankard. The rusty iron mass clanged against the rivets in the door, making Jacques grit his teeth.I need to get one of those new keyed security spells. So much easier. He grunted as the key ground in the lock, and the contraption clicked open. He pushed open the door, tossing the lock in the bucket on the window sill. The familiar sound of the bucket sliding on the wood was nice, almost comforting. He breathed in deeply, smiling at the smell of charred wood that permeated the establishment.

    It’s funny, the world might be ending, and people still come to drink. Especially with a necromancer milling about, supposedly killing people and raising them as mindless servants.

    That wasn’t the case, of course.

    “You kill and raise one cat, and they’re after you like flies after sugar!” A voice muttered, followed by a string of expletives. Jacques chuckled at the the sight of the man. He couldn’t be more than 20, and was sitting at the counter, flipping through a heavy spellbook. The pages, from what Jacques could see, were covered in spidery text. The yellowed parchment and thick leather binding, coated in protective runes, seemed eerily similar to his own spellbook.

    “You can’t hide in my bar forever, Jeremy. Just turn yourself in! It’s not like they can do much for a first offense.” Jacques replied, rolling his eyes. He shrugged and dipped behind the bar, pulling up a bottle of spring water, pouring himself a glass.

    Jeremy glared back.

    Jacques sipped his water, looking at the man. No, he was no man, he was a boy. Barely a necromancer. The raising was shoddy at best. He glanced up at the clock.

    An hour till opening.

    A glint of light off a pair of beautifully designed glass bottles caught Jacques’ eye. The subtle geometric patterns, a faint silver inlay, the slightest hint of rosiness in the glass’ colour. John’s whisky. He smiled. It was about that time of month.
    Last edited by Itinerant; 10-08-2018 at 01:05 PM.
    "By the gods, fear it, Laurence..."
    -Master Willem

  2. #2

    EXP: 30,681, Level: 7
    Level completed: 47%, EXP required for next Level: 4,319
    Level completed: 47%,
    EXP required for next Level: 4,319

    Robert Bertrand
    John strolled down one of the main thoroughfares of Radasanth. The city was recovering quite well, considering that it was buried in several inches of ash a month ago. The dust on the street saw ashes again on occasion, a gift of the new land mass that had appeared in the east, topped with a volcano, of all things. John turned his gaze from that direction, and looked at the buildings at his sides. Most were shops, now mostly closed, the fading light pushed back slightly by a lamp in a window here and there, a seamstress or tailor finishing the work of the day. Despite all that had happened in Radasanth, the people of this city were quick to return to business as usual. Yes, there was dire need for hands to move ash and feet to carry the injured away from fires, but the return to normalcy had been nearly immediate. People needed clothes, streets needed to be swept, and horseshoes pounded into shape. He sighed, never remembering a time where he had so many orders for the damn things. Couldn't they walk just fine without them? And the nails he had been making, one after another they came. Orders for the most mundane things.

    Hence the stroll down the road.

    And at the end of it?


    The next half-mile to Jacques' bar were a blur as John picked up the pace a little. The tavern wasn't a large thing, but it had a pleasant mixture of qualities. Large and wealthy enough to have a nice selection, small enough to be out of the way. He did still have to duck through the door, though.

    He felt a little early, but he liked it that way. He stooped a little and entered the Bounding Tankard, immediately spying Jacques and Jeremy.

    "Jeremy," the half-giant said, spying the boy's book. "S'not a good idea, keeping that around, especially now. Besides, it's not a good idea in general."

    "White necromancers exist, you know," he replied quickly, looking up at John. He quickly returned to his study of the tome, and continued. "I can help people with what I know."

    "Well, it isn't my business, I suppose. I'm just here for the whiskey. Jacques?"

    John held out a small pouch, which clinked against the bartop.

    "And a bit of whatever you've got in terms of food for me and the boy."

  3. #3
    Junior Member

    Magdan's Avatar

    "Be vigilant, Curseborn. A new Calamity comes to claim Althanas. This world, for good or ill, will never be the same."

    Magdan was lost in thought, trudging down nearly deserted streets, breathing air lightly mixed with ash. By his last count, much of Radasanth -- of Corone -- had been evacuated in response to the news of this coming catastrophe. All that were left were those too stupid or too stubborn to leave. A quiet unease had rolled in like a low fog and enveloped them all. Magdan was given the distinct feeling that Radasanth was a city left holding its breath.

    "A new Calamity...," Magdan muttered to himself, echoing the dire prophecy the Revered Mother had given. The Land Betwixt had been born from the chaotic and destructive energies of the last Calamity millennia ago. If the destructive power of this new disaster proved to be even a fraction of that, it could damage the Ward, if not collapse it outright. If that happened, Althanas would be at the mercy of a plane unshackled by the natural laws that govern the world. Every land would be flooded with unfathomable horrors and monstrosities. Chaos would spread like a wildfire in a strong wind, and no amount of Curseborn magics could stop it.

    "I need a drink."

    After a few minutes of searching, Magdan found himself at a small establishment, not bothering to see what it was named. He stepped through the door and approached the bar. His first instinct was to order alcohol, but when he felt a tickle at the back of his throat and the dryness of his mouth, he thought of something better.

    "Clean water," he rasped from under his misshapen cowl and slid a coin across the bar.
    "In a world of such bitter cruelty and harsh truth, there can be no greater good…
    only lesser evils.”

    See you, Space Cowboy...

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