Facing Demons

[Master Kilon]

Ettermire was certainly interesting, lots of strange and foreign people with strange architecture and outlandish technology. Garet was beginning to feel familiar with this feeling of displacement; he was in an entirely foreign world and hadn’t seen one gnome like himself since he got there, save his alter egos that existed in parallel dimensions that he could view through mirrors. Unfortunately his thoughts were being constantly interrupted by his argumentative hat that seemed to be far too concerned with not doing anything exciting although it claimed it was “survival”.

You can’t do this! You’re just going to get yourself and everyone who you convince to go with you killed. Although they might deserve it for going with you, that’s besides the point. You are being a selfish conceded bastard, you’re going to get ME killed and that’s a level three offense, ya know. “Levelthreeyousay? Wellthanluckymei’llbekilledtooandwon’thavetofa cedeathby…Wait, there’snowayyou’relevelthree. Stupidhat.” Thinking to himself to great satisfaction; Kilon one, hat zero, things were looking good for the traveling gnome. El’inssring was the next stop on his way to greatness, the beginning step in his plan for complete and total world domination.

El’inssring was a popular alehouse in Ettermire, renowned for its excellent entertainment that attracted crowds from far and wide as well as the ale that was known to be the best for hundreds of miles. As expected, it was filled to the brim with people, only half of which were drunk. It was time to set the stage. Rifling through his robes Garet managed to get all the ingredients he needed, only being bitten once which was quite the feat considering all the unknown and horrible things that he may have put in his pockets, arranging them in small rows and mentally checking off the things he meant to do.

By this time he had a good grip on measuring spaces between words so that lesser intellects could process the greatness that was gnome speech. “Ladies, Gentlemen, let me present to you a proposition, a chance at greatness, the opportunity to prove your mettle and face your fears, the chance to be part of something great. But for you to do this you must meet these conditions, you must strong of body and of mind, firm of constitution, and possess the essence of greatness. The select few of you brave enough to pass my tests will come into riches beyond their wildest dreams.” Pausing for dramatic effect, the spirited gnome gripped a pile of sand sitting in the first row and cast it into the air, chanting the ancient twisted spidery language of magic and bringing forth an illusion of terrifying proportions. “Begin!”

(open to whoever but they must be able to post everyday. I don’t care how many people join as along as they can post often and intend to finish, questions just PM me)

[Emblem]

Ettermire, it seemed as though there was no better place to be in all of Althanas. At least, that is what Oran told himself so that he could avoid going back. Going back to a dull little village after spending an extended time in the inventive and mysterious Alerar, specifically Ettermire, was a fate worse than death. The solitary drawback to knowledge was that it took away the ignorance, the bliss that allows men to live their small lives believing them to be important and significant in some way. It was torture for the time being but Oran was a Tellios, he was destined for greatness and he knew it. It was only a matter of time.

Taking the luxury of enjoying one last drink at El’inssring, it was time for the man of many hairs to take his leave. He didn’t really have choice as the tender was counting up his tab, which was the precise signal for Oran to skip town. Just as he was about to walk out the door something so strange, so spectacularly unusual, something that was less than half his height, walked right through the door and stopped Oran in his tracks. Not since he had been on the airship had he seen something so foreign.

A miniature figure robed in blue and carrying a black iron rod seemed to be eagerly setting up shop in the bar, he was pulling out supplies as though he was preparing to perform. I could skip the check later… The distractible mind all the Tellios’ possessed had been snared once more, not for the first time and by far not the last.

The rough tangled hair upon the handsome young man’s head erupted into a stark golden hue so that he could see everything the miniscule figure did in perfect clarity, take in every moment as he waited anxiously, fidgeting on his wooden barstool. The gnome started off gathering the attention of the establishment, his high pitched voice and slightly rushed speech doing it without effort, pronouncing its need for assistance in an epic expenditure promising lavish riches and periling danger.

“My god! It’s absurd…there’s no way I’m missing out on this.” To whom Oran was dictating, it was unknown. Now that he’d said it out loud there was no going back, Oran Tellios was a man of his word, once given there was no quitting. At least there wasn’t when it fitted his attitude and wanderlust.

To his amazement, and glee, the gnome conjured horrifying skeletons wielding vicious blood soaked weapons and charging the taverns patrons, seemingly from thin air. The gnome had announced it was an appraisal, something for Oran to pass with flying colors and make himself great, hopefully rich as well. Drawing his spear, black shooting from the roots to the tips, Oran flew forward and smote the phantom skeletons with his mighty weapon, at least that it how he imagined it. As the tip of his spear flew forward it simply fell through the illusions as they dissipated into the air that was congested with dust. Not willing to wait for others to see his prowess he proclaimed it boldly for them, “It is I, Oran Tellios, which has saved you from these abominations. Mighty mage, I am all that you need, may we proceed to you destination and lay claim to those riches that befit us.” It was long winded, boisterous, but it got him the attention he thrived on, it got his message out, people would remember him, maybe as a fool, but they would remember him nonetheless.

[Vorin]

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