Beginning

[Ven]

There was fear gripping his throat, the night was cold and he barely could feel his fingers, which were probably a result of his encounter with those thugs. He was huddled in a tree trying to figure all the things that could go wrong at once. Between the branch falling, to thugs walking the path and finding him it was almost hard for him to get to sleep. His heart thudded in his chest, as his hands gripped the branches around him tightly. His weight shifted slightly backward as he adjusted his sitting position. Blood trickled against his lip, down to his grass stain shirt. The sleeves dangled far past his wrists, and he could already feel that tingling numbness, it was a wonder he was still alive. Bruises lined his cheeks, and arms; even though his arms were covered he could still feel them.

It had been a terrible day, and it only began to get worse. Clouds gathered in the evening sky, and the beautiful sunset was beginning fade away as the onslaught of clouds progressed forward slowly eclipsing the orange behemoth. Our terrified youngster had for seen the half empty glass slowly dwindle to an even emptier glass, as the rain began to slowly dot the landscape.

If he hadn’t struck out when they tried to take his food, this would have never happened. Exhaustion gripped his slender frame, his body shook once, twice, three times before he released his grip on the tree branches that barely kept him up in his perch. Samuel sighed lightly as the exhaustion form his paranoia soon washed over him, and he was lulled into sleep.

But that peaceful sleep wouldn’t last for to long.

Branches were bogged down with the water, which began to increase rapidly. The clouds poured their full cups out onto the world below, drenching it in their sorrow filled tears. Samuel was just another casualty, his weight became to much for the branch which broke, which also sent him cascading down through a series of other branches that re-ignited his bruises. Body completely battered it felt like as he hit the ground face first, only a piteous whimper escaped his lips as he dig his fingers into the mud that clung to his shirt, pants face, and hands.

He barely had the strength to stand, as his legs wobbled, and bobbled threatening to collapse under his weight. Rain poured down over his head causing his hair to flatten down into his face, eyes half opened as he trudged off down a muddy pathway in hopes to find a town, ally or kind heart.

[Atzar]

He couldn’t explain it.

It was something deep within him. Something in his heart, in his very soul, called him away from Tel’Han in search of the source of this sixth sense. No, he couldn’t explain it, but he responded anyway. Atzar was never a man to listen to logic in situations like these. A flash of sensation bolted through his mind again. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t defined enough to be that. Instead it was unease, an intense feeling of discomfort.

The mage doubled his pace, risking injury by running on the muddy, treacherous ground. From the hills above his current location, the ground had seemed completely level and smooth. It was a completely different story when he was traipsing directly through the rainy, mucky, weed-choked fields. The roots of the stubborn, hardy weeds grabbed at his feet, and the slick mud threatened to betray his footing at every step. To make things worse, the sun was almost completely gone now, seriously hampering his ability to see.

Atzar paused for a moment, brushing a few rain-sodden locks of long, black hair out of his eyes and readjusting one of the straps on his backpack. His ‘sixth sense,’ as he had begun to call it, could have picked a much better day to activate. It was rainy, muddy, dark, gloomy, and just generally miserable in the plains below the Comb Mountains. On any other such day, the mage would have much preferred to sit in his warm, cozy house with a book. But something told him that this was more important. Something told him that it was worth abandoning comfort to follow this feeling.

A moment later, it became apparent just what was causing this ‘feeling.’

In the increasing gloom, the wizard hardly saw the small boy before he was on top of him. It was then, however, that his feet finally erred. The mud slid underneath him, and in stead of dodging nimbly to the right of the boy, Atzar plowed right into him. On instinct, he grabbed the kid in a bear hug, intending to minimize the damage if they both fell. It proved to be unnecessary, however. A split-second later, he regained his balance. Looking down to offer his apologies for the clumsy move, the mage’s words caught in his throat. The boy was a mess. His face, arms, legs and body were all a mess of mud, blood and bruises.

“By all of the magic I possess,” Atzar exhaled, “what happened to you, boy?” Without bothering to wait for the answer, the mage swung the big sack off of his back, setting it on the relatively-clean grass at the side of the muddy path. His hands began digging through his belongings, searching for some cloths and bandages to get the kid cleaned up a little bit.

[Ven]

As was his luck, the rain began to pick up a bit and caused the ground to give here and there. The muddy terrain that along with his spiraling fit of precognitive paranoia didn’t make for a happy Samuel, or an any less fearless Samuel. Shoulders hunched forward, as his shirt weighed him down greatly while also making him increasingly top heavy. His wobbling steps picked up speed as he heard someone tromping behind him, and more than anything after today the last thing he wanted to hear were someone else’s hurried foot steps. His heart began to speed up, and from what he could see, there was nothing that could protect him from the coming danger or what he presumed was danger.

Even the field around him, he presumed was a trap, and he could only think of a select few people who would be in such a rush to catch up with him. With that in mind, he also took into account they weren’t the friendliest of folk. But instead of the continuation of the resounding foot steps there came the sound of a sloshing slip.

A head turn, a flash of lightning, blur of colors, and a spin. Weight toppled to fro and otherwise as Samuel struggled against his bear hugging captor. Ultimately he was released, and he realized that he was gravely mistaken. The person who gripped him was a scholarly looking mage who also looked just as confused and disheveled as the young traveler. Samuel heaved a sigh of relief to see it wasn’t a bandit who gripped him, but he still took a cautionary step backward then the words came that were a bit re-assuring.

“By all of the magic I possess,” the mage exhaled, “what happened to you, boy?”

And for the first time, Samuel relaxed but his explanation of what happened only made him tense again. He began talking as the mage started digging through his bag.

“I-I-I b-b--bumped into some bandits, a-and they needed someone to pick on, so they took what money I had for traveling, and roughed me up a bit. Even though I willingly gave the money to avoid confrontation, and I basically wet my pants in terror, but its no big deal…honest.”

The last part trailed on as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

[Atzar]

“Quiet,” Atzar responded softly to the boy’s words. “Sit down here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit.” The mage motioned to a spot in the grass next to his sack. It was far from dry, but at least it wasn’t muddy. Besides… what was a little more damp clothing compared to what this poor boy was already wearing?

Atzar wasn’t a healer. Far from it. It didn’t take a genius, however, to know that getting the kid cleaned up wouldn’t hurt. At the very least, it would make him look a little better. Finally finding what he needed in his bag, the mage straightened. In his hands was a large, fluffy, buff-colored towel. After holding it open for a moment to be dampened by the rain, Atzar began methodically wiping clean the boy’s exposed flesh.

What came away from the pale skin was a large amount of mud and rain, mixed with the occasional red tinge of blood when he got near a cut. Occasionally, the youngster let out a whimper when the mage pressed down too hard on one of his many bruises.

“Sorry,” Atzar said quietly, “but you’ll feel a bit better when you’re clean.”

When the wizard was finished, he looked critically at the boy. He did look a bit better, but there were still a number of bruises and cuts riddling his patient’s skin. Those, unfortunately, didn’t come off when wiped with a towel. It was then that Atzar made a quick decision.

“I can’t do much more for you,” the mage confessed. “Come with me, though. I’ll bring you to Tel’Han. There are people there who can get you cleaned up in an instant. It’s a couple hours away, but the sooner we go, the sooner we get there.” After packing his now-dirty towel back in his bag, Atzar stood up and offered the kid his hand.