Death's Icy Grip (Closed)

Rehtul held up a single hand as the young warrior opposite him brought his sword down in a wide arc. The blade impotently bounced off the wall of crystalline ice that sprung up between the two men. The mage shook his and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he dispelled the ice with the other.

"I told you already, coming at your opponent straight on when they have defenses like mine won’t do you any good," he said as he slipped his hands into his coat pockets.

"I don’t know any magic, though!" the wiry warrior said. He sheathed his blade and took a seat on the ground with an exasperated sigh.

"And yet you came to a mage to teach you," Rehtul said, as a wry smile played across his lips.

"I just asked for the best combat trainer at the Citadel. They said you have helped dozens of people get better at fighting in life or death situations."

"They did tell you that one of the first lessons I teach is not to take on someone who is too strong for you to handle, didn’t they?" Rehtul asked. "I only ask because I specialize in teaching mages or entire parties of adventurers. A lone swordsman hardly stands a chance against me without some kind of magical trick up his sleeve."

"So you’re not able to train me, then?" A defiant glint was perceptible for just a moment in the warrior’s eyes as he stood up and leveled his sword at the mage.

Rehtul raised an eyebrow and rolled up the sleeves of his long coat. He held out a hand and a spear made of pure ice appeared, floating in the air next to him.

"I never said that, but give up any hope of facing me if I’m taking you seriously. You’ll never get close enough to strike me with that sword. The best I can do is help you improve your form in melee confrontations."

"I... see."

__________

A few hours later, Rehtul found himself seated across from a young looking woman wearing a vibrant red dress. Her jet black hair reflected the lantern light of the ancient stonework inn the two were sharing a drink in.

"So, what's the job?" he asked. The woman across from him circled the gnarled wood of the table between them with a delicate finger without answering.

The mage sighed and took a shot of his whiskey. His eyes followed the woman's arm up to her neck before he looked her dead in the eye.

"What, no foreplay?" she asked playfully.

"You know full well that I'm absolute garbage at small talk, Rose."

"Yes, I do. It's what make it fun to tease you," she responded with a slight pout.

Rehtul rolled his eyes, but smiled as he said, "Never change. Now, about that job, I need the details before I decide whether or not I want to take it on personally or let someone else do it."

"You're not going to be headed very far, but here's the situation as best we've been able to figure it out." A piece of parchment was pulled from between the woman's breasts. She slid it across the table toward the mage.

"What you do with the information is up to you," she said simply.

Rehtul took a few seconds to read the paper and then held it over the candle in the middle of the table. It caught fire in mere seconds, after which Rehtul dropped it in an ashtray and watched it until it was little more than smoldering ash.

"At first this job had my curiosity, now it has my attention. I'll take it."

"Very well, Black. I expect we'll hear back from you within the week."

"It might take as long as two. This target's a bit... tricky."