It was long before he grew tired. His thoughts kept him from the pain pulsing through his body. His thoughts and emotions were far more painful to him than any physical torture he could have endured in his life. His youthful face showed the pain and distain for his current position, although no one was around to see it. Now though, five days into his trek his body had begun to give in as well. His feet and legs ached from walking the harsh trail to Midway. His shoulders and waist were wrought with the sores of bearing the weight of his armor for so long.
As an experienced Knight Errant of The Barthonian Empire he had worn his armor into battle and on many a long caravan but never for such a hike as he was undertaking this time. It was roughly 300 kilometers to Midway from T’Undris keep. The trek was through the Hadorian Foothills. At this time of year the scene was beautiful. The fall rains had brought vibrant and lush greens to the hills and a blue-green moss unique to the area had flourished on the sides of largest trees in the world and the large stones which the trees still managed to dwarf. Kevik had never been so focused in his life. The only part of the environment that got to him was reoccurring steep incline of hill after hill. It had begun to wear on his legs and feet. With every hill he climbed he grew weaker but yet somehow more determined.
Eventually the familiar sights began to show themselves. Those sites that let you know you are almost to your destination. They are landmarks that bring back the familiarity of a seldom visited place. For Kevik the first of them was the shell of an old country home he had seen many a time through the windows of the family carriage as a child. Back then he would imagine others living there before it was abandoned. He imagined children in the meadow chasing one another with the girls running their hands along the wild flowers as a soft breeze competed for the wild grass’ attention. The rickety carriage hit a bump and he was startled. His then younger face would search about then be brought back to his father’s speech. “Our keep is a loyal vassal of the King, Kevik. If the King calls on us we ride to his aide. We owe our status in the world to the power and prosperity of The Empire. We must never let our guard down or fail our glorious nation. Do you understand child? That is the way of the T’Undris family Kevik. Ever vigilant!” His father always spoke of business and gallantry, even if the trip was for pleasure. He learned to accept it. “Aye father… fight to the end.” He’d turn a solemn young face back to the window. He knew his father would lay down his life in a glorious show for the king and expect Kevik to do the same. It was an honorable notion but always plagued his thoughts as a youth.
He stopped for a moment gazing upon the overgrown remnants of the structure. Then he nodded suggesting to himself that this would make a great resting spot seeing that he hadn’t stopped for much more than water from his skin and to relieve himself the past five days. He even walked as he ate the remnants of his trail rations. The smell of the area was refreshing. The local pines and wild flowers gave off an enduring scent. He smiled. Moreover the remainder of the roof would suffice should any more rain douse the area.
He glared around cautiously out of paranoia then just shook his head acknowledging the tired setting in. He slumped onto a fallen stone inside the frame and put his head in his hands. His matted blonde hair spilt over his hands obscuring all vision. “Why?” he asked himself… his eyes watered. At this point he wasn’t sure if this was result of the situation of days past or of the utter exhaustion that coursed his frame. A bit of both would be more accurate. “I will kill this wizard.”
After a bit he couldn’t help but catch himself as he nodded almost falling asleep. He stood, not allowing it. The normally well groomed young man ran his hand over his face feeling his whiskers and shook his head yet again. “What shape I am in.”He said knowing full well the extent of his appearance. He unfurled his bedroll and began to take off his armor. The half-plate he bore in combat was cumbersome and he was relieved to be free of its weight. He wrapped his belt around his swords sheath and placed it beneath the head of his bedroll. He took a moment to examine the sores from his armor then he winced as he ran his hand over what area he could reach of his back. The lashes his father had given him though justly deserved were not in any way lightly bestowed. He shivered a moment from the pain then laid to rest. He laid on his side to avoid irritating the whip marks. He pondered the events of days past only a moment longer before he was asleep.
Only days prior his father’s Keep (T’Undris Keep) had been under siege while under Kevik’s command. As the impending attack began to look grim, Kevik rallied all able bodied persons in the keep to stand their ground in the courtyard. The attackers vanished; vanished all together they did, meaning only one thing. Wizardry had been at play. There was never an attack on the Keep, just a well played illusion. A well played illusion that brought all attention to it and left the Keep’s treasure hold open to the thief or group of thieves working for the wizard. Kevik’s father was displeased to say the least.
Kevik should have known better. A family’s life work was lost in that one afternoon. As Kevik stood on the platform in the courtyard he looked about the place he loved with a saddened tone. The old walls and roofing that had long been his home were now slipping away and he knew it. The lush valley and river bend T’Undris Keep watched over was his home. The people who stood attentive as his father read his decree aloud had helped in his upbringing and helped shape his childhood. From Edgar the old and portly smithy who had taught him everything about his armor and sword over to Lois the nanny who had watched him grow up and stayed on as kitchen help in his later years, these people were as much of a family to him as he’d ever known.
These images plagued his sleep but he tussled through them, clinching the bedroll for warmth as every breeze passed over him. After his father had publicly sentenced him he would bind Kevik to a post for his lashings. As Kevik faced north he could only think of one thing, vengeance. Kevik knew the only mages capable of such a thing and where he could find them. The city of Midway would be soon turned on its end in search of this wizard, even if it meant his own demise. His father reached back with the whip and released a hellish lizard like screech as he brought the whip forward.
“No.” he awakened. This wasn’t right. Kevik scrambled to his feet startled from the dream and realized where the screech really originated. By the light of the moon he saw an attacker. A short, sleek, scaly form rushed towards him in the night releasing yet another screech. He wasted not a second as he grabbed for his sword and took up a readied posture slipping slightly on the dewy grass. The figure bounded forth, its footpads making not the slightest sound as it propelled itself into a leaping attack from a nearby rock its fangs reflecting in the moonlight and its reptilian eyes bearing a frightening hatred. The skilled knight’s muscles tensed as he brought his sword forth to cut the being in half. Blood spewed every direction from the now identified Kobold corpse as it let forth a final gurgled screech and fell to the ground.
Breathing a bit heavily he looked around for any others. Knowing Kobolds didn’t travel alone he put his back to a moss covered section of wall immediately holding the sword in front of him. Without his armor on it would be far too much of a risk to take on a kobold band. He couldn’t see much even after his eyes adapted a bit and he squinted to make out what he could at the distant tree line. It was far smarter to stand his ground and let them ponder their fates than prod them into an attack by yelling for them to scurry away. He stood waiting, eyes darting about the moonlit meadow the soft winds now playing with his mind as they made the grass rustle. He heard them speaking their slurred tongue but didn’t understand a word of it. He smirked as he thought that these Kobolds might have had something to do with the home being abandoned. Soon he would be relieved as he heard the remaining Kobolds retreat into the wood.
He looked to the sky and judged the time. It was a while before dawn but if he left now he could reach Midway by nightfall. He gathered up his belongings and donned his armor. He thought only about the remaining trail ahead and where he could lengthen his stride to make up time. As he tucked away his bedroll and strapped it to the water skin’s strap he looked to the Kobold corpse. He smirked a moment then approached it. He kicked away an arm and inspected the small hide pouch draped across its chest. He pulled out the three silver coins. He stopped for a moment rubbing the dirt from the coins and could only think of the things these Kobolds could have done with these coins his family would have scoffed at. They needed these coins being outcasts of the empire.
He knew he could stay a week at a lesser Inn with just two silver so he dropped one back onto the corpse knowing the other Kobolds would put it to better use. He bowed his head saying a quick prayer for the slain and continued on. As dawn broke on the horizon he breathed deeply stopping a moment to take in his surroundings. The morning air was frigid but he felt alive. His justice was soon at hand and he paced on. His thoughts came to the mage responsible. He pictured the meeting. Wherever he would meet his foe he didn’t care. He pictured a dark alley, the wizard cowering after a foot chase. Kevik standing over him would be pointing his sword at him just before exacting his revenge. He enjoyed these thoughts.
A train of thought is a funny thing though. One minute you can be pondering the methods of exacting your revenge waving your clenched fists around as if holding your sword. Then you picture your foe hiding behind an old oak. Next you might imagine chasing him to that oak and he not being there. Then be brought abruptly back to reality after a mere turn or realizing the true capabilities of your foe. Kevik knew what kind of wizard this was. A Material Mage would be the only culprit in such a greed driven crime. Material Mages lived for monetary possessions. Shells traded by the Lizardfolk of the south, orc gold, stones traded by Dwarves and barbarians of the Frozen North, and especially the coin of the Barthonian Empire.
Coins alone are worth nothing, but the power given to them by the humanoids of the realm is immense. The greed of some surrounding the coin is just as powerful as the desperation of others just out of the coin’s reach. There is energy there. It is a force darker than some practices of necromancy. Material Mages have harnessed this black energy that flows through the fabric of our plane. They have bore power from the disillusionment of humanoid souls to coin’s true value. Kevik knew this and knew he could not underestimate this mage. It was that same power that just days prior had made an illusion of attack feel so real and terrifying.
Kevik trudged on. By dusk he saw the lights of Midway. He stopped atop the last ridge to take in the site before heading down to the valley the city nearly filled. The city had changed much since his last visit as a youth. It was massive, the largest in the world to date. It was a sprawling Metropolis that had grown past the most imposing of walls near the center that just years ago surrounded what was the entire city. The center was host to a large castle that sat on the river. The same river his keep sat on to be exact but further upstream. Certain towers of the castle levitated above the castle walls and battlements. Kevik clenched his teeth knowing the eldest of Material Mages lived in those towers. They were men who would without a doubt harbor criminals inside their city walls.
As he made his way into town he passed a few farms. They looked desperate. Every inch of land was put to use. Ill looking crops ran up to the side of the road which was made of the most spectacular but wearing stones. He knew the food supply struggled here because nearly half of the ships his father’s keep taxed were traders in route to Midway with food. He reached the outskirts of the city, the slums. These people were victims he thought. They were lured to the city by dreams of prosperity under the new rule of the Material Mages. It would result only in them becoming huddled masses whose desperation for a place in this society only fed into that dark energy stream the mages fed off of. The stench here was horrible.
Parts of the primitive sewage system drained into these streets. It was worse this time of year with the overflow from the rainfall. Most people (human and orc only is this part) reliant on the sparse rationing of fresh water in these parts had forgone bathing to ensure they didn’t die of thirst. Those killed for their food rations and others dead of disease laid in the overflowing carts of the undertaking service that had been neglected in the budget. Bodies in one of the carts were being sorted and filched through by dirty faced barefoot children. Kevik couldn’t help but notice and moved his hand to the hilt of his sword knowing thieves in these parts wouldn’t bat an eyelash if they saw measly coin purse no matter how young. After passing this portion of town he passed a small wooden barricade that stretched past his vision.
The guards looked him up and down then gave him a nod to proceed. This checkpoint was obviously meant to section off these people from the rest of the city. The atmosphere immediately changed. He knew where he was only by the description of others that had traveled by his keep. This was the Magician’s Quarter. It was magnificent. “Amazing…” the only word he could muster as he pause a moment before continuing on. Lanterns were draped from roof to roof across the street. Clothed children ran about chasing one another in the artificially lit night. If they dared chase one another into a shop the merchant would chase them out yelling about how he would report their mischief to their mothers. Creatures of all types were living in harmony. Beeps were dealing with orcs and humans with Lizardfolk, and their children were playing together without fear of the fables spoken at least in his land about one another’s kind.
There was an abundance of diversity and creatures Kevik had never seen. He’d only heard or read of them but here they were performing minor sleight of hand and prestidigitation for passersby hoping to turn some copper. Some were even shop owners and smithies; others were bakers with fresh baked bread on the window sill that let forth a torturously delicious smell at this point in Kevik’s journey. Women of every humanoid race sat on the edge of bar windows attempting to lure him in to the taverns they patronized. His father would have condemned such a place but Kevik saw more than just an oasis for heathens. He saw a harmony. A vibrant life in a city even… “Water?” Kevik asked himself. He walked to the side of the nicer cobblestone road and looked to a gutter. Water flowed down it. “It’s not rained in two days…” he quirked a brow. “Child!” He called out to a boy in passing who came over without question but immediately began inspecting Kevik’s armor. “What is this?” he asked the child.
The boy laughed. “It’s the drainage sir.” Stated the child in a tone suggesting Kevik should have known. “Here watch.” The child grabbed a nut shell from his pocket and placed it on the edge of the water in the gutter. The child stepped back with a smile and Kevik tilted his head in curiosity. Kevik grasped the concept of drainage now but wondered why the child had place the shell just out of the water. It wasn’t long before his curiosity was quelled. The water took shape. Bits of a wispy sky blue energy reached out of the water wet with the water itself and grabbed the shell pulling it into the current and away it went.
Kevik was in shock. His eyes were wide as he looked about noticing more feats of magic at work in the city. Table without legs, flames without any reaction to the passing breeze, more simple uses and most of these building were probably raised from the ground by the Material Mages themselves. He barely noticed as the child skipped away. Then he thought for a moment and realized where that shell would end up as he looked back down the bustling street to the barricade he had come through just moments ago. His face became stern again and he looked back to the castle. The flag of the Mages council flew above the castle.
It was a simple white flag with a wild flower growing out from under a rock with what else but a golden lace circle surrounding the image. Kevik smirked. This was symbolic to the Mages as they had just nine years ago overthrown the previous lords and denied homage to the king declaring themselves a city state. They saw themselves as the flower staying the oppressive weight of the rock (The Barthonian Empire). They chose a wild flower because they were free. They offered this freedom and way of life to all that would take refuge in their state. Kevik read the flag differently now. As he gazed at the flag he saw the shadow the flower was rooted in. He saw the shadow running up the side of the stem as a vein of evil masked by the flowering bud that poisoned the idea and any who would reach out for it.
Kevik knew he would be better to search in the day so he headed for a residential district and found a room. It was a meager establishment but it was all Kevik needed. He paid the old woman for the week and headed to his room. He bartered his bedroll and water skin to her in exchange for two hot meals a day and water during the week of his stay. He thanked her kindly knowing she’d only accepted because of the charm he’d worked on her. He kissed her hand, she blushed and he was on his way. The room was cold, but far warmer than the ground in that meadow. He shivered. All things in the decrepit room were wood and all things in this decrepit room creaked. The smell was of unwashed linens but he shrugged. He and his father had definitely stayed worse conditions during the campaign against the Dark Elves.
After relieving himself of his armor once again he plopped onto the bed arms and legs extended letting out a moan into the down pillow. “Ahh….” He closed his eyes acknowledging the pain in his back. After indulging in a bit of self pity he rolled over said a prayer and laid to rest. He gazed out of the smudged window to the moonlit silhouette of the castle. The next days would be important. He would surely right the wrongs against his family and restore his father’s trust. He closed his eyes, nodded and dozed off to sleep.
The next morning Kevik rose at dawn, promptly. He polished his armor drew a bucket of water to wash himself then later began to fasten his armor. He stood before the warped, smudged and distorted image that the aged mirror reflected of him. Today he fastened his armor tightly. He quoted his father. “You must strike for the neck. A wizard cannot speak his incantations without a windpipe.” He fastened his belt and grabbed the hilt of his sword adjusting it slightly. “You must rend his arms. He cannot complete his semantics without them.” He nodded to himself one last time in the mirror before heading out. Part of him was scared but most of him was energetic, pulsing with adrenaline and a new found vitality. He stepped out onto the street wiping the hastily eaten stew remnants from his now almost fully formed beard.
The day was uneventful at best. He started in the Magician’s Quarter again but to no avail. He asked an occasional apothecary or passing alchemist about any interesting street news, but no one seemed to know anything since he didn’t seem to have any coin. He began to just watch for people who spent freely or looked out of place. “What am I doing?” he shook his head realizing he had no real good plan. “I will be locked away for this vigilante nonsense.” He had walked half the city at this point anyways. He breathed deeply hung his head and shoulders then leaned his head back sighing. He figured he would go to the Financial Ward of the Nobles District and see if he recognized any of the merchants from passing at his father’s keep. A contact here would be beneficial.
He gained access easily knowing the customs for such parts too well. He stopped in at the first pub he saw and grabbed a seat thinking he would have a sit down as night fell. This place was a bit more run down for this part of town. The building was in good shape but the furniture was that mismatch that brawl-rich taverns were good for. The smell of stale ale emanated from the floors and the coughs, grumbles and yells of old smokers were most of the background noise. He tilted his head looking around at the assortment of characters that had made their way into this rather swanky part of town. He pondered whether these men were bounty hunters, assassins, or other types of associates one might need in the business world.
“No way.” Kevik said softly too himself thinking he might have a real shot at some information in a place like this. He paused abruptly though noticing a burly not-so-gentleman was making his way over. He tilted his head back to better capture the frame of the large man now standing at his table. The man was in thieves leather, a cudgel was hanging from his waist and a scar ran down his face that stretched from his bald head to his fat, scruffy right cheek. Kevik mockingly swallowed and made a gulp sound.
“You some fuckin’ comedy fella ain’t ya?” suggested the bigger fellow with a near toothless grin.
“Not in so many words friend.” Said Kevik in a sarcasm drenched jab. Kevik knew the laws, was ready to defend himself and had already slipped a hand to his sword casually making it appear as if he had simply sat back in his chair.
“What’s keepin’ me from smashin’ your fuckin’ face in right ‘ere.” Grumbled the larger man.
Kevik raised a brow to the man almost surprised he had escalated the situation so quickly. “I know what’s holding you back…” said Kevik with an apparently genuine smile. “…the distance your fat fuckin’ gut keeps your short fuckin’ arms from this side of the table.” Without a moment’s hesitation the large man had removed his cudgel and was swinging it full on for Kevik’s head. Kevik drawing his sword noticed something as the big man swayed to attempt his strike. A mage Kevik hadn’t accounted for upon entering the establishment looked back as he made an exit through the back. For a second he locked eyes with Kevik and a look of hesitation was apparent. He must have caught the mage unprepared.
This was it. Whack!! Kevik took a blow to the head that had luckily softened after glancing off of his armored shoulder. Kevik was sent sprawling onto the floor. He sprang to his feet drawing his sword and looked back as the man hurled the table clear across the room into the bar and proceeded after him. He looked to the back exit knowing he didn’t have much time. Patrons not wanting to be present when the guard arrived made a quick exit. Others with nothing to fear sat and watched a bit entertained but still cautious in case the two managed to make it their direction.
Kevik acted fast. As the man rushed him he kicked a chair towards his legs then rushed past him accepting one blow to his armor and spinning to run his sword deep along and through both of the man’s hamstrings. Blood spewed forth but nothing matched the roar of a scream the man let out in pain as he fell forward dropping his cudgel out of the inability to grasp it as the overwhelming pain shot through him. He tried to catch himself but fell flat on the floor. Kevik didn’t even look back to make sure he’d felled the man. He knew he had and darted to the back exit looking out and quickly spotting the mage running down the street.
The street butted up to the castle walls. The streets here were pristine cobblestone and the buildings were not uniformed as in other parts of the city but unique and decorative. The few people on the streets had a staunch way about them but were utterly frightened as these two passed. The light although artificial was amazing and colored to ever more flatter the no doubt costly estates and manors of this district. The mage looked old, but with Material Mages you never really knew. That power ages some, but keeps others vibrant. Kevik raced after him overcome with rage he pushed harder in an all out dash, his heavy armor clanging about reflecting along with his sword all the colors meant to flatter the houses. His long blonde hair blew in the wind and his gaze was determined. If the mage was unprepared for this meeting this might be his only chance.
The guard’s whistles were blowing all about. The mage regaining a bit of composure ran into one of the few alleys in the district. Kevik followed without any hesitation. Nothing… he looked about franticly the whistles coming closer. “No, no, no…” a panic was setting in, that same panic you feel when you have lost your keys or that copper piece your mother told you not to lose. He searched the area pacing back and forth, this way and that. This couldn’t happen; not now when he was so close. He turned a corner. “Gotcha.” Said Kevik to himself excitedly. There was an opening where the drainage poured into the old sewer system. He climbed in.
Staying quiet as he could he tried to calm his breathing from the frantic chase and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. As he crept along in the dank disgusting caverns the city called a sewer. He was nervous. He was on the Mages turf now. The smell of death was among the smells that emanated through the caverns along with everything else discarded and unwanted by those above. Kevik turned a corner. He stopped for a moment setting eyes on a small dry corridor with an old wooden door at the end. He approached cautiously. He tried not to make a sound but his armor was a bit too imposing for that.
As he reached out for the door it vanished and where it had been became wisps and swirls of energy that soon dissipated into nothingness. His face was wracked with terror. Not again. He quickly turned putting his back to the wall at the opposite end was the old man holding a gold coin between his thumb and index finger. “All of that for this?” he asked Kevik.
Kevik was terrified. This was not supposed to happen this way. This was no honorable death. He couldn’t die here among the rodents and excrement. His eyes darted about looking for an escape or any glimmer of hope. The mage laughed. He began to roll the coin back and forth between his fingers. “I am Ignis, Kevik. I admire sport so let me offer you this. I will let you go today but do not seek me out again unless you are truly prepared.”
“Wha..” before Kevik could even ask what that meant or how he knew his name the wizard had flipped the coin into the air. Everything slowed as a black fork of current surrounded the coin, in what seemed an instant it was as if time itself had frozen. The mage was unaffected. He lunged forth grabbing Kevik (who had barely even widened his eyes at this point) by the scruff of the neck and slamming him in the wall. The force of the mage was so powerful bits of the wall exploded away as Kevik slammed into it. Knocked out by the forceful slam of the wizard Kevik fell flat.
He awoke to the poke of a child. “I fink we gots anova’ det one…” declared the child in a god awful form of the common tongue.
Kevik didn’t bother acknowledging the child’s suggestion as he stood brushing off the sewage as he rose to his feet. That bastard wizard has sent him for a ride on **** creek. He gazed over in the day lit slums fully aware of what a dump they were now. He shook his head.
“’Ey mista is ya gonna pay us fa’ savin’ ya life?” asked one of the children. Kevik looked back to the children and chuckled. He eyeballed himself upset but thankful to be alive.
“Do I look like I have money?” He patted his belt line as a gesture of good faith. He heard a jingling of coin. His face went stern again and he quickly looked down noting he had a new belt pouch. He opened it to find roughly 100 platinum coins (10,000 silver equivalents). His eyes widened as did the children’s. He gazed back to the castle for a moment then looked back to the children. “You kids got a home, jobs?” A couple of them shrugged, others shook their heads and the others among them tilted their heads in disbelief of the question. “Well I’m offerin’. Let’s get you some shoes… we’ve got work to do. Your new home’s got a hell of a Kobold problem.”
As an experienced Knight Errant of The Barthonian Empire he had worn his armor into battle and on many a long caravan but never for such a hike as he was undertaking this time. It was roughly 300 kilometers to Midway from T’Undris keep. The trek was through the Hadorian Foothills. At this time of year the scene was beautiful. The fall rains had brought vibrant and lush greens to the hills and a blue-green moss unique to the area had flourished on the sides of largest trees in the world and the large stones which the trees still managed to dwarf. Kevik had never been so focused in his life. The only part of the environment that got to him was reoccurring steep incline of hill after hill. It had begun to wear on his legs and feet. With every hill he climbed he grew weaker but yet somehow more determined.
Eventually the familiar sights began to show themselves. Those sites that let you know you are almost to your destination. They are landmarks that bring back the familiarity of a seldom visited place. For Kevik the first of them was the shell of an old country home he had seen many a time through the windows of the family carriage as a child. Back then he would imagine others living there before it was abandoned. He imagined children in the meadow chasing one another with the girls running their hands along the wild flowers as a soft breeze competed for the wild grass’ attention. The rickety carriage hit a bump and he was startled. His then younger face would search about then be brought back to his father’s speech. “Our keep is a loyal vassal of the King, Kevik. If the King calls on us we ride to his aide. We owe our status in the world to the power and prosperity of The Empire. We must never let our guard down or fail our glorious nation. Do you understand child? That is the way of the T’Undris family Kevik. Ever vigilant!” His father always spoke of business and gallantry, even if the trip was for pleasure. He learned to accept it. “Aye father… fight to the end.” He’d turn a solemn young face back to the window. He knew his father would lay down his life in a glorious show for the king and expect Kevik to do the same. It was an honorable notion but always plagued his thoughts as a youth.
He stopped for a moment gazing upon the overgrown remnants of the structure. Then he nodded suggesting to himself that this would make a great resting spot seeing that he hadn’t stopped for much more than water from his skin and to relieve himself the past five days. He even walked as he ate the remnants of his trail rations. The smell of the area was refreshing. The local pines and wild flowers gave off an enduring scent. He smiled. Moreover the remainder of the roof would suffice should any more rain douse the area.
He glared around cautiously out of paranoia then just shook his head acknowledging the tired setting in. He slumped onto a fallen stone inside the frame and put his head in his hands. His matted blonde hair spilt over his hands obscuring all vision. “Why?” he asked himself… his eyes watered. At this point he wasn’t sure if this was result of the situation of days past or of the utter exhaustion that coursed his frame. A bit of both would be more accurate. “I will kill this wizard.”
After a bit he couldn’t help but catch himself as he nodded almost falling asleep. He stood, not allowing it. The normally well groomed young man ran his hand over his face feeling his whiskers and shook his head yet again. “What shape I am in.”He said knowing full well the extent of his appearance. He unfurled his bedroll and began to take off his armor. The half-plate he bore in combat was cumbersome and he was relieved to be free of its weight. He wrapped his belt around his swords sheath and placed it beneath the head of his bedroll. He took a moment to examine the sores from his armor then he winced as he ran his hand over what area he could reach of his back. The lashes his father had given him though justly deserved were not in any way lightly bestowed. He shivered a moment from the pain then laid to rest. He laid on his side to avoid irritating the whip marks. He pondered the events of days past only a moment longer before he was asleep.
Only days prior his father’s Keep (T’Undris Keep) had been under siege while under Kevik’s command. As the impending attack began to look grim, Kevik rallied all able bodied persons in the keep to stand their ground in the courtyard. The attackers vanished; vanished all together they did, meaning only one thing. Wizardry had been at play. There was never an attack on the Keep, just a well played illusion. A well played illusion that brought all attention to it and left the Keep’s treasure hold open to the thief or group of thieves working for the wizard. Kevik’s father was displeased to say the least.
Kevik should have known better. A family’s life work was lost in that one afternoon. As Kevik stood on the platform in the courtyard he looked about the place he loved with a saddened tone. The old walls and roofing that had long been his home were now slipping away and he knew it. The lush valley and river bend T’Undris Keep watched over was his home. The people who stood attentive as his father read his decree aloud had helped in his upbringing and helped shape his childhood. From Edgar the old and portly smithy who had taught him everything about his armor and sword over to Lois the nanny who had watched him grow up and stayed on as kitchen help in his later years, these people were as much of a family to him as he’d ever known.
These images plagued his sleep but he tussled through them, clinching the bedroll for warmth as every breeze passed over him. After his father had publicly sentenced him he would bind Kevik to a post for his lashings. As Kevik faced north he could only think of one thing, vengeance. Kevik knew the only mages capable of such a thing and where he could find them. The city of Midway would be soon turned on its end in search of this wizard, even if it meant his own demise. His father reached back with the whip and released a hellish lizard like screech as he brought the whip forward.
“No.” he awakened. This wasn’t right. Kevik scrambled to his feet startled from the dream and realized where the screech really originated. By the light of the moon he saw an attacker. A short, sleek, scaly form rushed towards him in the night releasing yet another screech. He wasted not a second as he grabbed for his sword and took up a readied posture slipping slightly on the dewy grass. The figure bounded forth, its footpads making not the slightest sound as it propelled itself into a leaping attack from a nearby rock its fangs reflecting in the moonlight and its reptilian eyes bearing a frightening hatred. The skilled knight’s muscles tensed as he brought his sword forth to cut the being in half. Blood spewed every direction from the now identified Kobold corpse as it let forth a final gurgled screech and fell to the ground.
Breathing a bit heavily he looked around for any others. Knowing Kobolds didn’t travel alone he put his back to a moss covered section of wall immediately holding the sword in front of him. Without his armor on it would be far too much of a risk to take on a kobold band. He couldn’t see much even after his eyes adapted a bit and he squinted to make out what he could at the distant tree line. It was far smarter to stand his ground and let them ponder their fates than prod them into an attack by yelling for them to scurry away. He stood waiting, eyes darting about the moonlit meadow the soft winds now playing with his mind as they made the grass rustle. He heard them speaking their slurred tongue but didn’t understand a word of it. He smirked as he thought that these Kobolds might have had something to do with the home being abandoned. Soon he would be relieved as he heard the remaining Kobolds retreat into the wood.
He looked to the sky and judged the time. It was a while before dawn but if he left now he could reach Midway by nightfall. He gathered up his belongings and donned his armor. He thought only about the remaining trail ahead and where he could lengthen his stride to make up time. As he tucked away his bedroll and strapped it to the water skin’s strap he looked to the Kobold corpse. He smirked a moment then approached it. He kicked away an arm and inspected the small hide pouch draped across its chest. He pulled out the three silver coins. He stopped for a moment rubbing the dirt from the coins and could only think of the things these Kobolds could have done with these coins his family would have scoffed at. They needed these coins being outcasts of the empire.
He knew he could stay a week at a lesser Inn with just two silver so he dropped one back onto the corpse knowing the other Kobolds would put it to better use. He bowed his head saying a quick prayer for the slain and continued on. As dawn broke on the horizon he breathed deeply stopping a moment to take in his surroundings. The morning air was frigid but he felt alive. His justice was soon at hand and he paced on. His thoughts came to the mage responsible. He pictured the meeting. Wherever he would meet his foe he didn’t care. He pictured a dark alley, the wizard cowering after a foot chase. Kevik standing over him would be pointing his sword at him just before exacting his revenge. He enjoyed these thoughts.
A train of thought is a funny thing though. One minute you can be pondering the methods of exacting your revenge waving your clenched fists around as if holding your sword. Then you picture your foe hiding behind an old oak. Next you might imagine chasing him to that oak and he not being there. Then be brought abruptly back to reality after a mere turn or realizing the true capabilities of your foe. Kevik knew what kind of wizard this was. A Material Mage would be the only culprit in such a greed driven crime. Material Mages lived for monetary possessions. Shells traded by the Lizardfolk of the south, orc gold, stones traded by Dwarves and barbarians of the Frozen North, and especially the coin of the Barthonian Empire.
Coins alone are worth nothing, but the power given to them by the humanoids of the realm is immense. The greed of some surrounding the coin is just as powerful as the desperation of others just out of the coin’s reach. There is energy there. It is a force darker than some practices of necromancy. Material Mages have harnessed this black energy that flows through the fabric of our plane. They have bore power from the disillusionment of humanoid souls to coin’s true value. Kevik knew this and knew he could not underestimate this mage. It was that same power that just days prior had made an illusion of attack feel so real and terrifying.
Kevik trudged on. By dusk he saw the lights of Midway. He stopped atop the last ridge to take in the site before heading down to the valley the city nearly filled. The city had changed much since his last visit as a youth. It was massive, the largest in the world to date. It was a sprawling Metropolis that had grown past the most imposing of walls near the center that just years ago surrounded what was the entire city. The center was host to a large castle that sat on the river. The same river his keep sat on to be exact but further upstream. Certain towers of the castle levitated above the castle walls and battlements. Kevik clenched his teeth knowing the eldest of Material Mages lived in those towers. They were men who would without a doubt harbor criminals inside their city walls.
As he made his way into town he passed a few farms. They looked desperate. Every inch of land was put to use. Ill looking crops ran up to the side of the road which was made of the most spectacular but wearing stones. He knew the food supply struggled here because nearly half of the ships his father’s keep taxed were traders in route to Midway with food. He reached the outskirts of the city, the slums. These people were victims he thought. They were lured to the city by dreams of prosperity under the new rule of the Material Mages. It would result only in them becoming huddled masses whose desperation for a place in this society only fed into that dark energy stream the mages fed off of. The stench here was horrible.
Parts of the primitive sewage system drained into these streets. It was worse this time of year with the overflow from the rainfall. Most people (human and orc only is this part) reliant on the sparse rationing of fresh water in these parts had forgone bathing to ensure they didn’t die of thirst. Those killed for their food rations and others dead of disease laid in the overflowing carts of the undertaking service that had been neglected in the budget. Bodies in one of the carts were being sorted and filched through by dirty faced barefoot children. Kevik couldn’t help but notice and moved his hand to the hilt of his sword knowing thieves in these parts wouldn’t bat an eyelash if they saw measly coin purse no matter how young. After passing this portion of town he passed a small wooden barricade that stretched past his vision.
The guards looked him up and down then gave him a nod to proceed. This checkpoint was obviously meant to section off these people from the rest of the city. The atmosphere immediately changed. He knew where he was only by the description of others that had traveled by his keep. This was the Magician’s Quarter. It was magnificent. “Amazing…” the only word he could muster as he pause a moment before continuing on. Lanterns were draped from roof to roof across the street. Clothed children ran about chasing one another in the artificially lit night. If they dared chase one another into a shop the merchant would chase them out yelling about how he would report their mischief to their mothers. Creatures of all types were living in harmony. Beeps were dealing with orcs and humans with Lizardfolk, and their children were playing together without fear of the fables spoken at least in his land about one another’s kind.
There was an abundance of diversity and creatures Kevik had never seen. He’d only heard or read of them but here they were performing minor sleight of hand and prestidigitation for passersby hoping to turn some copper. Some were even shop owners and smithies; others were bakers with fresh baked bread on the window sill that let forth a torturously delicious smell at this point in Kevik’s journey. Women of every humanoid race sat on the edge of bar windows attempting to lure him in to the taverns they patronized. His father would have condemned such a place but Kevik saw more than just an oasis for heathens. He saw a harmony. A vibrant life in a city even… “Water?” Kevik asked himself. He walked to the side of the nicer cobblestone road and looked to a gutter. Water flowed down it. “It’s not rained in two days…” he quirked a brow. “Child!” He called out to a boy in passing who came over without question but immediately began inspecting Kevik’s armor. “What is this?” he asked the child.
The boy laughed. “It’s the drainage sir.” Stated the child in a tone suggesting Kevik should have known. “Here watch.” The child grabbed a nut shell from his pocket and placed it on the edge of the water in the gutter. The child stepped back with a smile and Kevik tilted his head in curiosity. Kevik grasped the concept of drainage now but wondered why the child had place the shell just out of the water. It wasn’t long before his curiosity was quelled. The water took shape. Bits of a wispy sky blue energy reached out of the water wet with the water itself and grabbed the shell pulling it into the current and away it went.
Kevik was in shock. His eyes were wide as he looked about noticing more feats of magic at work in the city. Table without legs, flames without any reaction to the passing breeze, more simple uses and most of these building were probably raised from the ground by the Material Mages themselves. He barely noticed as the child skipped away. Then he thought for a moment and realized where that shell would end up as he looked back down the bustling street to the barricade he had come through just moments ago. His face became stern again and he looked back to the castle. The flag of the Mages council flew above the castle.
It was a simple white flag with a wild flower growing out from under a rock with what else but a golden lace circle surrounding the image. Kevik smirked. This was symbolic to the Mages as they had just nine years ago overthrown the previous lords and denied homage to the king declaring themselves a city state. They saw themselves as the flower staying the oppressive weight of the rock (The Barthonian Empire). They chose a wild flower because they were free. They offered this freedom and way of life to all that would take refuge in their state. Kevik read the flag differently now. As he gazed at the flag he saw the shadow the flower was rooted in. He saw the shadow running up the side of the stem as a vein of evil masked by the flowering bud that poisoned the idea and any who would reach out for it.
Kevik knew he would be better to search in the day so he headed for a residential district and found a room. It was a meager establishment but it was all Kevik needed. He paid the old woman for the week and headed to his room. He bartered his bedroll and water skin to her in exchange for two hot meals a day and water during the week of his stay. He thanked her kindly knowing she’d only accepted because of the charm he’d worked on her. He kissed her hand, she blushed and he was on his way. The room was cold, but far warmer than the ground in that meadow. He shivered. All things in the decrepit room were wood and all things in this decrepit room creaked. The smell was of unwashed linens but he shrugged. He and his father had definitely stayed worse conditions during the campaign against the Dark Elves.
After relieving himself of his armor once again he plopped onto the bed arms and legs extended letting out a moan into the down pillow. “Ahh….” He closed his eyes acknowledging the pain in his back. After indulging in a bit of self pity he rolled over said a prayer and laid to rest. He gazed out of the smudged window to the moonlit silhouette of the castle. The next days would be important. He would surely right the wrongs against his family and restore his father’s trust. He closed his eyes, nodded and dozed off to sleep.
The next morning Kevik rose at dawn, promptly. He polished his armor drew a bucket of water to wash himself then later began to fasten his armor. He stood before the warped, smudged and distorted image that the aged mirror reflected of him. Today he fastened his armor tightly. He quoted his father. “You must strike for the neck. A wizard cannot speak his incantations without a windpipe.” He fastened his belt and grabbed the hilt of his sword adjusting it slightly. “You must rend his arms. He cannot complete his semantics without them.” He nodded to himself one last time in the mirror before heading out. Part of him was scared but most of him was energetic, pulsing with adrenaline and a new found vitality. He stepped out onto the street wiping the hastily eaten stew remnants from his now almost fully formed beard.
The day was uneventful at best. He started in the Magician’s Quarter again but to no avail. He asked an occasional apothecary or passing alchemist about any interesting street news, but no one seemed to know anything since he didn’t seem to have any coin. He began to just watch for people who spent freely or looked out of place. “What am I doing?” he shook his head realizing he had no real good plan. “I will be locked away for this vigilante nonsense.” He had walked half the city at this point anyways. He breathed deeply hung his head and shoulders then leaned his head back sighing. He figured he would go to the Financial Ward of the Nobles District and see if he recognized any of the merchants from passing at his father’s keep. A contact here would be beneficial.
He gained access easily knowing the customs for such parts too well. He stopped in at the first pub he saw and grabbed a seat thinking he would have a sit down as night fell. This place was a bit more run down for this part of town. The building was in good shape but the furniture was that mismatch that brawl-rich taverns were good for. The smell of stale ale emanated from the floors and the coughs, grumbles and yells of old smokers were most of the background noise. He tilted his head looking around at the assortment of characters that had made their way into this rather swanky part of town. He pondered whether these men were bounty hunters, assassins, or other types of associates one might need in the business world.
“No way.” Kevik said softly too himself thinking he might have a real shot at some information in a place like this. He paused abruptly though noticing a burly not-so-gentleman was making his way over. He tilted his head back to better capture the frame of the large man now standing at his table. The man was in thieves leather, a cudgel was hanging from his waist and a scar ran down his face that stretched from his bald head to his fat, scruffy right cheek. Kevik mockingly swallowed and made a gulp sound.
“You some fuckin’ comedy fella ain’t ya?” suggested the bigger fellow with a near toothless grin.
“Not in so many words friend.” Said Kevik in a sarcasm drenched jab. Kevik knew the laws, was ready to defend himself and had already slipped a hand to his sword casually making it appear as if he had simply sat back in his chair.
“What’s keepin’ me from smashin’ your fuckin’ face in right ‘ere.” Grumbled the larger man.
Kevik raised a brow to the man almost surprised he had escalated the situation so quickly. “I know what’s holding you back…” said Kevik with an apparently genuine smile. “…the distance your fat fuckin’ gut keeps your short fuckin’ arms from this side of the table.” Without a moment’s hesitation the large man had removed his cudgel and was swinging it full on for Kevik’s head. Kevik drawing his sword noticed something as the big man swayed to attempt his strike. A mage Kevik hadn’t accounted for upon entering the establishment looked back as he made an exit through the back. For a second he locked eyes with Kevik and a look of hesitation was apparent. He must have caught the mage unprepared.
This was it. Whack!! Kevik took a blow to the head that had luckily softened after glancing off of his armored shoulder. Kevik was sent sprawling onto the floor. He sprang to his feet drawing his sword and looked back as the man hurled the table clear across the room into the bar and proceeded after him. He looked to the back exit knowing he didn’t have much time. Patrons not wanting to be present when the guard arrived made a quick exit. Others with nothing to fear sat and watched a bit entertained but still cautious in case the two managed to make it their direction.
Kevik acted fast. As the man rushed him he kicked a chair towards his legs then rushed past him accepting one blow to his armor and spinning to run his sword deep along and through both of the man’s hamstrings. Blood spewed forth but nothing matched the roar of a scream the man let out in pain as he fell forward dropping his cudgel out of the inability to grasp it as the overwhelming pain shot through him. He tried to catch himself but fell flat on the floor. Kevik didn’t even look back to make sure he’d felled the man. He knew he had and darted to the back exit looking out and quickly spotting the mage running down the street.
The street butted up to the castle walls. The streets here were pristine cobblestone and the buildings were not uniformed as in other parts of the city but unique and decorative. The few people on the streets had a staunch way about them but were utterly frightened as these two passed. The light although artificial was amazing and colored to ever more flatter the no doubt costly estates and manors of this district. The mage looked old, but with Material Mages you never really knew. That power ages some, but keeps others vibrant. Kevik raced after him overcome with rage he pushed harder in an all out dash, his heavy armor clanging about reflecting along with his sword all the colors meant to flatter the houses. His long blonde hair blew in the wind and his gaze was determined. If the mage was unprepared for this meeting this might be his only chance.
The guard’s whistles were blowing all about. The mage regaining a bit of composure ran into one of the few alleys in the district. Kevik followed without any hesitation. Nothing… he looked about franticly the whistles coming closer. “No, no, no…” a panic was setting in, that same panic you feel when you have lost your keys or that copper piece your mother told you not to lose. He searched the area pacing back and forth, this way and that. This couldn’t happen; not now when he was so close. He turned a corner. “Gotcha.” Said Kevik to himself excitedly. There was an opening where the drainage poured into the old sewer system. He climbed in.
Staying quiet as he could he tried to calm his breathing from the frantic chase and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. As he crept along in the dank disgusting caverns the city called a sewer. He was nervous. He was on the Mages turf now. The smell of death was among the smells that emanated through the caverns along with everything else discarded and unwanted by those above. Kevik turned a corner. He stopped for a moment setting eyes on a small dry corridor with an old wooden door at the end. He approached cautiously. He tried not to make a sound but his armor was a bit too imposing for that.
As he reached out for the door it vanished and where it had been became wisps and swirls of energy that soon dissipated into nothingness. His face was wracked with terror. Not again. He quickly turned putting his back to the wall at the opposite end was the old man holding a gold coin between his thumb and index finger. “All of that for this?” he asked Kevik.
Kevik was terrified. This was not supposed to happen this way. This was no honorable death. He couldn’t die here among the rodents and excrement. His eyes darted about looking for an escape or any glimmer of hope. The mage laughed. He began to roll the coin back and forth between his fingers. “I am Ignis, Kevik. I admire sport so let me offer you this. I will let you go today but do not seek me out again unless you are truly prepared.”
“Wha..” before Kevik could even ask what that meant or how he knew his name the wizard had flipped the coin into the air. Everything slowed as a black fork of current surrounded the coin, in what seemed an instant it was as if time itself had frozen. The mage was unaffected. He lunged forth grabbing Kevik (who had barely even widened his eyes at this point) by the scruff of the neck and slamming him in the wall. The force of the mage was so powerful bits of the wall exploded away as Kevik slammed into it. Knocked out by the forceful slam of the wizard Kevik fell flat.
He awoke to the poke of a child. “I fink we gots anova’ det one…” declared the child in a god awful form of the common tongue.
Kevik didn’t bother acknowledging the child’s suggestion as he stood brushing off the sewage as he rose to his feet. That bastard wizard has sent him for a ride on **** creek. He gazed over in the day lit slums fully aware of what a dump they were now. He shook his head.
“’Ey mista is ya gonna pay us fa’ savin’ ya life?” asked one of the children. Kevik looked back to the children and chuckled. He eyeballed himself upset but thankful to be alive.
“Do I look like I have money?” He patted his belt line as a gesture of good faith. He heard a jingling of coin. His face went stern again and he quickly looked down noting he had a new belt pouch. He opened it to find roughly 100 platinum coins (10,000 silver equivalents). His eyes widened as did the children’s. He gazed back to the castle for a moment then looked back to the children. “You kids got a home, jobs?” A couple of them shrugged, others shook their heads and the others among them tilted their heads in disbelief of the question. “Well I’m offerin’. Let’s get you some shoes… we’ve got work to do. Your new home’s got a hell of a Kobold problem.”