The Meeting
Ingrlo slept. His dreams flowed like uncorked wine in a harlot’s bedchamber. There was something foreboding about his dreams this night though–-a presence disturbed his slumber. During his years living in this town Ingrlo had became attuned to the nuances of the twilight. But now… something bothered him.
A shatter broke through the wall of sleep blanketing Ingrlo from the outside world. His eyes flashed open and his ears were alerted; the sound echoed from the common room. He rose and immediately flew off to investigate the happening.
Ingrlo scanned the common room for disorder. Shadows concealed most of the room. A single shelf lay broken in the floor with no obvious evidence as to what caused its fall. He looked about for the amulet and necklace that was sitting on the shelf earlier; he did not see them. He approached the scene and knelt down to retrieve the shelf.
“I hope Mia’s cat didn’t do this. She’s liable to turn into a shocker lizard if she plays with that amulet for too long.”
He noticed the slowly moving shadow too late; he did not see the face of the rogue that had been standing silently in the room. All that concerned him now was the dagger poised to pierce his throat. The rogue manipulated Ingrlo like a puppet, a single word never broke the silence, yet Ingrlo knew he was threatened with death.
Leone’s expression displayed that he was dumfounded with the situation. He had apparently never made such a mistake in one of his thieving operations, and thusly had never been forced to deal with the complications of that mistake. Apparently the shelf had been rigged to fall, and now with the entrance of Ingrlo this situation was unbelievably difficult for Leone to make a decision.
Leone ferociously plunged one dagger into Ingrlo’s throat and another into his back. His decision had been made and it was in blood. Leone tore the dagger from Ingrlo’s throat ripping out more than half of the man’s neck; the dagger in his back had punctured a lung and made it impossible for Ingrlo to scream. Ingrlo fell before Leone, crashing through a table. Leone dashed out the door and hid in the darkness.
Just upstairs, Ozzob awoke to the clamor. His curiosity was peaked and he casually strolled down the stairs to investigate. The sight of his father lying dead on the floor nearly enraged the sorcerer, but he managed to stabilize his thoughts. Ozzob knelt next to his father and placed a hand on each wound. Light poured out from under the sorcerers hands, a healing light. In moments, Ingrlo was again breathing albeit stunned from the experience. Ozzob gently said.
“You will recover fully and all will be ok.”
Ingrlo could not see it; a fire was beginning to burn Ozzob’s eyes. His hands were shaking and his expression reeked with a loss of control. Ozzob moved so fast that you could barely see him stand and streak out the door. Hands raised, an inferno filled the air above Ozzob. A face emerged from the flames, it was a dragons skull-–animated. Intense lights poured from the dragons eyes and acted as searchlights; much like a great lighthouse beam that Ozzob could will into different directions. The skull became flesh, and lived; an unearthly growl rang through the air.
“Who knows so little that he would risk this.”
#
The Tower of the Arcane stood high from inside the city. Westgate was more than just a meeting center for thieves; the town was also home to a sect of the Brotherhood of Mages.
The shadows of every alley had eyes. Dedrick was an outsider to the workings of a city like Westgate; he casually strolled the street looking for a sigil that would mark the Arcane Brotherhoods domain. Some eyes did more than follow his movements, they stalked him.
The tangy whistle of an arrow streaked through the city streets. The broad-head was destined for Dedrick’s heart; luckily it was off target and ended up striking only his shoulder. Dedrick sensed the arrow during flight, but was not fast enough to dodge; he did see the man who launched the projectile. The injury was not death dealing, but was intensely painful and made it hard to concentrate. For Dedrick time was moving in slow motion, people fled the streets and his attacker was readying another shot.
Dedrick is a focus point for willpower, and right now he wanted nothing more than to repay the man that had assaulted him. Dedrick slowed his breathing and blocked out the pain of the arrow. All his emotions were concentrated into a force; he was stirring a black pot filled with evil thoughts. Suddenly, lightning bolts streaked from Dedrick’s body, the sky, and a nearby building. They all struck home on the attacker’s chest. Dedrick’s perception of time resumed to ‘normal’ and he saw it coming. A second arrow tore through the center of his chest; he collapsed.
#
Day turned to night. Dedrick awoke in a strange bed, and in a strange room. The walls were stone and covered in elaborate tapestries. Little furniture was in the room–just the bed and a small table stand to one side. The scent of a healing incense lingered in the room. The door handle began to turn; Dedrick was too injured to leap from the bed. An elderly, robed man entered the room.
“So your awake. That’s good news. Tell me… What is your name?”
It was a fight for Dedrick to give his words tone, but he managed. “I am Dedrick. I search for the Brotherhood of Mages.”
The man approached Dedrick, sat on the bed beside him, and inspected his wounds.
“Indeed… The brotherhood you say. Well then we, have already found you. My son came to you aid in the street. But not so much as to be a good citizen as to simply get to fight someone, he loves to test his skills. My son is young and brash… and dose not conform to our ways. Yet he is my son and I help him as much as I can. So… and outlander searches for the brotherhood… why?”
“Archmage Torrick is a dear friend to my master. He would help us.”
“Torrick has been dead for years. I am sorry.”
“I just need information.”
Dedrick produced the necklace from his pocket and held it up to the stranger.
“Who made it?” asked Dedrick.
The man grasped the trinket with a dry, wrinkled hand. He closed his eyes. His thoughts wrapped the amulet. He began to speak.
“I am far away, a little village in the forest. The ocean is nearby… A name… someone is calling me… The name is Ozzob and the village is Woodwake.”
The stranger returned the necklace and asked a question. “Is this all you were after? Such information is not likely to be the answer to your quest. You would do well to be more careful in the next town you visit.”
#
Ozzob and Leone were locked into a deadly game of hide and seek. Ozzob’s spell illuminated much of the darkness yet Leone was a rogue skilled beyond his years; he was even more so since his life depended on the stealth. Sweat poured from Leone’s skin; the fire was but a few feet away. Leone risked a glance to see if Ozzob was heading his direction; Ozzob was no longer under the flames. The sorcerer’s rage now lived on its own, his emotions were so powerful that they warranted there own existence.
Suddenly a horrid writhing sound was all around Leone. Leone was too slow in moving and he found that he was now surrounded by a huge metal cage. Ozzob had caught his prey, the flames moved off into the darkness–that new life was destined for a different fate. Ozzob’s and Leone’s eyes met. Leone’s face embodied suffering, he was ashamed of his actions. Ozzob’s eyes, and possibly his mind, wandered. Leone was not one to miss an opportunity like this and slipped out from the cage’s slightly too-far-apart bars; Leone headed into the darkness.
Ozzob had decided what to do with Leone but when he looked
back to the cage, it was empty. The
moonlight illuminated Leone just enough for Ozzob to
see him. The sorcerer held forth a
single finger and a stream of pestilence flew forth striking through Leone’s
body. Leone instantly collapsed and grew
deathly ill. Ozzob
approached the rogue and lifted him off the ground. Ozzob gripped tight
around
“If I had to delegate your fate this night, you would most likely not survive.”
#
Dedrick sits in the common room of Ozzob’s house. The door opens and Ozzob walks in. Sweat mounds on both their brows. Dedrick strikes a commanding pose but retains a sight of leisure. Ozzob’s eyes dart about the room looking for other discontinuities.
“Glad to see you are comfortable; now… who are you?”
“My name is Dedrick. I just need a little information.”
Ozzob closes the door and more fully enters the room.
“About what?”
Dedrick removes the amulet from his pocket and presents it to Ozzob.
“You made it.”
Ozzob makes little more than a passive glace at the jewel. He nods yes.
“It was used in an attack on my home.”
A few moments of excruciating silence pass before Dedrick speaks again.
“Are you my enemy?”
Dedricks face is a flesh sculpture–unmoving.
With deep sincerity Ozzob replies, “I am not your enemy, I will help you find your enemy.”
Ozzob steps closer and grasps the pendant of the necklace while Dedrick keeps the chain firmly gripped.
“I sold this to a most capable man that lived at Ungroth, an… outpost, not to far from here.”
“When do we leave?”
“I will travel with you in the morning.”
#
The voice of resistance filled the heavens.
“This creature Ozzob cannot be human; it is not possible for a humans rage to become embodied as we have seen this one’s. He dose command the power to do as we fear.”