Sheodin Thundermane's Story

A few of the beings' voices spoke up, speaking in their strange foreign tongue, in mildly heated whispers. However, they were abruptly silenced by a single raised paw-hand of the arch-mage who began a slow stride down the path designated by the Minister. As they walked, Sheodin's eyes glowed with mystical energy as he tapped into the ley lines that surrounded him. He could feel the raw energy of the world, fresh and vibrant, course through his being. Behind him, the other Aryites marched with rigid discipline with their armor and blades resonating slight clanging sounds. The bird-like anthros followed closely behind, turning their heads in every direction in wonderment at their surroundings. As they departed, their vessel sealed shut behind them without a sign that it ever opened.

On instinct, the Aryite soldiers reached for the hilts of their weapons. The bird men twitched their claw-fingers and they began to look about the room nervously. Sheodin, however, remained stationary, and eyed the Minister with his arcane-empowered eyes.

"I presume," he said in a deep, guttural, yet intelligent voice, "that you are wise enough to not entrap an Arch-mage, Aryite Chosen, and Rokin Shamans, for that will prove to be an ill-fortuned endeavor. Therefore, I will assume that you are a friend, for the moment at least."

He turned his head to the disgruntled convoy. "Shal'mani." he said calmly, and they began to restore order to themselves.

"Now," he returned his attention to Chaska, "What do you wish to communicate to us?"

Sheodin paused for a moment in thought before turning to the rest of his company. They conversed for a few moments. The debate heated and cooled like the crafting of a legendary weapon in a mystical forge. Finally, they ceased, and the Arch-mage turned back to face the Minister.

"You have our sympathy, Minister." he said, "For we have no love for leaders that subjugate and enslave their people. Our people believe that it is a leader's duty to safeguard the liberties of their people as well as their well-being. We once faced a dark tyrant who also called himself a god-emperor. When we refused to bow, he sent his endless damned legions upon us - to annihilate and enslave us. However, we did not retreat and surrender, and through unification and steadfast courage, we were able to drive back his armies... though at a great cost. Most of my people we slaughtered in that long, weary, and bloody war. They were greater than us in numbers, weapons, and magic. Our world has been forever scarred by our eternal conflict with them.

"My first priority is of the well-being of my people. I hope you understand that, Minister. So despite my wishes, I cannot devout our full strength to your cause. However, I will convey your request for assistance with my king. Perhaps we can help you to an extent. During our wars with the Erebim, we have learned to adapt their tactics, such as feint-retreats and guerrilla warfare. There are other ways we may aid you besides warfare as well." he nodded.

Sheodin Thundermane nodded in agreement. "Nothing is official at this moment, for I need to consult King Neodin before anything is final. He will then consult mighty Leolik and ask for his blessing. However, you do have my personal support. I do not doubt that your cause will gain the favor of my people, for we feel for subjugated peoples. What would you have us do?"

Sheodin nodded knowingly at Chaska. "I look forward to visiting your people again, Minister. There is much we can trade with each other... knowledge, technology, manufactured goods, and raw materials. We have many exotic furs, foods, and jewel-crafts on our world that we will be willing to send you in exchange for knowledge and technology. We happen to have a few samples on our vessel that we brought as gifts for your glorious civilization and honorable emperor." he smiled, leading his company out of the conference room.

"Aye, that will be true... but what good is power without the wisdom to use it justly? My people are peaceful by nature... The Aryites are largely scholars, architects, craftsmen, philosophers, sages, magi, and priests. Though when provoked, we have proven to be fierce warriors that fight with both ferocity and honor. It is the ability to use that power wisely, for good, that separates us from common warmongering barbarians."

Upon reaching the hangar and their vessel, Sheodin merely lifted a furred paw-hand and the ship began to open. He then turned to the Minister, Admiral, and the rest of the Aschen, and called out with a mighty voice that echoed throughout the hangar.

"Men and women of the glorious Aschen Empire. This day my company and I have seen incredible technological wonders that our people never thought possible. Clearly there is many ways both of our civilizations can prosper together. It is my hope that we can learn many things from each other, and perhaps one day co-exist beneath a banner of peace, brotherhood, and prosperity! We return now to our world and the Kroniktan Alliance to tell them of the wonders we have seen. However, before our departure, I was to bestow a series of gifts to your most honorable emperor as a token of our friendship and bright future together!"

As he spoke, his company walked behind him and entered the vessel. They returned with several crates full of strange, exotic, luxurious furs, jewelry, and dried fruits and meats.

"May Leolik bestow you all with wisdom, guidance, courage, and strength!"

With that he turned and began walking toward the vessel. His company followed close behind him, eager to return home.

“I pray that it is so, Captain.” Neodin replied. “For my people have expended many resources and much manpower in the mission of containing their path of destruction to the desolate wasteland that the call home.”

The Aryite priest-king stood before a large window in one of the Khroniktan vessels. Though the outer appearance of their ships was of slick, seamless, golden crystal, the inner halls resembled the stone passageways of a medieval fortress. They were filled with the warm glow of magical torches that lined the walls. Neodin braced his large paw-hands on the stone-slab windowsill and eyed the planet’s view through shimmering rendition of a window.

“This world is truly beautiful…” he said to himself. “It bears much resemblance to ours, yet…”

“It is also sick…” replied another deep Aryite voice.

Sheodin Thundermane stood just a hair taller than his brother. Azure and silver robes flowed across a body which was covered in auburn fur that contained traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane flowed across his shoulders and upper back as his eyes, filled with an ancient power and wisdom, looked at Neodin. An aura of ancientness, authority, and incredible power resonated from him, much like the king. Yet his was much more cosmic and arcane in nature. A long furred tail swung behind him. In his paw-like hand he gripped the handle of an enormous mallet like a cane. The neck and handle appeared to be constructed from a strong polished stone. Runes covered the neck that lead to the crystalline head, blue as the deepest sea, which reverberated with a low.

“Aye…” Neodin nodded. “See those lands at the head? They remind me of the smoke-clenched mountains of Ereb Nataan.”

“I can feel the planet cry out to me, brother.” Sheodin leaned on the windowsill. “The elements writhe in agony from the poison and scars inflicted upon it. Clearly, these beings have much to learn about the inner workings of the universe.”

“They are young, Sheodin, and do not possess the same affinity to the astral plane as we do. If they allow it, we will teach them what we can in exchange for the knowledge we desire. Truly, seeing this world in such pain brings sorrow to my heart.”

“Perhaps…” Sheodin sighed. “I doubt they are ready for such knowledge though. We would need to nurture their wisdom before supplying them with the knowledge, lest they use it for nefarious purposes.”

“Aye… Look, brother! See those citadels of steel and stone? Their masonry vastly differs from ours. It also appears that many are in ruins. Perhaps from war?”

“Ask the Captain. It would be unwise to stumble into a conflict we are ill prepared for.”

“As my thoughts…” he said before returning his attention to the connection with Captain Aaron. “Captain, your planet is very beautiful. If I may ask, what of the scars that mar it? I see much destruction among your metropolises. Is your people at war?”

"We were, King Shadowslayer," Aaron commed back, "a bloody, costly war with a foe that desired our planet and our freedom." He turned towards his own bridge-window, admiring his homeworld quietly. "We 'won', technically. Sometimes it doesn't feel that way."

A technician spoke up quickly. "Sir, we have clearance for landing in the Wing City Spaceport."

"Copy that," Vrail nodded, quickly comming back to Neodin, "King Shadowslayer, we are now going to descend into Wing City, the capital of the Terran National Government and one of the largest cities on our planet. I'll send you the coordinates. Just stay on our tail."

He looked back towards the technician. "Take us down."

“Is there ever truly a victor in war? There are those that survive, and those that perish. The similarity between our peoples is that we fight not to assert our dominance, but because we must. We fight so that previous battles were not in vain. We fight for survival – and to honor the spilled blood of our kin.” Replied the Aryite. “I will organize our landing party, Captain.”

The massive crystalline careened into orbit around the planet. Cosmic and arcane energy surged across their surfaces, forming pinpoints of light that pulsated and rippled like waves on a golden sea. From the pinpoints emerged a dozen smaller vessels that were crafted from the same crystalline material. They rivaled the Terran vessels in size, but bore rectangular or diamond-like shapes.

Inside the vessels were primarily crates of cargo – exotic fruits, meats, cheeses, furs, and ornately crafted jewels and other trinkets. However, some of the ships were filled with security personnel. Protecting the line of rectangular Galley transports were flanking rows of diamond Trireme Fortresses. Evenly spaced, the caravan followed behind the Terran vessels.

The formation descended slowly upon the Terran capital, the glittering ships passing quickly through the planet's atmosphere and passing into the city below. An ocean of buildings greeted them swiftly, the Terran populace teeming with life just below.
The Triremes would lead the vessels to a large spaceport some miles away and would direct them to a designated landing dock. Upon landing and exiting their ships, the first Aryite diplomats would be greeted by a series of Terran politicians flanked by marines.

The ships glided through the planet’s atmosphere. Despite the terrible friction, the Khroniktan vessels remained unfazed as if unaffected by the mundane laws of Existence. Their crystalline hulls retained their glowing golden hue as they floated over the city. As the Galleys descended to their designated landing zones, the Triremes remained in aloft like guardian angels over their earthbound cousins. They took defensive positions around the station – passive yet alert.

A single vessel diverged itself from the herd and landed where the flock of politicians had amassed. It landed with the broadside facing the welcoming party. The vessel hovered above the ground instead of landing directly onto the pavement. A moment passed before the side of the ship resonated with swirling light.

From the light emerged several pairs of armored feet. Gallant figures clad in golden plate exited from the light. An aura of mystical holy energy surrounded them. They towered head and shoulders above the Terrans and where two or three times their girth. Sheathed on their backs were large broadswords, shields, maces, and bows. Fur, ranging from a glossy black to a pale yellow, covered them where their bodies were exposed. The fur that adorned their feline-like faces and heads were neatly trimmed, tied back, or formed into dreadlocks. Other manes were gray and thinned. Large banners, bearing their gold and red standard, were gripped in the gauntlets of the two front Aryites.

The armor-clad lion-men marched lockstep to a rigid rhythm of snares, toms, and bass. However, none of the Aryite Chosen wielded any instruments among their arms. It was as if the cadence resonated from the air itself, or an invisible orchestra of spirits had materialized to guide the holy warriors. Two columns of ten marched with five paces between them.

“Shemot!... Imaki!... Shemo’ imak’ shemot!” barked one of the Aryites in sync with the cadence.

“Magtzeer!” he shouted. The columns and marching beat ceased at the order. “Lehuka nazeh makedat!” As one, the two lines pivoted inward and stood rigid with soldierly discipline.

“Ledaha!” The soldiers, in a robotic sync, stretched their gauntleted paw-hands behind their backs and unsheathed their large broadswords. Their blades resonated with runes of courage, righteousness, and virtue. They gripped the runeblades in both hands and placed the tips against the ground.

Another figure emerged from the ship. He was wrapped in long flowing robes that just barely covered the being’s clawed, paw-like bare feet. A long furred tail swayed along the ground. Short golden brown fur covered the being’s body large and muscled body. King Neodin Shadowslayer stood two heads above the other Aryites, and towered at twice the height of the Terrans. Like a shining waterfall, a golden brown mane surrounded a fierce yet noble feline-like face and flowed down his shoulders and back. Strands of silver and gray intertwined with the golden brown. His eyes shone like two stars that illuminated an aura of great wisdom, power, nobility, virtue, and honor. A massive broadsword, jagged and covered in glowing runes, rested in his paw-like hands. He gripped the hilt and held it like a cane with the point facing downward.

As he walked down the aisle between the columns, the Aryite Chosen lowered to their knees and bowed their heads in deep reverence to their King and High Priest.

Following Neodin came another figure. Sheodin Thundermane stood just a hair taller than his brother. Azure and silver robes flowed across a body which was covered in auburn fur that contained traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane flowed across his shoulders and upper back as his eyes, filled with an ancient power and wisdom, looked at the Terran convoy. An aura of ancientness, authority, and incredible power resonated from him, much like the king. Yet his was much more cosmic and arcane in nature. A long furred tail swung behind him. In his paw-like hand he gripped the handle of an enormous mallet in the same fashion as his brother. The neck and handle appeared to be constructed from a strong polished stone. Runes covered the neck that lead to the crystalline head, blue as the deepest sea, which reverberated with a low hum.

"King Shadowslayer," a large, African-looking gentleman stepped forward, offering the Aryite his hand. "I am Parliament Chairman Rubano Malijin. It is my esteemed honor to welcome you to our humble planet." His smile was deep and disarming, his coal black eyes welcoming and inviting. "We have a transport waiting for you. It would be our honor to escort you into the hub of political activity here in Terra: our Government Center."

“Shuyamb.” rumbled the Aryite king. His voice was strong, deep, guttural, intelligent, yet gentle, kind, and diplomatically reserved. He brought a clenched paw-fist to his chest with a dull thud. “Greetings, noble leaders of Terra. I bring signs of kinship, peace, and prosperity from the free peoples of Khroniktus. We come in the name of righteousness, honor, and brotherhood. Among our cargo ships we carry exotic gifts of furs, fruits, meats, cheeses, clothing, jewels, and strong drink. Bring us your weary, so we may feed them. Bring us your sick, maimed, and wounded, and let us heal them. Bring us your homeless, so we may clothe and minister to them. Let us break bread and share knowledge, so both our futures may be brighter in the sight of Leolik."

Rubano indeed appeared quite taken back. Diplomacy certainly didn't work like this anymore.

"You honor us with your gifts, King Shadowslayer," the Parliament Chairman was quick to recover, "and we accept them graciously and humbly." A skilled diplomat, Rubano knew better then decline the charity of a possible ally. "It shall be our pleasure to return your generosity with prudent hospitality. I pray you, come with us to our Government Center. Let us make parley after we have eased your journey's weariness from your shoulders."

Neodin nodded to the man and turned to the other tall Aryite. “Brother.” He clasped his hand over Sheodin’s shoulder. “I ask you to remain here and organize the unloading of the Galleys. Ensure the clerics are supplied with Spells of Tongues, so they may communicate with the Terrans.

“Aye.” Replied the Arch-mage. He then turned and dismissed the procession. “Captain Sandrunner! Go and locate your uncle from the tavern that you spoke of. I will be there shortly.” One of the soldiers gave a quick nod to Sheodin and ran off.

As Neodin and two Chosen followed the Terran diplomats, the dozen other vessels began to unload with a variety of creatures carrying large crates. Among the Aryites were shorter avian beings that squatted a foot shorter than the humans. They were clad in leather and cloth garments and carried long staffs and composite bows. Large bipedal constructs, formed from massive floating crystals that radiated with arcane energy, also aided the Khroniktans in unpacking the caravan. Within minutes, a makeshift marketplace had taken form outside the station.

"Presenting," the herald spoke up above the chatter, "Sheodin Thundermane, Arch-mage of the Alphaniat Academy and Chief Ambassador of the Khroniktan Alliance!"

Sheodin Thundermane towered above the humans in the room at nearly twice their height. Azure and silver robes flowed across his body, which was covered in auburn fur that contained traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane flowed across his shoulders and upper back as his eyes, filled with an ancient power and wisdom, looked at the assembly. An aura of ancientness, authority, and incredible arcane power resonated from the lion-man. A long furred tail swung behind him. In his paw-like hand he gripped the handle of an enormous mallet like a caner. The neck and handle appeared to be constructed from a strong polished stone. Runes covered the neck that led to the crystalline head, blue as the deepest sea, which reverberated with a low hum.

Sheodin Thundermane strode slowly across the floor. His bare paw-feet slapped the floor lightly as his massive mallet clunked gently against the ground. The Arch-mage approached Rubano and Drulović.

"Shuyamb." he rumbled in his native tongue. The giant lion-man's voice was incredibly deep and powerful, yet reserved and politic. "Greetings, Chairman Malijin. And you must be Director Drulović." Sheodin bowed his head.

Sheodin nodded at the man and gave him a warm smile. "Kovdi. King Neodin is well. We have recently fended off another wave of raids from the Dark Legion, and his Highness recently presided over the graduation of another regiment of Chosen. The rains have been plentiful this spring, leading to a surplus in harvest. My brother tasked me with inquiring about a possible trade."

"Well..." the Arch-mage lifted a balled paw-hand to his maw and cleared his throat, though it sounded akin to a rough growl. He immediately glanced towards a nearby wall. Thanks to his vast magical abilities, Sheodin easily peered through the shadows and bent light and saw the form of Storm-Shadow lounging about. The mage returned his attention to the Chairman. "Our High Council has proposed the idea of establishing an embassy on this world. It would be directly connected to Khroniktus via a permanent self-sustaining portal."

"Likely within one or two of your lunar cycles." replied Sheodin, who had lost interest in the cloaked super soldier in the corner. "Since we exist in two separate realms, time is a virtually meaningless factor. Of course, there would be certain restrictions regarding the embassy. The area would be subject to Khroniktan laws, and Khroniktans are prone to xenophobia, especially when regarding creatures such as undead, demons, lycans, vampires, and etcetra. However, this will create an opportunity for your people to visit our world if they desire, and likewise with mine."

"Yes, and likewise. Many Khroniktans have trouble even imagining a blue sky and yellow sun." he chuckled. "By the way... We have made good use of the technology you have given us in our last meeting. We are currently producing these firearms that we returned with, and are training our Rokin sharpshooters in their use. Also, something that some of our generals have been asking about lately are possible advances in body armor and transportation - particularly these self-propelling wagons that fill your streets. What were they called again?"

Sheodin gave a nod to the Chairman as he left. For a long moment the tall Aryite simply stood there watching the humans. They were strange creatures. In many ways the resembled their ancient enemy, the Erebites, except warmer in color and far more friendly. It was as if the humans were an uncorrupted version of the savage mortal servants of the Emperor. Perhaps... No, no. It couldn't be. Sure, he had felt something when he first came to Terra, but the odds were too slim.

The archmage tapped the pommel of his mace, which continued to double as a cane.

After a few moments, the tall Aryite ventured towards a nearby wall. He placed a furred hand against the surface and chanted a short series of words in an unknown tongue. Almost immediately, the wall seemed to melt and break apart, revealing the image of a wide grassland beyond. The sky above the plain was a scorched crimson, and the red star the generated the light occupied nearly a quarter of the sky. Beyond the grassland was a mountain range capped with snowy peaks. In the midst was a city built straight into the cliffs.

The Aryite stepped through the hole in the wall and it immediately sealed.

The tavern door opened with a soft creak. Nipping winds and chilled rains lashed out from the doorway and clung to the deep brown cloak of a hooded figure. He hunched over a long wooden staff that he gripped with both hands. Intricate carvings and archaic symbols decorated the smooth wood. A steady rhythm of clacking and patting echoed through the room as the staff and the figure's feet met the floor.

The figure scanned the room with a shrouded gaze and searched for staff or fellow traveler. His hood covered all but a thin frizzled beard that poked out and glistened in the candlelight. He raised a balled wrinkled fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Hello?" the old man called out.

Arch-mage Sheodin Thundermane had arrived on Terra only a week ago. The world had called to him like the wail of a wounded animal. He could hear the groaning of its bones and the moan of its breath. This town was but one stop on his pilgrimage to comprehend the voices of this world. Fortunately, his disguise had proven effective thus far. Only the most skilled of magi would be able to detect more than the faint arcane power that radiated from the illusion of the frail old man that he had crafted.

The call rang out across the near empty tavern save for one cloaked figure sitting by the hearth with both hands outstretched for the fire. The hall around glowed a dim light as the figure had also flicked most of the lights off despite the servers grumbling as they went about their buisness within the tavern. A huff was heard as well as a turning of a page from a book, the cloaked figure being the source of the sound

"Not so loud...there are people reading you know" Came a clear female voice coming from the figure by the fire, a clawed hand being raised up to try and silence him with nonmagical means. Driselda had loathed to come back but with her lover's absence being so prolonged, she felt it only necessary to get herself out of the Palace for a time. With a stretch of her arm, she grabbed a glass of a thick red liquid and took a small sip before returning to her reading. If the being could distinguish magical subtypes, the woman would have an extremely powerful aura of Necromancy as well as Illusion, Alteration and Conjuration magics floating around her as well as a small spectral Raven perched on the mantlepiece of the hearth

The old man nodded. "My apologies." he whispered in reply as he hobbled to an empty table near the fire. Old bones and furnished wood groaned as one as he eased himself into a chair. He leaned his staff against the table and reached into his cloak. His wrinkled hand retrieved a small stack of parchment scribbled with notes.

Sheodin could indeed feel the magical energy radiate from the woman. He saw and felt it as a dark distortion. The fabric of the astral plain was sick, decayed, morphed, and molded around her. Dark magic clung to her like a stench to the wizard. If they were on Khroniktus, the woman would have been arrested, tried, convicted, and burned at the stake... but this land was not under the jurisdiction of the Alliance. This land abided by different laws, so her arcane affiliation was none of his concern.

The female sniffed the air gently as the being sat down while turning slightly to look towards him, a single orange and red glowing eye with no pupil could be seen looking at him. The eye held an unnatural, insatiable and unquenchable hunger to them as she gave a small smile then turned back towards the fireplace as she flipped another page in her book and took another sip of her drink

"Not too many feline people who walk these lands. Do mine eyes deceive me? Do mine ears fail me?" She said outloud while letting her hair toss a little while letting herself stand up and just off her leather armor slightly before turning to face the cat like man. The features of the woman were somewhat muted as she had the light to her back but above all, the cat could see the glinting of larger then normal fangs (IN human terms) and those hungry eyes "What an unexpected treat...I wonder how you would taste hunter. I often enjoy seeing how well you bait your prey..." She said, obviously trying to make small talk

The old man glanced up - a smirk evident on his face. "I believe you may be mistaken, ma'am..." he replied calmly as he straightened the stack of parchment. "I am nobody... Just a simple traveler and scholar. The only thing I hunt is knowledge and understanding... Perhaps you could assist me in this quest?"

Even an arch-mage of Sheodin's caliber had kinks in his armor. He subtly tightened the threads of his magical veil, focusing on the concealment of his musky lion scent.

The female just seemed to let her smile go a little longer as she skillfully sauntered over towards the old man, letting more of herself be seen. The armor which adorned her was blood red with a large black cross in the center, a scabbard held an intricate longsword and her cloak seemed to swirl and move with each step as she made her way to his table, letting her clawed fingers rest on the wood, snaking them to either side while standing behind a chair

"Depends on what the Hunter seeks to devour...knowledge, prey...many things does this land hold near and dear to it's heart. Sadly, many a great tome as been lost to the eons of human technology...such is the fate of humanity" She said while sniffing him once again, noticing the lack of the scent. She wasn't easily fooled, and she wouldn't be. But for the sake of humoring this one, she would pretend for a time. After all, why should she second guess herself? She was Driselda, a child of the first Vampires of old...why would she?

"What I seek..." he paused for a moment, "... what I seek cannot be found on any tome or accurately recorded on any parchment. No. What I seek is the voice of the world itself - to hear its own words from its own mouth... To hear the rumble of the mountains, the whisper of the winds, the roar of the seas, and sigh of the flame... I know what you are, and I surmise that you have walked this earth for many lifetimes of common men. When you walk the trails of the icy peaks, do you not hear the distant wail in the winds, like that of the wounded animal. Do you not feel the groan of the earth, crippled by sickness?"

The old man paused and gazed into the fireplace - as if listening... watching... understanding...

"I can hear its cries... but I do not yet comprehend them. I hear the muffled voices of this world, but they lack clarity. You ask what I hunt - what I seek? I seek communion with a dying world... to give that which cannot speak a voice to be heard. Now you may be wondering why I am telling you this... Well it is because you seem to register as a threat. I assure you, I am not. I have no intention of disrupting the peace of your humble village."

The door to the tavern opened again, and in walked yet another hooded traveler. This traveler was much younger than the old hooded man. The younger man lowered his hood upon entering, revealing a the face of an eighteen year old young man with lightly tanned skin, brown messy hair, and dark green predatory eyes with slits for pupils.

"Good thing I found this tavern when I did." he said aloud. "There's a big storm coming, I can smell it." he finished his thought with a sigh as he walked towards the counter, sitting not too far away from the old man and Driselda by the fire. His body seemed to be bigger than it actually was from the waist down due to something that he kept out of sight.

Whatever it was that made him seem bigger, it liked to move, as the lower part of the hooded cloak continually moved as something moved from behind it. The strange young man, named Demor, took in a long breath through his nose before nodding. "Oh yea, big storm coming in. Not sure when..." he took another breath. "Probably a few days..." he muttered with a shrug as he ordered himself a glass of water from the bartender, paying the tender as his drink was served.

Then, whatever was beneath his cloak twitched again, and a flash of something dark and scaly appeared for a few seconds between the cloak and floorboards.

"I apologise if I seemed rude," he told Sampson and Simi as he passed their table, having quite disgracefully chosen to ignore the man and his strange little companion when they tried to communicate with him earlier at the counter of the tavern. "I had some urgent business to discuss with the barkeep and I could not afford to be distracted."

"Still, I am happy to consent to a little conversation. Tell me about yourselves; you seem to be a rather odd couple, if I may say so myself."

Around him, he could hear the Arch-Mage and the Vampiress talk about the voice of the world and the footsteps of yet another traveller entering, whom he quickly examined in order to assess. However, what kind of skills or powers they had was ultimately irrelevant unless they planned to get in his way later that evening...