2 years ago ::
Dec 29, 2010 - 4:18PM
- Unconventional Mafia Pro
- Dark Lord
Jun 25, 2001
The adventures of Stovic the Wanderer by Skibo the first
The Drinking Trip
Stovic moved through the forest following his Ouphe guide. The creature had an eye for magic which was exactly what Stovic needed.
The world outside the village was dangerous. Magic was too wild, too powerful, and too unwieldy out here. Stovic’s love of travel had earned the reputation of an eccentric in his village.
The Ouphe stopped for a moment, and its large eyes stared out into the dark thicket, “Magic” he said in a raspy voice. Stovic kneeled down next to the Ouphe and put on his magic seers. The glasses were a gift from a thornweald archer, they sharpened the sight and focused the mind.
About thirty feet away a wild Quadgnoth was consuming a fallen badger. The beast was immune to most magics. It could easily kill Stovic and the ouphe without much trouble. Stovic and the ouphe took a wide birth around the Quagnoth.
The two men reached the elf tree-city of Olda. Stovic left the ouphe at the forest floor marketplace. The creature could spend hours looking over simple magical trinkets.
Stovic came to the pass tree. Only a select few were allowed into the tree-city, most visitors were restricted to the forest floor market place. Stovic had the clearances to pass through unharassed.
Stovic stepped into a shaft carved into the inside of the tree. The bottom of the shaft had a wooden plug. Stovic touched a glowing green stone. The stone flashed and energized the wooden plug. The energy caused a large vine to grow beneath, pushing the wooden plug upwards and Stovic with it.
Stovic reached the topmost tier of the tree. He walked across the system of branches and bridges to the main chamber of the elf lord Nador. Outside the door, two guards stood silently. They nodded Stovic to enter.
The room was gigantic. It could hold Stovic’s whole house with room to spare. In the center of the room was a wooden table. At one end sat Nador, and at the other sat a masked woman. Stovic sat down and waited.
“Sorry I’m late,” Stovic began, “My guide spent a half hour examining a pinecone before letting us pass.”
Nador gave Stovic a smile, “Stovic the wanderer, how good to see you.” Nador stood and made a grand gesture towards the woman sitting at the table, “Stovic I would like you to meet the Lady Ver-Dulla, keeper of the monastery in the clouds.” Stovic shook hands with the woman, her mask marked her as an imperial mage.
Imperial mages were renown for their focus and attention to magic. Stovic had only seen three types of people cast spells without hesitation: the foolish, the mad, and imperial mages. Each imperial mage’s mask was the same, a solid piece of porcelain without eye holes or an opening for the mouth. The mask was meant to force the wearer to look inwards. Overtime they become adept at seeing the slightest changes in the magic leylines in the surrounding areas. The mask’s face was molded and painted in the form of a young girl’s features.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Ver-Dulla said in a voice created through the vibration of air before her. She turned slightly towards Nador, it was for his curtsey as she could easily perceive everything in the room. “I’m leaving Nador. Reflect at length on what we spoke of.” She walked to the center of the room, spread her arms out, and collected magic without a second thought. A transparent blue sphere surrounded her. In a blink of the eye, the sphere callasped in and exploded in a brilliant white light. The floor shook and she was gone.
Stovic sat down, “Now we get into the important business.” Nador clapped and a thin elf rushed into the room carrying two mugs. Nador began, “Now my daughter’s getting married in a few months but we need to start producing the wine now. This first one is a sapwine, you’ll find it fruity with a slight twang.”
Stovic woke to the sounds of blaring horns. He and Nador had retried after hours of drinking. His head pounded as he walked out of the guest chambers into the main area. Nador was talking to his general. “My liege, a wild Quagnoth is heading right for Olda. We are evacuating the forest floor market.” Nador spoke, “Assemble the forces and place them in a wall along the edge of the town. And Stovic,” Nador looked up to see the chamber door close, “don’t be rash,” he mumbled.
Stovic rushed along the branches at a break neck speed. The sun was just peaking over the horizon. Stovic could see crowds of people headed towards one direction and a group of guards headed in the other. He went in the direction of the guards. He reached the edge of the tree line and saw the beast approaching. There wasn’t much time. The Quagnoth was one of the most dangerous threats to the elves because elvish archers couldn’t hit them. If Stovic didn’t stop it many elves would die.
Stovic looked inwards. He felt the tempest of magic flow around and through him. He picked up strands of red mana from the chaotic swirls of green mana. He focused the magic through his arm and bathed the forest floor in fire.
The beast screeched and wretched as its skin blackened and its flesh sizzled. It rolled out of the field of fire and into a line of swords. A young elf warrior drove his blade into the beast’s head. It whimpered and died.
Stovic stepped onto one of the large leaves on the branch. Stovic conjured a blade of pure fire and slashed through the stem of the leaf. Stovic learned leaf ridding from Nador on a whim. It was the fastest way of getting down from the tree tops. He loved the thrill of soaring over the forests.
The leaf landed just outside the group of elves. “Back away!” Stovic yelled as he approached the dead creature. The elves stood back quickly. Stovic reached deep into his reserves of mana and produced a stream of fire that consumed the Quagnoth’s corpse.
Nador came to the side of Stovic. “It saddens me that we won’t be able to relive our battles in the Realm of Thrones.”
Just as the quagnoth’s body collapsed into skeletal remains. Stovic collapsed, his arm was crisscrossed with red lines. Stovic was writhing in pain. “He’s got significant backlash, bring him back into the guest chambers and make sure he’s comfortable.” Nador commanded.
The only cure for magic backlash is time. Ironically healing magic only worsens it. Stovic stayed for a few days, attending many feasts to his honor. Over the next few days Stovic saw the youth that took down the quagnoth rise to the level of a favored warrior.
After a week, Stovic’s arm had recovered and his guide found. Nador saw them off, “I’ll see you at the harvest moon for your daughter’s wedding,” Stovic said.
Stovic reached the edge of his home town in the dead of the night. He had seen his guide off at the edge of the forest with a payment of gold and magical trinkets. The town was silent. Stovic passed through to the house on the outskirts of town and entered. He passed his pet ingus, checked to make sure it had enough tinder to eat, and went to bed.
It felt good to be home.
"Enjoy your screams, Sarpadia - they will soon be muffled beneath snow and ice."THE COALITION WAR GAME
Round 1: (4-1-2, 1 kill)
Round 2: (16-8-2, 4 kills)
Round 3: (18-9-2, 1 kill)
Round 4: (22-10-0, 2 kills)
Round 5: (56-16-3, 9 kills)
Round 6: (8-7-1) [current round]Last Edited by Ralph on blank, 1920