Legend of the Spellthief

Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he and Marcus, along with his elementals, left the Lightbeam guild house. His 57-day stay in the land of Avanar had been extended by approximately two months. He hadn’t done much for the world in his time so far, but all of it had been used to improve his new powers in this new world.

Magic, monsters, and deities on high and down low. Logan had come to terms with the new environment set before his feet. All would be against him, as would all be with him if he garnered their favour.

Forming fire out of thin air, calling down lightning strikes, and even sapping the powers of his would-be foes. Logan knew the extent of his current powerset and that it needed to be condensed, not expanded.

He had met Rogues who had mastered the Backstab skill, and casters with many more spells than he had in his head. “Heighten what you have”, is what he thought. If he were to continue the sprint to a higher level, he would only be the lowest caste on the highest pedestal.

With renewed vigour, out of the worst of situations, Logan reinstated his pledge that he would help the other casters of this world. Their only salvation was the MT or what guilds would have them. Seeing the power of a guild also showed him that he would have strength in numbers if he rallied the others.

There would be countless foes ahead. Monsters in the fields. Monsters in the dungeons. As well as magi that could potentially synthesise his PC powers for their own gain.

Logan would have to prepare.

Conversing with Fol, he made plans. Talking with Marcus he confirmed several of them.

Yet, there were those that watched.

Somewhere far away.

“Our quests have failed, Owen”, a male voice spoke in a dark chamber.

“Fret not, we must simply bide our time”, an older voice replied.

“My partner Krekka wasn’t enough to finish off this newcomer, and he got no closer to Ahren”, the first spoke again.

“Gah, don’t speak that name”, a female voice spoke up, “that bastard killed my PC”, they continued under their breath.

“Ahren killed your master years ago, leave those memories behind, Tille”, the old voice spoke.

“That’s three failures now, our quests will be delayed even further”, the first voice spoke again.

“Take the fault on your shoulders, you were the one who wanted to end things quickly”, the female voice argued.

“Shut your mouth, monster!”

“I’ll show you a monster!”

“Enough!” the older voice yelled.

The two others fell silent as their green eyes looked towards their supposed leader.

“With the Ice King’s return halted, Zinzith’s gaze will be occupied. He left the endless dungeon to answer the call of his meagre towers. Muster your forces. We must be ready for when he is occupied once more.”

“Very well, the goblins are all but gone at this rate. A thousand more will take time”, the first voice spoke.

“Your plan of overwhelming numbers did not work. I suggest we go for focused strength”, the female voice offered.

“What of Zack and the demons?” the older voice asked.

“No word. The heroes are still keeping him from contacting us”, the first voice replied.

“Why not just ambush the newcomer in the forest or even a dungeon?” the female asked.

“We must follow the rules of the system. Otherwise, ours and your powers will be taken back. We have gone over this”, the older voice explained.

“I don’t need my PC’s powers to kill that Spellthief!”

“You believe so?” the younger man asked.

“I’ve done enough sitting around. I will enact the VU plan.”

“You tempted fate by transporting Darius’s commwatch to his allies. Any step further with that plan of yours and we shall both denounce you. We’ve lost too many PCs as it is to missteps like this”, the older voice issued.

“I’ll be fine to be without her. Partners should not be involved in such high-tier discussion”, the younger man added.

“Screw you, human. I’ve done enough posturing here.”

“If you attack him as you are, he will find out more than we desire. If you leave us, use others, not yourself, to take him down”, the older man ordered.

“Well, you both allowed him to learn how to teleport around. If I did such a thing he could just escape now. I’ll make sure that teleportation grants him no escape”, the woman replied.

Footsteps echoed in the dark chamber, the woman leaving the two men to their discussion.

“Our plans to this point have ended a dozen PCs, I won’t stray from our path”, the young man announced.

“We still have our ace in the hole. Just wait for the proper quest to appear to use it.”

“What shall we do in the meantime? Just amass numbers?”

“Yes… and give our friend a little help on the side perhaps.”

“I can incite some unrest in Helm, have that trickle down to Gauntlet”, the younger man offered.

“See to it, Habiki.”

In the guild hall of Tinte.

Adventurers were talking amongst themselves as a large quest was currently recruiting at the hall. A handful of young-faced and raring-to-go men and women applying to gain riches and trinkets galore.

The tanned-skin Fighter, Marsh Quay, was walking away from the crowd with parchment in hand. As he read the words thoroughly he bumped into a man in his path.

“Oh, sorry”, Marsh said as he put the parchment in his pocket.

“No worries, might you be a local?” the voice asked.

“That I am, did you need something?” Marsh replied as he pushed back some of his long raven hair.

Pulling back his hood, the man revealed himself to be Xican, “Yes. I am researching a friend of mine and I believe he may have come through here.”

In the church of Tinte.

“Your wound hasn’t got any better, Marta”, a young male Devout informed.

The church hadn’t changed much in the past two months, though the atmosphere was quite sombre. The Devout, Marta, whom Logan had been healed by, and who Marcus said farewell to, was wincing in pain on a table.

“Dug… too deep. Has word reached the capital?” a weak Marta asked.

“The runner should be there soon. We’ll get help soon! Pondress as my witness, you will be cured”, the man promised.

“I hope it does not reach Marcus’s ears that I have fallen so ill in his absence.”

“If only our supplies hadn’t dwindled so soon.”

“The hunt is what takes me, Desma commands it. If I am to survive, it will be his will.”

Back in the Meek Moat Inn.

“Welcome back!” Yetveka called out as the door closed behind Logan and Marcus.

“Long day, bring out the ale”, Marcus called back as he jogged to the counter.

“Hey, Sincollo”, Logan greeted the saeben as he passed.

“Logan”, Sincollo nodded as he returned to his resting position in front of the fireplace.

Pouring two tankards, Yetveka continued, “Long day? I got a long amount of time to listen.”

“Dungeons being below as always”, Logan replied as he sat down.

“Taking up a variety of quests, aren’t you? Most hunters I know mostly keep to hunting.”

“You could say that”, Marcus added as he sipped his drink.

“Speaking of, you know a lot about hunters, right, Yetveka?” Logan asked.

“More than most people, but the hunters themselves know more.”

“Do you know of any hunters who are in guilds, or even lead them?”

“Sure, there’s Twain Dagger, that’s headed by Mr Cross, though it only has six members. More of an official party.”

“That it?”

“For Gauntlet, yeah. With the hunters at this inn, there is only a dozen total. I think I mentioned it before, but you’ll find others in the neighbouring settlements. They aren’t all here.”

“Speaking of, did Evén join up here?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, she did”, Yetveka replied with a smile.

“I suppose a guild for hunters isn’t that important, since a lot of the work is solo or duo?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much. No dungeons to attack as a group, mostly stealth work. That’s why you often find Rogues take on the work. Though saying that, most here are Fighters.”

“Well, at least I know I won’t be the first to run one then”, Logan said off handily.

Yetveka’s eyes went wide at the mention, “A hunter and a slotter as a guild leader? You’ll be a first in that combination.”

“I would hope the others joined me, but I know they like their solo work”, Logan continued as he sipped his own drink.

“Actually, Gaemo and Evén have been taking on hunts as a duo for a bit now.”

“And I, with Wriske”, Sincollo added as he sat on the floor next to the counter.

Placing a tankard with a thick wooden straw in it in front of the saeber, Yetveka filled it with ale.

“Seems like that taste of companionship got you all hungry for it”, Marcus analysed.

Sipping his straw, Sincollo stopped to reply, “It is much easier, and faster, when in a team. Wriske allows me to be more… aggressive in my apprehensions.”

“So, what do you say? Interested in joining my guild if I start one?”

“You’ve surpassed rank 15?” Sincollo asked as he picked up his tankard to down the last part of it.

“Is that a requirement?” Logan asked.

“You’ve not gone to the guild association?” Yetveka answered with a question.

“No, it was just a thought so far. I was going to investigate tomorrow.”

“Rank 15, and 5 gold. Alongside a guild house to, well, house your guildies”, Yetveka explained with a pointed finger.

“Sounds like my next payment is going towards that, or maybe, some more quests.”

“We got some time before that”, Marcus announced as he looked at Logan. The Spellthief could see this as a sign to wait for the MT to finish looking into the cavern.

“Right, we’ll look into it and finalise it later.”

“So, a period of rest?” Yetveka asked.

“Just a short one. Do you know where Gaemo is right now by the way?”

“He’s in his room, doing some reading I think.”

“Good, I need to ask him about the ooran postal service…”

Sometime later.

Flying high above the forests, an ooran soared gloriously through the hotter winds that floated it above the dangers below. The 4’ tall creature that was a mix of sparrow, raven, and hawk had tied around its chest a lockbox that clinked slightly as the beast flapped its wings.

Gliding downwards to a small farming village, the ooran landed with a loud thud on the windowsill of one of the farmhouses, spooking its residents.

“Below, my heart hates when these things land so close”, a familiar voice called out.

Walking to the window, lit up by the light of the sun, the 6’ tall farmer with dark brown body hair showed himself to the ooran.

“Hello there, you looking for a Jrizan?” Jrizan asked, wiping his bald head of sweat.

The ooran squawked as he nodded its head, pointing its beak to the lockbox tied to its chest.

“Well, who is this from I wonder”, Jrizan thought aloud as he untied the box.

The ooran squawked again as it stretched its wings, shakings its body as if it had gone stiff from the box. The box was quite heavy in the farmer’s hands, forcing him to quickly hop to a nearby table to lay it down with another loud thud.

“Below, what could this possibly be? I didn’t order anything. You sure this is for Jrizan?”

“Squark!”

“Fine, fine.”

Jrizan looked over the lockbox and found a rolled piece of parchment attached to its lock. Sliding it out, he unfurled it and read through it.

“Dear Jrizan,

It’s been some time since we last met, I hope you’ve not forgotten the young man whose bleeding hand touched your bleeding heart.

You helped me reach the village of Tinte and even set me up with a few days bed and board. The kindness you’ve shown me I’ve paid forward, yet I have yet to pay you back for a welcoming entrance to these lands.

Do you remember when I asked how I could repay you? Well now’s the time to pay those debts. I hope this covers it all.

All my best wishes with your harvests.

Logan.”

“Well, the lad has quite the handle on a quill. But what payment?” Jrizan spoke aloud, glancing at the ooran. “Best open this and let the creature know that delivery is complete.”

Clicking the lock of the box, Jrizan lifted the lid to reveal its contents.

Ten rows of twenty silver coins each, part of the pay that Logan had received from his most recent quest. The coins glistened in the sunlight from the window that the ooran was slightly obscuring, it let out another squark as it saw the shininess of the contents.

“I…”, Jrizan was taken aback, almost frozen with a hand above the lid of the opened box. “I said two silver, not two hundred!” he shouted with a wide smile.

Thinking back to the day they talked about said pay, Jrizan knew the words clearly.

“No mind, kindness pays in kind, one day you'll find someone in need and I hope you help them out, and if it just so happens to be me, well I can always do with a silver or two.”

Picking out two coins, Jrizan tried to bend them. “Just what has Logan done since we met?” he thought aloud.

The ooran squawked again as it titled its head in the window.

“Yes, yes. The delivery is complete. You want to wait around for a return letter or something?”

The ooran looked at Jrizan for a while, before pecking at the underneath of its wing.

“Fine, let me get my writing supplies… you don’t need to be fed do you?”

As if on command, the ooran picked out a small rat from its feathers, threw it in the air with a tilt of its head backwards, and gulped it down.

“That answers that question”, Jrizan replied to himself as he started to fumble around for his writing utensils.

And so Logan’s adventure continued. His beginning had ended, and the tale was starting to build surrounding the hidden Oracle amongst the populace. With a change in laws and a guild at his back, what else would stand against him?

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“Subject acquired, scan commencing”