The ones who know...

The ones who know…

Telmorgas was a wizard of old...

His hart was wicked and cold…

And with others he played…

A trick that he gazed…

Until the others was no more…

On the first day there was prosperity...

It was a warm summer evening and the town of Kirk had never seen better days. It was a small town true but none the less it thrived. The inn were always full and likewise the brothel. The craftsmen and cooks sucked in their own share of gold and the church of the watcher did not complain to the fees taken from Kirks wealthy citizens... Even if it was paid by drunks and randy men. Kirk had been built just a few years ago and was placed by the Southern trading road. Many merchants went through but it was not trading that had made these warm summer evenings so popular. Kirk had no interest in rare spices nor fine silks. That merchandise went through to the bigger cities. It was the inn “The shaggy wanderer” and the brothel “Hidden roses” that made a night in Kirk worth your gold. The merchants stopped for fat food and strong wines. They gambled and roared and made a real mess of themselves. Later at night they usually took a woman or two and the next day they left with a smile and a terrible headache. But that was the true purpose of Kirk, to drink and whore yourself if only for one night.

But there was one who newer approved. Who never drank and (as the rumors said) newer have had a woman. Always he stood and cursed them who went to “The shaggy wanderer” and “the rose.” Everyone in Kirk hated him a… “Knight of the wind” he was. Sir Sargale of Koldrixkeep was his name. He came from a cult called the windwhisperers and somehow he had managed himself to get knighted. The windwhisperers believe that some we know is a gift and the greatest of them all is the wind. “Without the air you cannot live let us praise it” was about their saying. Made sense in its own way but it was the other parts of Sir Sargales cult that made people hate him. It had strict rules for alcohol, gambling and relationships of the naked kind. And so it was that Sir Sargale stood outside “the rose” and “The shaggy wanderer” and cursed them who went inside, hated by all that was Kirk.

But there was another man in Kirk we need to know better before the next day… the priest Agamond. As all good men across entire four kingdoms, Agamond believed in the watcher. The watcher watches all. All from the kings of Midland to the little church were Agamond gathered the town to listen once in a while. The watcher also watched Kirk but did not see abomination but plain people enjoying themselves. “The only sinner here is the one refusing the watchers gifts... and we all know who that is…”  He used to say about Sir Sargale during his preaching.

On the second day there was doubt…

Today something was strange. No one came, no merchants, no adventurers, no wanderers, not even a beggar. Yesterday’s warm summer evening was but a memory now and the town seemed as square as… well a square. The townsfolk were getting worried when the sun started to fall under the treetops and no one had come. No one came… except him. All of a sudden on the black road there came an old man. He wore a brown filthy robe. He had long and sticky gray hair under a smelly hood. No beard but eyebrows as long as a nail, pointing out from his face. The face itself was old, almost too old. He mowed without concern to the center of town. Moved like a shadow. When he was done he sat down... in midair. The old man was flying… Facing the church he floated staring with small empty eyes and a sneer mouth.

The townsfolk came closer. All of Kirk had gathered round him. All 34 citizens was staring and mumbling, all in small words thou. The flying old man looked wise. There was power in his face, but nothing in his eyes. He felt hollow… No one dared say a word to him, after all what would they say? Suddenly Agamond made his way thru the scared crowd. He saw his chance and took it. “Who are you? I demand to know!?” He asked with a king’s voice. “Thy wish to know my calling?.. Telmorgas…” The old man answered after a while. His voice was grim and cold and he spoke slowly. The voice felt… unhuman. “And why are you flying!” He said a bit unsure now. “The lore of change is my doing and the power of magic I weald…” Telmorgas replied for an answer. “Well then… wizard! What business do you have here?” He said with some fear in the voice. The crowd had gone silent. All was eager to hear. Even Agamond went scared as the old man’s bony finger suddenly pointed at the crowd. “Thy who have sinned here… shall die.” Telmorgas said with a smile.