Men with Magic

Prologue

A strange, masked figure was walking the streets of Frulka alone. They had their sword unsheathed, a wary demeanor to them. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream rang out through the silent quarter.

The figure rushed to the scene, witnessing a mage getting attacked by a warrior. The mage was rather petite and tiny, shielding herself from the attacks with a shield spell. Her blonde, almost snow white, hair was rather greasy and knotty. She had murky, brown eyes, fear masking the rest of her hidden emotion. Her pale, freckled skin was revealed in the torchlight, seemingly glowing.

The mysterious mage was getting weakened, by a potion of sorts. Poison? Probably.

"Hey, you there! What the hell do you think you are doing?" The figure shouted. The warrior turned around, snarling. The look in her eyes was not human. The warrior's flesh was relatively decayed, revealing some ribs. 'Shit...' Thought the figure, getting a firm grip on their sword. They rushed, revealing their face.

The man, only known as Wulv the Dead, thrusted his sword into the undead's chest, killing her after a few more blows.

Wulv looked at the mage, his face coated in blood. They were studying each other, taking in other's features. Wulv awkwardly scratched the back of his head, still looking at the mage.

"Would you like to go to the tavern? I can get Chern to heal you, unless you can do it yourself." He explained, "Oh, by the way, I'm Wulv the Dead. Who are you?"

"I-I... I go by Tir. And yes, I would enjoy going to the tavern," She replied, stuttering at first. Tir stood up, wobbling. She regained her balance, smiling up at Wulv. "Shall we?" She asked, walking backwards. She gave him a 'hurry up before I run ahead' look, turning around once he started walking with her towards the local tavern.

A/N:
T here. Just thought I'd say... welcome? I'm writing a story right off the top of my head, so let's see how this goes. I'll only plan once I have a steady plot, kay?

Peace □