The famous exploits of Welveren The Wandering Wizard

The Wandering Wizard Welveren Flynn

A Tavern: Chapter 1

The story of Welveren, The Wandering Wizard.

POV: Welveren wanders into a tavern, tired from a long day of trading bounties and slaying demon infestations. He walks in alone.

I could still smell it, the gut-wrenching smell of demon blood. It stained my jacket, which I was quite fond of. As I wiped off my dagger, a lot of heads turned my way. Rarely did anyone see a Dark Elf around these parts. I walked up to the bar and the chatter quickly returned as I took my hood off.

"No alcohol for you, eh?" The bartender grunted.

"Yeah yeah, gimme something with sugar."

As a Dark Elf I personally didn't like brew. I had a natural resistance to it anyway, as well as just about any other poison. I ruffled around my bag, my nimble fingers feeling around my pet mouse, Picard, my crossbow, arrows, my spellbook and various other items until I found a few silver pieces and paid for the sweet drink. The bartender grimaced, obviously scared of the crossbow he had taken a glance at.

"You from 'round these parts, Drow?"

"Not exactly."

"I've seen ones like you but only durin' the wars. T'aint no Drow mercenaries around these days."

"Yeah? What's it to you?" I cast him a glare and walked off. The firelight glinted off my near parchment-white hair and I took a seat, pulling out my journal and began writing today's exploits, records of payment and how many demons exterminated within Kingdom extinction prevention laws. Everyone had gone right back to staring, at which in response I flipped them all the bird. After an hour or so I asked for a room.

"Yeah, we got rooms. A few gold pieces a night."

I grumbled as I paid, and turned around, stunned for a second as I set eyes upon someone I thought I'd never meet again. She was heading up the stairs with a party which I didn't know, one of them seemed to be flirting with her, which she ignored. She had shoulder length red hair, black pants and boots, a long ripped red cloak, a sword in a scabbard and a Lute across her back. Her name was Ro.

2 YEARS EARLIER

*flashback

I'm standing outside a large tomb, ghouls lay dead around my feet. My shoulder is bleeding profusely, and I don't realize I can't move it until I try to remove my pack from my back. Ro stands there next to me, breathing heavily, and starts talking.

"And you say you could've handled it on your own."

"If you hadn't gotten in my damn way I could have skewed them all-"

"If I hadn't gotten in your way you'd be propped up on a spear through your belly right now."

I scoffed and sat down, convening the ancient magicks and attempting to heal myself. But I'm so tired I cannot.

"Want me to take you back into town so we can get our reward?"

"Ugh. Fine, human."

She propped me up on her shoulder and I can't help but notice how she smells of cherry root. It's a pleasant smell. As we limped back to our horses I petted Picard and whispered a lullaby to him. Ro looked over and smiled. I quickly put Picard away in my pack as she started off.

"Aw. Cute little guy. Who knew a ruthless Drow like you had a heart."

"Oh fuck off, Ro. I'm a few hundred years old and I haven't been to half as many sleazy taverns for a night as you have."

Ro looked at me and frowned sadly. We hopped on our horses in silence and for a second I saw a flash of red in her eyes as we rode.

It's night by the time we get back and I start talking, like an idiot.