Tony Seeds

Ch3: The First Mercanary

Authors Note: Magic for the use of currency is not illegal. For a while the magic community banned the concept, however after a year of mundane jobs such as office work and mega corporation cashiering, they repealed the law, finding it difficult to make a living using normal means. The new law states that magic can be used to make work easier, and to earn money, however not to be used for state lotteries. They decided against it after Vlad Smith of Atlanta Georgia won 8.9 million dollars faking 908 lottery tickets in his name without properly paying for them.

"Strawberry champagne on ICE. Lucky for you it's what I like! What I Like!"

This is the alarm on the phone of a man people have all but forgotten. The Skulll Llorde. Three L's in Skull, two in Lorde. A retired Magicary. A magicary, for those brave enough to learn, is a magic using mercenary. Often deputized by a local council to do dirty work for the good of society. It isn't a pleasant job. It takes discipline and focus on your work. For the thrill seeking mage, however, it sure is fun.

The Skulll Llorde groggily moaned, slapping his hand on the charger attached phone and shut his alarm off. He read 9:30am on the display. In his early morning daze, he forgot why exactly he decided to wake up at such a sacrilegiously early time. He flips through his memo pad on his phone.

Remember:

• Get that vanilla milk for coffee
• find the batteries for the Rv's smoke alarm
• IMPORTANT. 12:30 STOP OCCULTISTS.

"Oh yeah. That was it." The Skulll Llorde said to his audience of one. He cricked his neck and looked around his rv. A small, mobile apartment he traveled the fifty states in. He didn't like hotels or staying in one place too long. The Skulll Llorde was not a well loved man. Maybe two or three people he knew by name tolerated him. He understood it was just the magicary business. The job is doing dirty work. Not chris angel-ing your way into people's hearts.

He thought of his mission as he draped his navy blue and sun yellow polo shirt over his body. He slept in his tan cargo pants, so he was taken care of in that respect. He was contacted by yet another anonymous benefactor's middle man to stop some god worshipping occultists. Not the judeochristian god. One of the lesser ones not many people care about. Normally they're harmless teens trying to seek attention. This clique however has been naughtier than the rest. Several livestock and a few people have been going missing.

Skulll Llorde would typically give this to his cousin, but he was on his own job. He had another friend in the area, but she was working in the big leagues lately and didn't have time for small work like this. It was up to this retiree to take one last job. After putting tan cargo pants on, he attached his back draped hilt and slid his double edged sword into it.

The sword of displacement was a sought after relic within the magical communities. It was a Scandinavian sword with gaelic and nordic runes reading " from source to world" and "from world to source" on each side of the cast iron hilt. Skulll Llorde knew it was just an energy rerouter. Its more common nowadays to find a metal stick and use that to reroute your magic energy outward. It was more sought for its craftsmanship.

After slipping on his faded leather sandals, the last piece of Skulll Llorde's apparel to apply was a chrome plated skull mask. The eyes were cut out so he could more effectively see. He draped the black cloth from behind the mask over his head. He was ashamed of the cost his magic gave him, but it was small compared to some he knew. He once knew a man who backfired an electric chain enchantment and he spontaneously combusted. Skulll Llorde looked upon that date fondly. He got the paycheck for that job.