The Eight Pillars of Magic (The 8... of Magic Series 1)

Tavern Tales

The bartender was a little preoccupied, but still managed to welcome the Stranger with a hand wave.

It was as alluring inside as it was on the outside. Rounded, stone beams supported the upper floor and the lights attached to them. The walls were full of paintings, all in a different style, but all of the surrounding area.

The tavern itself was packed. Soldiers seemed to be the primary clientele here, which could've been a bad sign, though the Stranger thought not. Besides soldiers, there were also dwarfs, small-giants, gnomes, orcs and scoundrel. Several long tables were occupied by, what must been seperate groups who had bonded over great food and conversation. The other, smaller tables were occupied by people who were indulging in cardgames and dice, while some did try to spark a conversation, others could barely speak a word between eating. Even most of the stools at the bar were occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company. A bard stood up and managed to sing, fighting his wave of drunkeness.

The common folk had heard rumors about a traveler, supposedly famous for something, but they disagreed about the what. Only that the Wanderer had saved the Principality of Ruvia of Norelind somehow. The atmosphere had been warm, until the Stranger's appearance, as he brought a trange coldness with his entrance. "A seat and food for this evening." The Stranger said, while gravelling his voice to sound gruffer, but it still sound like a horde of crackling ice.

A gnome was serving brew so thick, that the Stranger had look twice to recognize much to his dismay that it was ale. He did not even consider to remove his hood, maybe he found here sleep. Ever since The Dreaming Throne incidence, he suffered from recurring dreams, or more like nightmares than dreams. It was a punishment of sorts. In those nightmares someone raised generations of "monstrous cattle"—some regressed to a quadrupedal state—to eat his dreaming flesh. This was stopped when the Stranger woke up. Tiredly he approached his room and left the door wide open, too tired to close it. It was just simple haystack bed, but it would suffice.

He was maddened by the nightmares of his imaginations, his past, a hereditary cruelty and his sealed anger over his son's death. He once attacked the whole 9th Circle Wizard Guild in the cavernous city Kvotheshravrah, after one of them had dared mock his son's death. Leaving the Guild rambling in a mixture of Maanin, Oricish, and Dragon Tongue, before they devolved into a cacophony of animalistic grunts. He was subsequently subdued and placed in the capital dungeon of Ruvia and after serving his sentence, the Stranger had been banished from Ruvia. This didn't just earn him a prison sentence but also the nickname of Terrifier of Kvotheshravrah. At least his investigator, Gyrföndo, had not gone insane after the man had attempted to search through his mind. Out of the eight Pillars, Enchantment was his greatest thorn. The Stranger was at least consistant in his failling of that matter. A true magician had mastered in someway tests about Illusion, Alteration, Destruction, Conjuration, Restoration, Mysticism, Thaumaturgy and Enchantment. On a good day, the Stranger was able to do about six or seven but he had forlong lost the interest in being tested by The Shrapnel, the life of the hedge mage was what he strifed for and sleep.

The Stranger found no sleep and so he headed back downstairs, listening to the sounds, new customers had replaced those who had passed out. He enjoyed the noise, gave a tender sign to the bartender and was brought a big cup foamy ale. For that, the bartender recieved two extra silver. He then pulled out a pipe made of ashen wood and filled the chamber. When some men disturbed his peace. The were all Indolay like him, but the fact that they were also Ruvian knights troubled him. It meant that if anything happened, and something always happened when soldiers or knights visited taverns, he could not use magic or else he would be exposed.

„What'cha aboz to smoke?" the first knight asked. He was very short and of average build, and had a guarded expression. A tattered half-cape dyed violet flung from his right should. „Fuck. He is a ruvian Captain." the Stranger thought to himself, who had immediately noticed the accent. „A rare herb." he answered with full apathy in his tone and leaned back. The ugly ruvian accent, was almost a bastardization of his native tongue. „Where did you git it from?" the captain asked. The Stranger took another drink from his ale, before he answered, that an old friend had gifted him that. "Don't you know that bringing foreign substances to Ruvia is illegal! Cease him" the captain exclaimed and all drew their weapons. He was sure about getting not into/or dragging others into mishaps, but less sure about the other folk in the Inn. So he... proposed to tell a story, and if the knights still wanted him to be arrested. The Stranger would let himself be taken without any bloodshed. And just to be safe, he used a combiner spell, he had invented with his former teacher Samonicus, simply to calm the crowd. It was a bit of Runic magic combined with 'Naming' (a type of magic that allowed the user to command the classical elements and objects) similar to how dragons used to employ magic. The Stranger began his story: "In a land long ago there was a Wanderer..."