Mage Chronicles

[Reverend Red Mage]

This is a 'project' I've been writing for a while; I welcome criticism, as it only serves to show where I need improvement. I have only 5 chapters of the story so far, as I haven't really had the time or motivation to continue. If you would like to see the story go in a particular direction, please let me know... I kind of want to establish a "party" of sorts with the characters to discover the secrets behind the Necrati tribe and why they are a blight upon the world. I didn't seem to have that in mind with the Prelude, but maybe I'll work into it. I don't know.

Read and enjoy.

Mage Chronicles - Prelude - Claw and Fang

She sat awake beneath the tree, staring intently at his sleeping form. Blinking, the realization dawned on her that she'd never really seen his eyes in the fullness of light. Curiously, she crept over to Sylph. Why did he keep so much of his appearance conveniently hidden? Asleep, he appeared the guileless angel, but wished she could see, if only once, what his eyes looked like. Her hand inched forward ever so slightly to raise the brim of his plumed hat.

The distinctive sound of a footstep from the wooded area behind them froze Razwan mid-motion, her breathing stilled so as not to interfere with her hearing. No sound followed it for nearly a minute, until another rustle broke the silence from another direction. The sounds were stealthy, and the sneakiness of them set her on the alert. With some regret, she shook Sylph's shoulder gently, placing a single upraised finger to her lips to indicate silence and trouble.

Despite the depth of his sleep, he came to immediately; she could feel his muscles tense beneath her hand. Leaning down, brushing her lips against the outer arc of his ear, she whispered almost to the point of being completely inaudible.

"I think we have visitors."

He nodded, upturning one, two, and then four of his fingers. Four of them, then, she thought. Two of them to one of us. Terrible odds... for them.

A slow, bass-filled growl echoed low through the underbrush, followed by a bone-chilling, vulpine howl.

Wolves.

________________________________________

Sylph scrambled, as quietly as he could, to his feet. He made no sudden movements as he reapplied his gauntlets and cloak.

Testament manifested in his right hand, and he moved back-to-back with Razwan as the oversized wolves began to encircle the readied duo.

"I'm going to have to do this without magic," Sylph whispered, turning his head slightly to gain Razwan's ear. This was an unnecessary adjustment, as she was listening intently in concentration. "Without a full night's sleep," he said indignantly, "...I'm a little drained of will at the moment. I can feel the Ether, but only faintly."

"Then we do this the hard way," Razwan responded, but with her voice at its normal volume. The wolves already knew of their presence, so she saw no point in maintaining silence. "You take the two ugly ones."
Sylph heard her dash forward and the sweet melody of razor-sharp metal meeting wolf skin.

"Wait. Which two are the ugly ones?" he retorted playfully, and focused his attention on the growling wolf ten paces to his left. He focused some of his latent power into Testament's ruby. "You're a bad puppy," he taunted, slowly bringing Testament across him and nearly to his backside. "White Rhapsody", he then declared, his voice taking on a faint and otherworldly echo. Swinging Testament in a wide arc resulted in the ruby releasing two glowing, silver discs flowing outward at a horizontally parabolic trajectory toward his target. They converged at the beast's rushing form, which flew backward in recoil and yelped in pain. It landed hard on the ground, tumbled a few times, and appeared to be unconscious from the blow.

Sylph turned his eye--the one only half-concealed by the brim of his hat--to the beast that was now distracted by the condition of his companion. He took the opportunity to analyze Razwan's affairs, who was staring down her second target; the first one was nowhere to be seen.

Her wolf was the first to lunge. She took the opportunity to duck, only to give the beast a scythe-powered uppercut, launching it unusually high. What she did next amazed him further. She flung Etoile directly at the airborne beast, which sailed to its target like a renegade buzz saw. He didn't have to look to see that the fiend was instantly killed, but even more amazingly, the scythe continued on a boomerang path back to its owner. She caught it gracefully with one hand before the corpse landed on the ground behind her. It was a good thing that she spotted Sylph watching her.

"Look out!" she cried, and he turned to see his forgotten target lunging. Its attack was interrupted by a needle in its face, fired reflexively from Razwan's hand. Sylph wasted no time and landed a finishing blow to the beast's ribcage.

They both remained on the offensive for a few moments, in case any others from the wolves' pack decided to become reinforcements.

The tension settled, and Razwan was first to speak.

"Kurrelgyre..."

[Reverend Red Mage]

Here's chapter 1. I'll post chapter 2 later to avoid multiple postings.

Mage Chronicles - Chapter 1 - Ill Omen

It was a busy day for the village. The weather was relatively pleasant; it was warm, slightly breezy, and sunny. The ground was damp from a fresh rain the day before. It was not unlike any other day in Glenprice, as every family living there was self-sufficient. They only ate what they could cultivate. Trading between neighbors never ceased. It seemed to pulse with youth; children played in the roads, chasing chickens, rodents, and anything else that always managed to stay one step ahead of them.

A group of kids had gathered in the road, following a man clothed almost entirely in red. His long, white locks of hair caressed a youthful face... despite the color of his hair, his age had not gone past his twenties. He was tall and slender, and walked with a slow but purposeful gait, unhindered by the children almost trampling his heels.

"Please, Sir Stridemoon, tell us again about the Ether!" one cried.

"Yes, yes! That stuff is fascinating. Especially how you set stuff on fire."

"Nuh-uh, it's not as cool as when he turned that bug into a block of ice."

A smirk crossed the man's lips. Whether this was amusement or viciousness could not easily be determined; the brim of his hat was dipped so low, his eyes were nearly invisible. He chuckled and eased the tension.

"The Ether isn't just about casting spells, you know," he said to all of them. The children immediately stopped arguing; it was rare that their mage friend actually started a dialogue. "It is the magical force that binds all. To know it, you must be one with it. Interweave it with every fiber of your being. You must feel it. Taste it."

He was immediately interrupted. "What's it taste like?"

"Shut up, Kento!" came from one of the others. He chuckled again, and the children followed suit in laughter.

"Hey, Sylph!" the old town jeweler called from his shop across the road. The mage quickly bade farewell to the children, who lamented his leave with a collective groan and commenced arguing about his few insights about the Ether.

The jeweler held up a bright red gem, roughly the size of his own fist. "You got yourself a genuine Cornerian ruby here, Sir Stridemoon," the jeweler said, taking another look at it through his magnifying monocle. "It's a large specimen, too. Don't know where you found it, but I've never seen one this big and nearly flawless. There's a few scratches, but they're hardly noticeable." He handed it to Sylph, who immediately pocketed it.

"Thanks, Zoah. How much do I owe you?" he asked, reaching for the money pouch at his waist.

"Your gil is no good here, mage. You're the town guardian... I should be paying you for bringing me such a treasure to look at! Why, that fine gem will fetch you quite a money sack at the Capital Market."

"Heh... I would think so, but this isn't for sale," Sylph replied, patting the other pouch that held the gem. "I've other intents for it."

"Well, do what you like. Personally, I could use the money."

"I am in gratitude for your services, Zoah. Have a pleasant afternoon."

Zoah waved him off and trudged back into his shop.

As Sylph walked down the road back to his abode, he studied the ruby. It had a faint, ethereal glow to it. The Ether showed him that this particular gem radiated a small aura. It was peculiar, to say the very least. In all his travels, he had never seen anything like it. "My friend at the Capital Market may be able to help me utilize this," Sylph said to himself.

As he touched the doorknob to his abode, the Ether suddenly pulsed. Deep, billowing clouds suddenly began to form overhead. He released his hand, and his other gripped the hilt of his rapier. He moved out to the middle of the road. Other villagers noticed his trepidation, and out of curiousity stopped what they were doing to watch him as he bowed his head in concentration. Eventually the other villagers in the vicinity looked skyward, noticing the clouds forming. It was an unusual phenomenon... the skies were clear a few moments ago.

Sylph felt the Ether pulse again. Stronger. Darker.

Something's coming...

[Reverend Red Mage]

Well, no response yet. I'll post chapter 2.

Mage Chronicles - Chapter 2 - Incipient Demise

"Everyone… hide."

The villagers didn't need to be told twice. They scattered, grabbing the children and quickly retreating to shelter. Sylph remained in the road.
The clouds billowed and the skies grew ever darker until it felt like nightfall, even though it was midday. The Ether pulsed once more, yet again darker. It was a lingering feeling of death, and it began to permeate everything within his immediate vicinity.

Then he saw them... many of them. They approached the town and brought with them a foul, Ethereal stench of death. There were at least twenty; however, this was all he could count from where he was standing in relation to the edge of town. They were all dressed differently, but that is where the uniqueness ended. They were swaddled in robes, rags, and tunics of black and dark brown. Their heads, when not covered by turbans (at least, Sylph thought they were turbans), were covered by short, spiky grey hair. It was their eyes that caught Sylph's attention... they were red. It was both beautiful and haunting at the same time.

The tallest one seemed to lead the pack. He was an elder gentleman, but even with a few signs of aging on his visage, it was apparent by his build that his age was not going to be too much of a factor. He was the first to speak; his voice had a grainy timbre but deep intonation.
"Ah. Just one guardian, is it?"

"This town only needs one guardian," Sylph boasted in reply. "Why are you here? What do you seek with this place?"

The tall one marched the group into the center of town, and not too far away from where Sylph stood. They all eyed him maliciously; Sylph was careful not to return the stares. He kept his luxuriantly plumed hat dipped.
"You have something that we want," the dark one said. "But before that, I think it would be slightly rude not to introduce myself."

"I couldn't agree more," Sylph interrupted with a hint of indignation in his voice.

"I am Gustach, of the Necrati tribe. These are my, uh, comrades," he said, gesturing to the snickering folk to his rear. "And what name does this town's solitary guardian go by, so I may brag of it to my next of kin?" he asked sardonically.

"Sylph Stridemoon, of the Royal Order of Red Mages," Sylph replied, masking rising anger.

"Royalty, is it? Well. I had best watch my step, lest your royal boots be stepped on. Would not want that happening."

Sylph ignored this taunt. "Again I ask you, Gustach. What do you seek with this place?"

"Ah, yes. That. You see, I believe you have something I... we... want."

"I can guarantee you that there is nothing here that could generate the interest of a man of your caliber."

"If that were the case, I would not be standing here before you, no? This may seem very superficial of me, but I'm seeking a gem. A ruby, specifically." Gustach paused and grinned. "Much like the one you have in your possession right now."

Sylph was astonished, and it took all he had to hide this shock. He tested Gustach's claim. "I have no such item. What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't lie to me, Stridemoon. We've only just met. That's bad etiquette, you know. It's right there, in that pouch." Gustach raised a finger, pointing to the very pouch that contained Sylph's new artifact.

"All right, then. Why do you want it?" Sylph replied.

"That, I'm afraid, shall have to wait until another day to be answered. All I can say is that you shall see soon enough. Just hand it over and there will be no trouble."

Sylph didn't trust these people. The Ether pulsed again, and Sylph could sense obvious malicious intent.

"You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," he said.

"That can be arranged." Gustach snapped his fingers, and a younger man emerged from the mob sporting a shining dagger.

"I'm a professional thief," the young man said, "so your valuable will be relieved from you painlessly. That is, unless, you would like to do this differently."

"Come near me with that thing and you'll not only lose it, but your hand along with it," Sylph threatened back.

This was no empty threat, as the man quickly found out. He lunged at Sylph's waist; Sylph easily sidestepped this clumsy attack. In one quick movement, Sylph brushed aside the cloak that concealed his rapier, unsheathed it, and in one swift, downward stroke, sliced his attacker's hand clean off. The thief screamed in agony.

"That's a shame. Such a beautiful knife you have there, and now you can't even use it," Sylph said nonchalantly.

Gustach was outraged. "Kill him," he commanded, and two other minions appeared from behind him, each wielding a ring blade slightly larger than a tambourine.

Sylph flourished his blade. "Let us dance."