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 Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:29 pm
•【 Starting the Alchemy Tower 】• 329 Words
Leor wandered through the square with his satchel, careful to avoid the vendors who were too pushy or loud; normally that was a signal of a half-broken, unfinished ripoff. There were various stands around the place, some of which were filled to the brim with colorful baubles, and others were full of food and baskets. He picked up a few things and inspected it before finding the Alchemy stand at the far side.
This was the one thing Leor could see himself doing as a profession; a thing he enjoyed even in his off-time as a hobby. Growing plants and mixing things together. As a child it was simply mud pies and grass. This was the point he had a snap-decision to start doing it seriously.
He almost skipped to it in his excitement, inspecting the plants on display. Quite a few were great for poison; another few were meant for defense and healing. He smiled widely and greedily. This would be the best moment to start his collection and get his own Alchemy Tower filled out.
He collected quite a few ingredients, and then inspected the display of cauldrons on the side, as well as empty vials he would then fill with water to actually make the potions themselves. He inspected all the different designs, and then chose the simplest one; just something to build his potions in and nothing fancy. When he finally pointed it out and paid for it, he put the ingredients inside just for traveling purposes to keep them safe while he walked.
It was a lovely day, and the hot sun shone down. Heading home, he stepped through the cool threshold of his little tower, and found the empty room of dustbunnies and cobwebs. He would have to clean this out later, he thought and sighed heavily. He set the ingredients and his cauldron down carefully on a stone table and then turned to inspect his space. “This’ll do,” he said, smiling widely.
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:31 pm
•【 The Shining Scimitar 】• 577 Words
The woods were dark, and the night was almost suffocating. Leor could almost feel it in his throat choking him, and the humid weather just made his breathing even more labored than it already was. This was the entire reason he didn’t live next to the ocean, and he couldn’t believe people actually liked living so close to evaporating water. The sun was great; he loved it. But this humidity was like a sticky, suffocating blanket over his mouth.
He looked left and right, searching for his prey. They’d dodged off into the darkness and hadn’t returned. This was his fifth target, and one that was high-class entrusted to him because he hadn’t failed before. And yet here he was, already lost him in the forest. He swore, angry, and stalked from tree to tree, remaining with his back to the bark to have a perfect view no matter where he moved, and then skipped to the next place to hide. There was no way to track in this blackness. While it was true it was helpful to stalk targets at night because the shadows were your friends... they also occasionally helped out the enemy too, and left you as the one wandering.
Dodging from one tree to the next however, his foot connected with something hard in the ground that rang when he kicked it, and sent him flying into the grass. He cussed, then turned around in a rage to see whatever rock it was so he could throw it violently into the woods. But it wasn’t a rock.
The blade was stuck straight in the ground, the handle wobbling in the moonlight. He blinked, the moon reflected in the blade. It seemed to sing. For a while, Leor just stared at it dumbstruck, his brain not quite comprehending the reason a scimitar was sticking from the moss instead of in someone’s hand. And it didn’t look as if it was dropped. It looked like someone simply jammed it there. He got up and inspected it, pulling it out and holding up in what little light there was to get a better look. He ran a thumb on the blade and winced as it cut him. It was incredibly sharp, and the carvings on the hilt and handle handle were intricate but sturdy.
He held it out with his arm and gave it a few swings. Up until now, he’d merely been using a simple bow he’d constructed with a few sticks and some string. A sword wasn’t ranged, but... it felt right. It felt exactly like an extension of his arm, a part of him. He swung it a few more times, and the singing seemed to grow into a deafening roar. He cried out and then watched for a while as it shined briefly, and then the glowing faded and it returned to its prior self. He gaped, unbelieving, and looked around the wood for someone, anyone, else who saw. But no one was there.
He turned his gaze back down to it, and then wrapped it in the cloth that hung at his side, and tucked it through it like a makeshift belt until he could find a cover for it, and gave up his hunt for the night. He would inevitably find his target once again. All at once, the pressure and irritation faded; he would use his newfound weapon when the time came. He could run, but he couldn’t hide.
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Posted: Sun Oct 11, 2015 10:29 am
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