Gnolan stared hard at the scorched and pockmarked old stump. In his head he conjured images of a lightning bolt blasting away at the stump, turning it to nothingness. Sparks snapped from his finger tips, and nothing else happened.
His cussing echoed through the small stand of trees around him as he stomped off toward his small cabin and slammed the door shut behind him. That was it. He was done with this ‘work it out himself’ bit. He was going to have to pull his boots up and get back what he had lost the hard way.
As he stood stuffing his necessary possessions into his bag there was a rustle at the window. Turning Gnolan saw a large raven perched on his windowsill. It was looking right at him. Worse still it had a small bracelet around its leg, and dangling from that was a small ring. The bracelet was stamped with the Order of the Arcanists symbol.
Gnolan began to raise his hands, if he was quick enough he could at least get off a magic missile…
The raven cawed at him then leaned its head down and stuck its beak within the small ring. As it drew its beak back out, a long thin rolled up piece of papyrus came with it. The bird dropped the small scroll and as Gnolan stooped to pick it up, flew from its perch and off into the distance.
Gnolan sighed and unrolled the papyrus:
Gnolan,
The Order of the Arcanist, regretting the situation you have put yourself in, wishes to extend an invitation to remedy your current predicament. A rogue group of Arcanists has taken it upon themselves to scour Araellia in search of an artifact of tremendous power. This artifact is dangerous, and if found could bring about another cataclysm.
As the sole member of the Order, albeit with a radically reduced rank, in the area, be advised that one of the rogue operatives was spotted travelling toward the Vale. We assume they are looking for the artifact in the area of Deadrock. Similar groups have been detected all over Araellia.
Your aid in this matter is required. Should you be successful in stopping their plans the Order will reassess your current rank reduction.
Sincerely,
The High Council of the Order of the Arcanists
Gnolan growled as he balled up the note. Fuming, he stuffed the note in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. When it did not explode in his stomach he sighed and grabbed his teddy bear, stuffing it on the top of his pack and drawing the string closed tight around the stuffed animal’s neck. Brushing off dark blue star embroidered robe he donned it with a quick flourish, the sleeves snapping sharply out. Lastly he pulled his large pointed hat off the shelf by the door and dropped it on his head. Stroking his long grey beard he looked at the door and smiled. “Let’s do this then.”
*****
Artiel strode along the lonely road. He rubbed the bracer over his scar and winced, despite the fact that it had fully healed. He was almost to his destination. Deadrock only lay a few days ahead. He stood looking down over the Vale, the road he was on followed a bluff well above the Red Ribbon Run, a river that flowed out of the Vale.
Ahead of him, stood a bridge, and there a man was breaking camp. One of the Halfling riverboats was gliding to a landing at the dock near the bridge.
Artiel had no need of getting to know anyone. His mission here would be short lived and then he would be back in Abid’lan, reporting his success to Salidin. His time as a street dweller was at an end. He would one day be one of the most feared men of Abid’lan. But his was not an uncaring way. No. He would not just be a thug or a murderer, but a source of justice, when all other justice failed.
But first, to Deadrock. What an apt name, he thought.