Scroll One:
A Wizard confronts a King
A Ring with a new ending.
In the graveyard of Elysian's Fields is a lonely and worn skeleton, sitting in the middle of a cluster of headstones. It's skull bearing a crown rich with glittering jewels and sparkling diamond, unaffected by the ages. The gold shimmering in the dimmest lights and the silver reflects the light of heaven when shrined on. The skull looks emptily off into the East, to some land distantly away. In this cursed pile of treasure is one distinct ring. It is stringed onto a chain of gold and hung around the neck. The large diamond in the ring seems to glow in the night of a full moon.
"It is not so strange for a skeleton to be cursed," The old man said to a circle of children around the crackling campfire, "and it is not so strange that a diamond glows, although it is quite rare. You see, my children, this particular ring is the key to unlocking the ultimate power that everyone desires; the power to become a God."
The aged man takes a sip of his bubbly, steamy drink from what seems to be a metallic chalice with a skeletal hand engraved on it. He continued.
"This cup that I hold is one of the few, limited treasures of that person, and I can only pass it down to the person it views most worthy of its magical properties."
"What is so magical about an old cup?" A voice in the back pips up. A wave of laughter breaks the silence like a fog horn in the ocean.
"This cup... is indeed magical," The Elder hesitates, "You see, I'm already a hundred and twenty one years old."
---
South of Elysian's fields is a short, dirt ridden road leading to the city of Peltaras, the Capital City of the Central Continent. Wheel tracks are deeply engraved into this hard, unholy road like a stab to the heart, for it comes from the weight of carts and coffins of the dead.
Peltaras is guarded by four heavily stoned Doors. Inscribed on each is an enchantment from the age of the Elves, protecting the city from demons and such. In the middle of the city sits an ancient fountain whose water is never tainted. A little to the North of the fountain is a Citadel named Winterheim. East of the Citadel is an ancient, majestic building, the Temple of Sanctimoria, The God of Light and Sky. South of the fountain is the market and where the citizens of Peltaras reside.
A drunken man is found inside the local pub, his clothes torn and bloodstained, his robes plastered with twigs and mud, and his hair simply filthy and messy. The bartender took an interest to him. It was destined. Come heaven or hell, nothing will stop the bartender from talking to this man.
That was the mistake of the Draenus.
"Traveler," The bartender started, sitting down across the table, "Have you any tales of adventures for this old man?" He chuckled.
The drunken man looked up. The bartender looked into his eyes, the same glaze was returned. In that instant the bartender saw two emerald colored eyes, cold and glittering, staring into his soul as if he was a vampire, sucking the life out of him.
"My name is Mystic." The stranger broke the silence between him and the bartender. He took another sip from the foamy drink, "and you would be?"
"Uh..." The bartender snapped out of his trance, "Around here they call me Dan," he regains his thought, " Your name.." He begins, but was cut off by a sharp reply.
"Is rather... interesting...? I get that fairly often."
"Yes! I mean... No! I mean... It's unique... and... interesting, of course."
"It was given"
"As is all ours"
"No, It was given by the ranks of Glastimoria."
"Ah."
The bartender understood what it meant. No, this was not an average pioneer. This person is no mere mortal, so to speak.
"There is no need to withdraw from our conversation," Mystic said in a low whisper, "I'm rather... unlike my comrades."
"Then you are from the guild of Assassins?" The bartender hoped for the best.
"No, the... other one." He steps up, "but if you feel my presence is endangering your store, I will gladly leave."
Indeed he is endangering the bartender's store. Not only so, but the entire city and the lives of all the men and women of the city.
No, the Draenus would not have it that way. Some things are negotiable, but not the meeting of this bartender and this stranger.
"Absolutely not." The bartender is ready to stand and block his way. "Please, stay a while longer and tell me of your adventures."
"It would not be wise to tell you too much for your own safety." Mystic finishes his drink. It taste of milk and melons, and a heavy scent of alcohol. "But if you wish to know, I would be most happy to tell you if you should lend me a room tonight, and a bathtub." He gives a faint smile.
"Certainly!" The bartender agrees. "However, do tell me your sudden interest in a bath."
"You have to make yourself look presentable to the King."
And the clock struck nine.
---
"Halt!" Comes a voice in the Citadel of Winterheim. "By order of the king, state your name and purpose!"
"I am Mystic Purity, Summoner of Ice and an Elite Sage of the Order of Glastimoria." He begins, "And I bring news from Rune Morum, City of the Guild of Wizards."
"You may approach." A weak voice in the back is heard.
Mystic Purity steps before the throne and stands before the king. Unlike most commoners and wizards, there is something different about him. Something whimsical that cannot be explained with words. The Court took notice and was threatened.
"Explain yourself that you do not bow dow--" One of the court advisors begin, but never had the chance to finish as he instantly froze into a block of ice.
"If you would wish to send more of your kinsmen against me, I will gladly put on more display of fireworks and magician's trick for you." The sage says with his eyes closed and an irritated tone is distinctly identified. "Either ways... We can get down to business with or without anymore of your play things frozen to ice statues."
"Do continue." The King says, with no sympathy to his advisor that has been hit with a basic enchantment. The rest of court, however, was frightened and outrage of this preposterous act of disrespect.
"I'm looking for a person in these parts, I can do it two ways.." He pauses, looking for a reply from the King. He had him exactly where he wanted him. Irritated, provoked and deeply interested in his goal.'
"And that would concern me how?" King gives in to the magician.
"If your army were to help me..." Mystic is successfully luring the King into his trap.
"Out of the question!" The King roars, "How dare you come in and make demands of me like a peasant?"
"If they were to help me, then I will withdraw my threat of utterly destroying this entire city and putting it under ice."
"What..!" The King is outraged. This is indeed a good way to get what he wants. "Do you not think the other magicians will come and rescue us? Surely you must be joking, under the Covenant of the..."
'Finally' Mystic thought 'He brings up the valid point'
"States clearly that all you who does magic tricks in this continent..." The King continues.
"There is no other wizards. I am the last." Mystic says coldly, ignoring the insult.
"Must remind at all times loyal or the punishment would be... what!" His emotions are mixed. Confusion and disbelief is not a good combination.
"What do you mean you're the last?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. I am the last."
"Then the other magicians?"
"There is no other. I am the last."
"Impossible." The King snorts.
"It is rather possible. Do you think Rune Morum would send their best Magician to find one person and leave the city open to attacks?"
"I think you're hardly the best."
"Stop thinking. You're not very good at it." Mystic smiles as if he's found the King's treasure. Oh wait, he did.
"Then you want my entire army to go out and search for this person in the city?"
"Not in the city. In the whole continent."
"You said there was two methods, and the other is?"
"I destroy the city and search for it on my own. The only person who will survive is the one I'm looking for."
"Who will defend my castle then if my entire legion is out?"
"You forget that I shall be staying here. The only danger you would face is me." He turns and face one of the kinsmen, "Take me to my room."
The kinsmen looks at the King, and he nods with a pained expression on his face.
"Oh.. I almost forgot." He points his finger at the block of ice, and the advisor is defrosted.
And he exits the room leaving anger and bitterness in it.
---
"He's not going to get what he wants from the king if he is going to make everyone mad, is he?" Another voice comes up in the group around the campfire.
"No, everyone thought not" The old man says, "I suppose you wouldn't do anything if someone screamed at you!" A warm smile appears on his face, "well, except your parents."
A wave of laughter sweeps across the field, and far away, in the graveyard of Elysian fields, two letters shimmers in the moonlight on the ring of the dead.
It reads 'M.P.'