Epic Fantacea #12 Plans and Schemes  

rm_Trypsoul3 37M
17 posts
4/2/2006 8:03 pm

Last Read:
4/2/2006 8:49 pm

Epic Fantacea #12 Plans and Schemes

"What have you learned?" asked the sourceror, only half-interested in his servants answer.
"His army has dwindled to but a few, and they've seemingly put their weapons down, to farm and hunt outside the village. He is protected by someone, an elder of the village they call Senilis."
At this last statement, the sourceror who was more than a bit distracted and disturbed by recent experience, showed a bit of interest.
"Tell me more of this man named...Senilis," he said.
"There's not much to say," replied the tracker. "There is some sort of shroud over the village, and it centers around the elder. There is one thing I've learned getting as close as I dare. Noriova and the old man spend an awful lot of time together."
"Anything else?" asked the sourceror, really hoping to hear something useful.
"Only this, the old one, Senilis--he is always adorned in robes, sometimes of a biege color, sometimes white, sometimes grey. He wears a medallion that hangs from silver chain around his neck.
"The medallion, are there emblems on it, any symbols?" pressed the sourceror.
"I couldna' see it clearly, from my distance, and most times it's under his clothes, but aw did see part of it. What I saw was what looked like the top half a sigma of the old language, etched onto the chest of a great bird--eagle, falcon, griffin--I couldna' be sure what it was."
The sourceror stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner, momentarily, thankfully, able to dismiss the thoughts which plagued his mind.
"Thank you, Travler. Thank you much, indeed. I have a new task for you, my faithful tracker."
Mourna flicked a platinum coin in the tracker's direction.
Within a heartbeat, Travler, tracker and assassin in service of the sourceror, Mourna, had that coin hidden away somewhere on his person.
"I need you," instructed Mourna, "to head south to the capital and learn what you can of HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS'S intentions and movements, then head east to the city of Syn. Once there, acquire a room at the Majestic Harlot and await a messenger."
"As you wish," said the tracker, nodding briefly and then spinning on his heels to head in the opposite direction--to the south.
The sourceror had elsewhere to be. For a practicioner of sourcery, the power of the universe is as easy to manipulate as say the thumb or finger of the average person. In the time it takes the average person to snap his or her fingers, a sourceror or sourceress has opened themselves to the universe, asking it to come into them, to hear their words, and to grant them the ability to manipulate the foundations of reality and its pure limitless energy.
For one not schooled in the arts and techniques or sourcery, they would, in the best case scenario accomplish nothing. In the worst case scenario, a very unforgiving universe would tear them asunder, ripping them away from all space, time, and memory.
This sourceror, in particular, was the greatest sourceror ever to live in all past, present, and future. In the blink of an eye he pulled pure power from the center and moulded it as a potter would clay. Instantly, as he willed, he vanished from locus where his servant had reported to him, and instantly arrived in a city half-way across the known world.

--to be continued--

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