I wanted to take a jump on the whole media outlets. Information should be free. Whether it's the intellectual properties, such as the words you will soon be reading, or the movie you just downloaded. These things are ideas and are meant to be shared. People put work into them, but can we not just put in a commercial or two which would equal out?
Obviously, I will be putting effort into the story written here. And I hope you enjoy it. That is what it is meant to be about. And with no further ado, I give you,
A Sorcerer's Tale
The sun had been setting for a while. At least that's how it felt to the fat merchant, staring at this little man who's eyes traced every slight crevice in the stone in his hand. The merchant hadn't the slightest idea what it was or what it was meant to do. It was nothing more than a shiny bauble, something an idiot might buy. And judging by the way this man was treating it, it seemed he had found his savior.
"And you say it just...fell in your lap?" The man said, his dark eyes never leaving the gleaming green surface of the stone. His blonde hair was sticking up in just the right way to give the merchant an eerie feeling, as though the top of this man's head was staring at him.
"It did. And unless you intend to - " He paused as the man seemed to put the stone up to his ear, and his eye closed. The merchant was a bit unnerved, it looked like the man was actually listening to the stone.
"You stole it." He said simply, his eyes not even opening. The merchant took half a step back. He had, in fact, stole the stone, but there was no way this skinny little idiot could know that!
"Now I never - " He started, looking into the bristly hair of the man before him. The man stood up, holding the stone out in the palm of his hand. The look in his dark eyes was dangerous, deadly even. A shiver of fear went up the merchant's back as he stared into the man's eyes, unable to turn his gaze. It was impossible to read the look on his face. It could be anger, but that was impossible. There was just no way...unless...
"This stone was the sole property of a mister...Samuel DeGray. A man who was staying here a week past. You saw it and saw a way to make a quick few coin, not knowing the stone's purpose, nor it's intent." The man said. There was no real emotion, no tone, but somehow it was aggressive, it was...angry.
"It doesn't do anything. I already checked it out!" The merchant stammered angrily. This man couldn't possibly truly know the origin of that stone!
"No?" The man held it cautiously in his hands, his wiry fingers wrapped around it. The stone began to glow a soft green light. This couldn't be happening! Green fire burst out on the man's hand, quickly enveloping him in a bright green blaze. The merchant fell backwards as someone screamed. "And I will be taking it from here. Am I understood?" The man asked. The merchant nodded, staring up at him in wide-eyed fear, his mouth agape. The fire flew back into the stone, which seemed almost to ring out as the man began to walk away, seemingly unharmed and unmoved by the spectacle he had just caused. The crowded marketplace moved away, letting him through, all in stunned silence. The merchant just watched, a single thought deep in his mind, "If you live through meeting a sorcerer, you will never be the same again."
Deep in the woods nearby, a woman sat on a fallen tree, her long black skirt beginning to get cold and a bit itchy for her tastes. The sun had nearly set, and she knew she should have went with him. Who knows what would happen, who he would meet. There were so many problems that could come of him going alone. She stood up and began to pace a bit, looking around, biting her nails with worry.
"He should have been back by now...where is he?" She asked into the air, but no response came but a gentle breeze. The scent on the air was of the trees around her, but should thought maybe...just maybe she could smell that old, familiar smell of his skin...
She thought back to when she met him, just about a year ago. A sorceress living on the streets, a dredge to society. A number of young men had found her, cornered her. They had began grabbing at her tattered, dirty clothing while she strained to remember her training, the years of training she went through, and yet it still came down to this, still came to her inability to think under pressure. She tried calling out for help, but what was she to these people but a young girl who would never amount to anything? They would never help her and she would be taken, violated, and left to rot in this alley, like so many before her. But then, he came.
A tall man, in black robes with red trim, standing very tall and thin. His alabaster skin almost shone in the moonlight as he told them in his silky deep voice to leave if they wanted to live. His confidence...his strength. They had quickly turned their attention from her to him, liking the idea of getting themselves worked up with a good fight before taking it all out on her. But there was no fight. They stood no chance. It took mere seconds before they were all icicles, standing there, each one frozen into icy figures, all poised to attack. He had walked around them as though they hadn't been living people just seconds ago and offered her his hand. She looked up at him and all she saw was what she knew had to be perfection, had to be what she strived to be. He offered her a chance to travel with him, and she jumped at the chance.
And since that year had passed, she felt like a better person, stronger, in every way she could imagine, knowing he was right there to help her.
"A trip down memory lane?" She heard that familiar silky voice ask. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as her mind snapped out of it's trance. But, she kept herself calm.
"You're late..." She said quietly, almost timidly. He sat down on the log where she had been sitting. He pulled a stone out of his pocket. It was such a pretty shade of green.
"I'll make a note of it. Here. This is a protection stone. I was able to use some stronger trickery to aquire it. Don't lose it." He tossed the stone to her, and she caught it, though not as gracefully as she'd have liked.
To Be Continued
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