Previously, armed with nothing but his resolve, Tellerin’s journey takes a knocking when he was a target of a nocturnal mission to end his life. Defeating the assailant, a red-robed rogue who reveals herself to be of the Night Masks of Morroc, Tellerin sets out for the desert city upon finding out that the female thief has made off with all his traveling expenses and something else…
The Mage in the sands
Traditionally, the Sograt Desert was used as the de rigueur trade route for commuting between the city of Morroc and the rest of Rune Midgard until the recent sandstorms, ruthless brigands and dangerous creatures soon put a stop to the practice. Wary businessmen began to source for other alternative detours and now only smugglers and foolhardy merchants eager for a more direct and shorter route use the Great Sograt Way. And Tellerin is now traveling on it.
Following the near fatal incident at The Griffin’s Talon, Tellerin had no choice but to pursue the rogue who have not only tried to kill him but also made off with all his traveling zeny (the currency of Rune Midgard). Why did the rogue tried to do him in and why did the infamous Night Masks involve themselves with him, a lowly Pronterean acolyte; Tellerin had no idea. But one thing was for sure, he had to catch up with the rogue who had obviously escaped back to the city of Morroc (based on some of the accounts of witnesses along the way) and wring the truth out of her. Tellerin was sure he was made brave by a surge of fool’s courage but he was determined to apprehend his would-be killer.
Furthermore, only he knew that the rogue escaped with more than just his zeny that night. Tellerin discovered that the Night Mask thief has stolen the signet ring which HoJin has entrusted to him as a guide to the location of the Monk monastery.
“The Monastery is a mysterious establishment, with this ring, you will not need to find it. It comes looking for you,” instructed HoJin cryptically.
Thus, with whatever zeny that Grimt the innkeeper could spare him, Tellerin bought a place on a caravan group en route to Morroc.
A mighty heave and cries of the caravan captain shook Tellerin out of his reverie, “Everyone! Prepare to defend yourselves, a pack of wild Hode is upon us!” commanded the captain as he rushed alongside the caravans, rousing those who are asleep to arms.
Grabbing his mace, Tellerin rushed out in anticipation of the Hodes which were actually huge sandworms indigenous to the Sograt desert. Normally inoffensive, these creatures normally attack if they or their nests were threatened and evidently the caravan convoy had mistakenly wandered into one.
“Almighty Father above take my humble heed, grant thy son Your strength and speed!” Feeling the familiar surge of holy strength taking hold of his tired body, Tellerin lunged towards one of the rampaging Hode. To say that the Hode is small is an understatement although most of the time they may appear that way as people mostly saw the tip of their heads above ground.
That of course is a gross misconception as a fully-grown Hode can be anywhere between 10 to 15 metres long and seasoned travelers have learnt to fear and avoid them. But there’s no such luck for Tellerin as his augmented abilities saved him from being nearly crushed alive by the huge jaws of a Hode, then gripping his mace tighter, he gave the lunging Hode a sound blow on its snout, which sent the giant wrym shot back into the dunes in howls of pain and frustration as well as eliciting cheers from the beleaguered passengers who were facing certain defeat.
However, to the acolyte’s chagrin, the victory was but a small respite for within minutes he was swarmed by a mob of Hodes, eager to avenge their wounded compatriot. A swift glancing strike by a Hode behind Tellerin disarmed the acolyte while another wrym made sure it left a deep gash on Tellerin’s back with a blow that made a resounding thud. Winded, Tellerin could only drop to his fours on the sand, gasping heavily.
“Murus Incendium”, chanted a nearby voice and just as suddenly, a thick wall of fire appeared before Tellerin, knocking back a Hode that was going to deliver a final blow to the prostate acolyte.
“A miracle…God’s fire…?” murmured Tellerin as he remembered an old biblical story of God’s fire pillar protecting Moses from the chariots of the Pharaoh. As if in reply to Tellerin, the voice behind him spoke, “Hardly, faith can only get you so far, my friend, the rest Man must do himself.”
“Ignis Arundo,” continued the voice which resulted in the sudden immolation of the unfortunate Hode under a spew of magical fire bolts from the sky. Sensing the demise of one of their kind, the other Hodes retreated to their subterranean lair.
Turning around, Tellerin was momentarily blinded by the bright desert sun which threw a deep shadow on the one standing before him. However, no amount of sunlight could block the soft features and the emblem on the cloak of the young man before the acolyte. It was a mage, no doubt skilled in the ancient arcane lore of the Elder Magi of Geffen, the magical city of wizards.
“Well met, fellow travelers, it seems that the Hodes chose to make an impression on you all,” grinned the young man with a pet Petite (a terra-drake or a dragon that does not fly), “my name is Elihu Majien.”
The wandering mage appears...
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You know words... that be good.
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