The carriages ambled along the sandy paths before breaking over the blazing horizon, revealing the city of Morocc, a structure of incongruity amidst the golden, tawny skin of Nature. The city is centuries old and shows its age, walls that were previously painted and well chiseled were mellowed with years of bellowing winds, like fading prints of an extremely archaic text. Barely legible, but if you look closely, you will discover its greatness and majesty. Tellerin and Elihu Majien, the young Izlude-based mage, has been traveling on the Great Sograt Way for a week before the caravan trundled through Morocc’s arched gateway and into the desert city…
The parting…
As Tellerin’s weathered boots strode into the capital city of one of Rune-Midgard’s most inhospitable regions, the noises of the busy markets and thoroughfares of Morocc caught up with the young acolyte. Everywhere he went, people were either buying or selling. The market place of Morocc was an open-air establishment smack in the center of the sprawling city – like a bald spot surrounded by structures that sought overshadow it. It was as if the city is trying to cover up its need for commercial success.
Here, the haggling was the fiercest as merchants fought their daily battles peddling their items which they tout as indispensable. Further away, Tellerin heard the dull toll of the prayer bell, signaling the start of an afternoon worship for the Morocc faithful – yet another stark contrast between the religious and the atheistic infidels caught up with the allure of the next gold coin. Tellerin vaguely remembered a history class he took while he was in the Basilica when he was told about the crusades of the Pronterean Church in response to the savagery and paganism in the deserts.
“I wonder if it was all worth it? Did we even managed to change anything?” wondered Tellerin under his breath.
The Oasis City’s infrastructure was a convoluted tangle of narrow streets, alleys and dank passageways that rank of dried vomit of drunk customers who visit the many watering holes located in the seedier sectors of the city. Having made the sale of spirits and liquor illegal on religious grounds by the fifth Morocc king, the many taverns and pubs were driven underground after several deadly raids that saw quite a number of heads rolling. And when people see that, they start fearing for theirs. Of course, not wanting to pass up this profitable avenue, Morocc’s dangerous underworld soon took over and managed to thrive even better since the sale of alcohol almost always complements a flesh trade which the gangs gamely introduced.
“Spiffy place we are at, eh? It’s almost as if the idea of law has never really got to this place,” sniffed Elihu, as he caught the stale scent of yet another street urchin, sprawled across the cobblestones, dead to the world.
“The people here have their own laws and their way of life, Elihu. Sometimes I feel that we may have weighed too much of our own judgment upon these people.”
“Not until if you find your pocket picked…like about now,” whispered the mage as he motioned at a young girl who was creeping up to Tellerin, dagger at the ready while the acolyte’s slender purse strings were exposed.
“Bracchium Pactum,” muttered Elihu as a wave of tangible static materialized the instant the last syllable was spoken. The girl’s arm immediately convulsed and went stiff at the arm-locking spell, eliciting a muffled cry from the would-be petty thief. “Please sirs, I am hungry,” whimpered the pickpocket.
“Nothing wrong with that but I tell you what, I will give you a coin if you will unhand the other wallet you have taken from that gentleman over there if you please,” smiled Elihu. The girl obeyed immediately.
“So you see, idealism has no place in Morocc or the world for that matter. It’s either you or the other guy. Who will you choose, my religious friend?”
Tellerin was thought hard. The reality of the world was slowly catching up with him and for the first time in his journey, he yearned for the simple, sheltered cloisters he once wandered. “In that case, I will still want to find a way to ensure that both of us do not die, Elihu.” Tellerin spoke with such resoluteness that shocked even himself; an inattentive theological student speaking like this? HoJin would be proud.
The two friends wandered through the streets before rounding up at the transit service for outgoing travelers. ”The time has now come to our parting, Tellerin, for I need to hasten to Geffen. But we will no doubt meet again,” mused Elihu as he stepped onto the steps of a carriage,” and who knows, perhaps by then you will find out if idealism still works for you. C’mon, you little green bit of reptile, up you go!” Elihu’s pet drake winced at the idea of yet another long trip.
“I am sure, Elihu,” waved Tellerin. “Farewell.”
As the mage got on the carriage and waved back, he noticed that Tellerin was gone. “Strange fellow he is, idealistic and always in a rush.”
Unbeknownst to Elihu, Tellerin has already started on his search for a particular rogue who made off with his medallion. In fact, the mage had just missed the moment when the acolyte thought he saw a familiar red-robed figure disappearing into the crowds…
A new character sprite of the Monk's Advanced Class - The Champion on RO's latest Einbroch expansion!
