((WARNING! THIS STORY WILL BE TEXT HEAVY! UNWANTED AND UNNEEDED COMMENTS OF "WOW" OR "TL
R" IS NOT ONLY UNAPPRECIATED, BUT ALSO VERY ASININE. PLEASE, DO NOT MAKE SUCH COMMENTS.))
An unfinished tower sits in the far north, snow drifting onto the floor and walls, blowing through the open spaces and covering everything with a frosty sheet. A strong magical presence can be detected by anyone who would visit the spire, but few could detect the subtle, more hidden entrance to a separate dimension, a pocket dimension if one knew what that was. Inside was a vast collection of books, tomes, and artifacts, all magically sealed and protected, even in a small dimension that had the sole purpose of storing these items. One could wander for hours in this dimension, lost and not quite sure where more than half of the objects originated from.
But deep in the heart of the dimension sat a location of very prized items. The wards on the edges were stronger than in any other area, protecting the items from almost any attack or attempt to reach them. In the center sat three objects:
A broken blade, seemingly a simple longsword, but made masterfully. If it were not broken, one could easily see the weapon in the hands of a great warrior, battling enemies far stronger than any one man should be able to fight alone.
A small, brown leather tome. One could look at it for hours, trying to detect if it had any magical properties and they would fail. One of two items kept in the entire dimension for a purely sentimental reason, it is simply a diary of a person long dead. However, that is not the purpose of this visit.
The third and final item is a small glass sphere. If one were magically inclined, they would easily recognize it was a storage of memories or past experience. Many mages and wizards would use such spheres to store especially difficult spells or, as they grew older, contain vital memories that they fear they would forget. Inside this specific orb is one such memory. That is what this visits intent is, and if one could reach this orb, through all the difficult wards and barriers, the contents of the orb would be thus:
____________________________________________________________________________
He reclined in his most prized chair, quite content in his own tower. Wrapped in his crimson cloak, as he always was, he faced the visitor –intruder even. Comfortable in the relative heat of the tower, he glanced about him, eyes passing on the mess of books lingering on the tables and floors. Some books even rested in the windowsill, drawing his eyes to the frost gathering on the glass and the snowy landscape outside. With the flakes dancing about the outside of the windows, he was lost in their patterns for a few moments before returning his gaze back to the man before him.
“You have yet to divulge the reason for your oh-so-pleasant visit. Shall I summon some refreshments? I’m not quite sure how long you intend to be here, so I might as well make it comfortable for us both.”
He smiled as he leaned back, hand holding a glass of wine that was not there before. He took a small sip from it, draining a light purple liquid from the glass.
The man he faced was clad in solid black armor, attempting to be unobtrusive in appearance, but still not the quietest one could be. The mix of plate armor and leather did offer a bit of relative stealth, but more protection than a more “normal” assassin would wear. The visitor had his face obscured in an attempt to keep his identity hidden, but his mannerisms and personality gave away who he was almost too easily. The interloper remained quiet, either trying to follow a plan he had set before or making one up on the spot.
“All this trouble for what seems like nothing, Ezekiel? I thought you had already learned how unwise it was to try and put yourself on unfavorable ground with me.”
He offers a smile with the statement, sarcasm apparent on his face. He already loathed Ezekiel for his interference on quite a number of occasions, but Ezekiel had once again returned to the tower. He wasn’t sure if Ezekiel was simply bullheaded like normal, or if he had an actual reason for ruining his afternoon.
Ezekiel could not hide his surprise at the loss of his anonymity, but he quickly recovered, realizing that trying to keep up the façade would only bring more trouble than it was worth. He began searching his mind for something to distract the man before him, not quite sure how to begin.
“Please, Ezekiel, I have been cordial this entire time. More than you can say for yourself. But it is trying my patience to sit here at the mercy of an unwanted house guest who seems to be more concerned with wasting my time than anything else.”
Ezekiel frowned, unhappy with what he was hearing. He had dealt with this attitude for quite a while, and yet each time he grew more and more annoyed with him.
“Do you have to act so ‘holier-than-thou’ every time we talk, Varutil?”
“I only act that way because I am. Did I break into your house? Or ruin your day any numerous amount of times?”
“If I do recall, you were the one who had tried to ruin my oasis and turn it into a twisted shell of what it once was.”
Varutil waved Ezekiel’s retort off. As he closed his hand again, the long talons lightly scrapped across his crimson scales. He drained his glass, setting it aside before smiling lightly at Ezekiel, fangs reflecting the light of the tower.
“And now the oasis is gone, by your hand and not mine. I think we can place that as a mistake on your part and not on mine, couldn’t we?”
Ezekiel stood suddenly, drawing his longsword halfway out of its scabbard in outrage.
“And again you place the blame on someone other than yourself, demon. Are you to tell me that Apze’s departure was also not your fault?”
Varutil laughed lightly, chiding Ezekiel and his overreaction. He stood up and pushed Ezekiel’s sword back into place before walking to one of his desks, setting books to the side and making a clearing in the center.
“Apze left because he realized he had something he needed to prove to himself. If you truly think that I was the one who made him leave, you are sorely mistaken. I would much rather have him here to help deal with you and the messes you continue to make every visit. I do think that if you simply paused and thought a moment, you would realize that not everything that is bad in the world is caused by my existence.”
Ezekiel remained standing, hand still on the grip of his sword, but no longer ready to strike at Varutil. After a few seconds he sat down in his seat again, though his hand did not move away from his weapon.
“And I am supposed to trust all that you say at face value?”
“Would I lie to you, Ezekiel?”
Ezekiel laughed sarcastically, making it seem as if everything Varutil had said to him was a lie. Varutil turned his head to face Ezekiel, a smirk on his face.
“You truly do believe that all I say is a lie? I am disappointed Ezekiel. I thought you were more reasonable than that.”
“I am a very reasonable man, Varutil. And yet you are a demon. Your words are supposed to be lies.”
“And yet you make presumptions like that, even after claiming to be reasonable. I doubt you would even know how to be reasonable if I had met you at all.”
Ezekiel snarled lightly, unhappy with Varutil and the many jabs he continued to throw at him. For all that he had done, Ezekiel could not think of a time he had been lied to by Varutil, but he was not quite ready to admit that the demon was in the right. After a few moments of thought, he came up with something to try and pull some information from Varutil.
“Then prove it demon. Make me believe that what you say is the truth and not all just some devious ploy to disarm me in your home.”
Varutil laughed as he continued to clear some of the books, making room for a ritual he needed to complete.
“And how exactly am I supposed to go about doing that, Ezekiel?”
“Answer my questions and don’t lie as you do so. If I ask you about something, you must be completely honest as you tell me.”
“If that is your demand, who am I to tell you no.”
Ezekiel grumbled at Varutil’s sarcastic reply, but continued on with his idea.
“Why are you here, Varutil?”
“Because you won’t let me leave my tower.”
Ezekiel frowned at Varutil, who simply laughed before giving a serious response.
“I am here because I have nowhere else to go for now, Ezekiel. The same as any wanderer.”
“And why you be a so called ‘wanderer’?”
Varutil paused for a moment, thinking in retrospect.
“I do believe that to answer that, I would need to go into a very long explanation.”
Ezekiel glanced about the room, hand held out to emphasize his statement.
“I have nowhere else to be going for now, Varutil. If your story will be a very long one, then why not sit down and begin it so we can both be done with this sorry situation.”
Varutil straightened up, the ritual immediately forgotten, before he made his way back to his favorite seat. He sat down and smoothed out his robe idly, mind more focused on his past and the events that would answer Ezekiel’s question almost completely. But there were many details he had to recall, and while he enjoyed talking, Varutil was not a story teller. Right before Ezekiel was about to speak, aiming to make a small insult at Varutil’s intelligence, he began.
“My exile was insured the moment I spawned. A few minutes behind my brother, a second prince and, as such, unneeded and unwanted in our culture.”
And there definitely be more updates *Looks at Epic and Mystia*
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