Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Among a group of mercenaries gathered to melee the threats that surrounded the border, Arthur had taken up the commission from Tilema and met the small company after arriving a few days prior. Not contrary to the guild’s contract the mercenaries would be paid well for their services, only lacking the health benefits and guarantee of safety. The newly introduced group of rag tag hires were to meet with the mage guild at a rendezvous point. “Legal mages,” they called them.

His mother’s warnings of magic played circles at the forefront of his thoughts. Magic is a danger to us all, it corrupts, changes and even drives men mad. Could it really be true?

“Watch out lad,” one of the older mercs warned Arthur before they approached “they don’t hire soldiers for missions like this just in case one of those freaks goes nut.”

Wordless, the young man nodded at the sentiment and gazed upon the group of hood strangers with a sense of unease. Magic was as foreign of a concept to him as giving birth was to a chicken. The individuals who knew the costs and chose it willingly, were as bold as they were innately intimidating. Not that he truly understood them. Ah well, he shrugged and decided he better learn to work with it. His eyes briefly drifted down toward his bow. In these kinds of circumstances, Arthur did not work great as a front liner but he was a decent runner and scout. Albeit not an incredibly quiet one sometimes.

At the very least he looked the part, dressed in a leather suit of armour with a hooded cloak, and a bow slung on the back of his quiver. If not for his peers lesser care for complexion, he might not look like the dumb naïve prince on a never ending quest to save his girlfriend. Much to his dismay and he was sure everybody else’s, he was not a prince, nor did he have a girlfriend.

“Hello!” Arthur waved enthusiastically to the group of mages as they closed the distance “Glad to see you’re all here in one piece. Any idea what’s going on then? Our instructions were rubbish.”

Met by several sets of lifted brows and curious looks, Arthur offered a nod at Arik’s words. So much for a warm welcome. He shrugged at the other mercenaries; he already knew his place in this group. If there was such a thing as a sign pegged with the words, “All the help they could get,” that could be pinned on his forehead, it would have been.

The group wandered in a staggered column formation over the frost bitten fields of grass that clung to the soft rays of morning sun that could do naught but threaten the bite of the cold. Wildlife had gone to sleep for the winter save what remained of the few mammals with coats enough to sustain their warmth and a few birds that chirped merrily in the distance.

There was a simple barren kind of beauty to Frost that could not be captured in any other season that Arthur came to love. His gaze wandered away from the scenery and onto the other younger looking mage who had been stationed at the back with him. A tall, built man that in comparison to his compatriots carried an aura of charm. “I want to do paintings like this one day” Arthur pointed beyond the horizon in the magical companion stationed at his side “Hopefully we can get through this together so I can, I’m Arthur. I look forward to working with you.”