Saturday Shorts - Week 1 - 07/08/23

ChoosyChow, 10 months ago

The Spellslinger of Erialin - Week 1

Couple months ago, the refugees came pouring in from the north like iron shavings to moonstone. Following tightly on their heels were the monsters; both the metaphysical human ones and the literal, tangible monstrosities that the Blood Rift let slip into this plane. Behind them the ruins of the rolling prairies were split with thick veins of blood-red limestone that pulsed angrily. No one knew what it meant or what to do about it. For God’s sake, we had just gotten used to the contraptions that Fenwall’s laboratories had proffered. Just a hundred years ago we’d sworn off magic as too tempting to the evil among us, but now we had no choice.

The elders of the villages still had the old stones in their safes and so attempted to call up the mages of yore— as though they would still be around these days. Those stones didn’t talk back and the folks began to get desperate as the veins began to creep into their crops. We slept with one eye open most nights so we saw when he showed up the same night the monsters did. Old Ms. Silverside said she saw him slay one of those shadow hounds with his bare teeth; but she’s mostly deaf and blind so take that how you will. But, I can tell you from personal experience, friend— he’s the real deal: his cloak is blessed by Entrus, his staff is a Mage Spike, his face is always obscured by his dark cowl and no one knows his name. He comes on the nights they do, just in time, every time. I’ve seen some miraculous feats since he took me on as his ward— now here, pour some whisky and sit down, I’ll tell you some.