Alred leans against a tree. His side aching. He pulls the bandaged off a little. The scab peels a little, blood starts to poor out. He hurries to place the bandage back. He wants to try to heal it but heal magic is, well, he doesn't have the skill for it.
His body shutters at the thought of the last time he tried. His body slowly started to turn to stone. His mother, who happens to be a light magic and excels at the craft, did not pass it down to him. Lucky for him, she was around to help that time.
Without his pack he doesn't have anything to stich it either. He rubs the spot softly. Pushes off the tree, he looks to see. The orange and red mix with the yellow of the sun as it breaks the horizon. The chirps of the birds fill the quietness.
Last night during the fight. He took off running. He burnt the bodies and started a fire. He was sure they were someone's pack. To well trained and he's sure he saw a collar on one of them. Seven werewolves is a good size pack. It means they were able to find a decent Tamer to join them.
"There aren't any good tamers in Southwick. There were rumors that the Far Kingdom had one but… Tamers are hard to raise and if they aren't lucky, they will never get anything strong." Alred mutters to himself as he walks through the trees.
Running blind through the woods at night was a bad idea. He's sure he's heading the wrong way but he can't be from sure anymore. The sun raises in the west and sets in the east. He looks at the sun, then he looks to the North.
"War is coming and I…" He tightens his grip on his staff. "I wish there was away to let them know. A dragon. A BLOODY DRAGON!" His smile reaches each ear. He always wanted to meet one and now, he's been called to her lair.
He needs to figure out a way to do both. Instead if pick either path, Alred walks the distance line between them. He knows he should have some time to decide. He pushes into the brush foraging his own path.
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Glasses clank as the old man walks towards the table. There sitting is a young master along with his, companion. He slaps the cups down. The stale drink offers nothing pleasant. He pushes the cup across the table. Netherlands of them move.
"So, what sort of opportunities are ye both looking for?" He sips a little, his eyes quiver.
"We are looking to build a group warriors. While looking for a chance to climb some ranks." His voice, melting the ear drums. The old man didn't want to look away. He forces himself to sit back in his chair. Taking a much large gulp this time.
"Hmm. I think I may know a pair that are getting ready to travel to the Southwick Kingdom." He pauses, slamming his pinky into his ear. "They are an odd couple of people, but they are strong."
The young master leans forward. Picking the glass up too fast yet the drink didn't slosh once. He downs the whole drink. He sets it down with just enough force the table rocks. James is holding the third glass.
"Good, this is great news. Now show James to our room and I would like a steak, medium. Something lite for a side." He reaches his hand out to the side, his eyes never leaving the old man. The third glass already waiting for him.
"Aye, it will be taken care of right away." The man leans forward, placing the rest of the bottle in front of the young master. He turns around and hobbled away. James pours another drink into the cup on the table and follows the old man.
"Ogden and Southwick. Seems two of the four kingdoms still remain. How excellent. He downs the last two cups. The burn tickles down his throat. He pulls half a cigar out. He leans into the chair. Plotting his next moves.
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A roar shakes the trees, leaves just starting to change color's fall. Alred jumps, pointing his staff towards the noise. He hasn't seen a single beast since earlier this morning.
Claiming himself down, he returns to the path he was foraging. The roar could have been anything and he doesn't have time to deal with anything extra.
He ducks under a branch. Pushing the branches out of his way. As his head clears them his face smashes into soft, almost leather like. He leaves his face there, patting the object hoping he can figure it out.
Hot air rushes around him. The rotten meat follows behind. Alred feels his heart jolt. He slowly turns around, doesn't even want to look at it. Ducks back under the branches. As the last branch snaps back down. Alred feet dig into the ground pushing him as fast as he can. The pain screaming from his side.
Crack! A piece of the tree whips pass Alreds head. He turns to look. His stomach sinks. The brown drake has the tree in its mouth. It whips the tree towards Alred.
Alred switches his fire crystal for an earth. He flips his staff, the roots were heated and treated like metal. The spade like end was given a blade. He runs the blade across the ground, pouring his mana into it.
The brown gem lights up. He pulls the staff up. Now at the edge of the staff a three-foot-long blade. Its dull gray blade filled with cracks where the rocks all meet.
He jumps into the air, slicing the tree in half. As the tree splits, Alred sees the drake only steps away from himself. He lands on his feet, hunching forward. He flips the staff in his hand. He kicks off the ground.
They race towards each other. Alred grips the staff with both hands, using the extra power to run the blade across the drakes side. He races pass it, it roars in pain. Alred ducks around a tree again.
"Where are you going MAGE?" Alred feels his feet slam to a stop. He's heard this voice before. Its been a long time but he knows it.
"Vane?" Alred body becomes ridged. Half of him wants to run, he doesn't want to know the truth. The other half wants to run around the tree and hug him. If this person is Vane, it has been more then ten years since they last saw each other.
"Yes Alred, it is I. I wish we didn't have to meet this way, shame. Get him Puddle." Alred can feel the warm tree roll down his cheek. The drake roars again, walking forward. Alred break into a run. The only thought racing through his mind, what happen to him?
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