Fate - First Reply A Quick Errand

[Leor Mearanth]

Leor directed his eyes to the sky to get a sense of how late in the day it was. He quickly scoffed, realizing it was completely overcast. He really has been away a long time if he thought it would ever be sunny in this gods forsaken island. His foot tapped at an even pace, waiting for just about anyone to show. He had put up a notice in the square that he was in need of a Mourner escort in order to collect something lost in the border towns. There was a gold reward, of course, he had plenty. The notice in question had instructions to meet him here by Parumora's third ward.

Next to him stood a spectral set of plate armor, filled with wispy black smoke. It stood next to him, unmoving, seemingly waiting for some sort of instruction. The red haired man, even at his respectable height of 6 feet, looked small in comparison to the armor that towered almost a foot above him. He hoped whoever turned in the notice would arrive soon. Normally his Automourners would be enough to escort him, but he found himself...short...at the moment. He just had this one, which very well might not be enough on its own if the border towns are particularly active today.

Leor continued tap, tap, tapping his foot, waiting for whatever poor sod that decided to take him up on his offer.

 

[Decanian Atresius]

Parumora was even more depressing than he thought. He had hoped that the little sanctuary would shine compared to the dark horrors of Phorasmos but the truth was that the sky, perpetually overcast, made the whole island a uniform, motionless desolate land.
He cursed once again the storm that had forced his ship to dock in those surroundings. Once he had completed his research on the western coast of Malakath he thought he had finished his work and was already looking forward to a few days of rest. But apparently the gods had other plans and his ship almost crashed on the rocks of the small island.

As if that wasn't enough, he had also run out of the little money the College had provided him. Now, in his misfortune, he thanked fate for offering him a paid job thanks to which he could leave. He had been retrieving relics for the school library for years so he wouldn't be long in adapting.

Brooding over his fate, he finally arrived in front of the author of the notice. Distinctly dressed, he carried a staff on his back, very similar to his. He had a red beard and hair and two piercing green eyes. The spectral plate armor beside him unmistakably qualified him as one of the many spiritsmiths who populate Parumora. An interesting and cryptic job whose nuances Decanian still struggled to catch.

He bowed his head respectfully to the man in front of him.

"Greetings to you" - he began. "I'm here for the notice."

 

[Leor Mearanth]

The spiritsmith saw something strange approach from the distance. A young man dressed in white. To say that was strange here would be an understatement, and Leor immediately clocked that the man wasn't from here. Probably came in on a ship and found himself stranded for lack of funds or friends. Leor wasn't surprised when he announced he was here for the notice. Anyone but a mourner would be useless, and Leor prepared to dismiss him outright, but taking a second look at those bright white robes stayed his tongue.

"An Outsider..." Leor arched his brow in thought "By your garb, you appear to be a cleric of sorts, correct? Or some type of wizard, maybe? Tell me, can you dispel spirits, and efficiently?

If this outsider could dispel revenants, then he might be better for his situation than any mourner. If a local were to help him out, then rumours might spread quickly. He was prepared for that, but to avoid it would be a worthy risk.

 

[Decanian Atresius]

Since the first moment, Decanian had felt the man's sharp, searching gaze on him. He knew that first impressions would be crucial, especially in such an isolated and particular place where he believed - rightly - that outsiders were held in low regard. At least when it came to their ability to survive among the horrors of the island. The man's words had confirmed his suppositions and he was glad that his robe had had the right effect. In a place populated by spirits and ferocious monsters, a cleric could be useful to anyone.

"My name is Decanian Atresius" - he said, introducing himself, looking the interlocutor in the eyes. "I have been an expert healer and squire of the Knights of Anathaeum for years. As a follower of the Trinity of Light, my duties include cleansing graveyards, dissolving curses and fighting creatures of the Dark."

Trying to show confidence, he then answered the question: "I can cast spells with my hands and with my staff, spells that can neutralize the arcane energy of most ethereal creatures. Furthermore" - he concluded - "I can summon wards that can counteract any medium-level magical attack for a limited time."

He had listed his references and what he usually does and had stated his abilities as a fighter and healer quite exhaustively. He tried to read a feeling in the man's face but the green of his eyes was impenetrable. He therefore limited himself to waiting for the response of the interlocutor, hoping that luck would finally smile on him.

 

[Leor Mearanth]

A Knight of Anathaeum squire? He would certainly have a good sense of honor then. Leor stared at the young one for a while, looking him up and down, deep in thought.

"Alright then. It's unlikely we will deal with any revenants in large numbers, so you will do."

The older man dug into his bag, producing a bag of gold coins.

"Half now, half when the job is finished. If you find yourself out of your depth feel free to return and you may keep that half. That shall not get you much more than passage out of here, however."

If he was truthful about his skills, he should be well equipped enough to handle where they were headed. They would be far enough away from Obelus that the number of spirits they would encountered would be low enough. He began walking, then stopped, having forgot his manners.

"Oh, that's right. I am Leor Mearanth." Having finished introductions, he resumed his walk forward, with his Automourner guard following close behind.
"We must move quickly. It is a half day's walk from here and we are already starting late. Don't worry about food, I have packed enough for two. Now tell me, what do you know about our little island?"

He would have to be subtle when they retrieved what he needed, but it seemed as if things might go smoothly. Leor just hoped this follower of the Trinity would not be too boring at least.

 

[Decanian Atresius]

Decanian did not expect half the payment to be upfront. When Leor handed him the bag of coins and had the opportunity to appreciate its weight, he thought that perhaps not all the inhabitants of Parumora were so unfriendly towards strangers. As the jingling purse slipped into his satchel he realized that maybe it was simply a habit of the wealthy for ensuring the collaboration of the mercenaries. Whatever the case, he was satisfied: the man didn't seem intent on betraying him and he liked the way he left immediately after hiring him, without wasting time. Just like him, that man also was in a hurry.

He shook himself and quickened his pace to stand next to Leor. His companion walked quickly, straight towards his goal, with a light of great determination in his eyes. Despite the dangers that lay ahead of them, Decanian smiled because Leor gave the idea of being the ideal teammate to embark on an adventure with. He appeared brave but not reckless and seemed to have the skills and knowledge necessary to get by in almost any situation.

"Concerning Phorasmos" - he replied, looking at the desolate nature around them - "I know little more than what is learned in books. A wild and hostile nature and ferocious ghosts that consume every human life that ventures into their territory".

He remembered the history lessons he had attended in his early adolescence. "Phorasmos was once home to a powerful and rich civilization, expert in the use of magic. From the pinnacles of Obelus" - he continued, looking on the horizon for the ruins of the ancient city, visible from almost every part of the island - "its priests have sought to use the arcane arts to bend the cycle of life and death. And have thus plunged the kingdom into an oblivion of horror, a curse so intense that I can physically feel it."

He stopped for a moment, staring at his companion. "I know that Parumora is home to the spiritsmiths" - he continued, glancing at the disturbing bodyguard floating behind them. "You are one of them, right?"