Private Tales Back to the Beginning

[Rob Yew]

Galen traipsed through the streets of Elbion, amazed that he could not remember every rut and cobblestone of the streets he’d grown up on. So much had changed in his short absence with the mercenary company. Luckily, he’d managed to get out of the contract after finding a good litigator. But now he had no money and no prospects, so he’d decided to return to the college and continue his training.

He wore a simple dark tunic and pants beneath a cloak, which had many hidden and handy pockets. A satchel bounced at his hip, holding many things.

Would any of his classmates still be here, he wondered. Or had they all gone on to brighter and better futures?

 

[Finn]

Finn had her nose buried in a scroll. Blue eyes the color of a sky on a crisp, clear fall day darted above the top of the parchment paper every now and then as her smaller form weaved through the semi-crowded streets of Elbion. Today was market day. She knew her old gang would be about...somewhere. Probably stealing from the rich pockets that came for the best market deals.

She used to be one of them.

Not anymore. And it was risky being back here after Wes got her out. Gangs didn't take too kindly to folk leaving. But she'd had to come back. She'd left something behind and she hoped it was still there. She hoped the crowds would be enough to hide her. She hoped that if she kept her head down, no one would notice her.

Unfortunately, wherever she went, she trailed a magical void around her - folk with magic would suddenly feel as though they had none as she walked by...if they got close enough to her bubble.

She also didn't notice the two gang members trailing her about a block back.

 

[Rob Yew]

Someone jostled Galen in the crowd and he felt the magic go out from him, like a snuffed candle. Terrified, he spun on his heel, eyes searching for the reason, the source. He’d grown up an urchin, so his experienced gaze quickly picked up on a woman hurrying the opposite way. He ran after her, patting down his pockets to see what else she had stolen besides his magic.

“Miss! Come back, miss!”

 

[Finn]

Finn had never been called 'miss' a day in her young life.

Thief.

Streetrat.

Girl.

Oy.

So, she didn't even think to turn or stop. Head shook absently as she continued down the cobble-stone street. "This theory makes no sense. Gravity doesn't work like that with the element of wind and velocity...," she murmured quite like someone mad. But the 'miss' wasn't letting up and like an annoying gnat, it was buzzing closer and closer.

Blinking, she stopped suddenly in the crowded and moving streets and turned, caught between finishing what she was reading on the scroll and determining what was happening behind her to interrupt her reading.

 

[Rob Yew]

The young mage drew up short right in front of her, meeting her disarmingly bright blue stare.

“My magic. What have you done with it? I’m reaching for it but can’t grasp it. How’d you steal it? And give it back!”

 

[Finn]

Finn blanched. Someone jostled her shoulder from behind. Was it happening again? Usually, no one noticed unless they were trying to attack her...

"Shh," the inventor shushed the stranger.

A market guard glanced over at the guy's outburst.

"Didn't take anything. Keep your distance and you'll be fine." Spinning on her heel she would go to slip back into the stream of the crowd.

 

[Rob Yew]

“Hey,” Galen protested, well aware of the attention raised voices could attract, but frankly he didn’t care.

He caught up with her again and grabbed her by the elbow.

“Don’t shush me,” he said in a harsh whisper, “Just-... can you explain what you did? I want to know how.”

 

[Finn]

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

DANGER ALERT SEVENTY-SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She stiffened as his fingers wrapped around her bony-elbow. With a steady-stream of pushing bodies and shuffling of her and the stranger's feet she ended up at the small-mouth opening of a side alley. A patch of sunlight caught the tattoo on the bare-arm running down the length to the elbow he grabbed.

Scroll with her own scribbles, formulas, and rough drawings of what looked like an airship was rolled up in her free hand and she went to whack it at the arm that held her. "Let........go of me," voice was strangled. If he felt a whispering of her magic muted before, he'd feel a full on void now - deeply submerged as if he'd never felt magic before in his life.

 

[Rob Yew]

He felt so hollow suddenly. It made him sick. A scroll whacked his hand.

“You-“ he rasped, his grip tightening, “need to tell me what you’re doing.”

Galen had grown up on the streets. He knew what it was like to steal and be stolen from, to go hungry for days. Weeks.

And now, after being a mercenary, he knew just how much those with power could take. Your gold. Your home. Your life. But he’d never thought, never, that they could take his magic.

It made him angry. It made him terrified.

He tried to drag her out of the main road and under a vendor’s pavilion. He wasn’t strong, or at least he hadn’t been before, but he found that a few months of campaign had made his muscles lean and hard. There was some oomph to his tug.

 

[Finn]

"Ow," she yelped as her feet dragged in the dusty-dirt of the bustling marketplace. Head gave a quick glance over her shoulder at that gaping alleyway. Her way out was quickly disappearing. Heart beat in her chest like a trapped and caged bird.

His grip was bruising.

He did manage to wrangle her beneath the vendor's pavilion. The pair caught a few curious glances. The vendor was full of iron skillets, pans, and pots. Instead of an answer, he'd suddenly find one of those iron skillets swinging toward the side of his face as she dropped her scroll.