Just A Little Writing

Devon smashed through the door of the hut. A crash rang out and splinters of wood exploded everywhere. A sword was aimed at the throat of an old man sipping on a cup of tea.

“Hello Devon, I have been expecting you for sometime now. They said you were coming. What can I do for you?” The sage asked, a slurping of tea in the chaotic air.

He wore old robes, a dark emerald green embroidered in gold. His long beard braided beneath his sunken eyes and crooked nose. His body frail with age and sitting with his legs crossed. The room was amidst with disturbed dust, old leather books worn from use lining bookshelves, and beautiful china neatly stacked on an old wooden end table.

“You know what I want, and it’s time for you to give it to me. You are the Green Sage are you not?” Devon said, not once allowing his composure to crack the sword unwaveringly aimed at the old mans throat.

“You seek the magic of the old tome? I’m afraid that book has been gone for sometime now. I’m far to old to possess that kind of responsibility. I’ve entrusted it to the Order, I’m sorry this trip was for nothing.” The sage said calmly.

“You know I will turn this hut upside down to find what I’m looking for and I am more than willing to take your life?” Devon threatened.

“I am aware of that, and I’m ready to die. I was told you were coming and decided to entrust it to someone else long ago. I know what you will become,” the sage said as he placed his empty cup down.

“Foolish old man, your life has no value to you does it?” Devon said lowering his sword.

“Not if it can protect others, I will not willingly put others lives in danger,” he said as he stood up, his body shaking with weakness.

“Gah! Foolish man,” Devon said as he smacked the old man with the hilt of his sword. The mans body crumpling to the ground in unconsciousness.

Devon went to the bookshelf and began to tear books out of the shelves. Opening them quickly in search of the Alchemist’s symbol. Chucking useless books to the side as he moved to the next. Several copies referenced rune magic, but that was too weak for his needs. He chucked them in his satchel nonetheless. He would steal all this mans knowledge that he felt was helpful.

His frustration grew as he began smashing objects around the mans hut and ripping the bookshelf from the wall. Crashing beneath him he dissolved a piece of parchment scribbled on it were some sort of language. Devon moved to the pile of books on the ground for anything resembling these symbols. Finding the pages he was searching for he ran to the table and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and quickly deciphered the letter.

Dear Aniston,

It has been far too long since we have spoke my old friend. I know you are in some danger and I will offer my services to protect you. I’ve entrusted a power to aid you. I hope it helps prevent the future you have foreseen.


Dedric of Draconi.

Devon stared blankly at the pages with the complete acidity of anger. Spite burned inside him like a fire. Looking around he quickly realized the old man was gone. He had fallen for their trap and now his life was in danger.

“You must be Devon?” A voice bellowed around him. The rumbling blasted in his eardrum. Pulling his hands to his heads in desperation as he fell to the ground in agony.

“Who are you?” Devon cried out in pain.

“My name is Daragog I am here to put your reign of terror to an end. I’ve come to silence you Devon, silence what you will become. Terrorize you into submission so the path you decide to take will not impact the very world you are living in. I’ve come to kill you,” the voice boomed as the hut began to shake.

“No! You do not understand the chaos I live with you cannot stop me. My goals will come to light, I will slay whatever you are and use you as a stepping stone to my great future!” Devon said standing up as trickles of blood dripped from his ears.

“Then your body will be laid before me as a sacrifice to my god!” It laughed as the roof exploded.

Inside crawled a mass of black fur. Claws and teeth shining through the settling debris. It stood nine feet tall and oozed out of the small hut. It’s drool dripping acid by his feet. Devon took a step back and leaned over to grab the sword that he had dropped. He rose it high into the air and took a step forward.

“You humans are such foolish creatures, wishing for death, begging for the very extinguish of your souls. Pitiful disgusting creatures, the lot of you!” It snarled as it rushed at Devon.

Pulling his sword high he struck the creature, blasting it to the ground, an explosion of stone littered the skies.

“How?” It cried in agony.

“Barbarian magic,” Devon said through gritted teeth.

On his hands glowed a pair of gloves a rune etched into the leather, magic pouring from his hands as he gripped the sword.

“You cannot be a barbarian? You are a tiny little cockroach, something to be stepped on, something to be crushed!” It screamed as it stood up, towering high again.

“I’m so sick of people saying that, I know I’ve disappointed so many people and my life and I will do something about it! I will be remembered. I will see the Alchemist ways and put an end to the retched world that we have become. I will smite all that stand in my ways!” Devon cried out as he leapt into the air.

A feeling of power whelmed inside him as the air propelled him forward. He brought the sword down with an unlikely force slicing the beast in two. The beasts cries echoed the land as it began to dissipate into a black smoke. Devon stood still, in complete awe of what he had just done. Where did that power come from?

Suddenly the world around him began to turn into a fog. Black smoke rushed around him, a wave of burning putrid air filed his nose. He looked around anxiously as the world melted from his view. Crumpling to his knees he looked at the hut he had invaded. It was in perfect shape. The door the only thing that stood out. He was crouched on it as he stood up in confusion.

“How?” The old man cried out as he fell to the ground.

“What happened?” Devon cried angrily, “was that magic, did you trick me?”

“It was supposed to scare you, alter your mental state to decide to change your own paths. It was to encourage your brilliant feats and dilute those to do harm. How did you escape? How do you have the power to do that?” The sage cried out helplessly.

“You can’t save me,” Devon said as he thrust his blade into the old man. Blood oozed from the wound as the man went limp beneath him.

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