Two pints of ale clamouring together in a ferocious clash as the contents spill upon the ground. Two men smiling together in a gleeful manner. Both are clearly inebriated from drink. "Hey, Faraan how is work my man, if it is going well, you can buy the next round." The unruly man has a full beard, brown hair and is wearing a white shirt with overalls. He is physically tall and imposing, slurring his words to his table companion.
On the other side of the table is a well-groomed man with blonde hair. He is wearing light armour with a sword on his belt. Visibly, he is much shorter than his companion. “Not on your life Haldor, you pay for your own drinks!" Replying to his drunken friend with a scowl.
"Aww come on buddy!" Haldor responds with a combination of sincerity and under handiness. "Ah, no worries I'm pretty sure I've got some gold." He looks down at his purse seeing nothing but an empty container. "I guess not, well going to make this pint count." Immediately he chugs down the entire contents until nothing remains but light foam.
Faraan is visibly disturbed but succumbs to a slight chuckle. He had seen all this before, many nights past. With foam on his upper lip, Haldor wipes it away with his dirty right sleeve. "Hey Faraan as I said, how is work as a sell sword?" Haldor asks with genuine curiosity.
Faraan turns his gaze back to his friend. Smiling at his state of inebriation, he responds. "Well, work has been pretty good lately. Except for my last job, we were sent to track down some bandits, heard they were holed up in a tomb." He explains, thinking back to yesterday.
Haldor coughs a few times, his friends' words seemed to jostle him. "You don't mean the Hagavard tomb. Jeez... why would they go to that cursed place?" Visibly disturbed at the mention of the tomb he wonders what they were thinking.
Faraan shrugs as if the curse didn’t even phase him. "Yes, it is a scary place but a job is a job. But the funny thing is, when we got there, we found the entrance destroyed. Many undead were slain, and the bandits were also dead... Some even decapitated." Gesturing with his hands, he paints a grotesque picture.
Haldor responds to his statement with a curious expression. "Well, what do you think happened to them?" He asks with wide eye’s, trained carefully on his friend.
Faraan thinks for a moment, pondering the question. "Not sure, perhaps undead killed them or another group, a powerful one I'd wager." Taking on an ominous tone as if there was some great conspiracy. “Well, we still got paid, but a weird job... I have to thank whoever left them for us." Faraan lets out a soft chuckle. "But I've got a new job now, dealing with goblins. They are wondering close to the town, it's with the Mercenaries of the Dawn." His eyes widen slightly as a smile graces his narrow face.
Haldor's face lights up with recognition, shocked for a moment he responds after some time. "Mercenaries of the Dawn, I think I've heard of them before. Their leader is a deadly swordsman named Grim." Haldor pats his friend on the shoulder, before gesturing with his empty pint. Expecting a refill and he was sorely disappointed.
As the two men are conversing, a hooded figure is seen in the background. Seated alone in the corner table, he possessed a staff, resting to the side. He turns to the two men and glares at them in the distance. He watches them intently before whispering under his breath. "You're welcome." Under the hood is Orpheus, remaining out of sight in the populated tavern. "Goblins, perhaps there is a village populated with useful denizens. Useful indeed, towards my first experiment with the staff." He contemplates with a villainess grin, just as a plan takes shape.
"You look happy mister?" A woman wearing a tattered and old apron speaks. She has white silverish hair and dark hazel eyes. Within her grasp is a small empty tray.
Turning to the new figure, he looks up at her, taking in her presence. "Yes, I am indeed, things are going just as I planned." He comments, alluding to something grander.
The tavern server looks back with a curious expression. Confounded at whatever plan he speaks of. In the end, she resigns with a small smile. A practiced gesture she puts on for all the customers. Before she can speak up, she is called to the other side of the room. "That's great, sorry got to go, quickly do you need anything." She asks in a rush.
He smiles at the server, content with the situation. "No, I'm fine thank you, I have another... Sudden engagement." Just as the server leaves to tend to her customers, Faraan and Haldor rise from their table. Both are ready to leave and make haste to do so. Orpheus observes their actions and follows soon after.
They leave the establishment encountering an empty street. The outside is enveloped in the cold of night. Both men walk to the left, separating at the alleyway. Haldor stumbles off into the distance while Faraan gestures towards the dark alleyway. "Goodbye Faraan!" Haldor yells to his friend, much louder than necessary.
Faraan turns back squinting at his friend's vanishing figure. "You too Haldor, get home safely." He equally yells, almost at the same cadence.
Haldor disappears down the street while Orpheus spies Faraan making his way down the alley. Following soon after he matches the pace to keep up.
Halfway Faraan stops to reach for his purse. Withdrawing a large amount of gold from his prior job. The handful of gold sparkles and shines, reflected in his wide, gaping eyes. "I might go back to my favourite brothel and purchase another girl. Maybe she won't break as easily as the other one." He pondered with a sinister smile, counting his gold. The thought of harming something as delicate as the feminine form, excited him. Even more the concept of purchasing someone and owning them, thrilled him.
"Enjoying your ill-gotten gains, are we?" A voice resounds from behind him. It was Orpheus laying his staff against the wall. Once secured he starts walking towards Faraan, who turns his head in response.
Spying the intruder, he looks back. "What, who are you?" Faraan queried. "Get out of here unless you want to get hurt." Her further states with a contemptible tone.
Orpheus unfettered from the threat remains where he is. "Well, Faraan I'm going to make this really simple. Put my gold on the ground and you may just leave with some minor burns." Delivering an ultimatum with a cold and impassive expression.
Faraan turns around with confusion slowly developing into anger. Wrath radiating from his eyes. "What did you say to me punk? Oh, you really must have a death wish kid?" He draws out his short sword, aiming the blade and directing his deadly intent.
Orpheus chuckles, not really taking the threat seriously. "Hmm, as I said, throw down the gold or things are not going to turn out well for you. You see... I killed those men at the tomb, well they were undead so I'd say that's a bit off a grey area." Explaining his position, with a clear yet mocking tone.
Rage flashes over Faraan's eyes, and his short fuse has officially reached its limit. He pulls back his sword and launches it towards his enemy's head. Intending for his weapon to teach a lesson, one can never forget.
In response, Orpheus tilts his head to the side. A smile passes across his face just before he speaks. "Contego." The sword makes its way, ready to leave a permanent scar. Soon disrupted by a barrier spell, repelling Faraan back a few steps.
He steps back further, shocked with a tinge of fear coating the expression. "Magic caster... perfect." He states just before retreating even further back. Soon getting into a ready stance, pressing his sword forward and his feet firmly planted.
"You have three seconds to do as I ask or there will be no further mercy." Orpheus raises his hand and signals with three fingers counting down. "Oh yeah that is awesome, totally villain 101, with the whole countdown thing, I have been waiting to do that for a while now." He thinks gleefully, producing a small smile.
Staring back at his enemy, the fear passed plainly on his face. Weighing his options as the countdown commences "I'm not going to part with my gold, I'm out of here." Faraan quickly ceases his desire to attack, turning to retreat and sprinting as far as he can.
Orpheus chuckles softly and scratches his chin with a short intake of breath. "Subcinctus Egomet." He chants softly, followed by a short gust of wind.
Taking a few steps, he stops, suspecting something amiss. "What the?" Turning his head to see his enemy has vanished into thin air. He turns back with utter confusion before witnessing the man materialise before him.
Just as Orpheus appears with his sword drawn, Faraan has no time to react before a blade is thrust deep into his gut. "Ahh..." Faraan shouts as the sword slides further in, perforating his stomach. The blade sliced through his internal organs. Immediately he coughs up blood, right onto his attacker's cloak, staining it. Looking up he peers into death itself. With all his strength leaving him, he drops his sword.
Attempting to speak, his gargled words come forth, but Orpheus cuts him off. "You should have listened and just gave me the gold." He laments coldly, before continuing. "You only have yourself to blame and... Well, me as well I suppose, kind of defeats the purpose I guess." Smiling he withdraws the blade, grabs his purse and proceeds to put the man out of his misery. Ending his life with a single strike to the neck, removing the head from his shoulders.
The man's head ascended to the sky and while aloft, his thinks churn. How he lived and the regrets he had. Occurring within a few seconds, he remained conscious as the darkness descended. "I wonder if the daughter I left, still lives?" Faraan's head descended to the ground, his body falling soon after.
Orpheus grins at the brutality just before he grabs his staff. Walking away, gold in hand he departs off and into the night. Walking down the street, he passed various stores and buildings. Noticing blood stains on his cloak, read upon the cloth. Fearing the implications, quickly he raised his hand, chanting. "Concelo." The stain vanishes with a flick of his wrist. Exhaling at the notion of evidence removal. "There we go, ill wash it later, the illusion spell should only hold for a day or two." He ponders before his next move.
Continuing down the street he encounters a road illuminated by torches doting the sides in equal intervals. Walking further he notes upon very few pedestrians, out at night. The building's windows are lit with people and activities. Instead, he looks towards the right and upwards into the night sky. Peering at something a flash crosses his mind with utter contempt and rage. A stone wall surrounds an elegant castle. "The Theavalon Kingdom, your days are numbered and this town will be just the beginning." His thoughts calm the fire growing inside. The vision of the kingdom's downfall was pleasing to his mind's eye. This town being the crucible, sealing its fate. Eventually he comes upon a courtyard, a woman sits on the edge of a fountain. Her tears fall freely, while she mutters under her breath.
Curious, he walks over to her, pondering other matters. “That fountain would make a great spot for a statue of me, once the town is conquered.” Lingering a gaze, he imagines the fountain with some modifications. "Hi there you seem upset I'm curious as to why?" Inquiring, he maintains an even tone and expression. The woman lifts up her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.
She looks at him with confusion, before the light of acknowledgement glistens softly. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's nothing for you to be concerned about, you needn't worry." Waving his question off his, feigning contentment.
Frowning in disbelief, clearly not buying her words for a moment. "There is clearly something wrong... That is obvious, come on tell me, I would like to know." Seating himself beside her, with an appropriate distance between them. "I have some time, you can dump your problems onto me, there is no trouble." He adds with a small smile, attempting to convey sincerity.
The woman looks concerned but ultimately explains her situation. "Umm... I think my husband is having an affair, he comes home late all the time. He sometimes is smelling of an unfamiliar fragrance. I just confronted him; he stormed out and now I'm here weeping in front of a stranger." Her voice breaks for a moment just before her resolve wells up. The tears that once fell freely, ceased with her petulant glare
Nodding his head in affirmation, he replies softly. "I see the situation, well it's obvious just leave him. Take everything and just go, because a little hint.” He leans forward to whisper. “You don't want to be in this town, around this time."
Visibly shaken by his suggestion, she shakes her head before replying. "Leave him, but where will I go?” She asked, genuinely perplexed. Soon after she shifted the conversation to another query. “What do you mean I shouldn't be in this town?" Finishing her sentence, she gazes back at him.
Orpheus ascends to his feet, looking back down at her. "What's your name?" He asks, with his smile fading.
She furrows her brows yet still replies with her full name. "Alissa Von Hal-burg." She answered clearly yet still confused.
"Well, Alissa the logistics of your exit are none of my concern but I suggest taking everything that isn't bolted down before the journey." He says with a slight smirk and a wink. "And in regards to this town... I'm going to destroy it, so being here during that time may be hazardous for your health" When those words exited his mouth her eyes widen. She stands up with a horrified look, not knowing if he's joking, crazy or God forbid, serious.
Still shocked, she slowly backs away in a panic. Leaving with a steady pace, she makes her way down the street. "Hmm was it something I said." He says out loud, an evil grin on his face. His devilish smile was short-lived. Realising what he was doing here in the first place. "Ah yes, I needed to get to the adventures guild. I believe it was that way?" Pointing south towards a building at the end of the street. He makes his way towards his destination.
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Continuing on his journey he passes down the left pathway. Spying on a few occupants populating the streets. He reaches the end, spotting a large building on the corner. The wooden banner dangles from a pole. Inscribed upon it, are a crossed sword and shield.
The building is twenty metres tall with two stories. Greyish brick with a balcony above and a porch below. The second story has five windows, two of them attached to doors. The first story has a small step leading to the entrance, with two seats on either side. The entrance had circular windows, with door handles for pulling outwards.
Approaching the door, he opens them inwards. Entering quickly, the sight of armed men and women all in light to heavy armour dot the room. Paying them no mind he heads towards the reception desk. "Hello there, I'm here for some information, could you oblige me?" He asked before waiting patiently. Lifting his gaze, the man standing behind the desk. His well-tailored clothes appear similar to a middle-class noble. He is five feet tall, and has a slim build, with brown hair and hazel eyes.
The desk clerk raises his head, taking in Orpheus’s presence. "Hello, welcome to the Adventurer's Guild, what information do you require my good man?" He spoke with a pleasant voice, exuding a sincere expression.
Arriving with a smile, Orpheus bent his expression to his will. "Hi there I'm a sell-sword looking for some information on a potential job, I believe goblins and ogres were involved?" Gesturing with his right palm, conveying his desire.
The receptionist pulls open his desk, browsing the files within. "Ah here it is, there are several jobs related to the goblins, raiding the borders of our town.” Pulling out a piece of parchment, he places it on the desk. “Here on this map are the sites of the attacks and known locations." He points to a few marks on the map.
Looking down at the presented parchment, Orpheus speaks up. "Do you mind if I make a copy?" The receptionist, taken aback in confusion. Tried to wrack his brain around the concept.
After pondering for a moment, he claimed not a single answer. "Sure, you may, but how are you going to do that... By hand?" He suggested, offering a potential solution as an afterthought.
Orpheus peers up from inspecting the map. Pulling forth a parchment from his belt bag. "Of course not, that would take to long." Remarking matter-of-factly, he lays a parchment of similar size next to the map. Placing his right hand over them both. "Duplicare Chartam." Both parchments glow and soon a duplicate map seeps over the blank page. Producing a second identical map layered upon the parchment. "There we are, how much do I owe you?" Adding that inquiry, he peers into the receptionist's eyes expectantly.
Astonished by the magic, he drags his vision across the duplicate. Trying to spy any variation between the two. Noting not a single trace of invalidity, he smiled widely. "Wow, that spell could increase parchment production a thousandfold.” He remarked gleefully, processing the potential of such magic. “So, you are obviously a very skilled mage?" He added, now curious to no end.
Looking back at the man, Orpheus was briefly confused. Only for a moment, before realisation dawns upon him. "That's a pretty simple spell, guess magic is not very common in the kingdom." Commenting on their magical deficiencies. The receptionist's eyes droop as he acknowledges the truth thrust before him. Noticing the result of his words, Orpheus withdraws a single gold coin. The very gold he obtained from Faraan's corpse, placing it upon the desk. "For the map, thanks." He thanks the man, before inspecting his purchase.
Pointing his finger at one of the map makers he chants."Remotis Visum." His eyes glow and his vision shifts. Peering from side to side he observes a remote forest surrounded by trees. After observing for a time, the unnatural vision quickly fades away.
Coming back to reality, the visage of the receptionist returns. The man appears to be gazing at the gold coin and so quickly intercedes. "Sir this is too much!" Picking up the coin he presents the currency.
Ignoring the man’s insistence, Orpheus shuts his eyes while concentrating. "Subcinctus Egomet." Before anyone can realise it, he vanished into thin air. The space once occupied, was suddenly vacant, leaving himself and all the onlookers stunned.
A moonlight forest appears, identical to the one from before. Trees spread out in a circular pattern, around a large patch of grass swaying softly in the wind. Suddenly a strong gust begins to blow before a man violently manifests. "Well, here I am, I wonder how strong these goblins are." He muses on his surroundings and whether the denizens of the forest pose a challenge to his might.
Placing the map into his belt bag he starts walking south away from the nearby town to the north. Travelling the narrow pathway through the foliage, he makes his way on foot. Ducking his head under several tree branches, he continues at a brisk pace. Eventually coming upon a site of a past battle, based on the faint traces of violent clashes. The scorch marks on the grass, along with the red blood stains, make the scene obvious.
Walking over to the site, he places his hand over the marking, checking for the temperature. "Warm seems like a recent battle. Probably between goblins and adventures with one or both sides having mages." He mutters, casting his gaze across the clearing. Spotting faint blood stains on a nearby tree, he moves for a closer look. The tree has some marks as if from a blade and the blood appeared to be dark red in colour.
Raising his right hand to chest height, he chants a spell. "Sanguis." The blood slowly animates, writhing like a collection of crimson worms, struggling to cling together. "Reditus Originem." Rising to eye level, the floating blood snake coils and wriggles. Soon a glow emanates from every cell, coating it with a dark sheen. With a thought, the blood creature shoots off into the distance. Smiling like a parent finally releasing their young into the wild. He takes off after the flying trail of blood.
Fire sprouting from the centre, kindling stokes its bright and flickering flames. Smoke rises reaching the top of the highest tree. The campfire is surrounded by many odd creatures, all seated in a circle. Receiving warmth from the flames, each of the green denizens appeared relaxed. The creatures have greyish leathery skin, small tusks sprouting from their bottom jaw and pointy ears.
Each of them is humanoid in form, yet animalistic in nature. Despite their ferocious demeanours, a sense of camaraderie filled the air. “That looks like it hurts Rothgar, you need me to tend to it?" One of them asks his fellow kin opposite himself. The one that spoke is wearing, brownish leather armour and a short axe tethered to his hip. His face was rugged with two scars tracing the left side of his face.
The object of his worry is a similar looking creature with fewer scars yet younger in appearance. The young one has a large gash, seeping blood, just below the elbow. He is wielding a short sword on his hip and trying desperately to disguise his pained expression. "Thank you Ignar, but I'm fine barely a scratch." Rothgar responds to Ignar's concern, still concealing the pain of his injury.
Ignar frowns, shaking his head dejectedly. "You should get that treated less it gets corrupted!" One of the others chimes in with an even firmer tone.
Rothgar turns to the new speaker and slowly dips his head, in reverence. "As you wish Galford." He replies, wincing slightly in anticipation of the eventual, medical treatment.
Galford rises, drawing a dagger from his belt and placing the blade on the fire. "Don't worry Rothgar, it will only hurt for a moment, stay strong lad." The fourth man, slightly older than all of them, remarks confidently. He has many battle scars, tracing his arms like a spider's web. Shifting from his seated position a mace can be seen across his legs.
Heeding the elders' words, Rothgar bowed in supplication, before replying meekly. "I will, thanks Erengard, I will prove my strength in the name of Ithgar." Raising his chin high, the young goblin beams pride. Invoking the name of the troll God himself. Silence pervades the clearing, only the crackling of the flames can be heard. Soon the others erupt in laughter, jovially mocking the young one's resolve.
Witnessing their laughter, causes his blood to boil, clearly not amused. Galford ceases his laughter, nodding a few times. The gesture shows some modicum of respect for the young one. "Good one lad, keep that fire stoked in your heart, it will make you strong and worthy of the tribe." Galford withdraws his knife and now wielding a heated blade. “Give out your arm boy." Commanding the young goblin, Rothgar submits his arm for treatment. The blade is pressed against the flesh, searing the wound shut. Experiencing excruciating pain, yet remaining steadfast. His face only allowing a slight expression of pain to pass by.
Smoke rises before the blade is removed, leaving a closed wound. Rothgar sighs in relief liberated from the pain. "Good, I'm proud of you!" Galford slaps him on his back, in recognition of his feat.
Rothgar overjoyed at their reactions, becomes content with his uncertain future. "I will become a powerful warrior and prove myself to the tribe, I swear it to Ithgar!" Vowing openly to his one and only God, he turns to the skies. Gazing at the stars as if he could see the deity warring with the stars themselves.
The rest of the camp raise their fists in the typical sign of prayer. “Blood for Ithgar, slaves for Ithgar, his conquest be done!” Chanting together as one, devoutly praying to their greedy war God.
Soon the sound of rustling can be heard behind them. The group turn to witness a floating trail of blood passing through the brush. The blood swiftly traversed the distance, before latching to Rothgar’s former wound, with a faint splat.
An air of confusion passes across their faces. They all look up to witness a hooded man, exit the brush. The being wielded a sword and staff, emerging from the woods. "Human!" They all yelled in unison, before rising with weapons drawn.
The hooded man moved a few steps forward and appeared to be none other than Orpheus himself. Enigmatically appearing from the silhouette, having tracked his target. "Good evening gentlemen, sorry to intrude but I would like to ask a simple question?" He cordially and politely inquired about the small goblin trope.
His words are only met with hostility and the goblin's indignant fury. "Die human!" They all shouted together, launching simultaneous attacks. Raising their weapons to bear on their enemy by sheer force of numbers.
Clicking his tongue, Orpheus shakes his head in disappointment. "So impolite." He remarks just before raising his staff against his attackers. "Contego Murus." An ethereal shield forms in front of him. The shield stretches two metres across and two metres high. The goblins cease their attack coming up against their first obstacle. "Now may we have a conversation?" Inquiring again, to the angry creatures just beyond the barrier.
Instead of a pleasant response, they sneer angrily, akin to savage dogs straining against the leash. "We do not speak with humans, we sever their heads, arms and legs. Trophies to honour Ithgar!" Galford proclaims as the other's chant along with him. "Humans will die for Ithgar!" They continue with more and more bravado.
Chanting in unison, Orpheus smiles before speaking again. "Well, I like a good beheading as much as the next guy. But it's difficult to converse with headless corpses." Explaining his point, he indicated a flaw in their communication methodology.
Galford shrugs off the offer of civilised discourse, before approaching the barrier. Glaring at his foe with rage in his eyes. Smashing his fist against the magical wall, visibly shaking it. "You talk too much human; I'm going to tear out your vocal cords for my collection." Snarling, the mad creature scrapes his nails across the transparent barrier.
Unfazed by the violent proclamation he looks down in disappointment. Raising his head, he places his staff upon his back and draws his sword with his left hand. "Well, if that's what you want, you better make this fun for me!" The goblins ram against the barrier, like mad bulls. Their efforts were not entirely futile, leaving cracks here and there. "Incanto Elementum Ignis." Orpheus chants, his right hand placed on his blade. It glows with an iridescent redness.
Soon Galford unleashes his last strike, finally shattering the barrier. His fellow goblins release a mighty war cry and soon charge madly. Despite the oncoming hoard, Orpheus smiles mockingly. "This is a good chance to test out my swords skills." He remarks while transitioning into a battle stance. "Contego Clipeum." Following another spell chant, a circular shield manifests upon his right arm. Stepping back with his newly acquired shield, he readies himself for the impact.
Their weapons descend, before immediately being blocked. The shield preventing their reach, visibly strains under their weight. Taken aback a few feet, under their overwhelming force. He desperately adds an additional chant. "Augeo." With a new word of power, the shield grows ever larger, pushing them back with little effort.
Stunned, Ignar loses his footing before looking up to spy his human foe, lunging with the sword in hand. Landing a strike, Orpheus slashes across Ignar's chest, spewing blood from the wound. Soon after the goblin falls to the ground with a dull thud. The others, disturbed at Ignar’s defeat attack with bolder ferocity.
Erengard raises his mace before charging like a madman. Just as he is about to land a deathly blow, Orpheus turns around and blocks the overhead strike. "Not fast enough little goblin." He mocks before easily overwhelming the goblin's strength. "Involucrum." Chanting another word of power, the sword becomes engulfed in a flame. Now wreathed in flame, the fire scorches Erengard's eyes blinding him for a moment. Drawing his sword back he plunges the blade into the goblin's stomach.
The goblin screams in pain before Orpheus removes the sword. Striking swiftly, he severs the head, a small act of mercy, forever silencing him. The final two goblins Rothgar and Galford, showcase horrified expressions. Instead of succumbing to fear, they turn to their God's wrath, disregarding any notion of retreat. "Such a disorderly group, attacking without thinking and inefficiently using their numerical advantage." Orpheus critiques their attack strategy, with utter disappointment.
Rothgar and Galford position themselves on both sides, maintaining a safe distance. Orpheus dispels his shield, awaiting their futile attack. "Finally, an inclination of a strategy. Let's see what you guys can do." He comments.
"You will die human!" Instead of a retort, Galford screams like a savage before charging. Rothgar advances from the left empowered by the resolve.
Orpheus smiles before raising his palm towards Rothgar. "Do you mind staying out of this, I'd prefer a one-on-one battle." He say’s before directing his mana towards the goblin. "Imperium Corpus." Stretching his influence over to Rothgar, the goblin freezes in place.
Confused and fearful, he desperately writhes against the spell. Perplexed, Galford stops in place, and soon his gaze falls on his enemy. "What have you done to Rothgar with your putrid magic!" Directed his weapon directly at his enemy, his eyes seething with rage.
Orpheus ignores him, removing the fire-wreathing blade and passing it to his right hand. Galford quickly rams into him, with all the ferocity of a mad bull. The clashing of two weapons creating a stalemate, Galford visibly stronger. He overwhelms Orpheus, slicing the man's shoulder just as he jumps back.
With blood drawn Galford reasserts himself, launching his next attack. The clamouring of swords one after the other, over and over again, each blow weakening Orpheus until he can no longer defend. "You are weak human, now die!" Galford shouts as he begins his next overwhelming strike. The blade descends from above, ready to cleave his enemy apart.
Jumping back, Orpheus retreats to a safer distance, narrowly missing a strike. "Definitely got a lot to learn in terms of swordcraft, good to know." He muses before dropping his sword, abandoning the weapon. "Ignis Augeo Adtono." With his right hand raised, he launches a large fireball, incinerating the goblin brute in moments. The blast leaving nothing but a charred corpse, ending his glorious charge.
Regaining his weapon and sheaths the blade. Shifting his gaze to the frozen Rothgar. He notices the horrified look on his face, while still frozen. The young goblin furiously struggles against the spell. "My condolences, but I need to have a conversation with you." Approaching his victim, he apologises with mock sincerity.
Rothgar shouts angrily and with complete contempt at the species before him. "I will not waste my words on a putrid human like you!" His roar of malice placed a smile on Orpheus's face. Waving his hand, as it passes the goblin is brought to his knees. "That's a better posture for listening. Now I see you won't willingly have a nice cordial chat with me, so guess this is the best time to try the spell." Commenting on their lack of discourse, he turns to the side, reclaiming his staff. Placing the staff a few centimetres from his face. Exhaling a breath, he concentrates, his eye’s glued to the angry creature. "Imperium Autem." Chanting the words of power, his eyes glow with a red hue, the same as the staves shining crystal.
Rothgar’s expression lessens, and his anger gives way to oblivion. One thought remains within his mind. "Obey." Rothgar's will slips into nothingness, and his sense of self is erased. Leaving nothing but the intense desire to carry out the whims of his new master.
Orpheus, pleased with his sudden change of expression asks one final question. "Hey there little goblin, you mind showing me around, I'd love to see your village?" His words are in the shape of a query but filled with an aura that demands obedience.
Rothgar responds with a wholehearted statement, rising to a straighter posture. "Of course, I'd be glad to take you, master." He replies with a wide smile.