Rum had ran off from the room. Last Amez had seen his brother, the distracted wizard had just mumbled to himself: “Where did that ghost go?”

And thus, Amez was left inside the kitchen with strangers everywhere. With dozens of mages, and the adventurers. He didn’t properly know Rulli, he didn’t know Gilda, and he’d never even talked directly to Darmon. The only other person he knew – Elrith, his former customer – lay unconscious and pretty much entirely naked on the stone floor. With fireballs having been thrown around everywhere during the fight, her body had managed to absorb the magic due to Rum’s previous spellworks. As Amez stood staring at Elrith’s body, however, the younger brother saw that her clothes most definitely hadn’t endured what she could. Currently, Elrith rested peacefully on her belly, her vulva and butt on full display between her legs. Eyeing the woman, Amez’ eyes went cross the span of her, up until her head. A speck of blood marked a dried strip down Elrith’s forehead. His feet motioned over, and he leaned in to have a better look. Rum must’ve forgotten to heal you, he thought. Amez’ hand came down to his belt, finding a thin vial of healing potion. The adventurer unstrapped the bottle, and brought it up before him. He’d never actually used the substance before on any severe injuries. Though I’ve witnessed others use it, and seen it used many enough times. He uncorked the vial and leaned further. His arm reached forward, and he poured the contents lightly over the broken skin. His torso rising back up again, he watched skin nit itself back together. That should be enough, for now. The skin had brought itself more or less back to its former uninjured state. He recorked the bottle, restrapped it, and stood back up fully, his feet taking a few steps away.

Amez’ eyes drifted from Elrith head and down towards her butt. He stared at both buttcheeks. They looked intensely reddened, as if having been thoroughly sunburnt, or fiercely spanked. Must’ve been the heat. He briefly wondered briefly whether to also pour a few drops of potion over the reddened skin. After a couple of seconds of consideration however, the idea didn’t strike him as particularly necessary. It probably won’t last. Or if it does, Rum’ll surely fix it. He looked back at her head, at her unconscious, peaceful face. She looked so much less ready to shoot someone this way. Amez turned away from the woman. He took a couple of steps along the kitchen’s length, away from her. His eyes landed at nothing among the kitchen utensils, and for a moment, he blanked out. His mind was a still void when, creeping back up through his consciousness, a single image, a simple recent visual memory, found its way back to center-stage. Elrith, someone you like should tell you, that your butt is very cute.

The world came back to Amez, the void gone as his sense of presence reestablished itself. He told his legs to walk away further, and the image departed his mind along with his feet. Instead, his awareness turned to his visual senses, and he decided to look about the room to get an idea of what was happening. Over near the other end of the kitchen, and partially out of sight due to the stone counters, 3 mages stood in a circle chanting a ritual spell with a sickly green light to it. He recognized the participating mages. Glarith, the elder witch, and Farklend, the wizard from Agadeya that had volunteered to come and live with them – inside of my closet, of all things... My really boring closet, which my brother has somehow “expanded”, whatever he means by that. The third mage was a witch Amez hadn’t come to know yet, but he identified her as one of the 30 or so who’d decided to group up on their own. Wandering in quiet thought, he took slow purposeless steps towards them.

I feel so lost here. Mages and magic everywhere, and none of it has anything to do with me. I’m not a caster, like these people. I’m not taken with a witch, like Darmon, and I’m not – what are Rulli and Gilda doing? Amez tried looking around to see if he could spot them, but the dwarves were nowhere to be seen.

“Where have you ran off to now?” he mumbled, scanning his environment.

Then his eyes caught a beardless wizard, slightly younger than himself by the looks, strolling up besides him, giving him a casual stare. “You look lonely” said the wizard. The man gestured in a slow motion to something behind him, and Amez followed his gesture to see he was gesturing the group of mages, most of which were standing around talking to each other, mostly in circles of group discussions. “Want to come and be with us?”

Amez didn’t initially understand what the man meant. “I have the party I came with” he replied rather automatically, “I must go back with them.” He tried to look around for party members, but couldn’t find Darmon, so ended up pointing down at the nude Elrith.

The wizard followed Amez’ finger down to Elrith. “Ah, not that” the wizard shook his head slowly, “I just meant: would you rather be with us, and talk, than stand here by yourself? You look too much like a lost lamb.”

Amez had to smile, and smile genuinely, at the thoughtful suggestion. “That is kind of you.” The new adventurer brought an arm to back of his head, touching his neck. “I must admit, I am a little lost.” He glanced about them. “Everyone’s engaged with something, while I just stand here, with nothing to do.”

The wizard made another wave of his hand towards the crowd of mages, and nudged his head in the direction for emphasis. Amez let himself be nudged along. His feet started to move in the direction, and when he passed the wizard, the other man stepped in beside him. “Have you been an adventurer for long?”

“First time, actually.” Amez’ hand hadn’t left his own neck, and he stroked it some more. He didn’t have a comfort-beard like his big brother. “Must admit this is nothing like how I’d expected it. We’ve already conquered the whole dungeon, yet I haven’t fought a thing. I’m not even carrying my weapon” he brought his hands forwards to mimic holding his light halberd in front of him.

“Oh, this is most certainly not how most dungeon runs go. I’ve been in Jorteg’s service for, what is it now? 3 years? Add a few months. We’ve fought countless incursions by your sort. It often ends in blood. Theirs or ours, unless the adventurers take off early, or flee. A bloodless conquest–” the wizard momentarily glanced over the soup of Jorteg, which had just become barely visible, “–an almost bloodless conquest, that’s practically unheard of.”

“Yeah” Amez half-mumbled, “my brother is something, isn’t he.”

“Oh yes, that’s correct isn’t it, he’s your brother?” The young wizard thought for a second as they came to a halt just adjacent of the gathering of mages. “By the way” he turned slightly to face Amez, “what did you do. I mean recently, before you decided to go on your first adventure?”

“I’m a body enchanter” Amez responded, “so I guess I’m not too different from you mages.”

“Body enchanter?” The wizard looked surprised. “What kind of body enchantments?”

“Tattoos, mostly. I tattoo The Magic Images, the ones I know at least, and I cast the enchantment. I don’t know but do you know anything about tattoo enchantments?”

“A little” the wizard answered with narrowed recollecting eyes, “I’ve seen them, but never had the chance to meet someone who knows that art. May I ask, what are these Magic Images?”

“Yes” Amez nodded, “most people I know are aware of that part, but I suppose if you’re not too familiar with our work, you wouldn’t know. The Magic Images – some people call them The Images of Magic – they’re the motifs of the enchantments. Every enchantment has this image, or more like a motif, which the tattoo must resemble. Without it, the enchantment won’t take hold.”

“That is interesting” the wizard responded, putting a hand to his beardless chin. “Hmm. What about you, have you any of the enchantments on yourself?”

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“Many” Amez responded, then proceeded to take off the shirt he was wearing, exposing his thin chest, with its hint of muscle, to the wizard. Along the tattoo artist’s front were a series of unconnected and diverse tattoo drawings, the motifs ranging from animals, to adventurers, to features of the landscape or the sky, and even everyday objects.

The wizard stared fascinatedly at Amez’ artful body. “You conceal yourself well. I would never had imagined...” The wizard leaned forward to take in each skin-bound image in turn, his mouth open and chin cupped, as his eyes traced the lines and complexities in some of the artwork. “I take it some of these are from when you first started out” he gestured to some of the simpler, cruder drawings, “unless they were made by others?” The wizard’s eyes darted up to look into Amez’.

“One of them are my own, but it’s very difficult to work on your own torso. I used a mirror to make this one.” Amez pointed to one down his flat belly, near his right side. It was the drawing of a dancer in some kind of pose. The details did not speak of anything particularly well-crafted, but it wasn’t crude either.

“What does it do?” The wizard bent down to look at it more closely.

“It’s one of my more practical ones. It helps with my finesse, makes it easier for me to make other artwork.”

“How much does it help?” The wizard leaned back up, keeping his eyes fixed the dancer.

“I’d say it’s equal to about 6 or 8 points of finesse.”

“Finesse, ah? So, that’s agility and luck...” the wizard looked to be computing something in his head, his expression twisting. “That’s what? 14 points of agility and luck combined? That’s at least 3 levels worth of attributes!” His expression widened with surprise and awe as he realized what he’d just said. “That’s a powerful enchantment, right there!” Next the wizards eyes darted to the rest of Amez’ torso. “And your chest is full of tattoos!”

Amez smiled at the wizard, happy to talk about something familiar, and to see recognition in the mage’s eyes. His own party had never thought to inspect his many body enchantments. But they should’ve. There’s a reason why so many want me to make these, after all. And it’s not for the art alone, even though I am pretty good at that too.

“Who made these others then?” he gestured to the rest of Amez’ chest.

“Colleagues, mostly. I make some for them, they make some for me. A few of them were mutual practice runs.” Amez pointed out 3 drawings that were noticably worse crafted than the others. The first was a depiction of a breastplate, the second was a trio of small birds, and the third a large whale with a gaping huge mouth.

“What do they do?” The wizard asked, wondering out loud.

“The Natural Breastplate–” Amez had to smile extra wide for a moment, “–well, suffice to say I got into some bar brawls, and The Natural Breastplate makes your chest and belly act tougher than they really are. This one’s quite weak, but it helps when people try to knock the air out of you. It can take one or two strong fistblows before it has to recharge.”

“Hmm. Why though is it so weak?”

“It was made long ago, when I hadn’t become good yet myself, and I was practicing with another colleague who was in the same situation.”

The wizard nodded. “Okay. So, if I am guessing right: there’s some correlation between how good the depictions are, and how strong the enchantment is?”

“Yes!” Amez responded. “It’s actually the majority of the reason for an enchantment’s power level. Anyone could cast the enchantment, really, but it’s how well you depict the motif – The Magic Image – that matters.”

“Really? That’s quite different from spellcasting. Do you cast any spells – sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Amez, and no, I’m no mage. I just learn the enchantments that I need for my job. Or maybe a couple of simple utility spells, but nothing more.”

“Well, in spellcasting” the wizard continued, “the power of a spell is mainly about its tier. Different tiers require much higher or much lower mana, and the effects follow. There’s some boosting that can come from practice and having a clear mind, but that’s just when you first learn the spell. Tiers is all that matters after that.”

The wizard paused, and Amez said nothing in response, just waiting for the wizard to say something more. Finally the other man pointed to the trio of birds. “Those are sparrows, right? What about that tattoo? What does it do?”

Amez looked down at his chest. The sparrows were just above his right nipple, each one’s set of eyes peeking over towards the viewer. “The Flock of Singers” Amez said. “Yeah, they’re sparrows, or supposed to be at least.” Amez was reminded that this art wasn’t all that detailed for what it could’ve been. The details on the feathers were poorly done, and the eyes too big and smudged. “But it works. That’s also an active enchantment. I can use it together with other people to make us sing better together.” He drew up his smile. “I must admit that one is also most useful in the tavern.”

“The tavern?”

“Yeah” Amez replied, “you don’t go?” He looked up into the wizards eyes, eyebrows raised.

“No tavern here, but wasn’t any in the place I come from either. I’m from the countryside.”

“Ah” Amez took on an expression of understanding.

The wizard took his eyes off of Amez’, and pointed to the last depiction: the whale. “Am I to assume this one is also tavern-themed?” They met eyes again.

Amez’ smile of guilt returned, and he looked away. “Yeaaaah. Ha-ha. It is.”

“If I were to guess” the wizard looked in serious thought as he stroked his chin, “it’s something to do with food?”

“Almost” Amez said. “It allows me to drink a lot of beer. Like A LOT” Amez’ eyes bulged with emphasis.

“Won’t you just constantly run to the toilet then?” The wizard raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, the enchantment is really handy like that. It like, helps you to postpone all that boring stuff like peeing, until you decide to go yourself.”

“Ah” the wizard nodded. “You know, now I’m wondering how many of these tattoos of yours are not for the tavern, and which ones are more like your finesse enchantment.” He gestured to the first one they’d looked at.

“Those are the only ones” Amez began, “except this!” He pointed to a small tattoo on his left side. As the wizard bowed down for a closer look, he could see that it looked like a dwarf trying to consume 2 tankards of beer at the same time. Interestingly, the motif was actually quite decently drawn.

“Should I ask what it does?” The wizard raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Just refills the beer! I can activate it on a near-empty tankard, if I’m about to run out, and it’ll refill it.”

“Why would you need that?” The wizard had his skeptical eyebrow still raised.

Amez shrugged. “Sometimes the barkeep stops serving drinks. I don’t want to be the only one with an empty tankard when that happens.”

The wizard lost his serious expression and snorted, before smiling. “But the rest” the mage changed the subject, and gestured to Amez’ chest, “the rest is more... conventional?”

“You could say that” Amez shrugged.

The wizard paused for a moment, stroking his beardless chin as if inflicted by the habits of Amez’ big brother, but without the place to scratch that particular proverbial itch. Amez understood him. He got the itch to stroke the back of his neck just be looking, except, his self-consciousness of that urge cancelled its sneaky effect.

“Do you want a tattoo?” Amez changed the topic and pointed to the wizards chest. Then his finger changed to point at the wizard’s arm instead, before stepping forward to gently touch the limb, holding up the forearm as if inspecting a fine piece of wood he was considering carving. “I could make you one here if you want. Something conventional? I just need the right tools. I didn’t exactly bring them with me.”

“You’d do that?” The wizard’s eyes went up in surprise. “That’s kind of you. I wouldn’t mind something useful. And good-looking.” He pointed to one of the better drawings on Amez’ chest, depicting a large-bodied lizard with an intelligent-looking face.

Amez looked down at where the wizard was pointing. “Ah, The Dragon’s Breath?”

“What does it do?” The wizard asked more excited now than ever before.

“This.” Amez let go of the wizard’s forearm, turned to the side, took a deep breath, and then the enchantment lit up with a red glow. Amez blew – fire. A long, hot stream of orange and yellow flame. A spectacle that quickly turned more than a few heads to look over at the man who, until recently, had been all but forgotten by the people. For half a dozen seconds Amez continued channelling the dragon’s breath, until COUGH!, and a ring of smoke came out of his mouth.

COUGH! COUGH!

Amez turned back to the wizard, touching his own lips, looking slightly spent. “Ta’ht” he sounded hoarse, “was The Dragon’s Breath.”

“Your enchantment lets you breath FIRE?” The wizard looked half-stunned. “That’s amazing!”

Amez smiled, and COUGH! one more time into his elbow. “Yea'h” he came out hoarse voice again, “it’s good for emergencies.” He took a couple of calming, throat-clearing breaths. “Melee fighters love it. I just have it because it looks good. Also, the woman who made me this, she let me try a different tattoo on her.”

“I saw that” said a feminine voice, and the wizard and shirtless Amez both turned to look at a witch. The woman had stepped out of the big group of mages to face him. A slight smile was on her face as her eyes moved to stare at his tattoos. “That’s a lot of tattoos.”

The wizard gestured at the tattoo artist. “He offered to give me one, can you believe that? I wish we had some equipment for him to use, I really want one after witnessing that.”

The witch looked over at the wizard. “Don’t we have tattoo tools?”

The wizard’s eyebrows went up. “Why would we? Where?”

“In Jorteg’s laboratory, of course!”

"Really?" The wizard perked up, a new excitement shining in his eyes.

"Really! And they're dwarven artifacts!"