A blue light shining on the walls and the pillars – the great hall was made brighter because of the magic, and so the Questmaster glanced away from the summoning circle. He stared at his feet, studied his shoes. Old boots made from old leather, and old laces holding it all together. These boots were probably as ancient as he was – he couldn't even remember when he started to wear them.
“Shoza, hldeu ul olmen ha!” said Neremniel, the archmage, as he canalised the magic in the circle with his hands raised.
He looks like a bloody cretin, the Questmaster observed. He had told them, more than once. They ought to stop chanting the damn spell. They didn't even need to chant or make funny gestures anyway. A mere thought would suffice, though apparently his excellency the archmage, Neremniel of the Darklands, also fancied himself a comedian of sorts. Perhaps that was how they learned magic in the Darklands, yet Neremniel had been here long enough to know how dumb it looked...
“But hey,” the Questmaster muttered, “I'm not the one who sounds like I'm talking while having a seizure.”
“What's that you said?” came a voice from behind. He didn't need to turn around to know that the august voice belonged to a middle-aged man with lustrous brown hair, an elegant, well groomed beard, and equally elegant clothes.
The Questmaster sighed. “Nothing, your majesty. What will it be, this time?”
The king shrugged. “I don't know. Come up with something nice, will you? Neremniel told me this one has a tragic past of sorts. Hit by a... truck, I believe? You know, these large carriages of steel with the-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the Questmaster snapped. “I bloody know what a truck is.” They had summoned about eleven or twelve of these truck-struck idiots, these past three years. Nowadays, I could ask the first drunkard I'd meet in the streets, even he would know what a truck is.
“Bah, don't worry,” his majesty said, as if unaware that he was the root of his worries. “We've had bandits burning fields and farms the other day. You can use that, add a little twist and all that, right? Work your usual magic.”
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The Questmaster stroke his grey beard and grunted. “I'll see what I can do.”
They turned their attention back to the summoning circle, brighter than ever now that Neremniel was about to finish his spell. A blue orb appeared, growing larger and larger. The room became white, and filled with echoing murmurs of grand deities and souls of heroes, and then, suddenly, nothing.
In the middle of the circle, in place of the light, stood an average looking young fellow, slightly round perhaps, with the unmistakeable air of confusion and horror on his face – that often happened when they summoned someone who recently died. Fresh memories of intense dread and whatnot.
“Eh... eh...” the young 'hero' muttered, his legs shaking, saliva oozing from his agape mouth. “This is... Am I dead?”
Yep, the Questmaster concluded as he thought that the hero's overall appearance granted him a certain aura of mindlessness. This one doesn't have what it takes either. He felt the hand of the king on his shoulder, pushing him toward the circle. The Questmaster frowned, but stepped forward nonetheless.
“Welcome, chosen hero!” he began, as usual. Doing his best to sound dignified and friendly. “Welcome to Pandristar! Our skilled magicians have gathered their wits and knowledge to summon you... saviour of another world, who shall free our realm from a terrible fate!”
“...F-fate? Hero?”
The Questmaster squinted his all-knowing eyes and opened the young lad's information screen.
General Information
Name: Cooper Cain Class: None Level: 2 HP: 55/55 Race: Human Title: None EXP: 0/150 MP: 12/12
Vitality: 6 Dexterity: 7 Willpower: 1 Stamina: 3 Intelligence: 4 Luck: 2 Strength: 5 Faith: 8 Charisma: 2
Unique Skills
[Resistance to expired food] [One-handed browsing]
Oh, for fuck's sake. The Questmaster cringed. You aren't exactly blessed, my boy. He had neither need nor desire to see more, as it was enough to know that the lad wouldn't go far, much like the majority of the fools brought here. Still, he had a job to do.
“Yes, hero... Cooper Cain!” he said, struggling not to sound too jaded. “You have been chosen because of your talent, your skill, and your courage! Congratulations!”