Name: Mark (Mark) Redding, Race: Human

Ht: 5’10, Wt: 160, Sex: Male, Archetype: Wizard

HP: 5 / 5 Mana: 0 / 39 MCU: 300 / 300

Stats:

Physical: 2, Moxie: 2, Spiritual: 2, Luck: 2,

Agility: 2, Magic: 3, Mental: 3, Energy: 4.

Relevant Skills: Agility - Balance, Physical - Awareness

______________________

Mark woke to a pain in his side. As he opened his eyes, the glare of sunlight reflecting off a polished steel mirror forced him to close them again. He tried to roll over, but the pain increased.

“Fuuuuucccc,” Mark said as he rolled away from the stabbing pain in his side and off the bed.

Hardwood thumped as he hit the floor. A rug that would have cushioned the fall a little lay folded over on itself where Mark had left it the night before. He groaned at the memory of being paranoid and double-checking for trap doors under the rugs and bed before going to bed. He had been on edge; he even went to sleep with a dagger in hand.

The pain in his side reminded him he needed to locate the weapon before he accidentally stabbed himself again. The dagger, tip coated in blood, lay on the mattress staining the gray linen sheets and the thin wool blanket he had been using. He quickly removed his shirt and used the mirror to examine the wound. It was seeping a little blood but didn’t look life-threatening. He put on a different shirt from his backpack and left the room to find Jax.

With a few minutes, some breakfast, and healing from Jax, Mark was ready to take on the world. They all sat at a small table, picking at what remained of breakfast when two priests walked up to the table. One set a piece of paper down and started to unroll it, moving glasses and plates out of the way.

“Before you go on some suicide mission, know many have tried to kill the king.” The priest said after he unrolled a detailed map of the castle on the table.

Mark stood up quickly. His chair fell backward, and his legs bumped the table, causing one of the drinks to slosh and splash a little onto the map.

“We do not wish any harm upon the king, and may he….” Mark said as he quickly looked around to ensure no guards were nearby.

“It’s ok, I told them,” Jax said as he rose and touched Mark’s shoulder. “Father Shea and Father Bowers.” He pointed with his free hand at the two priests one by one. Father Bowers was the taller one with a small bald spot on his head.

“You can’t just tell everyone,” Mark said.

“I trust them. They are good people.” Jax said. He waved a hand toward the priests.

“As I was saying,” Father Bowers said as he pulled out a handkerchief and started mopping up some of the spilled drink. “Two weeks ago, some people appeared in the king's sanctum and had to be dispatched by the guard. Over the past few months, he’s experienced multiple attempts on his life.”

“How many times have we failed?” Mark muttered as he glanced in Todd’s direction.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark caught the two priests looking at each other, then at Jax, then at the map.

“There has to be a way to do this without fighting an army. Maybe we have Charisse sneak in and unlock some doors.” Mark said as he tried to memorize the map on the table. The hand-drawn details of the hallways and rooms seemed promising, but it was apparent multiple people drew them. “Could we sneak in as servants?”

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“That's the best idea so far,” Todd said as he stepped up. He held a sausage on a fork in one hand. He leaned over the map and accidentally dripped some grease on the part of the main dining hall.

“Please, do not damage these maps; they are the only current copies.” Father Shea said as he carefully put a hand under the sausage to catch the next drip and gave a nudge to move him away from the table.

“How long would it take to make a copy?” Mark said. Before the priest said anything, Mark looked at Todd, “Give me 10 minutes to see if there's a duplication spell.”

Before Todd responded, Mark pulled up the handbook and jumped to the index. He quickly scanned it looking for Copy, Photocopy, and Duplicate. Unfortunately, none of those appeared as names of spells. He mentally cursed and hoped it wasn’t in Latin or something.

Something caught his eye, Mimeograph. Taking a chance, he jumped to that page and read up on the spell.

Mimeograph

Success level: 3

Cost 50 Mana, Maintenance: None

Copies of the text and simple pictures from one medium to another. Medium for reproduction needs to be provided and must be able to accept the transfer of ink or pigmentation. Each success beyond the initial will duplicate the process onto another item if it is present and next to the first. Stacks of paper or parchment can be used when the source is multiple pages. Limited to 10 pages per success for copying.

“Fuckity, fucking,” Mark jumped out of the handbook and back to reality, stopping himself mid-fuck as he saw the wide eyes of the priests. “Sorry, just found out there is a solution, but it’d leave me with limited mana for a day.”

“They can’t copy it, at least not in time for it to be useful to us,” Todd said.

Mark reached into his backpack and thought about a paper and pen. Then, feeling some parchment appear in his hand, he pulled out the paper, then reached in for an inkwell and pen.

“Alright, give me a few minutes to skill up drawing,” Mark muttered. He started copying.

As Mark realized his drawing looked like a bad game of tic tac toe, he flipped the paper over and started over. The second attempt wasn’t even close; he ended up with a large rectangle and a few smaller squares inside. He pushed a piece of paper over in Todd’s direction, “Help,” he said as he tried a third time.

“F… udge,” Mark said, remembering the priests. He glanced over at Todd, who was working on creating a copy of the map. When Todd paused to move to another section, Mark interrupted him. “Here, start over; as you skill up, you’ll improve.”

The two priests glanced at Jax and then back at Todd’s creation. “If you are so skilled in forgery, why ask us?”

“We didn’t know how hard it would be,” Mark said. He tapped Todd on the shoulder and gave him another sheet of paper. “We’ll just have to power through it until we get to a decent skill level or get a lucky roll.”

“Lucky roll?” Father Bowers said.

“Aye, fortune favors the bold and stupid; we’re both.” Mark smiled before he tapped Todd on the shoulder again and handed him another piece of paper.

Half an hour later, they had a decent reproduction of the map. Todd kept shaking his hand as if trying to shake loose some tension. Everyone thanked the priests for their time, and Mark went so far as to give them a few gold coins as a donation for their time.

“We appreciate the donation, and while Bartholo is a tyrant, remember nature abhors a vacuum, and the world of man abhors a power vacuum.” Father Bowers said.

Out of the corner of Mark’s eye, he saw Jax nodding his head at the priest's remarks. Mark banished thoughts of the morality of the quest. “I think we were hoping that's where the church could step in,” Mark said.

“That is our plan,” Father Bowers said.

“Could have an election and let the people choose a new leader,” Todd said. “It kind of works where we are from.”

Father Bowers and Father Shea laughed for a few seconds before they saw no one else laughing. They immediately clamped their hands over their mouths and regained their composure. Father Shea’s eyes danced back and forth among the group looking for someone else to acknowledge the joke.

“I apologize; we had forgotten this assemble was foreign to our community.” Father Shea waved a hand toward Todd, Jax, and Mark.

“Public election is how the king’s family gained power.” Father Bowers said.

“Fuckity, fu… Sorry, habit.” Mark said. He looked at Jax and Todd and shrugged.

Todd replied with his own confused shrug as well.

Jax’s face stiffened as he drew his lips into a thin line. “Sometimes you gotta put down the rabid dog, even if you don’t know how to feed the pups,” Jax said.

The priests left shortly after, with Jax leading them out, leaving Mark and Todd alone at the table. Todd’s copy of the map was serviceable, but Mark wished he had a week to train the spell. Also, with a fight looming ahead, he wanted to ensure his active mana containment was full. Todd kept looking toward Mark, then back at the paper as he added more touches to the map.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Mark said.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Todd said, looking into Mark’s eyes.

“Yes, this place isn’t real. It's a construct of a demon to torment us. I mean, magic, gods, dwarves, and shit?” Mark said, “It's a fantasy game, not reality.”

“But demons aren’t supposed to be real either, but here we are,” Todd said.

“Logical fallacy, if demons are real, it doesn’t mean fantasy world is real, just means we have something that described in religious text as being real,” Mark said, mustering as much conviction in his voice as he could. He looked away from Todd momentarily and scanned the primarily empty inn. The owner was sitting behind a small counter folding newly cleaned linen with a young girl. The little village was bustling through the windows as people went about their day.

“I hope,” Mark said softly to himself.