#FictionFriday - Chapter Two - A Fugitive from Justice

Chapter Two - A Fugitive from Justice

Khetrik felt a rhythmic thrumming in his head that told him he hadn’t been unconscious long. The party was still going strong after his little disruption. He wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to Lyrian and Sophie what was happening. However, at the moment he had bigger problems to worry about. As his vision cleared, Khetrik could see that Inquisitor Nox was still unconscious and seated opposite of the ornate Elderwood desk of the Guildmaster.

Even though Galen had made a show of throwing out the inquisitor to keep up appearances, he was a pragmatic and fair man, and not one to cast out a legitimate lawman without cause. No, Galen would listen to what Nox would have to say about Khetrik’s crimes, and then he would come to a fair compromise. Unless, of course, Nox becomes totally unreasonable. An unreasonable Nox is definitely possible of course, as his volatility isn’t to be underestimated, but it also wasn’t likely. Nox can be overzealous and stubborn to a fault, but he is still practiced in etiquette and doesn’t do anything that isn’t measured and calculated to lead to the best result in his mind.

“Ahh, I see your tough hide continues to serve you well, Khetrik!” Galen was smiling at him from his seat behind the cluttered desk. “Awake already! Too bad your enthusiastic friend doesn’t appear to share your stamina. Though, if I was to believe the stories of Lyrian and Sophie, not many do!”

“Well, he’s more of a sprinter, that one, but what he lacks in stamina he makes up for in determination!”

Nox stirred at the sound of their jokes.

“You know, it’s not nice to talk about people behind their backs, Khetrik!”

“Well, Nox, it isn’t my fault that you are sitting with your back to me! I’d gladly say all of these things to your face, although, the view back here is much better!”

Khetrik could feel Nox begin to tense up again.

“Khetrik, don’t aggravate our guest.”

“My apologies, Guildmaster.”

“Guest! Do you typically knock out your guests and tie them up?”

“Usually only when they ask me to, which is surprisingly often!”

Galen waived his hand over a small ruby gemstone on his desk and the manacles around Nox’s hands vanished with a loud pop!

“There, is that more to your liking, Inquisitor?”

“Much better indeed, thank you, Guildmaster.”

“Now, would you be so kind as to explain to me exactly why you disrupted our revelry tonight?”

“It is a simple matter, Guildmaster. I have been hunting this fugitive across Bhakaras for more than three years!”

“Fugitive, you say? Dangerous, I presume?”

“Extremely. He murdered his foster father in cold blood, and in an act of treason, obliterated his shop and stole the remaining contents. The Dragon’s Cauldron was a staple of Jolithrian commerce for more than half a century!”

“That sounds terrible! Khetrik, does this man speak the truth?”

“While it is true that my master was killed, and his life’s work was destroyed, it is categorically untrue that I committed that atrocity. As much as I might have wanted to on occasion, it wouldn’t have made logical sense to me to destroy my own future.”

“Interesting, but not surprising. Most people would claim innocence in the face of such charges. I assume, Inquisitor Nox, that you have evidence to present which links Khetrik to the crime?”

“I do. The crime scene was made to appear to be a standard robbery. The building had been damaged to make it appear as though the wizard had been surprised by a burglar. However, upon further inspection it was very clear that no break in was possible due to the wards the old man had in place. Someone who was intimately familiar with the business obviously staged the break in. The only person other than the wizard himself that could have done it, was Khetrik!”

“I see. Is that all you have?”

“It is enough, guild master.”

“Perhaps to you, Inquisitor Nox, but not to the Delvers! I’m afraid our rules of extradition are quite clear. Only irrefutable evidence will be accepted as valid, and your evidence is circumstantial at best.”

“Circumstantial! It is the most likely scenario given the facts!”

Khetrik couldn’t help but grin.

“Most likely, perhaps,” the guild master replied, “but not the only explanation that would fit the facts, and thus it doesn’t qualify as irrefutable evidence.”

Nox shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Khetrik again grinned.

“As a Delver, Khetrik is under our protection as long as he is within our walls. That being said, once he has left our halls, you’re welcome to continue your pursuit unimpeded. Does that sound fair?”

“As fair as I could hope for, I suppose, given my less than appropriate introduction to you all.”

“Excellent! Well then, no one is going anywhere until the morning, so please enjoy our hospitality Inquisitor Nox. It is legendary.”

Galen smiled at his remark.

“If you don’t mind; however, I’d like to speak to my charge alone regarding this matter before he returns to his celebration!”

“Who am I to argue?”

“Well said, who indeed. Please, enjoy the party!”

Khetrik was starting to feel more confident.

“Drink a toast to my success, Nox! Put it on my tab!”

Nox’s thin veneer of composure cracked ever so slightly at Khetrik’s prodding, and he turned to glare at Khetrik. Without pausing, he stepped toward his prey and placed his leather clad hand upon his shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“You’ll be mine soon enough, Khetrik!”

Khetrik was genuinely concerned, but as was often the case he was compelled to laugh in the face of danger.

“You know Nox, it is phrasing like that which causes me such confusion about your intentions. I should have you know I’m happily engaged with a pair of beautiful people right now and I couldn’t be happier.”

If Khetrik didn’t know better, he almost though Nox might be becoming immune to his inappropriate jabs. Without giving him the satisfaction of a blush, Nox turned on his heels and moved toward the door, stopping short. Nox turned one more time to look at him and gave him a small salute bringing his fingers into the shape of a winking eye.

“Be seeing you!”

Nox smiled and left with a slight slamming of the door.

Galen’s attitude immediately softened.

“Khetrik, that man has it out for you. Can you handle this once you’ve left?”

“I’ve handled worse, but if I’m not being flip, I’m not sure how I’m going to handle this yet.”

“That might be the most honest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Khetrik! Thank you for that.”

“You’re making me regret it immediately.”

“Well then, let me offer a suggestion. What do you know about Gnumeria?”

“It’s a wasteland, inhospitable to all except the greenskins, and long since burnt out and destroyed. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve received a tip, about lost artifacts of Osiris.”

Khetrik had heard the name before. Osiris was one of the old gods, and one that had fascinated him for years. Osiris was born of seraph and daemon, and was cast out of both heaven and hell, forced to wander Bhakaras and find his purpose. He was said to have once been shattered into one hundred fragments and had to be rebuilt by his beloved. The journey granted him his deific powers over life and death and made him a legend in the ancient lore.

“Osiris, hmm. Definitely intriguing, and not a common name even amongst our lore. I only know of him because I liked to research stories about people who are outcasts.”

“Indeed. It is believed that there is an artifact lost in the ruins of the Port City of Gnumerono that would provide definitive proof of the existence of Osiris. Not to mention it is rumored to carry the secret of immortality.”

“Immortality. An overrated pursuit. Forever is a long time.”

“Always the practical one, Khetrik, but I don’t disagree. However, regardless of how you feel about the prize, the knowledge alone is worth the attempt.”

Khetrik knew Galen wasn’t mentioning the bigger benefit to taking on this new expedition. Gnumeria was covered in a magical miasma that would quickly kill nearly any living being that wasn’t part of the greenskin hordes. It was a fact that meant that Khetrik was one of the only people who could take on the expedition, and it would take him somewhere Nox couldn’t follow.

“When does the expedition leave, Galen?”

“It’s scheduled for the morning, but I’ve convinced the captain to depart during the witching hours. By the time Nox wakes up in the morning, you’ll be long gone.”

“Well then, it looks like it is settled. By the morning, I’ll be on my way to the lands of my ancestors in search of lost treasure!”

As Khetrik was convincing himself of the craftiness of his planned escape, a small blue gem left stuck to his shoulder, just out of sight, pulsed with a faint glow. Outside, in the throng of celebratory revelers, Inquisitor Nox listened intently as a smile crossed his stern face.

#RoughDrafts - Chapter One

Chapter One: A Long-Awaited Party

For three years, I’ve been a fugitive from the Inquisitors of the Trade City of Jolithria. On the run from a man who, based solely on the color of my skin, decided that I was the person who had chosen to kill my adopted father and destroy his business. It was irrelevant it didn’t make any sense for me to do so. Inquisitor Nox had made his judgments about me the day he saw me.

I can’t say that I wouldn’t have wanted to kill my adopted father some days. Veltayne was a cruel and capricious old wizard, who cared more about what I could do for him than whether or not I was well taken care of. He had adopted me after finding me on the street being beaten to death by some noble’s children, but I think it was less out of compassion and more out of acquiring slave labor that no one would question.

That being said, Veltayne did actually take good care of me. He provided me a home, food, work, and the ability to learn more about magic and science and the history of the world. He even named me as his inheritor should he have passed, which surprised me to say the least. The old man was the closest thing to a true father I ever had, and if I was going to go to the effort of killing him, I wouldn’t have destroyed my inheritance in the process.

In fact, the laws of Jolithria don’t even consider murdering family in order to take ownership of their possessions a crime. No, my alleged crime is the destruction of a valuable part of the business community of the Trade City. Unfortunately, Nox can’t see past the green tinge of my half-breed skin to realize that I’m not a mindless savage. I’m actually a very practical and logical and intelligent young man and there would be no incentive for me to destroy the old man’s shop.

Admittedly, the tensions between the race of my birth father and the rest of the world were not unfounded or understated. The Orc clans were savage, lawless, and spent their days raiding and pillaging the civilized lands of Bhakaras. In fact, it was one of those savage and lawless raids on an elven fishing village that resulted in my birth into the world. Rarely did the Orc tribes behave with any greater forethought than three basic questions: Can I kill it? Can I eat it? Can I mate with it? If you were unfortunate, the answer to all three would be yes and the best you could hope for is that they’d opt to answer those questions in order.

I guess you can say I don’t have a good relationship with my heritage. My mother’s people aren’t much better. Arrogant, aloof, judgmental to a fault. I can’t say I deal with them much, but when I do, the best I can hope for is impolite disinterest in my existence. Usually they opt not to see my elven features and lump me in with the rest of the greenskins.

The one benefit of being born to an orc and an elf is that, even if people only see me as an orc, I am the prettiest orc that ever lived. I’ve been blessed with a strong, muscular, yet lean, build. By elf standards, I’m a fat elf, meatier around the middle and my orc skin isn’t quite as tight and taught as an elf’s would be. By orc standards, I’m scrawny, almost deflated, but still extraordinarily strong with softer, smoother features that one would expect from a kindly father, rather than a marauding barbarian. To the other races of the world though, I’m exotic and my unusual body is a source of intrigue.  My green skin isn’t garish like most orcs or goblins but more the color of olives in the summer. My green eyes glow with an otherworldly aura that just screams mysterious, and my thick, long black hair falls around my pointed ears and angular jaw to rest on my broad shoulders.

Ok, so I’m a little bit full of myself. That being said, I would like to think that the people currently fondling my arms would agree as I sit back and enjoy a sip of a well-earned honeyed mead in celebration of my triumphant return from my latest expedition.

To my left is Sophie, a slightly rotund and adorable young human woman with curly auburn hair, and vibrant blue eyes, and a sun-kissed face. She is also one of the Delvers, an adventuring guild whom I’ve worked with now since I fled Jolithria. Although she doesn’t go on expeditions, Sophie has more knowledge than most of the well-traveled Delvers as one of the Keepers of Knowledge in the Delver’s library.

“Khetrik, I’m always so happy when you make it back in to see us after a long expedition…”

Sophie wasn’t subtle or particularly clever with her innuendo, but what she lacked in flirtatious linguistic skills she made up for with genuine joy, enthusiasm and humor.

“Sophie my dear, the length of one’s expedition is irrelevant, it’s all about the prizes at the end!”

Lyrian Blazingwood on the other hand, was usually quite a clever flirt. The half-elven young man was beautiful to behold, with golden hair cropped short and styled with scented oils that made it appear not unlike his head was aflame. He had smooth, pale pink skin, and hazel eyes that seemed to stare right through you into your very soul. When we first met we bonded over how much we both enjoyed being half-breed pariahs in elven society. As usual, Lyrian planted himself in my lap to punctuate his latest joke.

“Shall I sing you a love-song about a unicorn, this evening, Khetrik?” Lyrian smiled as his face drew closer to mine.

Without skipping a beat, I pulled Sophie into my lap as well.

“As you both know, unicorns are my favorite legendary creatures.” It would have been inappropriate not to punctuate my flirtatious jest without kissing them both, so I did.

Where Sophie was keeper of a library, Lyrian was a walking collection of songs, stories and lore from around the world. Lyrian was a bard by trade, performing in taverns and on stages across Bhakaras and using his connections to gather information that the Delvers would use to plan and execute expeditions into dangerous forgotten tombs, dungeons and other lost places. Working alone is best for me, but it’s coming home to the company of these beautiful people that make it all worthwhile.

I had just returned from an expedition to the caves of Pax Surpennoria and brought with me several ancient dwarven relics from the days when they still worshipped the ancient Wyrms of the Wheel. In addition, the best find, was an in-tact tablet that traced the ancestry of the line of King Ghalar, which was information thought to be forever lost. I know, I get excited about old rocks and trinkets and history, things that matter less and less to the world at large these days. However, I wouldn’t trade what I do for the world. It’s important to feel connected to something larger than yourself, and even if I don’t, if I can help others to feel that way then I’ve done some good in the world.

Lyrian and Sophie don’t know much about my past. I’m not good at sharing, or talking about my life with people. However, they don’t care. They enjoy my company and the fleeting time we have together and that is a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, something from my past was about to matter to all of us by disrupting our time together.

It took me a moment to register that he had walked in, a human dressed in a long black duster, and leathers stepped into the main hall of the Delver’s guild lodge. The room was fairly large, able to comfortably house close to three-hundred people, although at the moment it was housing nearly twice that number due to the celebration of the end of our latest expedition. The lodge was built with steelwood from the forest of Hylar and all of the furnishings were made with similar materials accented and cushioned with pelts from a wide variety of game from across Bhakaras. The lodge was open to everyone, members and not, and our revelries usually attracted a lot of “first-time” visitors, so this man wasn’t a terribly unusual site. However, I noticed that he was carrying a scroll with a drawing on it and appeared to be asking around the room about whatever image it displayed.

As I leaned forward between the heads of Lyrian and Sophie to get a better look, my eyes locked with the stranger’s pale blue orbs and I knew I was screwed. NOX! That damned inquisitor had found me after all this time. With unearthly speed, the inquisitor leaped through the air above the writhing mass of revelers and brought himself down to slam right into me.

Now, this wasn’t the first time that Nox and I had crossed paths over the last three years. In the city of Galiria, Nox had nearly ruined an expedition into their long buried Oubliette Roux by flooding us out of the space with a Decanter of Endless Water. He also accidentally destroyed the ship we were attempting to use to sail to Surpennoria last year, which actually allowed me to meet a very kind Drake who offered to fly me to his place in the outskirts of the draconic kingdom. However, he had never gotten quite this close.

I had to react fast to avoid Lyrian or Sophie getting caught in the crossfire, so I unceremoniously pushed them off my lap to land with a thud on the floor by my chair, and I sprung to my feet to avoid the blow I knew was coming. Nox came down from his leap as I stood, planting his studded boots into my chest and shattering the gazelle skinned chaise beneath us.

“You are under arrest under Jolithrian’ law! If you resist in any way, I am permitted to terminate your life!” Nox shouted.

Not one to resist an opportunity for comedy in the face of abject terror, I shouted back at him as I called the energy of the plane of the fae to carry me away from him. The air crackled and hummed and I was suddenly above him, perched on the railing of the second floor balcony nearly thirty steps away from the inquisitor.

“Why are you so obsessed with me, Nox?”

I gave Lyrian an unspoken glance and he pulled Sophie, who was seconds away from pouncing on the unsuspecting inquisitor, away from the throng as the rest of the crowd backed away from the black-clad lawman.

“You know why, Khetrik Two-Worlds!” Nox growled.

“I told you, I appreciate your interest, but you just didn’t do it for me, Nox! You’ve got to stop chasing me around the world! No, means no!”

I could see Nox’s face changing from his usual pink hue to a bright red, and his stern expression soured even further. If he didn’t like that joke he’s certainly not going to like this! I could feel the electricity surge through my body as I called forth the magical energies I was blessed to be able to tap into by virtue of my birth and launched a bolt of lightning at the inquisitor before using the residual energy of the fae plane to make a hasty return to the door. If I moved quickly, I could get outside before him and get lost in the woods. He was a good tracker, but I had some advantages on my home turf.

I was surprised to see that Nox didn’t dodge the blast but instead let it strike his outstretched hand, causing a silver band on his wrist to glow with runic writing. The blast seemed to absorb into the silver band. He just smiled and slid it off his wrist before tossing it directly at where I was teleporting to. Before I could react, the band hit me and reformed snapping around my neck like a collar while hitting me with a rather potent jolt.

I don’t know exactly how long it took me to shake of the stunning blow, but when my vision cleared I was on my knees and Nox was towering over me. My mouth always gets me into trouble, but sometimes I can’t stop myself, and I’d already had more than my fair share of mead this evening.

“You know Nox, if you really wanted me on my knees for you, all you had to do was ask!”

Nox’s face turned even redder, and I couldn’t stifle a mischievous grin before his leather-gloved fist connected with my jaw and I could taste the iron from the blood that was now starting to pool in my mouth. I knew I wasn’t going to stay conscious for very long, but he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of shutting me up just yet.

“You made one big mistake, Nox…” I said, spitting some of my greenish-purple blood onto the hardwood floor, “you came at me in my house, and you forget... the Delver’s have rules.”

I saw the look of sudden realization come across Nox’s face as he turned away from me to see our leader, Galen van Straud, standing in his ornate red and gold robes pointing a wand at the inquisitor. Galen shifted his brown eyes toward mine and a small, subtle grin crossed his dark brown lips. To his side Lyrian and Sophie were standing, arms crossed.

“Inquisitor Nox of Jolithria, you have violated the sanctity of the Delver’s Lodge and attacked one of our members without provocation. The penalty for this is a severe ass-whooping, followed by your summary removal from our lands!”

Galen flicked his wrist and a wave of multi-colored energy flew at Inquisitor Nox. The last thing I heard before I passed out from the pain was Nox shouting a single word before hitting the ground with a thud.

“SHIT!”

#FictionFriday - Chapter One: A Long-Awaited Party (Edited)

Chapter One: A Long-Awaited Party

Three years. For three years, Khetrik had been on the run. Of course, for him, it never felt like he was running away from his past. No, Khetrik was forever running towards his next great discovery. However, for a Delver, running towards something new often leads to slamming face first into the past.

Stumbling into the unexpected is how Khetrik came upon his chosen profession. He was orphaned at a very young age, and made his way by wandering the streets of the mystical Trade City of Jolithria. Living as an urchin on the streets of a magical city was fraught with danger, but Khetrik somehow survived relatively unscathed. Until some of the noble children found him while playing in alleys of the Green Bazaar.

Khetrik, barely six years old, was beset upon by two well-dressed teenage boys, when a strange elderly man in black robes, and a tall conical hat came upon the scene. This small olive skinned ragamuffin was being trampled by obviously physically stronger young lads, and the old man without hesitation intervened. With a flick of his wrist, the air around the boys cracked and their bodies began to contort hideously until they no longer resembled children, but instead a large pig and a lamb.

The elderly wizard extended his walking stick to prod the broken and bleeding form of the small unusual looking child.

“Are you still alive, boy?”

Khetrik could barely manage to nod his head as he felt the cooling relief of the wet cobblestone pressed against his bruised ribs.

“Well then, get up and get moving. Is that any way to show your appreciation for my valiant rescue?”

Khetrik winced as he forced himself to his feet.

“That’s better, boy. Follow me.”

“What about them?” Khetrik asked

“They got what they deserved! Don’t waste time worrying about the fates of lesser men.”

With that, the old man led Khetrik away and into the Dragon’s Cauldron, his magical curio shop and bookstore. Khetrik would later learn that the ancient wizard was called Veltayne, and that the old man’s kind rescue was less than altruistic in nature. Veltayne was getting on in years, and needed someone smaller and nimbler to help him explore dark places to find the treasures he could sell in his shop. Although, as Veltayne’s ward, Khetrik grew up as little more than slave labor, the arrangement proved mutually beneficial as Khetrik learned how to become one of the most skilled dungeoneers in Bhakaras.

So it was, that when Khetrik was forced to flee his home due to false accusations of murder, theft and destruction of property, he had his skills a professional explorer of places dark and creepy to fall back on. All in all, the situation worked out very well for Khetrik, despite his being a wanted fugitive. Khetrik had quickly fallen in with a guild of archeologists, historians, treasure-seekers, and tomb raiders called The Delvers. They were an honorable, if rowdy, lot who explore the places where others fear to delve for profit and glory, but most importantly to rediscovering the long lost histories of Bhakaras, and Khetrik had developed a reputation for being the most fearless of his kind.

It was his fearless pursuit of knowledge, treasure and fun, which had resulted in the revelry that was now occurring around Khetrik. The oaken walls of the Delver’s lodge were packed full of party goers. The main hall was designed to comfortably seat a couple hundred folk, but was currently filled with nearly three times that number. The rhythmic stomps of a drunken crowd augmented the percussive beats of the Brownnotes, a Bard College band made up of many up exclusively of members of the order who made an art of turning tales of various expeditions into inspiring songs. 

While all the people around him where there to celebrate his triumphant return from the caves of Pax Surpennoria, Khetrik found himself focused on the two people closest to him. Seated in the Elk-horn Throne of Champions, Khetrik was positioned roughly in the center of the hall, and at each arm was found a beautiful creature doting on the hero.

To his left was a slightly rotund and adorable young woman with curly auburn hair, a sunkissed complexion, and vibrant blue eyes. Sophie was a member of the delvers, but she wasn’t part of the expeditionary crews. Sophie instead spent her days organizing and cataloguing the vast libraries of the Delvers, as a Keeper of Knowledge. Sophie in particular has a unique skill of recall and is widely believed to have the entire library memorized. While Khetrik valued his friend’s mind greatly, tonight he was admiring her other features.

“Khetrik, I’m always so happy when you make it back to us after a long expedition…”

Sophie, bless her soul, wasn’t very subtle or clever with her innuendo, but what she lacked in flirtatious linguistics she made up for with genuine joy, enthusiasm and humor. Khetrik couldn’t help but grab onto her ample hind and draw her into his lap as he continued the banter.

“Sophie, my dear, the length of one’s expedition is irrelevant, it’s all about the treasure to be found in the end!”

“Always the poet, Khetrik. You certainly know how to make a lad jealous!”

Lyrian on the other hand, was usually quite a clever flirt. He was beautiful to behold, with golden hair cropped short and styled with scented oils that gave his hair the illusion of his head being wrapped in golden flames. His skin was smooth, and fair, with glittering hazel eyes that seemed to stare right through you. When we met, he and I bonded over the fact that we shared symmetrical faces, and ears that although not as pronounced as an elf, were still pointed in a way that evoked those aetherial beings. As usual, Lyrian planted himself upon Khetrik’s lap, and smiled.

“Shall I sing you a love song about a unicorn, this evening, Khetrik?”

Lyrian moved closer so their noses were practically touching.

“As you both know, unicorns are my favorite creatures of legend!” Khetrik then boldly kissed Lyrian, followed quickly by an equally bold kiss for Sophie. The trio laughed and curled up in Khetrik’s strong arms. Khetrik, at first glance, would appear to be slim and lithe, but he was actually very well built, with a small rounded belly, and a strength that seemed unlikely for his size. With relative ease, Khetrik was easily carrying around both of his friends.

“Khetrik, be careful not to drop me, my adoring fans would be beside themselves if I couldn’t perform tonight!”

“Especially Sophie and I!” Khetrik winked.

Where Sophie was a keeper of written lore, Lyrian was a walking collection of songs, and stories from around the world. A bard by trade, Lyrian got his start with the Brownnotes, and although he had years ago left them to enjoy his solo pursuits, tonight was a special occasion and he would sing with his bandmates again. Lyrian spent most of his days traveling the world using his skills and connections to learn of secrets that the Delvers would use to plan their expeditions to dangerous forgotten tombs, dungeons and other lost places. Khetrik was typically a loner on expeditions, but when he returned home to his friends, alone was the last thing he wanted to be.

Khetrik’s most recent expedition was to the ancient dwarven city of Pax Surpennoria. Many years before, the city had fallen during a civil war that erupted between the factions of Dragonkind that lived beneath the cave city. The dwarves had been forced to flee their home and had long thought that their heirlooms were lost forever. However, Khetrik was able to recover an in-tact tablet that traced the ancestry of the great dwarf king, Ghalar. Of course, Khetrik also brought back some valuable magical artifacts and precious stones, but to him the greatest prize was the recovery of a small piece of history thought to be lost forever. Khetrik didn’t expect to have much of a legacy, but if he could help restore some of the past people had lost, it would be enough for him.

Speaking of the past, Khetrik never really explained to his friends in the guild why he had left his home and run head first into danger. The wonderful thing about his friends was that even if the past were to be revealed, they would be more concerned about the here and now and the fleeting and beautiful time they have together between adventures. Unfortunately for Khetrik, one cannot avoid their own past forever, and his friends were about to discover something that would disrupt their fun together for some time.

Khetrik didn’t immediately register the man who walked into the hall dressed in a long, black duster, and leathers. The lodge was build of Steelwood from the forests of Hylar, and all the furnishings inside were constructed of similar material, adorned with the pelts, trophies and leather of a wide variety of game from across Bhakaras. The reason the lodge was so full is because of the Delvers open door policy allowing local riff-raff to join visit the lodge for drinks and food as long as no one violated the rules of the Delvers, and end of expedition parties tended to attract a lot of ‘first-timers’. 

As such, it wasn’t unusual for a strange man to enter the lodge. However, unlike the other revelers, he was carrying a scroll with a picture and appeared to be asking very pointed questions of the less-than-helpful inebriated party goers.

“What is that man doing, Khetrik?” Sophie asked.

“Besides ruining the aesthetic?” Lyrian jabbed.

Khetrik remained quiet as he focused in on the man, and the scroll in his hand which bore an image of his own face curved into a leering grimace. Involuntarily, his face was now making the same shape as he realized was happening. Nox had found him at last.

Inquisitor Nox was an up and coming investigator in the Jolithrian Inquest when Veltayne had been found murdered in his shop, with the contents stolen or destroyed. Since that time, he had relentlessly pursued Khetrik across Bhakaras. Of course, Nox was good at his job, and as such, he and Khetrik had a few close calls over the years.

In the city-state of Galiria, Nox had managed to track Khetrik down during an expedition to the long buried Oubliette Roux. His attempt to capture Khetrik using a Decanter of Endless Water caused a massive flood that nearly drowned them all. Thankfully, Khetrik was able to conjure a quick spell to allow him to breathe underwater and escape.

Most recently, Nox had blown up a charter ship to Surpennoria in an effort to prevent Khetrik from escaping his grasp. Little did he know, Khetrik had befriended a Lightning Drake, and was already en route via the air. Every time the inquisitor got close, Khetrik was one step ahead. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky this time.

Nox’s pale blue locked eyes with Khetrik’s verdant orbs and leaped through the air towards his target.

“Khetrik! You are under arrest by the authority of the Jolithrian Inquisition! If you resist in any way, I’m permitted to terminate your life!”

Khetrik’s first concern was that Lyrian and Sophie avoid getting caught in the crossfire. With very little finesse, Khetrik let them go, which resulted in both of them hitting the floor at his sides. He then tried to spring to his feet to dodge the incoming blow, but Nox was too quick and his studded leather boots collided with Khetrik’s chest causing the gazelle skinned chaise beneath them to shatter.

The wind was knocked out of Khetrik’s sails, but he was quick to recover. With a snap of his fingers the air crackled and hummed, and Khetrik was suddenly gone in a puff of azure mist. From a balcony above the lounge, Khetrik’s playful voice could be heard.

“Why are you so obsessed with me, Nox?”

“You know why, Twoworlds!”

Khetrik noticed that Sophie was ready to pounce on the unsuspecting inquisitor, so he gave a quick signal to Lyrian to pull her away as he continued to taunt the inquisitor.

 “I told you, Nox. I appreciate your interest, but you’re just not my type! You’ve got to stop this ridiculous chase around the world! No, means no!”

If there was one thing Khetrik knew would get under Nox’s skin, it was a little playful innuendo. Nox was nothing if not a prude. The change in the color of Nox’s cheeks from a light pink to bright red made it clear that Khetrik was having the desired effect. Nox was entirely focused on Khetrik, he’d need to ensure that Nox stayed right where he was to avoid causing any collateral damage. Khetrik summoned a bolt of lightning from his outstretched palm, using the dazzling display to distract as he once again teleported away from his perch.

Unfortunately, Nox was prepared for this particular trick of Khetrik’s and allowed the blast to strike him directly, almost catching the bolt with his outstretched hand. Instead of blasting him off his feet, the energy seemed to cascade around him before being absorbed into the glowing runes on his silver bracelet. Nox then spun around and brought his fist perfectly into the space where Khetrik was rematerializing behind the inquisitor. His fist connected squarely with Khetrik’s forehead and the energy stored coursed through his knuckles stunning the unsuspecting rogue.

Khetrik dropped to his knees, and groggily shook his head for a moment that felt like eternity, and then, glassy-eyed, looked up at Nox. Khetrik was definitely not in a position to provoke Nox any further, but then again, he also wasn’t one to always make good choices.

“You know, Nox, if you really wanted me to get on my knees for you, all you had to do was ask!”

Khetrik grinned, obviously pleased with himself, as Nox’s now crimson face flushed and he pulled back and landed a punch on Khetrik’s unprotected jaw. Khetrik could taste iron, and he knew he’d be unconscious in a moment, but he was never one to let that stop him from getting the last word.

“You made one big mistake, Nox,” Khetrik spat some of the greenish purple blood pooling in his mouth onto the hardwood floor, “you came after me in my home, and you seem to have forgotten… the Delver’s have rules!”

Nox’s triumphant smirk immediately fell from his face as the realization dawned on him that he really had made a mistake. The guildhall of the Delvers was considered a sanctuary and he had violated that by attacking Khetrik in his zeal. Without making any sudden movements, Nox turned to follow Khetrik’s gaze at the figure looming behind him. The guildmaster of the Delvers, Galen van Straud, was staring him down, clad in ornate red and gold robes and brandishing a wand which he used to punctuate his words.

“Inquisitor Nox of Jolithria, you have violated the sanctity of the Delver’s Lodge and attacked one of our members without provocation. The penalty for this is a severe ass-whooping, followed by your summary ejection from the premises!”

Galen didn’t wait for Nox to offer a protest to defend himself, all the poor inquisitor managed to get out was a single word...

“SHIT!”

With a flick of Galen’s wrist a wave of myriad colors of energy flew towards the unprepared lawman, striking him square in the chest, and both Khetrik and Nox hit the ground with an undignified thud.

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