#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!”