Chapter 3: Messiah Lore
#3 of Disciple
Matt stared upwards to the top of the towering spiral, in the center of a ruined mage academy. "Shit." The smell of old books burning, and the occasional wandering conjuration were just a myriad of things they saw as they approached it, and Carris was even sure a toad he stepped on (and killed) was one of the former students.
"Think we should we knock politely?" Matt said as he returned his gaze to the expensive and unbreakable obsidian door.
The door rumbled and slid open. A strange creature unlike anything Carris and Matt had saw walked out. He was slender with green eyes and flowing wizards robes, that's where anything normal about him ended. He was almost dog-like in complexion. A long snout peaking to a black nose, and paws like that of a wolf or dog. From where the robe's sleeve's cut off you could see the unusual musculature for a mage.
Carris immediately drew his sword. "What have you done with Imbul?"
"Well, from what I scryed, you stepped on him. I've been watching you Carris, however, this one," He turned to Matt, "must be some sort of a mage, because I couldn't read his life signs anywhere."
"I'm poor stupid, how would I get the training?"
He turned to the Vraxis, "Are all human's as spiked tongued as this one?"
"No, this one's been through a lot."
"Well, why haven't you fled Carris, and you, too, fleshling?"
Carris was about to speak, but the the red-tinted sword soon found itself interrupting, by hovering inches from the neck of the dog-like creature. "First, The name is Matt, not human, and definitely not fleshling, Secondly and I'm here for this damn sword."
The Canid heard nothing of Matt's words. For his eyes were too busy deciphering the cryptic language scrawled across the blade. There was no way that it was... Ritual Draconic. The race had been dead for hundreds of years, but they spoke Draconic, not the ancient rituals language. That had been lost for centuries!
"Great, he's gone mute and stupid on us."
"No, you fool, do you even know what this blade is?!" He said with both envy and fear. "There is no possible way for you to possess or even hold that blade, if it is what I think it is."
Carris leaned in to Matt, "See told you it was powerful."
"Come in," He motioned; his eyes still stuck to the sword. "Come IN!"
Carris strutted in first, and then his cautious counter part, Matt followed. The whole place smelled like musty tomes, and smells of sickening potions brewing in the background with a constant, and annoying, bubbling sound. The smell of the log fire barely made it tolerable, but the stew above it seemed even less appetizing. It just looked like a kidney or something floating in a pot of piss.
Carris was about to poke it with his sword, because he was equally as curious.
Don't let him do that! It's mandrake. "Carris, don't, that's mandrake."
"Yes, it is." The Canid said as he pulled an old tome out called: Draconic Legend and Lore. "Don't touch it, it's poisonous." After searching, page after page, He pointed in the book, "My Gods, it is it."
"What is it?" Carris moved in, to peer over his shoulder while the Mage read: "Lorkoram, the god of the dragons, fell to the material plane, when his kind had been defeated and his disciples had mostly fallen. He swore one day to take an apprentice, and make him his messiah, so that he could once again reclaim his glorious status among the gods, and with it imbuing power to his disciples. Though many have claimed through out the years to be this messiah, they lacked one thing: The Sword of Lorkoram. Though few followers exist many practice in secret for fear of ridicule or the discovery of their half-blooded origins." The canid held his hand up, "Hold on there's a reference to the blade." He frantically flipped through the pages, until finally arriving to the picture of the sword.
"That's it, THAT'S THE SWORD." Carris shouted as he pointed to it.
The Canid cleared his throat, "The possessor of this blade is blessed as the sole paladin of Lorkoram. The life of the disciple must be split between a deep and passionate love, while steeled by horror and pain. He will be the embodiment of both passion and war. It says in the footnotes here, that he or she, will have a guardian, namely the elder god Lorkoram."
"Then I guess I'm not him, then, since I don't see a big dragon watching over me." He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword, "Now excuse me, gentlemen, I have to go fight to kill those who took my parents."
"Just out of curiosity, What year's winter is it, Matt?" The Canid asked, as he read into the book deeper.
"What the hell does that matter?"
"Just humor me."
"132 December 21."
"You're joking right?" Carris said with a smile.
"Does it look like I'm joking?" Matt growled back.
"Oh," The canid interrupted, "It probably was when Lorkoram took you."
"I WASN'T Taken, I went out in the snow fall, 2 days, came back everyone was dead."
"Well, it's 134 December 21, Matt."
"This is not the time to fuck with my head!"
Carris shook his head. "Matt! That's why that name's so familiar, we spent days trying to find you. Even Imbul looked for you."
"Either way, I'm getting my revenge enough of this bullshit."
"Hey if I could get on the good side of a god that could be a plus, I'm your body guard now."
"What?"
"Indeed, the magical knowledge of the ancient draconic rituals could be useful for all mages." The Canid raised his hand, and a book appeared in it. "I'm going as well to document this momentous event. Oh, the envy of my colleagues."
"Okay, I don't need a body guard, and," He pointed to the Canid. "I don't even know your name or what you are."
"That's not surprising. I'm Loth, and I come from the lower levels of the astral plane. I was summoned to aid against this attack as per the agreement between our two institutes, however, when Imbul was transmutated I lost all ability to go home."
Rest. Matt turned his head to figure out where the voice came from; it was the same one that had warned him of the poisonous mandrake. Suddenly his body felt ill and twisted in side; he vomited, before feeling weak-kneed, "I need a bed," he said before falling to his knees.
"Get him upstairs to the second floor there's two guest beds. Something's wrong, I sense it."
Carris picked him up, avoiding the burning blade, "Was it the puking that made you sense it?"
As soon as he hit the bed, Matt was out cold, but Carris was worried, and the bed was certainly big enough for two. He undid the buckles holding his armor together, revealing his green tunic and pants and crawled into the bed with him.