"Varis placed three meticulously equal piles of electrum on the table, leading the others to suspect magic playing a hand in such fast arrangement of coin"

It had been said, by a certain Tithuanian philosopher, that even the smallest biter could cause an avalance with a beat of its wing. In this case, all it took was a minor conjuration to unravel the last thread of thousands of years of work.

The detonation sounded throughout the tavern, scattering the piles of coins on the table as a nexus of light spun out from Varis' pile, this was followed by a crash as the last of the light faded, depositing a cursing Ethronan on the stained wood of the floor.

The man staggered to his feet, two purple eyes gleaming out of a hard face ringed by long, grey-black hair. Robes of the same colour ran down to a curiass, gauntlets and graves of a strange yellow metal, the gauntlets longest fingers set with curious green gems.

"Well...of all the places it could have been I've ended up in the Royal Tithuanian Academy of Magic...then again, that's not so surprising."

The patron's stares plunge to deeper levels of incredjulity, Tithuana hasn't had a royal family for almost a millenia.

DHarem nodded at Varis’s plan and his thoughts on what they should do before the time of the Duel. He thought of going to the Great Library here in Tithuana and check in. He could pick up his supplies and allotment for the month. They might need anything he could get for the coming mission.

“Yes I will find out any information I can about our latest encounters,” he said and rose to his feet. He picked up his staff and his sack; slinging the sacks long drawstring over his head and shoulders to hang behind him.

He paused when Varis brought out coins and proffered them on the table for all to see. He was about to protest the easy way in which he threw such a large quantity of coins out on the table in public. It was a sure way to invite trouble from those ’unsavory’ types. But something happened that stalled his words…

A sudden detonation in their midst caused him to stagger back but he maintained his feet. He saw a strange figure appear among them. One moment there was no one there and the next was a strangely dressed man appeared spouting strange words about the Royal Tithuanian Academy which hasn’t existed for a very long time.

DHarem stepped forward, being fast to recover, and spoke to the figure that seemed to step out of ancient times.

“Who are you stranger?” he asked in an even tone as he studied everything about the newcomers appearance.

Karrain considered the man before him, plainly dressed, but clearly a mercenary of some kind from the way he had kept his balance after the mana detonation and his armed companions, probably in the middle of sharing out their earnings from a contract.

"Who are you stranger?"

At the question Karrain snapped back into the present, if it could be called that.

"Ah, my apologies, I am...unused to company...or my surroundings. My name is Karrain Unzual, Sacrelarch Mage of the Ethronians. As of late I have been imprisoned in electrum piece of your good companion." There was a pause as Karrain cocked his head, staring around the inn. "Tell me, is Kaelis still Chancellor of the Academy?"

DHarem raised an eyebrow at the man’s words; a sign that his companions knew indicated surprise. The Seeker traveled far and wide to gather knowledge and brought it back to the library, during his acolyte stage he spend years cataloging a lot of the works obtained and stored at the Great Library; he had a amazing mind and retained a lot of the things he read. He knew of the Royal Tithuanaian Academy of Magic and had heard of a Sacrelarch Mage before; though he didn’t know who Kaelis was he began to piece together what the newcomer was saying.

“Well Karrain Unzual,” DHarem said in a even measured tone, “I am DHarem, Seeker of the Great Library, and you are in Tithuana, but there is no longer a Royal Academy of Magic. Actually there hasn’t been a Royal family of Tithuana is almost a millennia.”

He paused a moment to let that sink in as he turned to Bon and Thomas and gestured to them to perhaps pick up the scattered coins before it started a riot in the small tavern. Turning back to the newcomer he smiled faintly.

“I fear you have been imprisoned for far longer than you imagine,” DHarem finished as he studied the Mage before him. He eyed the man as if he were a walking piece of knowledge which in a sense he was actually; just think of the information on the man he could relate to them. He glanced at Varis and once again raised his eyebrow in question.

Varis staggered, standing up, his chair haivng been knocked over in the blast. Holding a hand to his head, he stared in amazement at the strangely dressed foreigner, shooting DHarem a look of utter confusion as way of a reply to his glance.

"M-," The bard stopped, dzed as he tried to re-order his words, fighting to ignore the fact that this...wizard, managed to appear from nowhere between them in an explosion and shouting about some ancient academy. Finally, Varis continued, "My...electrum piece? I confess to...some...confusion, good sir. Um. Karrain Unzual, was it? How...what is this about?" Varis spluttered, his composion gone.

[Sacrelarch Mage? What type of magic puts someone into a piece of electrum?] Varis thought in wonder, barely noticing Bon and Thomas being the only ones to scramble to retrieve the electrum not already grabbed by other Tavern-goers.

"A millenia?" Karrain frowned, crossing his arms and examining the floor. "Well that would make this place a tavern then, believe me there is little distinction between the old colledge and an alehouse. As for my arrival...well, a small explanation will do no harm."

"During the Old Wars, when the Gods pitted men against each other I was born into an Ethronian peasant family. Much to my parent's surprise at an unusually early age I became receptive to the nuances of magic which lead me from a peaceful life on a farm to three decades of interminable war, all the formal training a mage needed back then."

"What my fellows did no know was that my magic was granted by no Lord or God, nor was it from my spirit, instead I drew, and still draw, power from the Glyphs of old, an old, forgotten tongue. With this power I sought to break free of the endless circle of war and mortality that chained my people. After fleeing to seclusion I spent almost twenty years researching the spell I would require to achieve my goal, one that transformed my body from a thing of flesh and blood to one of pure...mana." Karrain raises a gauntleted hand, pasing it before his face.

"As with all of these stories I was discovered and even as I was on the verge of completing my ritual a quartet of Ethronian Shamans broke into my scantuary and bound my newly forged essence to a jagged shard of colithix. Fortunatley I cannot age, meaning that I needed only to wait until my prison was destroyed...unfortunatley, by my calculations that took within the region of eight thousand years. Believe me if you will or wont, that is my tale...also a vial of Ethronian mead would be nice of you could spare the coin."

DHarem listened intently to the tale given by Karrain and nodded at certain parts that seemed to spark some bit of knowledge that he recalled from his studies. He looked forward to talking with this man in detail to learn more about the history, but for now they still had a mission to attend to shortly.

“A fascinating tale Karrain,” he said giving him a faint smile, “I believe you and I would love to hear more about your history and the knowledge of your time. For now we have things to attend to and an important mission for which we must prepare.”

He glanced at Varis to see if he has recovered from his surprise at the situation, and to see what he is willing to share with this recent stranger. Matters dealing with the group he leaves to Varis as he is the leader and such decisions are his to make.

He looked to Bon and Thomas to see if they had managed to gather most of their coins from the Tavern floor; he was sure they didn’t recover them all as he saw several of the tavern patrons helping themselves to the coins that had been blasted at them.

He gestured to get the bartenders attention and waved his glass, "Another wine and a mead for our new friend here." Gesturing to Karrain he smiled and nodded his head silently hoping that he would be able to learn more about this mysterious person.

Karrain pulls up a seat, eyeing his new company curiously. Of the four one was taciturn and silent, bending grimly to the task of retrieving coins, whilst the other gatherer...there was something about him. Varis, as the young swordsman seemed to be called, now hid behind a mask of diplomacy and shock whilst DHarem...the glottal inflection at its begining implying that his name had its roots in one of the monastic orders of, what was now, the distant past. Whatever the case the qartet seemed friendly enough.

"Friends...I thank you for your understanding, you did not deserve the misfortune of my appiration and I can see it has certainly lost you some coin." An appropriatley brooding glare was flicked around to the inn's patrons. "With this in mind, and DHarem's clear thirst for the knowledge I can provide, I offer my services to you as a mage. Whilst my powers will require time to recuperate I can still formulate and cast spells and my Mana Body is resilient to both physical and arcane attacks. I will require at least three hours rest each day to ensure that my thoughtful kin's wards to not attempt to claim me again but apart from that I have no particular need for coin or any other financial reward. Do you agree?"

Varis, for once, was the first to react at the startling preposition, feeling his shock finally melt away as he smelt something that only the son of a merchant would ever be able to smell.

Oppurtunity. Business.

And with that, Varis made yet another of his characteristic bows to the strange arrival.

"You recognise us as mercenaries? Well, Karrain Unzual, your talents are welcomed here. Indeed, we would be honored to have such a...unique individual with us. Your Magic from Without, if I am correct as to the origin of your powers, would be invaluable, I am certain...and even if you do not require financial reimbursion, we can promise you rooms if you require them, food and drink. There is a certain level of risk, of course..." Varis trailed off, letting the strange mage fill in the rest, now that the basics are nailed down.

DHarem chuckled at the mention of lost coin; and glanced around where Bon and Thomas were finishing up collecting what they could without accosting the patrons.

“Have no fear of the coins,” he said with a smirk, “they are the least important. I would welcome your knowledge but such decisions are not mind alone to make.”

He turned to look at Varis who at the mention of Business perked up and recovered himself. DHarem smiled when Varis welcomed the Mage into their group and vaguely mentioned the risks involved. The Seeker smiled and added once Varis was finished.

“But then Life is risk,” he said with a shrug, “and after such a long time locked away in your eternal prison I would think you eager for some excitement.” He smiled at the last and raised a questioning brow.

“Now as to our mission,” He glanced at Varis, “I will let our leader fill you in on that. Whilst I see what is taking so long at the bar.”

Taking his empty glass he rises and heads to the bar where he tries to get his long lost refill and one of the best meads they have for their new companion.

The coins had been picked up, one by one, and with little loss considering the force of the explosion.

Bon shoved them all back into Varis' sack and frowned, "The clock struck two. This square won't scout itself."
And with no further ado, he slipped out of the tavern.

Thomas, however, still remained silent and grumpy, and sat down at the table again, scowling at anyone who happened to look his way. After many scowls, people began to simply look away. After all, the apparition of an out-of-this-world mage in a tavern was out of the ordinary, but far from impossible in the strange world they lived it.

DHarem walked over to the bar to inquire about getting the drinks and saw that the barkeep was not there at the moment, instead a young man from the kitchen was there putting away glasses which had been washed and brought out still dripping with water.

“Excuse me young sir,” The Seeker asked, “could I get another Deckian wine and one of your best meads there? “ Pointing towards what he wanted and could clearly see. The young man turned and glanced at him then went back to doing his chore.

“Sorry, you will have to wait till the owner returns.”

DHarem frowned and sighed getting a little perturbed, “I have been waiting for several minutes already and no one has attended to me. So could I please get my drink now?”

The young man ignored him and went about putting away the glasses; DHarem raised an eyebrow and picking up his glass stepped behind the bar and went to get his own drinks.

The young man turned and saw him and approached him, “I’m sorry sir, you cant come back here and do that.”

“I agree, I shouldn’t have to do it,” DHarem said as he looked for the bottle of Deckian wine, “but you leave me little recourse.”

“Sir,” The young man reached out to grab DHarem’s sleeve, “You MUST go back….”

The words were cut off as the young man felt something strike him softly in the right upper chest and suddenly he collapsed to the floor and lay there drooling temporarily paralyzed with a nerve strike. The Seeker looked like he had not even turned from his task as he found the wine and exclaimed, “Ah!”

After pouring another glass of the wine he poured a tankard of some Mead that he found that smelled good to him and left a couple electrum pieces on the counter as he stepped over the still drooling kitchen boy laying on the floor. He passed the Barkeep/owner as he left the bar and offered him a smile and a shrug.

“You really should teach your help to show proper respect to your patrons,” He said as he went back to the table and set down the mead before their new team member.

“I will let our leader fill you in on that. Whilst I see what is taking so long at the bar.”
_

Varis rolled his eyes behind DHarems back, mentioning in a quiet voice to his new acquantance.

"Yeah, this can only end badly for this establishment, if it's anything like last time he went to check what was 'taking so long'." Varis half-joked, before suddenly leaning forward.

"Now, as my companion was saying. We've very recently taken on a job. Not our first, but I fear you may have to curb your excitement if you were expecting a fight." Varis said, conviniently ignoring the distict lack of particular excitement on Karrain's face, "We're watching over a...debate of sorts, a Duel of Knowledge, but I'm not certain you're aware of Tithuanian culture to that extent, at least in this day and age. Guard duty, essentially, but for an old friend of mine that suspects something sinister at work." Varis said, idly playing with a single electrum coin that he picked up from the ground, flicking it through his fingers-one of many useless talents gained from so long spent traversing taverns.

"Now, on a technicality basis, we're preparing for the utter worst, largely because I want this to go well for personal reasons. If anything, having a properly-and clearly-powerful mage is a great relief. Come to think of it, what areas do your talents cover? Detection of magic, prevention of it? War magic, enchantments? Healing?"

--EDITED for a change in word use.

DHarem ignored the looks from a couple of the patrons at the bar as he returned to the table and set the mug of mead down before Karrain.

“There you go,” he said and sat himself down, “that was pretty painless.”

The Seeker started to take a sip of his wine and caught the glance of Varis as he looked past to the bar where the owner was reviving the kitchen boy and helping him to his feet; DHarem only shrugged as he lifted his glass to his lips.

“Well painless for most,” he muttered then sipped the wine and gave it his approval with a smacking of his lips.

Karrain sipps his mead, peering over the drinking horn at Varis and DHarem.

"Very well. My magic, magic from without as you guessed, draws power from a series of Glyphs known as the Anathemum Alphabet. Such power is focused and direct, each spell having a clearly defined perameter with which it operates. Hence I can, for instance, project an orb of energy from my hands or superheat a sheet of ferrum. I cannot, however, direct my magics unless I have a specific focal point for my spell... I can cast specific enchantments for a certain period of time but for no longer or shorter. Again the exact nature of the Anathemum Glyphs requires all of my magics to be exact."

"As for the nature of my spells, you can expect Immolations: Superheating an object, specifically a mineral compound. Courouscations: An orb of roiling energy that rends what it passes until it reaches its target where it strikes before dispersing. Frostlocks: Causing a specific area of the body to freeze over. And Pulses: A ray of heat that, hopefully despite my current condition, will sear the flesh of those it toutches."

"I used to have a much larger repetoire, however due to my overlong confinement I doubt that I can summon the power for a Mindquake or Spineshaft."

"Oh and incidentally this is quite possibly the best drink I've had in several thousand years..."

Taking another sip, Karrain leans back, waiting for a response.