Frontier Online

Old Fashioned Part 7

Rydr didn't know how, but he was at the top of the stone tower, sitting in a wooden chair with tea in front of him. The mid-twenties, exhausted-looking man in front of him bounced in his seat. His apparent energy was at odds with his disheveled appearance, and it gave Rydr a sense of vertigo.

"So that you know, I have no intention of pursuing magic. I want to swing the biggest weapon I can get my hands on and hit harder than anyone else. That's all." Rydr wanted to erase the 25's in his mental stats and dump them into strength. He had no intention of humoring this mage. Magic is cool, but not what I'm into.

The unnamed mage cackled, "There is more than one path to magic. At the Mage's College, if you pursue the limits of your path," he lightly coughed something that sounded like and passed classes, "then the college will support you!" His nasal voice rasped across Rydr's senses.

"What was that about classes?" Rydr wasn't going to let that comment slip.

"Nothing." The ragged mage turned to stare out the window.

A long silence stretched between them as Rydr stared at the skinny man.

"Okay...I'm gonna leave then. The tea smelled good." Rydr started to get up, but the mage was suddenly behind him, hands on his shoulders. The sudden shift made the young man jump. Rydr started to see a future where the whole game was him trying to escape from this tower.

"I'm certain there is something in magic that interests you." If Rydr were not so focused on leaving, he would have heard the desperation in the other man's voice.

"There isn't." Rydr started to get frustrated with his eccentric conversation partner, heat building in his chest and head.

"Please don't say that. I've never seen anyone at level 1 with magical strength like yours since myself. The only way to lose stats is under curses or level penalties, so you should use every tool you have at your disposal." The mage walked around the table- at a visible speed this time- and sat down. "My name is Izor. I'm a licensed Mana Savant stationed here to study the wellspring of mana that has caused rampant growth in the local plants."

Rydr didn't know how to get out of here yet, so he throttled his frustration and humored Izor. "Mana Savant? You're not a mage?"

Izor leaned forward on the table, almost in Rydr's face. "I am, but it's a variant. All classes have variants, and mine is technically a tier two mage. I focus more on the manipulation of Mana itself rather than casting set spells." He spoke so passionately that he was spitting all over the tea on the table. Rydr leaned away from the splash zone.

"That really does sound interesting, but I have a timed quest to fulfill. May I leave now?" If I can't leave via force, diplomacy is my only option. I'm also open to outright begging. Rydr was at his wit's end, listening to Izor try to recruit him.

Izor deflated,  and his energy finally matched his appearance. "I believe you will pursue magic someday," he reached into his dirty blue bathrobe and pulled out a sealed letter and three crumpled scrolls, "so take this as an offer and an incentive." He morosely pushed the items across the wooden table. He weirdly stared at Rydr as he waited. Too determined for just a moment.

Is...is he trying to give me puppy dog eyes? He's glancing away...he looked back. Stop it, dude. The immense, dark bags under Izor's eyes deformed the classic expression too much for it to work.

Rydr sighed and, thinking it was the only way out of the tower, picked up the four parchment pieces. As soon as he accepted them, a storm of notifications sounded off in his head. With existential dread, he opened them.