Friday: February 8, 2008
Who: Reuben [Narrative]
When: Early Evening
Where: Southwest Elysium, off the path by the mountains.
What: Through ritual and black magic, Reuben finds a way to contact the boss.

Reuben trudged along the unbeaten path of dewy grass, shielding himself against a fierce wind from the North. The sky was grey for the clouds that swallowed it whole, and he encountered remnants of muddy ground left over from the rain that fell in the days before. Despite the lack of rain today, the wet ground had yet to clear thanks to sunless skies. It was the perfect day to exit the city and head South for the wall. Reuben knew his orders. He was going to follow them for the promises they guaranteed when all of this was over.

His feet plodded through the mud that clenched on his boots, and he beat back branches and overgrowth with his staff to pave the way. Eventually, the sorcerer reached a shallow cave in the rock face and he took shelter there, removing his long brown cloak and shucking it to the side. He dropped his traveling bag and opened it up.

It took over half an hour to prepare the setting, a fire crackling in the middle and sparking whenever Reuben through the arranged mixture into the flames. He chanting lowly in his deep voice and approached the altar. Reuben sacrificed his own blood by slicing open his hand with a knife, letting it drip into the bowl. He went through the rest of the steps carefully, disposing the blood in the fire. A separate mixture needed to be created to open his mind to visions, so he went through the painful and slow process—one which included the blood of a dead magical creature mixed with his own, plus other ingredients—and drank the horrible concoction. Reuben’s vision swarmed, and he became sick. He nearly threw up. The magical poison in the mixture was not enough to kill, but it was going to hurt for days, maybe weeks, afterwards.

Still, Reuben continued to chant. He summoned his power to work the spell through the talisman on his wrist—a simple leather band with a dark precious stone affixed to the center.

He kneeled on the ground, placed his hands and forehead to the rock below. He called forward the power to see, a power to witness events across a distance, to speak with the boss. It would only be briefly, but it would be enough. It hit him like a punch to the gut, a whirlwind to his brain, and Reuben fell over onto his back, arching from the poison and shouting out in pain. Luckily, no one would hear him.

The visions came swiftly with a pounding against his skull. It felt like it was split open to allow in the storm—a storm of visions, flashes of the present. He saw the other haven with its crystal blue waters, and he saw the ships with dark sails, but everything was painted with the blurriness of a storm even if the weather was clear in the islands. Then, he saw the fire raging, high and strong, burning everything in sight.

Ah, came a voice. There you are.

“Yes,” Reuben managed to think back, and the thought crossed the boundaries of the sea to other he was in communication with.

Good. We’ll be on our way soon. There was pause amidst the soaring flames. And Reuben?

“Yes?” Reuben asked the boss, but it was all he could manage to say.

Don’t fail me, the voice replied, and with the feeling of being thrown through space and time itself, Reuben felt a force impact his entire body with an excruciating pain and shove him straight out of the visions and out of contact with the voice. It was a brief contact, but it worked.

Reuben rolled over, coughing up a little bit of blood. It splattered against the stone, red and shiny. Like the flames. He could have scowled, but Reuben was smiling instead—a sinister smile of impending victory.

It would all be his soon enough.