The Planeswalker
New Member
Laying beyond the bounds of the various and countless Prime worlds that existed, touching upon the various elemental planes that were the building blocks of the Multiverse, sat an island born of Earth, buffeted by Air, floating on Water, and warmed by Fire. The City of Glass was a neutral planar city, in which all who sought to trade, recruit, or rest could be found. Nestled near the center of the miles-long metropolis was the Market District, where all manners of mercanes and hags argued and dealt fast with wares of...questionable ownership.
"You see that over there?" a planar asked of some fresh Primes, serving as guide for a few coins. "That right there is the Trueforge itself, an ancient artifact that dates back to early creation itself. No one knows who made it, no one knows who wants it, but it's one of the reasons we're here in this city."
"Why's that?" one of the Primes, clueless as ever, asked.
"Listen here berk. See that man working the forge? That obsidian skinned gentleman being overseen by about a dozen Glassblades and a blue-skinned mercane? That there is Grent, Prime. He's a companion of the Magister Josiah, an elf that is a leader of the city. The mercane? Probably commissioned some magical item of some potency if the Glassblades are present in those numbers."
"What's that mean?" another of the Primes, probably thought of himself as some tough warrior, snarled. "We're paying you good coin to walk us around and tell us the know!"
"Easy kid," another voice whispered, stepping out of the shadows. "You're paying for the whole tour. Give Theo there some time to earn his money."
"Fuck you want Plane-touched?" Theo snarled, snapping his fingers to conjure forth a sword of shadowstuff, taking up a defensive stance. "These here are my outsiders, so mind your bone-box!"
"What's a Plane-touched?" a third Prime whispered, eyes darting from Theo to the other.
"That's a Plane-touched," Theo hissed. "In particular, that blood right there is Amalfryn, which is drow-speak for 'Divine Weapon', ain't that right Amalfryn?"
Amalfryn stepped out of those shadows, eyes glowing crimson, his white hair styled into spikes. Pushing back his cloak, displaying the fact he wore no armor yet had a sword sheathed at his hip. The skin, black as night, showed nary a flaw, yet the teeth that were displayed in a fierce smile were fanged, some serrated. The hilt of his weapon appeared to be a flame carved out of some planar mineral, sparkling lightly. The obvious heritage of Amalfryn, both drow and planar, were on display as he stared at the blade Theo held.
"You got two choices Theo," Amalfryn said through gritted teeth. "Apologize immediately, or let that blade go and keep on escortin' the outsiders. If ya don't, you'll find yourself in the dead-book right quick. Tumble to?"
"You see that over there?" a planar asked of some fresh Primes, serving as guide for a few coins. "That right there is the Trueforge itself, an ancient artifact that dates back to early creation itself. No one knows who made it, no one knows who wants it, but it's one of the reasons we're here in this city."
"Why's that?" one of the Primes, clueless as ever, asked.
"Listen here berk. See that man working the forge? That obsidian skinned gentleman being overseen by about a dozen Glassblades and a blue-skinned mercane? That there is Grent, Prime. He's a companion of the Magister Josiah, an elf that is a leader of the city. The mercane? Probably commissioned some magical item of some potency if the Glassblades are present in those numbers."
"What's that mean?" another of the Primes, probably thought of himself as some tough warrior, snarled. "We're paying you good coin to walk us around and tell us the know!"
"Easy kid," another voice whispered, stepping out of the shadows. "You're paying for the whole tour. Give Theo there some time to earn his money."
"Fuck you want Plane-touched?" Theo snarled, snapping his fingers to conjure forth a sword of shadowstuff, taking up a defensive stance. "These here are my outsiders, so mind your bone-box!"
"What's a Plane-touched?" a third Prime whispered, eyes darting from Theo to the other.
"That's a Plane-touched," Theo hissed. "In particular, that blood right there is Amalfryn, which is drow-speak for 'Divine Weapon', ain't that right Amalfryn?"
Amalfryn stepped out of those shadows, eyes glowing crimson, his white hair styled into spikes. Pushing back his cloak, displaying the fact he wore no armor yet had a sword sheathed at his hip. The skin, black as night, showed nary a flaw, yet the teeth that were displayed in a fierce smile were fanged, some serrated. The hilt of his weapon appeared to be a flame carved out of some planar mineral, sparkling lightly. The obvious heritage of Amalfryn, both drow and planar, were on display as he stared at the blade Theo held.
"You got two choices Theo," Amalfryn said through gritted teeth. "Apologize immediately, or let that blade go and keep on escortin' the outsiders. If ya don't, you'll find yourself in the dead-book right quick. Tumble to?"