The Disambiguation

The Disambiguation

A Story by Michael Thrower
"

A small opening for an RP I started.

"

Elemiese saw alone near the furnace of a small bar within the large city of Clydrodil. He took a small sip of the wine that rests in a large cup in front of him. Slowly he turned his face towards the fire and sat back, comfortably in a nice wooden chair he had earlier borrowed from a drunk.

"Elemiese! Get over here, Kaf’s downing yet ANOTHER tankard!" A small figure called from across the tavern. Elemiese ignored the call and continued to relax, taking out a Birckwood pipe from his satchel and packing it with fresh tobacco. Uttering a small set of words, his fingers suddenly leapt with fire, and he lit the tobacco around the bowl and started to puff. He slid down the chair a bit getting cozy next to the fire and closed his eyes.

From a small corner in the tavern sat a man in a black and grey cloth suit. Covering his mouth and chin was a dark-blue piece of cloth with a symbol of a silver dragon’s head. The man was of medium size, maybe a tad smaller than an average local. He was thin and athletic, and worse a set of daggers on either side of his waist. The man eyed Elemiese with a sense of perception and skill. He finished off what was left of the red wine that sat in front of him. Slowly he walked across the bar to Elemiese’s table and took a seat, not making a sound.

"Dyurin, how nice to see you again!" Elemiese spoke to the man seated at his table. The man jumped with surprise at the fact that Elemiese had known he was there."

"I never seem to accept the fact that you’re a magician now, Elemiese!" Dyurin spoke with astonishment, settling himself back down into the seat.

"Wizard is the proper term, my dear friend." Elemiese spoke with clarity, opening his eyes and turning around to look at the young cloaked man. "Still in your pajamas are you?"

"I haven’t quite grown out of them. They seem to fit me well, so I have never cared to change out. What would you be doing in a place like this? You’ve never seemed to me as the type to enjoy a drink." The young man said, leaning onto the table.

"It’s Ketrissa. She’s sick and I felt to come see her. It’s been a while, you know." The wizard spoke softly, a sad tone in his voice. Before Dyurin could reply, there was a large crash near the entrance of the tavern. Both Elemiese and Dyurin leaped to their feet. Before them was a white cloud of smoke and the smell of fire.

© 2012 Michael Thrower


Author's Note

Michael Thrower
I'm thinking of making this into an actual short story or novel, comments and opinions would be great!

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This is excellent! You built a setting in which rich characters can luxuriate. This will be fantastic~

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 4, 2012
Last Updated on January 4, 2012
Tags: the disambiguation prestidigitat

Author

Michael Thrower
Michael Thrower

Azeroth, GA



About
22 years old and a student at a community college. For now. I love reading and writing fantasy and fiction. I'm hoping that by using this site, I'll learn to become a better author and reader. If you .. more..

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