Of Might And Magic

In a world where magic is being hunted to the point of extinction, the Paladins (mage hunters) take a step to far and disturb an ungodly power in thier quest to destroy all Magic users.

An unfortunate target of the paladins, Damien , is forced to seek refuge among others of his kind when secrecy and bribes could no longer keep him safe.

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2. The Arrival

  9 years later

 It was early morning , the room was lit only by the faint light coming through the cracks in the window, and a slumbering shape lay on the dark wooden bed frame. A small runed stone lay  on  the edge of the pillow, covered in deep blue ink that formed swirling patterns across its  surface.  A hand slid drowsily from under the blanket and touched the stone with the end of the  forefinger.

 As if filled with a sudden energy, the shapes began to twist and turn, the color brightened and the  stone hummed warmly. Damien woke with jolt. He pulled his hand away ,and the Runed Stone fell silent.

The sheets fell of his face as he sat up. Damien Regulus Collson had dull bronze hair that stuck out oddly at all angles and tired green eyes, as if he had never had a full nights sleep.

 He twisted his neck to look down at the pillow were the patterned pebble lay. He lifted it slowly by  the chain, so it spun slowly in mid-air, and something told him it would have done so had he  not picked it up at all.

 The aging bed frame groaned in complaint as he swung his legs off of it , and he tied the string  and stone around his neck. Damien didn't know why he kept it, and by now, sadly, he didn't  remember were it was from either. But He did know he wasn't about to throw it away. There was  something about the strange and wonderful patterns that decorated it, the way they were drawn,  could not been done in idle boredom by some previous owner. When he was alone ( not often, as he worked with his father as traveling trader)   Or maybe it was simply a comfort thing, he mused , pulling the laces taught in each of his dark leather shoes. Damien couldn't remember ever being without his strange little relic.

He felt ill at ease when it wasn't near him, so many years ago his father , Nathan, had bored a hole in it , and fed it onto Damien's necklace. To this day, he wore it around his neck, when he was working, eating and when he slept, it was tucked under his pillow.

His thoughts had carried him into the kitchen, a small room of stone that stuck out awkwardly from the thatch cottage were they lived. The only two chairs were pulled away from the small table and facing into the fire, were they had sat the previous night.  Damien took up the box of matches of the table to light a fire, he hated the cold. He crouched in the stone fire place and fished around in the box for a match. His finger emerged covered in grime, but no match. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He had sort of hoped there hadn't been.He craned around to check the room was empty, and found to his surprise, it wasn't.

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