Last night, I checked in a strange figure, hooded and cloaked in mystery, wearing a tattered robe. I must admit, as he wandered into the bar, his presence chilled the air and made the greying hairs on my arms stand on end. No matter, I thought. I've never turned away any stranger looking to stay the night, this time was no exception.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until the early hours of the morning. That was when I lay nestled warmly in my bed and heard the man conversating.
Curious, I thought. I wonder if he has some kind of communication magic?
Definitely something I'll need to ask him before he leaves.
Doughy had informed me that, despite the man being offered breakfast, he refused opting only to ask of the wares available.
Usually, I never opened early. Mornings don't come second nature to me. But today, I made an exception for the gentleman.
After letting the man into my shop, he was quick to point out a paired set of rings. As he did, his robe slipped up just enough to show his skeletal hand already ornate with an exceptional glisten of rings. A skeleton was a new one for me. I'd never seen one sentient before. But I thought it impolite to mention it, although I wonder of the tales he could tell.
As the man placed the two rings on the counter, he ran his fingers along the rim of one, causing it to glow at his touch.
Despite the silence of the man, I understood he'd made his choice of items, especially when he slid two gold coins across the glass counter.
Without looking down at the coins, I began to explain to the man the tale of the two rings, a cautionary tale.
Each ring held its own respective power, on opposing sides of the scale.
One ring held the power of ice, and the other, the power of fire.
Each ring alone has incredible force and ability; armies have risen and fallen under the influence of those who wielded the rings. But never, not by any ordinary man, could both rings be used at the same time. Each one had to be used separately.
A tragic tale, like the love between the sun and the moon they could never be united.
It was said that, if they ever were united, they would grant exceptional power.
But no one could ever make it to that point. The rings would tear them apart before they could.
There was only one person in legend who could ever wield such power. He'd been and likely gone, as the legends of this man were from hundreds of years ago even before the tyrant king of Belanaim.
The legend spoke of an underground labyrinth, discovered beneath a city its hallways filled with traps, monsters, and what beckoned adventurers most: hoards of gold.
It's said thousands poured into the labyrinth, only for most to perish.
Striving deeper, markings spoke of a powerful amulet, hidden within the lowest chambers.
The puppet king, known for having no control over his own being, celebrated the discovery of such a fortune. He was eager to get his hands on some of the treasure, putting his sights on the amulet in his thirst for power.
But quickly, things soured.
The bodies of any unlucky enough to die within the halls began to come to life.
The king then ordered his mage to enter the labyrinth to cleanse it of its monsters, as they had begun running rampant even on the surface.
Tragically, after the mage had been sent in, the king sealed shut the gateways trapping the mage inside. He did this out of fear.
If the mage were ever to return, he would be a serious threat to the city.
Years passed. The mage was presumed dead.
And yet, one day, he appeared.
The amulet was around his neck. But the most peculiar part?
With him, he brought hordes of monsters one of them being a slime that sprawled over the surface of his skin. Perhaps a side effect of the amulet or maybe something else entirely.
After the mage surfaced, he swiftly murdered the king severing his head in the town square.
After his triumphant revenge, the mage disrobed, placing all his items, except the amulet, next to the king's corpse.
The rings were among the items he'd left.
What came of the mage after this?
His tale slowly faded…
But some say he wanders the forest even to this day, with nothing but the curse of the slime to keep him company.
"Perhaps the slime wasn't the curse that bound him," the stranger spoke up, his words coarse and narrow. A thoughtful comment, showing he'd listened and thought deeply on the story I'd told.
For this, I slid his gold back across the table, along with the rings.
He took them to his palm and thanked me, before turning to leave and assuring me he would once again return.
After the final trail of his long, tattered robe was out of my sight, my eyes couldn't help but notice the trail that smeared the ground beneath where he'd tread his feet.