The Story Begins in the great City of Thullford – one of the most prominent cities across the land. Known as the City of Opportunities, it serves as a capital for mercenaries, trade, and culture. As expected, creatures in all shapes and sizes have flocked here to build their lives and forge their destinies. Inside Thullford, busy markets brim with goods from distant lands; stalls and shops line every street, while mercenaries gather at the City Guild Hall, waiting for work to come their way. It truly lives up to its name.
There lies The Golden Mantle, an inn located at the center of Thullford, just steps from the Guild Hall, buzzes with life. Patrons and mercenaries fill the room – some eating and drinking, others singing and laughing, a few resting after long days on the road. In the farthest right corner, isolated from the noise, sits a lone figure in silence: a male elf, six-and-a-half feet tall, wearing a light beige long-sleeved shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows. Over this, a slightly worn dark brown leather vest speaks to practical use. A thick forest-green scarf wraps around his neck, and dark fabric wristbands fasten at both wrists. He sips mead slowly, minding his own business.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echo across the room. A huge blue-skinned orc in gleaming silver armor – his muscles taut and defined – saunters toward the elf's table and drops into a chair.
"Well..." His voice is deep and rumbling. "I never thought I'd see your face back in Thullford, Hythesion the sorcerer." He reaches out and slides the mead bottle away from the elf.
Hythesion remains impassive, finishing his glass before meeting the orc's gaze and says, "And I never thought you'd settle down in a place like this... Sounds odd for a war freak like you, Osmedious."
They hold each other's stare for a long moment – then both break into booming laughter.
Osmedious leaps to his feet and pulls Hythesion into a crushing hug, lifting him off the ground. "How are you, brother!"
"I'm fine, Os – put me down!" Hythesion taps his back, gasping. "I can't breathe!"
"Right! Sorry, sorry!" Osmedious sets him down, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just been so long since we last met!"
"Yeah..." Hythesion smooths out his clothes and sits back down, pouring himself more mead. "So you're still in Thullford, huh?"
"Yup! And I'm not a mercenary anymore – I'm one of the guild's top managers!" Osmedious puffs out his chest proudly.
"Good for you, Os!" Hythesion takes a drink. "So... why summon me here? You sent a raven – you know we only use those for one thing."
"Urgent business." Osmedious nods, refilling Hythesion's glass. "Something weird came up at the guild hall. There's an old robed man – looks homeless – asking us to deliver something to Morea."
"Morea? The dead city?" Hythesion asked.
Osmedious replied, "Exactly why everyone thinks he's crazy! He's come back every day for three days though, and it was starting to bother the other mercenaries, so I talked to him..."
*FLASHBACK*
Inside the guild hall's first meeting room, Osmedious sits across from the old man.
"Sir, I understand your request, but guild policy requires us to inspect any item before assigning it to a mercenary, it helps us to choose a person who's fit for the job!" Osmedious stated.
"I will only show it to those who agree to take the task..." The old man's voice is thin and weak.
Osmedious sighs, "Can I at least see the box?"
The old man pulls out a small, ornate box. Ancient text covers its surface – and the moment Osmedious's eyes land on it, the words glow with soft, golden light.
"Fascinating–" Osmedious whispers surprisingly on his own
The light vanishes as quickly as it appeared, leaving the box locked tight.
"The box will only open to its destined carrier," the old man says. "That's why you must bring me your greatest warriors – let us see if any can unlock it."
*END OF FLASHBACK*
"Still gives me chills just thinking about it." Osmedious shivers slightly.
"Okay... so why call me?" Hythesion asks.
"That glowing text, the 'destined carrier' talk, Morea?!! It bothers me for awhile now. Plus..." He leans in close to whisper. "I believe what's inside of that box is something we can't just ignore. "
"What's in it for me?" Hythesion asked.
*Sigh* "None of our guild members can read ancient languages – not even Leader Kaylla." Osmedious said.
"Kaylla? Well... If the strongest adventurer in the southern mountains, the great leader of the Silverlake Mercenaries and now Thullford's Guild Master can't read it..." Hythesion chuckles. "I believe no one else can. "
"But.. You." Osmedious says firmly. "The smartest mind ever lived– Silverlake's key strategist... and probably the most handsome too."
Hythesion grins and shakes his head.
"Jokes aside, brother. I know you can decipher those texts. That's why I called you here." Osmedious whispers.
Hythesion pauses, swirling the last of his mead in his glass. He looks thoughtful – almost hesitant.
"Well, I mean... I don't have anything else to do today. " Hythesion said. "Sure.. Why not. "
"Thanks brother!" Osmedious stands in excitement.
"Just reading it," Hythesion stated clearly. "Nothing more."
"Promise. All you have to do is take a look." Osmedious replied.
They clasp hands, and Hythesion drains his glass in one long sip.
"Show me this ancient text, then..." Hythesion said.