Decimation of the Aether

OUT OF ALAMBRA

"The life of an adventure is the most perilous. Danger lurks where you thought it safe. Safety hides when you seek for its warmth...and when the inevitable hazard has passed, that is where you find solace and comfort after struggle."

- From 'The comments of Agàlor' by Princess Minerva

In the wake of the night when Agàlor and his master had finished their supper supplemented by ale, which was surprising considering there was his water skin with still a quarter of water left.

Minerva was then awoken to a sudden sound of the night: The tweeting of the nightingales near her window. She gazed at the side and saw the shimmering light of the moon, half full and beautiful. She wore her garments first, and proceeded to wear her armor, except for the helmet which she left on her bed. She went down the Guild Hall only to see that Agàlor and the master had drunk their fill of the ale, and she was sober enough to see them absolutely enjoying it without her. She gave a little smile gazing at the two magic users, like father and son.

She went to the lounge in the corner where they were seated, and grabbed the bottle of wheat beer and filled her glass. She poured full. She drank the first shot, and gulped the second one. The third one stayed, and before long she spoke about the supplies being ready and asked where Agàlor and the master's supplies were. Agàlor, being sober enough to recall what had happened in their apparent journey then, recounted all that happened six days prior today, where they had arrived at the twin watchtower before the gates of Alambra itself.

"Well. That is one way of losing precious supplies. I suppose that the goblin attacks aren't random or coincidence; perhaps there is more than meets our eyes here. What do you think, old man?"

The master spoke, a little drunk but consciously sober, trying to control himself not to dwindle or fall: "You may be right. These goblins only attack certain things or places when ordered to. They are not' a hiccup came... "They are not organized nor are they united in any sort of their doings unless they are being controlled or even...manipulated.' There was a slight pause as he poured wheat beer on his glass. "Goblins are one creatures of the underworld. Of the darkness. They are sons of the creatures of the dark! But they were all called abomination for they aren't like them: intelligent and commendable nor they will ever be like ogres or orcs. That really had me puzzled that they came from the deep and attack Kazak not far from here. These creatures would usually stay under their caves, and they did stay there for decades! Now they are acting strange, don't you see Agàlor?"

Agàlor nodded in agreement and asked: "Perhaps what you thought would happen?"

"That hasn't happened in numerous Millennia! I don't think it will happen this soon. If that would be true. But who knows their true intentions, right Minerva?"

"Right!' Said Minerva as she drank from her glass of wheat beer, and she shouted wither cheerily sweet drunkard voice: "For now let us enjoy this drink and up we go with our glass and say drink!" And they did!

For the quarter of the next hour, they were talking and drinking with Minerva until they ran out of wheat beer in which case they stopped, and Minerva pointed out that they had to make haste for tomorrow, and buy all the necessary things they needed for their journey.

Agàlor went up with the old man in one of the rooms upstairs the guild hall, both now drunk, and immediately fell to sleep.

Minerva had another shot of ale before she went up her room. He gazed back at the Guild Hall and where the room Agàlor and the master was, wanted to knock, but decided that it be best to rest and leave the other inquiry for the next morning. And they all went off to sleep, happily drunk, and merrily resting on a fine white bed.