Convergence #3
Here I am, ready with the next chapter of Convergence!
I'm in a much better mood this week, and next weekend is my birthday! Yay for me! Just wish I had money...
Anyways, I guess that's really all I have to say for now. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter Three-
The wind was chilly, the cold seeping under the heavy cloak he wore as he trudged through the snow. The whole previous night had seen a storm of the frosty flakes, and he grumbled against the bad luck that had brought him to such an out-of the way, run down, cold driven place such as this.
Really, he hated the cold.
He muttered to himself as he stomped along, occasionally pausing to shake the flakes from burying his feet in his boots, before once again resuming his former pace. What he was doing here in the first place he still couldn’t figure, something about a bad debt, and a troublesome case he had taken that had gone horribly wrong.
But he wasn’t to blame for that. Questionable as his methods might be, they always got the job done. So what if they were a little iffy on the ethics front, at least they worked. That was more than could be said about many of the other mages he had encountered in his time as a worker of magic.
So why was he here?
Itazura Zaiku, Master Mage Extraordinaire, Troublemaker to the Extreme, grumbled and stomped along. He pulled at his cloak again, glancing upward at the sky. The clouds still hung heavy overhead, and as evening approached, it cast the world in a darker shade than it normally would be at this hour. He sighed.
It was just going to be one of those days.
Finally the road he traveled became less snow and more sludge, paved roads on which the snow had been pushed aside and stomped on to the point it was almost clear, but still wet. It was still better than walking ankle deep in the white powdery stuff.
He took a deep breath and then coughed. It appeared he had entered the town in the less than reputable section, that part where the drunks and thieves gathered, the ruffians who lived their lives by causing problems for others. Not that it mattered much to him. He could handle anything thrown at him. He was a master mage, after all.
Itazura kept walking, making his way through the town slowly, not paying much heed to the stares and muttering around him. He knew these people probably weren’t aware who he was, never mind his reputation, but he could almost see the wheels turning in their heads as they tried to determine if he was a target worth jumping.
One of the men freed a long dagger from under his cloak, and Zaiku sighed. He was already irritated; he didn’t want to have to rough the idiot up, too.
As he passed the man, ignoring him, pretending he hadn’t seen the long dagger, he idly wondered if he could ignore the call that had summoned him to this dreary town and just go home. It really wasn’t worth the trouble. It hadn’t been his fault, and the matter was already being looked into by some other mage, right? So why did they need him?
He stopped and pondered it a moment. A trap? Were they just trying to lure him so they could punish him for something or other? Granted, he had caused a lot of problems in previous cases, but still…
But then again, maybe they just needed his excellent talent. Yeah, right. Bunch of pansies were probably just hoping he’d do all the dirty work and they’d get all the credit for fixing the mess that had nothing to do with him in the first place.
He was really starting to get annoyed now.
Itazura was just about to take a step forward when he felt the blade press against his back and smelled the foul stench of acrid breath against his cheek.
“Gimme all your money, and you won’t get hurt, yeah?” the voice muttered threateningly.
He sighed again. “Sorry, don’t got no money on me. Go bother someone else,” he replied. He didn’t have time for this. He was still considering ditching the responsibility placed on him and going home. He could dissipate himself easy enough, but it wouldn’t be enough to get all the way home. He’d have to get a horse from somewhere…
The man behind him snarled. “You better hopes you got somethin’s on ya, or you’ll die for nuthin. I can always search ya after yer dead.”
Itazura’s mouth opened to give another irritated reply when the boy appeared.
He came running from a narrow alley just up ahead and to the left, and just as he emerged he lost his footing and crashed to the ground. Tears streamed down his dirty face, and he was biting fiercely at his lip, probably trying to keep from crying out. Long dark hair fell across his face, just past his shoulders. He was shaking fiercely, his clothes far too few to keep him warm from the cold.
Then Itazura heard the men coming from behind as they emerged from the same alley the boy had. They were shouting, course, vulgar words streaming from their lips. As they caught sight of their downed prey they began to laugh as they slowed their pace.
The mage blinked, staring at the men who began to slowly surround the fearful boy. That was when he noticed the blood on the boy’s clothes, seeing the still wet with red weapons the men carried. But more than any of that…
Those men were possessed. He couldn’t quite tell by what just yet, but probably something that fed off murder and thievery. Something… evil… that enjoyed dwelling in such squalid hovels where the most depraved souls gathered.
He glanced again at the defenseless boy. The tears were coursing stronger and the boy clutched his fists against the cold paved ground.
This… was a bit of a strange situation. What fun could these guys have with a little kid? Alright, so Itazura Zaiku wasn’t the most moral man around, but even he couldn’t figure what they could get out of the kid. It’s not like he looked like he had any money, and he definitely couldn’t fight back, so… why?
Nothing to gain, not a challenge… He focused on the boy, watching as the body shook, examined the long, dirty, still slightly wet from melted snow dark hair, the thin arms and weak build. Dirty, disheveled, nothing worth looking at.
But then he saw it.
It wasn’t just any demons that were overtaking these rouges, the demons were after the brat because… Itazura stiffened as the boy raised his head and stared straight at him, obviously frightened but clear haunted grey eyes, like crystal quartz burned into him, a golden glow flashing in them, then noted the faint jump in the life force of the boy, a sure sign of magic. The boy obviously didn’t know any, probably didn’t even realize he had the potential, but it was there. Small, thin, wispy as the boy himself, but there, and strong. A good solid foundation any mage would be proud to start out with.
And as he watched the boy tremble, rivers of cold tears streaking through the dirt of his face, watched as the men slowly circled the child, licking their lips in hungry anticipation of the meal of strong magic, he sighed again.
This really… just wasn’t his day.
He wasn’t a hero, not by any means, but as he watched the boy, he couldn’t just let it be. Oh well, a job he wasn’t gonna get paid for. But, a client is a client, and it’s a mage’s job to help people who need it, regardless.
It was one of those stupid vows he made when he became a Master. Damn old council pricks.
“Alright, I guess that’s that,” he muttered to himself. Itazura was still being held by the crook from behind, but it really wasn’t an issue. He had made his decision, so now it was time to act. In a quick, fluid motion, he turned, yanked the dagger from the thug and slammed it into the man’s stomach.
The thugs around the boy all paused and turned, focusing on him at the spike in magic. They watched him wearily as he dusted off his hands and turned back to them.
“That’s enough of that, then,” he began. “Leave the brat alone.”
The thugs exchanged glances, their grins growing. The boy stumbled onto his behind, clear eyes staring wide at the mage. Three men broke off from the group and slowly made their way to Itazura, watching, not expecting much. The other two moved toward the boy, who whimpered and tried to scuttle back, eyes going from the thugs before him to the group advancing toward the mage, to the mage himself.
Itazura groaned. They were too slow, too cautious. Well, they should be. And he grinned.
He reached out a hand and his trademark golden string magic appeared, shooting out at the three men and ensnaring them. He pulled and they all fell forward, crashing into the still wet ground. One reached up and pulled his knife free, aiming to tear the ropes that bound them.
“Now, now,” Itazura scolded. “That’s not gonna work.”
The thugs grinned, a green light sparked in his dark eyes, and the light rope was cut.
“Shit, forgot he was a demon,” Itazura muttered as the thugs came loose and rushed at him. “Oh, well. Guess I can’t be nice anymore. Not that I like being nice.”
He reached out for his light string again, then shaped the magic into a sword. He caught the attack and threw the man back, met the next and caught the arm of the other man on his other side. He looked at the three men, readying another attack and sighed for the millionth time that day. He could just cast out the demons, but it was a lot of work, especially while being ganged up on, plus there were the other two closing in on the brat. And these men probably wouldn’t be missed anyways.
So he opted for the easier method, and pulled back the sword, reforming it into his string magic, then shot it back out at the three men as they came in for another attack. He sharpened the string, strengthened it as it tightened around the three, and before any of them could try to cut it again, he pulled, and the three dead men fell.
He stepped around the pieces into a puddle of blood and kept walking toward the other two.
The boy’s eyes had grown impossibly wider, but they were focused on the mage approaching. In this kind of place, death wasn’t something to take notice of. It happened to everyone, to many, much earlier than expected.
The two remaining thugs stared at the mage, debating whether to attack or run. But Itazura had made his decision already, and he reached out with his string magic, the gold light thickening into several strong but thin ropes, touched the retreating forms of the men and released a pulse. The electricity zapped the men, and they too fell dead.
Itazura stretched and yawned, then looked at the boy. Those eerie clear eyes were staring at him again, boring into him, and he could practically feel his magic being pulled and prodded. The boy was unconsciously assessing him.
Hmph, brat. “Well, better see what the damage is,” Itazura mumbled as he planted himself on the ground and began digging through his victim’s pockets. He found a few scattered coins in the first man’s clothing, and a small chain and a crumpled bit of paper from the second. Then he stood and meandered over to the other three. “Hah, this one’s got quite a bit of coin.” He spoke to himself as he continued to rummage the pockets.
When he turned back around, the boy was again on his knees, eyes still watching.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll consider this payment for helping you. See ya, kid,” and he turned, casting a quick wave from behind as he passed the boy and headed down the street again, back in the direction of which he’d come.
“W-Wait!” the boy called, and Itazura paused. He glanced over his shoulder, where the boy was trembling again. Those clear eyes were casting about the area, the deserted street, the wet, dirty ground. “T-Thank you… for helping me.”
“No problem,” Itazura replied, turning his back again. “You were a client, of sorts. But if I were you, I’d see something gets done about that untapped magic of yours.”
“M-Magic?” the boy murmured, amazed. “Me?”
Itazura smiled a lopsided smile at the boy. “Think I can’t tell?”
The boy shook his head, then glanced up at the cloudy sky. “Is it true?” he whispered to the sky. “Can I really…?”
Itazura’s grin dropped a bit and he continued walking, just as the snow began to fall again. A chill breeze blew by, ruffling his cloak. It seemed there was a storm coming.
He had walked only a couple of feet before he paused and turned back. The boy was still there, still staring with those unusual colored irises up at the dark, cloudy sky. And Itazura was struck, then, by the sight.
The snow continued to fall, and Itazura couldn’t take it anymore. Somehow…
He shook his head and called back to the boy. “Well? What are ya waiting for? Let’s go, brat!”
Those eyes turned back to the mage master and blinked owlishly. “Go? With you?”
“Of course! Where else you gonna learn magic?”
The boy’s eyes widened, and then the grin spread across his face. “Yes... Master!”
And that was how Itazura Zaiku acquired himself an apprentice.
To complete the post, another cat picture! REFRIDGERATOR KITTY!! (this is an old one)
I'm in a much better mood this week, and next weekend is my birthday! Yay for me! Just wish I had money...
Anyways, I guess that's really all I have to say for now. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter Three-
The wind was chilly, the cold seeping under the heavy cloak he wore as he trudged through the snow. The whole previous night had seen a storm of the frosty flakes, and he grumbled against the bad luck that had brought him to such an out-of the way, run down, cold driven place such as this.
Really, he hated the cold.
He muttered to himself as he stomped along, occasionally pausing to shake the flakes from burying his feet in his boots, before once again resuming his former pace. What he was doing here in the first place he still couldn’t figure, something about a bad debt, and a troublesome case he had taken that had gone horribly wrong.
But he wasn’t to blame for that. Questionable as his methods might be, they always got the job done. So what if they were a little iffy on the ethics front, at least they worked. That was more than could be said about many of the other mages he had encountered in his time as a worker of magic.
So why was he here?
Itazura Zaiku, Master Mage Extraordinaire, Troublemaker to the Extreme, grumbled and stomped along. He pulled at his cloak again, glancing upward at the sky. The clouds still hung heavy overhead, and as evening approached, it cast the world in a darker shade than it normally would be at this hour. He sighed.
It was just going to be one of those days.
Finally the road he traveled became less snow and more sludge, paved roads on which the snow had been pushed aside and stomped on to the point it was almost clear, but still wet. It was still better than walking ankle deep in the white powdery stuff.
He took a deep breath and then coughed. It appeared he had entered the town in the less than reputable section, that part where the drunks and thieves gathered, the ruffians who lived their lives by causing problems for others. Not that it mattered much to him. He could handle anything thrown at him. He was a master mage, after all.
Itazura kept walking, making his way through the town slowly, not paying much heed to the stares and muttering around him. He knew these people probably weren’t aware who he was, never mind his reputation, but he could almost see the wheels turning in their heads as they tried to determine if he was a target worth jumping.
One of the men freed a long dagger from under his cloak, and Zaiku sighed. He was already irritated; he didn’t want to have to rough the idiot up, too.
As he passed the man, ignoring him, pretending he hadn’t seen the long dagger, he idly wondered if he could ignore the call that had summoned him to this dreary town and just go home. It really wasn’t worth the trouble. It hadn’t been his fault, and the matter was already being looked into by some other mage, right? So why did they need him?
He stopped and pondered it a moment. A trap? Were they just trying to lure him so they could punish him for something or other? Granted, he had caused a lot of problems in previous cases, but still…
But then again, maybe they just needed his excellent talent. Yeah, right. Bunch of pansies were probably just hoping he’d do all the dirty work and they’d get all the credit for fixing the mess that had nothing to do with him in the first place.
He was really starting to get annoyed now.
Itazura was just about to take a step forward when he felt the blade press against his back and smelled the foul stench of acrid breath against his cheek.
“Gimme all your money, and you won’t get hurt, yeah?” the voice muttered threateningly.
He sighed again. “Sorry, don’t got no money on me. Go bother someone else,” he replied. He didn’t have time for this. He was still considering ditching the responsibility placed on him and going home. He could dissipate himself easy enough, but it wouldn’t be enough to get all the way home. He’d have to get a horse from somewhere…
The man behind him snarled. “You better hopes you got somethin’s on ya, or you’ll die for nuthin. I can always search ya after yer dead.”
Itazura’s mouth opened to give another irritated reply when the boy appeared.
He came running from a narrow alley just up ahead and to the left, and just as he emerged he lost his footing and crashed to the ground. Tears streamed down his dirty face, and he was biting fiercely at his lip, probably trying to keep from crying out. Long dark hair fell across his face, just past his shoulders. He was shaking fiercely, his clothes far too few to keep him warm from the cold.
Then Itazura heard the men coming from behind as they emerged from the same alley the boy had. They were shouting, course, vulgar words streaming from their lips. As they caught sight of their downed prey they began to laugh as they slowed their pace.
The mage blinked, staring at the men who began to slowly surround the fearful boy. That was when he noticed the blood on the boy’s clothes, seeing the still wet with red weapons the men carried. But more than any of that…
Those men were possessed. He couldn’t quite tell by what just yet, but probably something that fed off murder and thievery. Something… evil… that enjoyed dwelling in such squalid hovels where the most depraved souls gathered.
He glanced again at the defenseless boy. The tears were coursing stronger and the boy clutched his fists against the cold paved ground.
This… was a bit of a strange situation. What fun could these guys have with a little kid? Alright, so Itazura Zaiku wasn’t the most moral man around, but even he couldn’t figure what they could get out of the kid. It’s not like he looked like he had any money, and he definitely couldn’t fight back, so… why?
Nothing to gain, not a challenge… He focused on the boy, watching as the body shook, examined the long, dirty, still slightly wet from melted snow dark hair, the thin arms and weak build. Dirty, disheveled, nothing worth looking at.
But then he saw it.
It wasn’t just any demons that were overtaking these rouges, the demons were after the brat because… Itazura stiffened as the boy raised his head and stared straight at him, obviously frightened but clear haunted grey eyes, like crystal quartz burned into him, a golden glow flashing in them, then noted the faint jump in the life force of the boy, a sure sign of magic. The boy obviously didn’t know any, probably didn’t even realize he had the potential, but it was there. Small, thin, wispy as the boy himself, but there, and strong. A good solid foundation any mage would be proud to start out with.
And as he watched the boy tremble, rivers of cold tears streaking through the dirt of his face, watched as the men slowly circled the child, licking their lips in hungry anticipation of the meal of strong magic, he sighed again.
This really… just wasn’t his day.
He wasn’t a hero, not by any means, but as he watched the boy, he couldn’t just let it be. Oh well, a job he wasn’t gonna get paid for. But, a client is a client, and it’s a mage’s job to help people who need it, regardless.
It was one of those stupid vows he made when he became a Master. Damn old council pricks.
“Alright, I guess that’s that,” he muttered to himself. Itazura was still being held by the crook from behind, but it really wasn’t an issue. He had made his decision, so now it was time to act. In a quick, fluid motion, he turned, yanked the dagger from the thug and slammed it into the man’s stomach.
The thugs around the boy all paused and turned, focusing on him at the spike in magic. They watched him wearily as he dusted off his hands and turned back to them.
“That’s enough of that, then,” he began. “Leave the brat alone.”
The thugs exchanged glances, their grins growing. The boy stumbled onto his behind, clear eyes staring wide at the mage. Three men broke off from the group and slowly made their way to Itazura, watching, not expecting much. The other two moved toward the boy, who whimpered and tried to scuttle back, eyes going from the thugs before him to the group advancing toward the mage, to the mage himself.
Itazura groaned. They were too slow, too cautious. Well, they should be. And he grinned.
He reached out a hand and his trademark golden string magic appeared, shooting out at the three men and ensnaring them. He pulled and they all fell forward, crashing into the still wet ground. One reached up and pulled his knife free, aiming to tear the ropes that bound them.
“Now, now,” Itazura scolded. “That’s not gonna work.”
The thugs grinned, a green light sparked in his dark eyes, and the light rope was cut.
“Shit, forgot he was a demon,” Itazura muttered as the thugs came loose and rushed at him. “Oh, well. Guess I can’t be nice anymore. Not that I like being nice.”
He reached out for his light string again, then shaped the magic into a sword. He caught the attack and threw the man back, met the next and caught the arm of the other man on his other side. He looked at the three men, readying another attack and sighed for the millionth time that day. He could just cast out the demons, but it was a lot of work, especially while being ganged up on, plus there were the other two closing in on the brat. And these men probably wouldn’t be missed anyways.
So he opted for the easier method, and pulled back the sword, reforming it into his string magic, then shot it back out at the three men as they came in for another attack. He sharpened the string, strengthened it as it tightened around the three, and before any of them could try to cut it again, he pulled, and the three dead men fell.
He stepped around the pieces into a puddle of blood and kept walking toward the other two.
The boy’s eyes had grown impossibly wider, but they were focused on the mage approaching. In this kind of place, death wasn’t something to take notice of. It happened to everyone, to many, much earlier than expected.
The two remaining thugs stared at the mage, debating whether to attack or run. But Itazura had made his decision already, and he reached out with his string magic, the gold light thickening into several strong but thin ropes, touched the retreating forms of the men and released a pulse. The electricity zapped the men, and they too fell dead.
Itazura stretched and yawned, then looked at the boy. Those eerie clear eyes were staring at him again, boring into him, and he could practically feel his magic being pulled and prodded. The boy was unconsciously assessing him.
Hmph, brat. “Well, better see what the damage is,” Itazura mumbled as he planted himself on the ground and began digging through his victim’s pockets. He found a few scattered coins in the first man’s clothing, and a small chain and a crumpled bit of paper from the second. Then he stood and meandered over to the other three. “Hah, this one’s got quite a bit of coin.” He spoke to himself as he continued to rummage the pockets.
When he turned back around, the boy was again on his knees, eyes still watching.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll consider this payment for helping you. See ya, kid,” and he turned, casting a quick wave from behind as he passed the boy and headed down the street again, back in the direction of which he’d come.
“W-Wait!” the boy called, and Itazura paused. He glanced over his shoulder, where the boy was trembling again. Those clear eyes were casting about the area, the deserted street, the wet, dirty ground. “T-Thank you… for helping me.”
“No problem,” Itazura replied, turning his back again. “You were a client, of sorts. But if I were you, I’d see something gets done about that untapped magic of yours.”
“M-Magic?” the boy murmured, amazed. “Me?”
Itazura smiled a lopsided smile at the boy. “Think I can’t tell?”
The boy shook his head, then glanced up at the cloudy sky. “Is it true?” he whispered to the sky. “Can I really…?”
Itazura’s grin dropped a bit and he continued walking, just as the snow began to fall again. A chill breeze blew by, ruffling his cloak. It seemed there was a storm coming.
He had walked only a couple of feet before he paused and turned back. The boy was still there, still staring with those unusual colored irises up at the dark, cloudy sky. And Itazura was struck, then, by the sight.
The snow continued to fall, and Itazura couldn’t take it anymore. Somehow…
He shook his head and called back to the boy. “Well? What are ya waiting for? Let’s go, brat!”
Those eyes turned back to the mage master and blinked owlishly. “Go? With you?”
“Of course! Where else you gonna learn magic?”
The boy’s eyes widened, and then the grin spread across his face. “Yes... Master!”
And that was how Itazura Zaiku acquired himself an apprentice.
To complete the post, another cat picture! REFRIDGERATOR KITTY!! (this is an old one)