Life of a Fugitive

[Eriel]

Eriel wandered through the sands of the eastern outskirts of the grand desert of Nabata, desperately looking the the creases of his eyes for some sort of manmade structure. He couldn't go back to whence he came. No way that stuff had calmed don there yet. He had to flee from the homeland of Worde, branded a criminal for killing his good for nothing father, and was now chased by the authorities, with a hefty bounty around his neck. He scurried the sand, looking for something that was even remotely edible, but failed in finding anythin in the completely dead wasteland. He went down to one knee, and thought to himself: "Was this really the right choice? I'm wanted in what is probably the entirety of Lycia, and i don't even have the means to take people out. I'm a damn failure..." Eriel lost some of eyesight, which was an obvious sign. "I'm about to faint from this heat." Eriel Proclaimed and tried to continue towards what looked to be a shadow of a building. It didn't last for long though, as his vision soon blacked out completely, leaving him drained of all energy, and made him collapse into the soft, shifting burning hot sands.

[Ljusolf]

Ljusolf yawned as the moon made itself visible up in the sky. The shaman put a hand inside his robes and took out a book with the title "Exit Fate" in bold letters. It was his favorite, though it remembered him of Delfia too much. Try to grasp the reason of why he saved the young man who collapsed in the desert was too tedious for him. He was surprised that someone would dare travel to Nabata without some very needed supplies. While he thought helping people was tiresome, the shaman couldn't bring himself to abandon him. He sure had a soft spot for people in need of help, and a knack for finding people in need of help. Or simply weird people, such as himself.

By the looks of it, the young man was a mage, but was carrying a dagger. Maybe he was a thief? Should that be the case, it wasn't safe to sleep. He could have his throat cutten if he didn't take things very slowly. Then again, a thief would be a nice addition to his group. "The group I have yet to create, that is." The black haired shaman said to himself. Before Ljusolf had the opportunity to think some more about this, the young man started turning in bed. "I see you're awake, dear friend. My name is Ljusolf, I come from Etruria, though I'm currently on a journey for knowledge. May I inquire why were you nearly dead out there in the desert?"

[Eriel]

Eriel had little consciousness when a strange man in a dark robe took him up on his back, and carried him to a location that he had never seen before. The man had draped him in some strange, cold robes, and just sat there in from of the fire while the fugitive was still writhing in his sleep, tossing and turning from the heat stroke. As he came to, the man dressed in purple robes began talking to him, asking where he was from, and why he was in the desert in the first place. Eriel answered, in a voice that was so faint that it could almost not be heard: "I'm Eriel Zenair from the territory of Worde in Lycia. I was chased from my home by the one person i ever thought i could trust, so now all i'm out for is revenge, or vengeance, or something like that. I'm currently running from the authorities."

Eriel laid down on his back, and stared into the black night sky. "It's truly beautiful, isn't it? The painful irony behind every reason for me to be running away from the place that i at some point called home. Even though i just tried to do the right thing, that thing was after all to slaughter my old man. I guess i'm just doomed to fail in life." At this point, the man briefly glimpsed at Eriel with something that could be reminiscent of a warm smile. He now knew exactly what he should do. Eriel put his weapons down, and took off his cloak where he could've been hiding other weapons. "Looks like you earned my trust. Well done, that has never happened for anyone before. If you have a troop or anything like that, i would like to join, and serve as your right hand pupil. Regardless, i have nowhere to return to. Let's just not go to Worde for a bit, okay?"

[Ljusolf]

The black haired shaman laughed and put his book back in the inside of his robe. The boy hardly knew him, and they just met each other, yet he already trusted 100% on the shaman. It was an interesting offer, he always wanted to have an apprentice, but could he be a good master? He was trained in the dark arts, but the boy looked like a 'real' mage, the ones that mess with fire, thunder and wind. He soon discarded that possibility, the boy would have to learn by himself. However, what he really enjoyed was that his group, even if little by little, started to grow. Then he realized, the group needed a name. "First of all, It's a pleasure, dear Eriel." The shaman spoke tenderly, knowing that the heat stroke probably gave the boy a strong headache.

"Do not think so lowly of yourself. While I could never know how you feel, I know it can't be good. I would like to know everything later, but we have more important matters to attend. It would be an honor to have you both as a friend and as a pupil. However, I fear I can't train you correctly, so you'll have to do most of the work by yourself. What about a quick sparring match in the desert? I swear I won't try to kill you." Ljusolf said, licking his lips. While Ljusolf wasn't the strongest man in the world, he had much more experience than Eriel. Well, in theory, at least. It would be interesting to test his strength. "Meet me at the town's gate when you're ready." The shaman said, walking away.