This is a writing project that continues the story of my BA character, Ja'gan. I will edit in every single part of the story into this post, to make it easier.
Snow flecks the windows of the old rugged house that serves as the Bar and Inn in the small village of Mueruse'la. Three men sat on small, creaky stools at the counter. One of them, wearing a furry coat that he had brought with him on his journey just in case of weather like this, spoke to the man sitting between the two.
"So...you a mage, eh?" The man in the middle, who would have looked like an old man due to his grey hair, didn't reply. The man in the fur coat seemed anxious.
"I said, are you a mage?!" He yelled at the quiet man. He then finished his steamy drink with a final, deep swig. The man on the other side of the grey man wearing the tall hat was getting excited as well. Their drunken, reddened faces got even redder when they received no answer.
"DAMN IT! ARE YOU DEAF?!" The man on the left didn't even give the man in the hat a chance to answer, because he swung a drunken fist in the direction of his face. A flash of metal left the man's fist to collide against the broadside of the man's blade. Hard. His knuckles were bleeding, but he paid no heed. The drunk man and who was obviously his companion stood up, and they got ready for their third bar room brawl this week. The score was drunken brutes-3, innocent visitors-0. This was about to change.
The man wielding the sword slowly stood to his feet. He watched the two drunks ready to fight, almost comical in appearance. The figure in grey kicked his stool with impressive quickness, and it hit one of the men dead-on in the stomach. He gasped for breath, and held the place where he was struck. The other man charged, and the grey-haired man revealed that he was indeed a mage by sending an ice cold burst of grey ice at the man's feet as he ran. This caused him to lose balance, and he crashed into the counter, knocking him unconscious. The one that held his chest had regained his composure, and grabbed a mug, approaching the sorcerer. The magic-user, showing no emotion at all, gripped the side of the table in front of him, and flipped it over on the drunkard. It was heavy enough to hold him still. The mage then kicked the incapacitated man in the head.
"I am not deaf. I would have told you my name is Ja'gan, and that I was a mage, if you would have used manners, but that's too much for a barbarian to handle, eh?"
Ja'gan walked out of the building with the sign in the front that proclaimed "BAR & INN!" into the quiet atmosphere of the snowy night. He walked around the back, to a large pile of snow. He raised a hand, and the pile was shook away, revealing a horse made of stone. Ja'gan climbed on it's back, and it began to move. He rode it out of the town, into the blacks and whites of this foggy winter night.
Days later, Ja'gan saw a moving patch of black in the distance. It was morning, and the faint sunlight attempted to break through the thick fog, but it failed. Ja'gan realized that the patch was a caravan of people, after making all of the possible assumptions. He decided to follow them, his stone equine speeding up as it working its way through the snowy drifts.
As the grey mage was nearing the caravan, a creature suddenly burst out of the snow, slashing its razor-sharp claws. it was a snow vole, also known as a snow butcher. Its foggy red eyes stared at Ja'gan, making a slash at his horse. After realizing the horse was inpermeable to damage, the creature leapt at Ja'gan, and he swung his sword Bellero, taking off its stubby left arm. A steady flow of vole blood formed in a pool around the area as the creature ran in all directions, the stump where its arm was steadily dripping with red liquid. Ja'gan, taking pity on the savage creature, hit most of it's body with a static shell technique, but the wound it bore was still exposed to the night air. The rest of the creature was no longer a physical entity, nor was it able to move. Static-esque lines caressed the grey shell that encased the creature. Ja'gan wrapped a bandage around the beast's wound, and climbed back on his stone horse. By the time that shell wears off, he would be long gone. Ja'gan turned and headed off, smiling under his tall hat.
Ja'gan finally came within close distance of the caravan, and let out a faint yell, sending a puff of greyish smoke out as he did so. The caravan didn't even so much as slow down. He started to yell again, but suddenly a flaming arrow struck the side of one of the fur-clad mammoth riders. He let out a piercing scream as he flew off of his mount. The rest of the mammoths upon hearing this, went into a wild, scrambled run for survival, causing the several wagons that were strapped to the large creatures' backs to be sent unwillingly on a horrid journey.
They were flying, crashing into nearby snowbanks as they were dragged by the huge things. Only a single wagon was slammed into one of the many thin, tall things that were obscured by snow. By this time, Ja'gan had drawn his blade, his horse reeling back and releasing a hollow, screaming whinny. His old looking eyes were searching the area for the archer who had fired the arrow, but saw none. He heard a strange noise then, one that to you would sound like rapid spinning of a propeller on a helicopter. He then saw a horrid wave of arrows rise from the snow, soaring in deadly flight, sending several mammoths to their knees, bleeding to death.
The mage rode his horse onto the battlefield, his face in a grimace of anger. He opened a hand, sending a deadly blast of grey fire at the snowy ground. This caused one of the villainous men to jump to his feet, out of a snowy pit, disguised in the white. This fellow was wearing a green coat, covered in what looked like peacock feathers tipped with red. He was carrying the bow he had used on the unsuspecting victim he had left lying dead in the snow, and he aimed it at Ja'gan now. His face was drawn n a confident grin, and Ja'gan responded by sending a small blast of grey lightning with his left hand. The man in green was joined by another fellow in a purple robe, who jumped in the path of the bolt, getting struck in the face. As he collapsed, his blackened face revealed surprisingly, a look of relief. Ja'gan assumed that the fellow in dark violet was a minion of the former fellow, and winced at the fact that he missed. The man in grey then tossed his blade at the peacock feathered villain who in turn stood firmly. In a flash, the purple robed cronie stood to his feet again, and the blade struck him in the chest. What he didn't predict was Ja'gan using his magical energy to increase the speed of the sword to a point where it tore through his abdomen in a quick splash of blood, impaling his superior as well, pinning them together with steel. Ja'gan held out his hand, and the blade ripped itself from the corpses, returning to his familiar grip.