The Golden Dragon Bar was busy tonight. At one corner of the bar, by the wall, slumped a dark-haired man.
“Maybourne!” Greeted the Bar-tender cheerfully.
The man looked up, revealing eyes crimson as blood. “Hey, Micky! He greeted, smiling.
“The usual, I suppose?” Micky questioned.
The man nodded. “The usual.” Micky handed him a drink.
“Listen, Rune. I gotta business proposition for you,” Micky said, leaning on the counter.
“Oh boy. Let's hear it.” Rune said, laughing slightly.
“You should become a business partner of the Golden Dragon!” Micky announced, grinning.
Rune sighed, leaning back in his seat. He looked around the bar. It was hot in there, and the air smelled of alcohol. Most of the patrons were sleeping, drunk, or drinking.
They played card games among themselves, talking loudly about nothing in particular. “Micky...you know I can't.”
“And why not? The Maybourne's are one of the most powerful families on Thorkin!” Micky said, gesturing widely with his long arms.
Rune sighed again. “Micky, you know what I am. You know it.” He shook his head, downing the rest of his drink, which Micky refilled.
Micky shrugged. “Aye, I know. Just consider it, will ya?”
Rune nodded. “I'll consider it.” Finishing the rest of his last drink, he slid his payment to Micky, and left.
Outside, the sun was dipping down onto the horizon, and Rune walked quickly.
He didn't want to still be out after dark, as that would be a very bad thing indeed, regardless of who and what he was.
His blood red eyes sparked, and his cloak blew back with the soft breeze, cool air filtering through his clothing. He shivered, pulling the cloak closer around his body.
He soon reached his home, the large family Manor that the Maybourne's called home. Of course, as a bastard son, he wasn't exactly in line for inheritance, not really.
He would only receive the manse and money if the entire rest of the family died and left him the sole person with a claim on the name of Maybourne.
He cursed softly, and went inside, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
He went up the stairs, and unlocked his bedroom door, going inside and closing it behind him, feeling the smooth wood under his fingertips.
Rune ran a hand through his hair, and then walked to the window.
Murmuring a few words under his breath, he held up his right hand, which burst into orange flames, that flickered and leapt about his fingers.
Rune was a Warlock, and one of the best there was. But recently...recently everything about magic had been off.
Spells going awry, things exploding with no explanation as to why, and he intended to find out why.