Lords of RPG

Should all else fail…

Like most humans, Steve appeared to sleep for six to eight hours…eight if he really wanted to feel fully rested. That usually left him with a couple to several hours to kill, in the darkness or at best by a dimly lit remnant of a fire. Surrounded for miles in all directions by people who would kill him if they knew the truth…about this vessel or the first, he knew better than to attract attention and was adept at staying in the shadows…and quiet.

So much power in one place was disconcerting. He could feel it in the Wild, that raw magic power that had flowed through him since the Drumming, since he was a goblin youth. His only mentor in the art of magic had not been much of a teacher. In fact, he had learned more magic from Ghul Drak’s elven prisoners than he had from his mentor.  

Ironic maybe that he had spent the last thirty-something years as an elf. The memories spun in his head as he twisted the invisible ring on his right hand, pondering backup plans…how to escape if needed. His last option was his least favorite, but one he had ‘arranged’ a long time ago. Well before he met the Heroes of Eldermont; a group he was proud to have joined. What would it be like to live, or exist, in a ring? Probably more odd than the last change. Perhaps he should ask one of the heroes to ask their boon…no, not here, but another day…at a tavern…for sure. Not able to imagine a single answer any of them would give, he giggled at the thought of what they might be.

And then, as he had learned to do while in the camp when the errant thoughts garnered too much attention, he returned to his quiet, internal study of this “thing” that exists inside him…this power. There is so much more there than he had tapped…and it felt like it was building, growing, manifesting…