Locraf

Goleil awoke with a start and looked around quickly.

He was back in the Praetorian Training Grounds, and it was empty except for him. The weights were still in his hands. His body was sore from his workout, and his mind was exhausted. He had dreamed of the battle, and to make things worse, he'd learned nothing from the patterns despite staring at them for hours, trying to make sense of them.

Goleil held his head in his hands and tried to shake off the memory of the battle. It was the only thing he could remember, and everything afterward was a blur at best. Flashes of gold and vast masses of grey were all he could recall.

He thought back to the patterns he had attempted to learn, how strange they looked, and learned very little. He was no genius, just a bit stronger and far crazier.

'Well, I can remember the patterns and a general rule they follow—three angular symbols within a circle and many other angular symbols outside the circle. The symbols outside the circle were all the same, but I don't know why. Only the three inside were different, but I don't know why. Maybe Mage Murdoc can help me with this?' He thought.

He stepped outside the training ground, heading towards the keep.

'First, I must speak with Lady Tyria...'

...

"The Vrean is approaching, my Lady," Gwen told Tyria.

She nodded, dusting off her robes and putting some of her more sensitive files into her desk.

"Send him in as soon as he arrives," Tyria said.

Goleil entered a minute after.

"It looks like you were expecting me, Lady Tyria. I wanted to talk to you." He said.

"I was, Goleil. I have something to say first. Lord Colm has come to a decision, and it is to our favor."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he has decreed that you can stay. We shall give you the best resources available to us, including locraf, a special of the border regions. In exchange, we'd like you to do something for us."

Goleil narrowed his eyes. Everything came at a price, and there was no such thing as a gift. He had many questions, but one was most prevalent.

"What is locraf?"

"Mord will explain it to you when you go to collect it. He is the Bloodkeeper. Anything else?"

"What would I be doing for you?"

Tyria looked out the window and gestured for Goleil to look as well.

Outside was a barren landscape. Dying and yellowed grass, limbless and twisting trunks, spires of black stone, and the looming crags of the mountains to the south. Ahead of them were endless plains, broken only by lightning and thunder.

"The Outerlands. Barren and unpredictable, lethal in almost every conceivable way. Snow today, the scorching sun the next. Unending storms of wind and lightning. Barren and dry as a bone. And if none of that kills you first, the eldritch will. One such eldritch comes our way; Murdoc has named him Y'trix, which means 'of darkness.' The abomination will take four months to get here, and you may be our only hope for salvation. As we reside in the border regions, only pseudo-eldritch attack us. They are a half step away from achieving true eldritch status, but something went wrong. Y'trix is a true eldritch, albeit a newly formed one. You must help us kill it, or we will likely all die."

"How do you know all of this?"

Tyria shrugged. "Mord sees things, and the last time we ignored him, a pseudo-eldritch destroyed half the city."

"That idiot?" Goleil's eyes widened.

"Madness is often mistaken for idiocy, but do not be fooled. Madness is nothing more than inspired genius." She said, sitting in her seat once more.

She cleared her throat. "Now, tell me what you wanted to talk to me about."

Goleil nodded, doing his best to pin the word genius to Mord. He was unsuccessful. Crazy sat a little better.

"I need access to all the magic books you have, and I don't care how weird or old. I can't reveal anything to you, but if it makes things sit better for you, it will help me defeat Y'trix."

Tyria lifted an eyebrow. "I can arrange that, and I'll notify Murdoc of your request. He is in charge of all knowledge arcane in nature. You can find him in the City Library, and I'll have Gwen show you the way there and to the Blood Crypt."

"Thank you, that's all I have for now."

She nodded, and Gwen walked in after a moment.

She showed him where the City Library was; however, Murdoc wasn't present, most likely wrapped up in his research. Tyria had given Goleil a master key for the chained arcane books so that he could read freely. He was curious, however, about the Blood Crypts.

By the time Goleil reached the Blood Crypt, the time was nearing noon. As he walked into the blood stores, the familiar figure of Mord emerged from the darkness of a back room, carrying a crate of empty bottles into a corner. As soon as he saw Gwen, he smiled, and once he saw Goleil, he smiled even wider.

"Hey! Did you really come to visit me at work?! That's really sweet, you guys!" He said excitedly.

Gwen laughed. "Of course not, Mord. Goleil has been given access to all the resources he needs to further his training, and that of course includes locraf. He was curious about this place, so I decided to take him along."

Goleil looked around him. The Blood Crypt wasn't as creepy as he'd expected, in fact, it seemed pretty normal. The wooden floors creaked slightly, and the stone walls were well maintained. The candles were brighter than he'd expected, most likely a mage's work, and they cast an even yellow light throughout the room, giving it a homely feeling.

"Nice place you've got here, Mord. You run the Blood Crypt?" He asked.

Mord grinned and crossed his arms. "Of course! Locraf is an important resource! Without me, these idiots would have run this place dry a long time ago! I, instead, have made the inevitable and little less evitable."

"I asked Lady Tyria, but she wouldn't tell me, but what exactly is locraf?" Goleil asked.

Mord grinned. "You mean Lady Colm? She was right to leave the answer to me. Locraf is the blood of pseudo-eldritch abominations that come to kill us all and suck the flesh from our bones, combined with a bit of magic to detoxify the blood. We've never had locraf crafted from an actual eldritch, but it seems we will have the opportunity soon!"

Someone from the door scoffed. "If we survive, that is. Don't assume we will, Mord." Rick walked in from the same backroom as Mord had a moment ago, carrying a crate of empty boxes to the same pile as Mord did.

"Lighten up man! Negativity gets you nowhere!"

"That's ridiculous. I'm just being realistic, and I'm sure many would disagree with you. I'm starting to get sick of your naive and positive attitude!!"

"You're just mad that my positive attitude is rarely wrong!"

"That's just a coincidence, damn it!"

Gwen rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long day.