Trials of Ascension

Scorn’s Dagger

Post has published by Pat

Scorn, a soft-spoken and shy human, was sitting around the pub on a cold, dreary afternoon in Vandar, frustrated and angry at the world. No one would hire him, not even the fat, balding jerk running this dive. On top of it all, it looked as if it were about to rain. Scorn ordered a warm drink and biscuit to try and take the chill off and the failure to find a job with his last two copper nuggets, and sighed quietly to himself. Sitting in a corner of the pub alone, he looked around, dreaming of a better life.

‘I feel so worthless. They always want experience, but how am I to get some if no one will give me a chance?’ Scorn thought to himself.

There were only a couple people about; two serving girls and the bartender. It looked as if they were having just as hard a time finding customers as he was finding a job. Looking outside the window he was next to, a few guards were walking by with a dog. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something odd with the window. One of the corners of the sill had been broken and torn away, leaving a hollow area below the window in the wall. The hole looked to have been filled in with what wood had been torn out.

Nervously looking about the pub to see if anyone had spotted him noticing something, Scorn laughed to himself. “There’s no one in here, you idiot.”

Turning back to the window sill, he reached down and removed the now-obvious fragment of wood, only to spy something hidden away inside the wall. A dagger! Reaching in, he took the dagger from its hiding place and immediately gasped out loud as the dagger emitted a radiant burst of light that overwhelmed the shadowy confines of his pub corner.

Scorn quickly thrusts the dagger into the folds of his clothing, trying to block out the bright light as quickly as possible, but fails to obscure it.

“Hey you! What’s going on over there? No magic is allowed in town and certainly not in my pub!” The bartender, a middle aged human named Ohlgar, shouted. The two serving girls looked on cautiously at the beaming light coming from the corner in which Scorn sat.

“Sorry! It won’t happen again, I promise!” Scorn chuckled out loud, not really trying to be quiet. He instantly notices the dagger has procured a gemstone, an orange gemstone as well! Perhaps his luck is starting to change!

“You think this is a joke, friend?” Ohlgar muttered something to one of the serving girls and she began to move from the bar area over to where Scorn is seated.

“You heard Ohlgar. No magic in town or…” She paused, watching Scorn’s obvious attempt to hide the dagger from view.

“Look. If you’re in here to cause trouble, I’ll call for the guards.” The serving girl stated in a rather rude tone.

“What do you mean?” Scorn asked, a wide smile crossing his face.

“Your clothes were glowing. You’re obviously using magic. I’m calling the guards.” She backed away slowly to move back to Ohlgar and the bar.

“I don’t think you’re going to do that, Miss.” Scorn whispered.

The serving girl stopped, turned and stared at Scorn, her face poised in a blank expression.

“I think you’re going to go over to… Ohlgar isn’t it? Yes, go to him and give him this for the trouble and the biscuit.” Scorn reached inside his overcoat, removing a dull orange gemstone from somewhere deep within the confines of his clothes and holds it out for the girl to take.

The serving girl smiled at him and returned to the bar, starting a conversation up with Ohlgar and the other serving girl while occasionally looking Scorn’s direction. Ohlgar gave Scorn a wry grin and wave of the hand.

“I think it’s time to go.” Scorn muttered, standing from his seat and exiting the bar.


Scorn moved down the street, a confidence he’d never felt before surging through his body. The rain began to fall, slight at first, but then it unleashed torrents of sideways rain and wind, causing people to quickly scramble for cover. All except Scorn, his body seemingly impervious to the cold rain and wind.

“Now this weather is nice! Good timing too.” Scorn mumbled to himself, a chuckle and wry grin sliding across his face, enjoying the irony. He paused suddenly and turned to look back the way he came.

Then, almost on cue, the sounds of the storm and wind were muted by a fiery explosion just a few blocks south of Scorn. A huge fireball engulfed the pub, debris raining down amidst the raindrops and rooftops. Some people screamed and ran for cover while others moved to help those near the explosion; only a fiery conflagration was left where the pub used to be.

“I got experience now, don’t I? Call the guards on me, will ya? Are all jobs going to be that easy?” Scorn mutters to himself, expressionlessly.

“Easier.” Scorn says. “I think you should go speak with a man named Yriel now. He’ll reward you for Ohlgar, and then I might reward him in turn.”

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