Human Mage

You tossed and turned all night. Something was wrong. Screams. Rapes. Murders. You awoke in a cold sweat. Someone, somewhere was destroying a village, perhaps a city. Your visions do not lie, but they can be vague.

You turn to your bedmate. A common tavern wench. She was under a spell, fast asleep now, after you had taken her for your own pleasures and gifted her with your seed. You knew subconsciously that she was destined to bring forth another magic-user, a mage to populate a world in need of magic. The Orcs had multiplied their savagery across the land, going far beyond their ancestral homes. Golems and wyverns abound in the places no one tread. The Lord of Lies was destined to return, and the warlock who had bred you and a hundred others had vanished.

You kissed your sleeping beauty, and groped her voluptuous breast, before dressing yourself. A quick whisper to her ear, "Forget," took care of her memory of the encounter, but would do nothing to stop the whispers of the villagers in the coming days. You hoped the wench's low-class status would afford ample sexual activity to hide the child's parentage. But to ensure this better, you would have to mesmerize some townsmen to her the following evening.

As you skulked out of the inn's cellar, your duffel wrapped around your waist, a woman appeared in a flash of light. Pregnant, naked, she had no eyes. She was a vision. "Hello, brother."

"Sister," you responded politely to the apparition. You carefully surveyed your surroundings, with all your senses, to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She laughed and relaxed on an unseen couch, displaying her insides most peculiarly as she appeared to float. "Were you fucking another commoner? That's the third one this week!" She spoke in a high-status tongue, that betrayed her origins as the daughter of the Concubines' Guild.

On her end of the conversation, she was dressed in fine silken linens, her piercing green eyes looking at your shimmering naked form. You leaned against a wall, but to her, it seemed you were at a precarious angle. "I am merely following our father's command. To repopulate our kind far and wide."

"Yes, yes," she said, taking a drink from an imperceptible goblet, "father gave me the same spiel several months back, and that is why I am now 'blessed' with this figure."

You snickered. She rebuked your snicker and appeared to throw something in your general direction. "Do not take offense," you respond. "I find your full form very pleasing to the eye." That seemed to placate her. "Thank you, brother. I am not here to chastise you for fucking a wench - although you should give courtesans and concubines a try - but to warn you that the Orcs have expanded. They took out another village this evening."

You frowned. "I sensed it too. That is why I am off. Hopefully this village, and my progeny, survives the coming . But I will be far away when that occurs. To the edges of Argonia and perhaps beyond."

She frowned. "But you promised me your seed once father's has... removed itself."

"I will find you," you respond, "but my journeys won't be able to stop us from enjoying our practice sessions." A lustful sneer envelops your face, but is gone when your sister informs you that she had to see a client. Fucking concubines fucking clients.

The Skywheel was peeking over the Midland mountains, as the morning star vanished from sight. Some say the morning star was King Argon himself, watching over his children as they slept, and promising to return. You knew better. Your father was the greatest warlock in the continent of Argonia, and he taught all his children, through the power of astral projection, the true histories and the Magicks that had been lost thanks to King Argon and his War Against the Magis.

You found your fellow 'adventurers' at a boarding house near the outskirts of this city. They will not be happy to be awakened at dawn, but you must if you expect to beat the Orcish army with ample room to spare. Now is the time to invent a fake quest, to keep them in line.