To get Zethyla 2 – A safe journey.

Uklag looks at the clear blue sky above him only a few clouds with chaotic shapes that could be interpreted into something grander by lesser minds that believe in superstition drive by as he lies there. He lets out a long yawn that is rudely interrupted by a bump on the road.

“Damned be these badly maintained side routes.” Uklag mumbles and looks at his driver, a forty-year-old farmer woman. “I can hear your sobbing from here, it ruins my mood.” He says, “Truth be told though I am quite impressed you can even do that much, the necklace I **** unto you should make you a braindead driver. Good willpower you have there.” The woman can only increase her sobbing in response as her dead kids cart rolls over the stony road.

A small wood envelopes them and Uklag grunts disapprovingly as the needled tree tops impede on his vision. He does not like trees so concentrated at one spot and any amount of time that he spends in a forest is too much time already. Sadly he is also heading into one of the biggest forests in the known world. He sighs and closes his eyes.

He opens them again when he hears a manly warcry. “Urgh.” He says and massages his forehead. “STOP WOMAN!” A deep voice screams. The cart comes to a halt. “Ah, dammit that is right, the necklace makes you obey everyone, doesn’t it? Not my best piece of work.”

“We will take your cargo and…” Uklag sits up, the five men that surround the cart look in confusion at the robbed figure that suddenly appears from the high wooden frame of the cart. Uklag leans on the frame and looks at the bunch. It was a typical band of rooky bandits, equipped with makeshift weapons like hammers or pickaxes. Exactly the kind that has been increasingly popping up ever since the successful heist on Arlheim catapulted the bear-man’s reputation to the moon.

“Look, the cargo disagrees.” Uklag says and yawns, “I was about to sleep here so let’s make it short.” The rooky bandits are too new at their ‘job’ to deal with this situation. Well, even seasoned bandits would at least be confounded. “There is no cargo but me.” He points at his brown face. “My robes.” He points at the red cloth, “My staff.” He raises the black glass rod, “And this bag.” He shows them a backpack filled with food and other supplies.

Last of bit might have been a mistake; the bandits hungrily eye the back and creep closer. “You really don’t want to try.” “Try robbing a weirdo and an old woman? I think I will.” Suddenly the man screams in pain and holds his shoulder. Blood is dripping from a wound that is not quite sure how it got there, only thing he can be sure of it that there is a sharp piece of ice stuck in his shoulder.

Uklag lowers his index finger again. “You surely heard about Arlheim, yes?” The men nod. “And of the bear-man?” More nods. “I am the mage that destroyed the gate.” Stunned silence. “Any more intention to rob me?” Shaking heads, “Good. We will continue our journey then.”

Uklag disappears inside the wooden frame again as he lies down. The woman, still crying, spurs on the two mules in front of the cart and they start to move again. Uklag takes a small knife from the back and carves a line into the cart, joining the other two already there. “Three bands in eleven days, I hope you want chaos Ulric because you sure as hell are causing it.”