Athial's Story, part 1

"Just another Day"

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Athial sat at a desk, head down, pen in one hand and a notebook in the other. The dim lighting of the library was the only thing letting him see what he was reading to begin with. The concept of a 'dimensional crossroad' intrigued the young man, and he wanted - no, needed - to know about it. Placing the notebook and pen together in the desk, he turned the page of the book he was reading. The diary and notes of another researcher, who too would've dreamed of learning more about the subject at hand.

It seemed as though every tiny little fact, any sort of kernel of knowledge was of use to him. Whenever he found something new, Athial would take the pen and notebook, and scribble it down for later. Tedious, yes, but it was worth it in the end. He knew that once he had enough information prepared, he would set out for further research, to allow those after him to learn and experience what he would.

Athial decided he'd had enough for the day. Closing the book, he picked it up in one hand and used his other to collect the notebook and pen. Placing his own notes into his breast pocket, he pushed his chair in as he went to leave, picking up his sword; sheathed, of course. Placing the weapon against the left side of his belt, partially froze the air, fixing the scabbard and blade to his waist. His other hand finally free, he let out a sigh and returned the book to its place, leaving the library in silence. It was a place of refuge, if nothing else, where every book was a completely different story, fictitious or not. Nothing but respect for those who gathered notes on any subject, though, he thought. It would've been a dangerous job under some circumstances, yet people were brave or foolhardy enough to do it anyway. To think, that some folks out there dedicated themselves years, too, all for finding a few facts about one given topic. It truly showed the will of some, didn't it? And yet, Athial wondered, was it really worth it? While it's true entirely new things could be found, it was just as likely that nothing would change. Years of research and work, for naught. Scary...

It was dark outside. Not necessarily night, but it was dark. And, surprisingly busy, too. To be fair, many others of the Brotherhood of Soul visited the main library when the had the chance, but never as religiously as Athial did. He looked up overhead, to the clouds. Spits and drops of rain began to fall around him, becoming heavier after a moment or two. "You like the rain, Ath, huh?" A voice called from behind him.
"Yeah," Athial said rather bluntly, a small smile sliding across his face, "I'm sure you like it too, Emile."
"It's not the worst thing in the world, I suppose." Emile replied, glowing green eyes easily visible in the shadow and sleet of the storm. "You've been reading a whole lot, lately, Ath. More than you usually do, too. What's up?" Emile asked once more, slicking his black hair back slightly. Athial didn't reply. He simply looked over his shoulder at the young boy, smiling. "Oh, damn! Ath's smiling, that's a new one." Emile joked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I smile..." Athial responded, turning his head back and beginning to walk.
"Not often. I mean, you're so quiet, and you always look so calm and in the moment. That's gotta be bad for you, man!"

Athial, a 1st Class, Tier 2 'soldier' of the Brotherhood of Soul. He was respected for his interesting style and manipulation of magic, something not many others had seen. He was quite young, himself, only 23 years old - the prime of his youth. He couldn't complain, and he lived a good life. Perfect, really. Emile, on the other hand, a 2nd Class, Tier 3 of the Brotherhood. He was still very 'little', only 17 years old, but he was heralded as some sort of prodigy, able to use a wide variety of magic skills with near-perfect precision. The two were friends, Athial often acting as an older brother to Emile.

As the two of them made their way through the city, rain still plummeting, Athial overheard something. He stopped dead in his tracks, crouched low to the ground and placed his index and middle finger to the earth. Athial shut his eyes, trying to detect something. It took a nearly a minute, but he had pinned down what he was looking for. He turned around and began walking, trying to find an alleyway. Emile looked on from a distance, head cocked to the side. "Ath, whatcha doing?" He asked, puzzled by what his friend was doing. Athial didn't respond, instead stood in front of the alleyway before him. Once again, he crouched low and placed fingers to the ground, attempting to truly pinpoint he had heard. "Come with me, but keep distance." He demanded, lightly gripping the hilt of his sword.

He entered the darkness before him, shutting his eyes and relying on sound to find what he was looking for. A beating, a robbery, some random act of violence. His eyes shot open, and he quickly ducked low behind a barricade of some kind. He looked over to Emile, and signaled for him to stay put, and stay silent. Emerging from his cover for only a moment, Athial quickly released his hand from his sword, extending an arm out towards one of the four thugs before him. By this point, he made no effort to stay un-noticed, clicking his fingers, massive shards of ice erupting from the ground and holding his foe captive. "If you were smart, you'll focus on me," he taunted, walking out to face the group, "but hey, I can work either way."
"You little bastard!" One of the thugs cried, producing a knife from inside a jacket. Rushing towards Athial, he stabbed outwards. In one fluid motion, Athial swooped out of the way, disarmed his attacker and tripped him up, tossing the knife that was used against him away. Still somewhat low to the ground, he placed a hand on his attackers chest, rings of ice forming around his wrists and ankles, preventing him from moving.

The remaining two thugs looked at each other for a moment, one running towards Athial, unarmed. Letting fly a punch, Athial swooped away again, kicking his attacker right in the back of knees. A cheap shot, but it worked. His foe dropped to the ground, and within an instant, was shoved into the floor. Another icy restrain, and only one thug remained.

"The hell do you think you are?" The remainder insulted, drawing what looked like a machete from a leather scabbard.
"Nobody special." Athial replied, gripping his blade tightly.
"...You feel like a big man, punk? Or just too chicken-shit to fight with a sword?!"
"I don't use this thing without rhyme or reason. There's needs to be method to madness, you know?" Athial replied, tightening his grip, ready to unsheathe the blade if he needed to.
"You should try madness sometime, kid, you might just love it."
"No." Athial stated, still keeping his hand on the sword.

Losing patience, the one last thug rushed towards Athial, swinging downwards with great zeal. A quick dodge to the side got Athial out of the way, but his attacker quickly swung in the direction he dodged. This time, Athial ducked low, diving forwards. As his attacker began his next slash, Athial drew his sword. The two blades locked, but soon ended when Athial shrugged the final opponent off balance. "This blade is a weapon; it's meant to kill. I don't draw it without a perfectly good reason behind it." He added, going to place the sword back in its sheathe, when his attacker got back up.
"You're stupid kid, I love it!" the thug began, picking his own blade from the ground. He twirled it in his hand once, and threw it towards Athial.

A click of the fingers, and the knife was suspended in midair, a shard of ice jutting out from the ground, catching it mid flight. Athial lowered his head, sheathing the weapon at last. More scared than anything else, the thug scrambled up to his feet and bolted. Shaking his head, disappointed, Athial decided to sit down beside one of the fallen - and trapped - thugs from earlier. "It will melt after long enough, and you'll be fine." He said, looking over his shoulder to those he had rescued. A small group of civilians, pressed up to the wall, still in a panic. "You can leave now, you're safe."