Great Eastern Forest, Posiil, 1437 ATC

Venser Karkaldwin sighed and peered over the cliffside.

Below him, surrounded by the untamed wilds of the east, the great monoliths that bordered a nearby set of stone ruins were scattered. Trunks were uprooted where the blocks had smashed their way through. The ruins themselves were little more than a pile of rubble, barely visible behind a column of black cloud.

He dusted off his grey tunic and grabbed his darker grey traveler's cloak, noticing the bottom of his cape was singed. It was going to take forever to get out the soot stains, though, it didn't matter due to the color of the tunic in the long run. Still, he thought, looking down at his shining prize, it had all been worth it.

A satisfied grin came over his bearded face, Venser was about to reach down and pick up the talisman when he heard leaves shuffle nearby. He looked left and right, along the row of trees on either side.

"Whose there?" He called out. "Come on out!" Greentusks? Panther people? Bandits?

ZZTTTTTTT!

The bearded man reinforced his short sword with magical green lightning and prepared for an attack.

Nothing moved for a while. The man kept absolutely still, his mark glowing greenish white and emitting steam, ready to cast a spell at a second's notice.

The bushes erupted behind the bearded man. He only just had time to duck when something hummed over his head and struck the nearest fig trunk. The wood split clean in half. The top of the trunk plummeted down the cliff, and the man's emerald slitted eyes widened after it. Venser's head turned to face the attacker.

"Eh? Who are you?'''

"Isn't it wonderful?" The voice belonged to a hooded man in a purple robe who in one hand, gripped a rare and powerful artifact. The blade attached to it looked like a shard of stone and glowed with a pale, lilac color, and the man wielded it with disturbing grace and strength, clearly no stranger to swordsmanship.

''I've heard of many royal families owning at least one of our blades... Such a rare thing these days. This is a proud family heirloom of mine. Even after all these centuries, it's so sharp it can cut a man's head clean off his shoulders." There was a hum as it sliced through the air, leaving glowing lilac contrails. "Care to see a demonstration?"

"And I thought I spoke too much..." Venser braced his legs, narrowing his emerald eyes. He had seen one of those before. An ancient Kundalandian sword, which belonged to a long gone race of neko people who were known to create exquisite and powerful tools, weapons, and structures from ordinary rock. Their magic, the things they left behind were advanced and were always in great demand. He had had of certain royal houses that had one of these Kundalandian swords as treasured family heirlooms of their own, passed down from generation to generation and held in the highest of regard, and often had a storied history behind them as well as a fancy name.

"Maybe so, good sir." The man said. ''But those are the last words you will ever speak."

The brute lunged forwards. Venser reared back, legs wide apart. His neck just avoided the very tip of the blade before he took a step back too far, and fell backwards and disappeared over the cliff edge. ''Ahhh whopp!''

Headfirst he fell, seeing the sea of green spidery leaves rise up to meet him. Venser grinned at the feel of his messy raven hair flapping all around his face, the wind against him. He wished, sometimes, that cliffs could be taller, just so that he could enjoy the rush of air for longer.

His mark flashed greenish white and emitted more steam, lighting up before he disappeared in a puff of thick red smoke in midair.

On the cliff edge, the man watched his teleportation act with narrowed eyes. Venser saw him hack at the surrounding vegetation in fury and waved down cheerfully. "Better luck next time!"

''Disappointing! I wanted a good fight!'' He was only frustrated for a fleeting moment, before the strange in the purple robe gave him a simple, amused smile and placed his arms behind his back. ''I will be watching with great interest!'' That was all he heard before the purple clouds of sunset obscured his view.

The bearded man disappeared again, up onto another cliffside and up into a tree, climbing it whilst teleporting onto the branches above until he reached the very top. Below him, hills and valleys of clouds spread out and drifted. It was wonderfully cool up here. as refreshing as a dip in a crystal clear pool in the tropics. He could hear the calls of a variety of forest birds as though they were all around him but that was just the echo from the canopy far below. Up here, he was felt strangely at piece admiring the beauty of nature.

Venser let out a slow sigh, holding up the prized talisman, which was made of stone and lilac crystal. He knew full well what this was, and where it came from, sort of. One thing the bearded man knew for sure is that they really loved this color.  And he knew this would fetch good coin from scholars, and that was all that mattered.