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Description
Chapter One - The Shindig

~Six Months Ago~

The captive was a young man with long brown hair flowing freely to both sides of him, dressed in a dark brown leather duster with a green shirt underneath, and had a pair of tan khakis meeting into the cuffs of two heavy leather boots. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, taking in the bright light and the absence of sound within a room he couldn't quite adjust himself to, until it focused on one definite figure, a tall dark-haired man standing in front of him, wearing a flowing black robe, with silver accents on it. The man smiled.

"About time." The dark-haired man spoke with a smile on his deeply tanned skin. The captive tried to speak, however, his voice came out slurred.

"Waho aru youuu?" he tried to say.

The dark haired man laughed lightly. "Sorry about that, last time I tried to capture you, I sent a battalion of Sage-Nobodies out to get you and I sort of lost control of them. Needless to say, you do remember the attack on Montessor a few days ago, correct? The one, you, young and talented, Haxacryz, were able to stop?"

Haxacryz's senses finally adjusted themselves. He was sitting down, chained to a small wooden chair, in the middle of an empty wooden room with an unknown source of light shining in from the ceiling. He glared at the man in front of him, upon hearing that he was responsible for the mysterious attack on his home, and tried to squirm his way out of his bindings.

"Not going to work." the dark-haired man said, matter-of-factly. "They are made of Oricalcum, hardest stuff in the multiverse."

Haxacryz stopped for a brief moment and sent another harsh glare at his capturer. "Who are you and how do you know my name?" He spat, angrily.

The man laughed again in response. A gesture, Haxacryz found to be getting old. "First of all, your name is on your glove correct?" Haxacryz glanced at the black leather gloves he wore on his hands, and saw his name imprinted in shimmering letters on his left glove. Silently he cursed himself for not selling the blasted things when he entered Montressor a year ago.

The man continued. "Second of all, my name is Xegas and I am going to die in seven months."

Description
Chapter One - The Shindig

~Six Months Ago~

The captive was a young man with long brown hair flowing freely to both sides of him, dressed in a dark brown leather duster with a green shirt underneath, and had a pair of tan khakis meeting into the cuffs of two heavy leather boots. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, taking in the bright light and the absence of sound within a room he couldn't quite adjust himself to, until it focused on one definite figure, a tall dark-haired man standing in front of him, wearing a flowing black robe, with silver accents on it. The man smiled.

"About time." The dark-haired man spoke with a smile on his deeply tanned skin. The captive tried to speak, however, his voice came out slurred.

"Waho aru youuu?" he tried to say.

The dark haired man laughed lightly. "Sorry about that, last time I tried to capture you, I sent a battalion of Sage-Nobodies out to get you and I sort of lost control of them. Needless to say, you do remember the attack on Montessor a few days ago, correct? The one, you, young and talented, Haxacryz, were able to stop?"

Haxacryz's senses finally adjusted themselves. He was sitting down, chained to a small wooden chair, in the middle of an empty wooden room with an unknown source of light shining in from the ceiling. He glared at the man in front of him, upon hearing that he was responsible for the mysterious attack on his home, and tried to squirm his way out of his bindings.

"Not going to work." the dark-haired man said, matter-of-factly. "They are made of Oricalcum, hardest stuff in the multiverse."

Haxacryz stopped for a brief moment and sent another harsh glare at his capturer. "Who are you and how do you know my name?" He spat, angrily.

The man laughed again in response. A gesture, Haxacryz found to be getting old. "First of all, your name is on your glove correct?" Haxacryz glanced at the black leather gloves he wore on his hands, and saw his name imprinted in shimmering letters on his left glove. Silently he cursed himself for not selling the blasted things when he entered Montressor a year ago.

The man continued. "Second of all, my name is Xegas and I am going to die in seven months."