It was the perfect temperature for the date. The bringer of life, high upon the sky showered the glamorous verdant meadow with its golden rays, letting the dew upon the blades of grass gleam in its light. There was a faint morning nip, but the gilded rays warmed the meadow to the perfect temperature. The rays of light illuminated the picturesque scene around them; delicate blooms of violets, crimons, and indigios that all contrasted wonderfully with the crystal lagoon in front of them, surrounded by vibrant and lively flora. It was simply too perfect, and she was just as perfect. Despite the resplendent oasis that they sat upon, it was overshadowed by her beauty. Everything about her was simply jaw-dropping; her simple leather garb that was made for utility and movement that complimented her lithe but muscular form. The tumbling wave that was her auburn hair, and even her weaponry that she had stowed just in case; it was a part of who she was that he was so deeply infatuated with. And he could never tire of her extraordinary visage; her elongated ears that held her hair back from her angular, elven features, her gentle and confident smile that beheld a small dimple at her cheek, and, of course, her gilded irises that outshined the sun. All of it was too perfect, and he felt his heart leap as she reached out to gently caress his cheek. 

       But it hurt. 

       He winced, not quite understanding as it felt almost like tiny claws were digging into his cheek. But the pain faded as her smile filled him with a warmth and comfort that made the pain melt away. And then those claws began to dig deeper and pull, and with that pain, Puvhal was shunted away from his dream.

       Instinctually Puvhal reached out to push away Archimedes, who had his paw pushed against Puvhal’s cheek, slowly digging his claws deeper and deeper into Puvhal’s skin.  But Puvhal’s grey palm was roughly three times the size of Archimedes’ head, and he was pushed off into the air, his two leathery wings flapping wildly as he caught himself and held himself aloft.

       “Mmmrrgrreeoow,” Archimedes responded with a grumpy growling meow. With a hefty and groggy groan Puvhal pulled at his eyelids.

       “Oh my Gods Archimedes I was trying to sleep in today, was this really necessary?” Puvhal grumbled, glaring directly at his familiar, an adult balinese cat with two leathery bat-like wings and striking blue eyes that matched his own. In response, Archimedes just growled, his eyes darting downstairs, then back to Puvhal.

       “What do you mean we have a visitor…” Puvhal muttered, furrowing his hairless, tattooed brows and massaging his equally tattooed and hairless scalp before he heard the small chime of a silver bell that sounded almost ethereal.

       “Oh fuckin’ hell,” Puvhal groaned as he quickly got out of the queen-sized bed that fit him comfortably, fumbling around for his glasses before squinting upwards to see Archimedes flapping in front of him, holding his copper rimmed, round glasses. Puvhal very gently took them, nodding in thanks as Archimedes flew off to grab his coat. In his fingers, the glasses looked like a toy, but they were a necessity for him, as he gingerly placed them upon his nose. 

       As if right on cue, one of his crystal containers hissed by his bed frame, attached to the central piping system that ran through his home, and began to drain the quartz and silver liquid within, as a programmed illusion started and he could hear his own voice from downstairs, in a much more formal and well-put-together tone.

       “Good day Sir or Madam, you’ve happened upon Alchemist, Collector, and Transmuter Puvhal Bright-Eye Vuma Thunaka’s household. In a few moments I’ll be down there to join you, but first I should give you a fair warning of my size. Please do not let it alarm you, and as a fellow scholar and rather intelligent-looking individual, you should recall that Giant-kin, in any form, do not in any way have violent or cannibalistic tendencies, so please, do not scream.” 

       During this monologue, Puvhal quickly dressed himself, putting on well-tailored brown slacks, black oxfords, a buttoned up shirt, and raising his right arm instinctually right as Archimedes mechanically let go of the coat he had fetched, which was lined perfectly so Puvhal’s arm slip right into the coat and catch it on his shoulder. Before he put his left arm through, he eyed the three inch long hollow syringe that was attached to a rubber tube leading to some kind of receiving contraption, with six half-inch wide, five inch tall, brass and crystal cylinders that held various mineral liquids. A silvery quartz mixture, a aquamarine and stone mixture, a topaz and ruby mixture, a sapphire and diamond mixture, a citrine and azurite mixture, and a gold and leaded mixture.

       “Mreow.”

       “You’re right, we won’t need it. Probably a messenger of some kind,” he muttered as he put his left arm through the coat, flattening it against his chest. And with an affirmative meow, Archimedes glided down and landed onto Puvhal’s left shoulder, where there was leather padding for his claws. 

       As Puvhal made his way downstairs, he glanced over at Archimedes, “I was having a good dream you know. I could always just poof you away. You’re not the boss of me.”

       Archimedes just stared back at Puvhal, very slowly narrowing his eyelids.

       “Just because I said it was a ‘good dream,’ does not mean it was about Kysira,” Puvhal pretended to scoff, not at all fooling Archiemedes who just continued to stare in silence as his eyelids got narrower and narrower as Puvhal descended the stairs.

       “…stop that, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

       Finally arriving at the front door, he opened it up, faintly wincing and expecting a scream. But instead, about two feet shorter than himself, he found a well put-together human man in his late thirties, wearing purple and gilded robes, with a silver rune in his hand. As opposed to the visitor screaming at the sight of him, this was the other situation that he had always come to expect.

       “Fascinating… you use Illusionary Magic to create a repeated message,” the messenger said, Puvhal chuckling in response as he tilted his glasses.

       “Illusion is not only used to deceive and to mask, it also has a variety of other uses and applications. I assume you’re not here just to marvel at my magical creations?” Puvhal inquired.

       “That cat that sits upon your shoulder… that must be an amazing feat of necromancy. Do you have an artifact to supplement such a creation, or a living conduit it draws from?” The messenger questioned further, ignoring Puvhal’s question.

       “Actually, Archimedes here is not from a necromantic origin. He is of a transmutative origin. He is a homunculus that I had crafted myself, made of clay,” Puvhal explained as he pet Archimedes, who purred, then displaying his palm outwards to the messenger to show that there was no hair that had been shed.

       “Incredible! Such craftsmanship would require such delicate hands, you must’ve had hired someone very skilled-”

       “I did it myself,” Puvhal interjected, “Yes, I know. I’m a Goliath. Yes, I can do magic. Yes, I made him by myself with no one’s help. Are there any other questions that you Dwimor are going to ask me again, or do you actually have a task for me to do? I would’ve thought by now you’d send the same few people, not a different messenger every time.”

       The Dwimor messenger bowed his head ever-so slightly. “Of course. My apologies. May I come in?”

       “By all means,” Puvhal said as he led him into his main dining area, whispering back to Archimedes, “Please start some tea for our guest.”

       Archimedes let out an affirmative mew before flying off into the kitchen, the familiar hissing sound echoing through the house as another cylinder was drained, and water began to boil.

       As Puvhal sat down on his wooden chair that was roughly three times the size of the one the messenger sat on, the messenger couldn’t help but continually side eye Puvhal before finally clearing his throat and inquiring, “Just exactly how tall are you?”

       Puvhal buried his face in his hands and spoke in muffled groans, “Oh my Gods, I’m 7’5 for the hundredth time. Do you actually have work for me?” 

       “My apologies. Yes I do,” the Dwimor messenger stated before beginning to explain, “As you know, I represent the Dwimor Institute of the Arcane, and we have need of your services as a Collector once more.”

       Puvhal nodded, feeling his attention beginning to wane.

       “One of the seven artifacts of Kokkaum the Undying Skull has recently… left our possession and we wish to re-possess it. This would be the Skull of Tenebrae, the second least powerful out of the seven artifacts. We believe that the acquisition of such an artifact…”

       And the Dwimor messenger droned on and on about the facts of the Skull of Tenebrae along with other boring and useless information, and Puvhal instead found his mind wandering towards Kysira. Last he had seen her, he was doing a task as a Collector as well, but he didn’t get the chance to ask. It was such a perfect moment, they had both worked together, they had survived and used each other’s skills and no one died, and he just clammed up and couldn’t say anything. Ugh. Of course he didn’t say anything. For being a Goliath that was supposed to be a descendant of a Giant, he wasn’t very brave. Instead he spent all of his time on books, and who likes a half-giant for how literate he is? People expect giants to do cool stuff, like punch bears or whatever, but no, instead he learned the alchemical properties of precious metals and how to distill the magical essence that exists within them, and grant an individual extended magical capabilities or magical capabilities in the first place if they had none. Boring to pretty much everyone in this damn city, and he was sure she thought the same.

       But Puvhal’s attention was immediately drawn back with one phrase, “… In addition to this request, we have also contacted Kysira to hopefully expedite the return of this artifact. We do not believe that this task should require the cooperation of multiple Collectors, nor shall we pay both if such is the case. Whoever may bring back the artifact in question will be rewarded accordingly, reduced if any of the Dwimor assets have been damaged.” 

       During this time, the Dwimor messenger was drinking tea that Archimedes had brought down a few minutes ago whilst Archimedes simply sat and glared at Puvhal, throughout the time that he was not paying attention, his tail flicking aggressively behind him.

       “Uh… Right. By assets, do you mean civilians or hired guards..?” Puvhal inquired.

       The Dwimor messenger just blinked in a lack of understanding. “No, we mean the Artifact itself. The city or its inhabitants are none of our concern. The artifact should not be damaged.”

       “Rrright. Got it. Well, I’ll be off to prepare then. It’s an… obsidian skull… with… ruby eyes… right?” Puvhal asked, looking back to Archimedes and back to the messenger with each word, Archimedes just continually glaring at him as his eyes began to narrow again.

       “Yes. Its host is a young baker from a commoner’s family. You need not worry about his family grieving, he has no family left to grieve for him by his own accord,” the Dwimor messenger said matter-of-factly, before standing up and giving a slight bow.

       “Thank you again for accepting this task Puvhal, we wish you the best of luck. Thank you for the tea,” And with that, the Dwimor messenger left. 

       Archimedes continued to glare at Puvhal for a few more moments before slowly moving his paw to push one of the cups of tea off the table, causing to clatter on the ground, whilst he kept full contempt-filled eye contact with Puvhal.

       “It’s not my fault that he is so incredibly boring! But that’s one of the reasons why I have you Archimedes!” 

       Archimedes glared.

       “So, thank you!”

       Archimedes just continued to glare at Puvhal, unmoving.

       “I’ll clean that up later though, that’s only fair,” Puvhal muttered as he quickly turned around from the unceasing judgmental gaze of Archimedes and began to walk upstairs once more towards his workshop. As he sat down on his bed, he grabbed the golden syringe and pulled off his coat, taking a deep breath. As he exhaled he slowly pushed the syringe into the bend of his elbow, wincing as he pushed all three inches of the hollow syringe in. Then, very carefully, he whispered a few arcane incantations, drawing intricate symbols around the point of entry as he expended all of his natural magical energy to temporarily bond the gold to his skin, the syringe becoming a part of him. Shaking his arm, then his whole body, he threw on his coat once more, this time putting on a leather belt where he slotted the six cylinders into, and connected them all to the rubber tube that ran from his arm.

       “Okay, let’s find that Skull Archimedes,” he said with a soft smile, finding a gentle feeling of fulfillment as he was back at work.

       “Basic divination should do…” Puvhal muttered. “Archimedes could you grab-” And as he turned to tell Archimedes, he was already there hovering with his wings, holding a two-pronged stick.

       “Thank you,” Puvhal said with a smile, as he took the two-pronged stick and walked into the next room over; into his workspace. With ease, he hefted a large brass basin in the center of the workshop, and began muttering the formulaic phrases of the arcane whilst re-directing magical energy created through a series of somatic gestures. As if it were second nature, he drew a few simple mathematical mandalas that built and connected off of each other, as the sapphire and diamond mixture traveled up the rubber tube and into his arm, causing a calm, magical wellspring of water to conjure within the basin, filling itself up with crystal clear water. As soon as it reached the edge of the basin, all of the mandalas were completed and dissipated along with the wellspring as the simple spell was completed. Puvhal then took a deep breath, clearing his mind as he prepared to divine. 

       Tracing his fingers along the edges of the basin, he began to once again draw complex formulas of the arcane, muttering incantations under his breath as the citrine and azurite cylinder began to drain, a little faster than the sapphire and diamond previously, and travelling up the rubber tube and into his arm. And as he finished the incantation, the runes he had drawn on the edges of the basin glowed a bright yellow, as the water began to boil and change color. As it boiled and bubbled, its consistency changed to that of a thick and frothy liquid that glimmered like citrine. Puvhal then took the two-pronged stick, and placed it in the center of the basin, beginning to add more steps and phrases to the incantation. The space between the two prongs began to glow brightly as the frothy liquid began to swirl around it, suddenly changing to every color of the rainbow, and parts of it becoming solid matter.

       “Obsidian skull… ruby eyes… obsidian skull… ruby eyes…” Puvhal muttered, his eyes fluttering closed, as he began to produce the desired image in his head. The more he muttered the same phrase, the more the liquid began to mold and contort, now suspended out of the basin and changing into a greyish black coloration whilst condensing into the shape of a ball.

       “Obsidian skull… ruby eyes… obsidian skull… ruby eyes…” Puvhal continued to mutter, grinning to himself as he briefly opened an eye to take a glimpse of his successful divination thus far. The liquid now condensed completely into a solid, with the same coloration of obsidian. All he needed was the ruby eyes, and he could get started on this task. All he needed was the eyes and maybe he could see Kysira. 

       It was if his breath stolen for a brief moment, and with a soft smile he forgot about the ritual, and he just thought about her stunningly beautiful golden eyes. How perceptive they were, how easily she could spot weakness and chase after it. It was extraordinary.

       And the liquid in front of him began to shift, the eye sockets of the obsidian skull filling with gold. At this point, Archimedes immediately growled and flapped one of his wings across the face of Puvhal, causing him to briefly recoil and open his eyes to see what he was beginning to divine.

       “Shit. Right,” Shaking his head, he focused once more, this time clearing his head of beautiful Kysira, and imagining ruby eyes. And as the last of the liquid formed into an obsidian skull with ruby eyes, with runes along the sides of it, the incantation was complete. And the skull itself that had formed disappeared into a flash of mist and bubbles that drift down and wrapped around the two-pronged stick like wet silk. Immediately the stick, like a needle on a compass, turned directly Eastward, before very slowly moving towards the North.

       “Archimedes, let’s get going! Looks like it’s moving!” Puvhal said as he began to run down the stairs, the now complete divining rod floating directly beside his hand. Archimedes flew quickly onto Puvhal’s padded shoulder, as Puvhal closed the door and stepped onto the cobbled streets of the Noblemen’s district, faint music and revelry not reaching Puvhal’s ears as he followed the path laid before him by his divining rod.

       It was only about two hours of walking before Puvhal heard the sobbing and the whipping of wind around the corner. At this point the divining rod he had produced was coated in citrine lines that threatened to shatter it, but it had led him out of the Noblemen’s district and into the rest of the city. Instead of a neatly cleaned cobbled path, the floor was mostly bedrock and dirt, with occasional cobbled stone paths leading into slightly larger buildings that hugged the street corners, competing for space with dozens of ramshackle buildings made of patchwork wood and stone. There was no music to be heard, and it was a lot busier, the sounds of labor and construction filled the air, if not for the sobbing and the sudden crashing of something made of wood and brick that hit the ground. Puvhal, wincing at the sound around the corner, simply waved his hand, ending his concentration on the divining rod, as the citrine lines let out a brief flash of energy as they overtook the stick, which shattered into burnt splinters. Very briefly, Puvhal turned his head around the corner, to get a glimpse of what was to come. He saw a malnourished young boy, hunched over and sitting down with his legs crossed, sobbing into his hands. His head looked pitch black underneath his hair, and his scalp reflected the light of the sun. Surrounding the boy were maybe a dozen mangled corpses, ripped and torn asunder. Around the boy was a ruined courtyard of his own making, as destroyed brick, stone, and wood littered the ground. What was once an alleyway, was now a graveyard of buildings and people alike. As one of the buildings most recently torn asunder began to teeter, bricks beginning to fall from it and it finally leaning over and falling just a little closer to the boy, a tendril of inky black darkness erupted from the shivering lips of the boy, that lashed out so quickly it sounded like a whip rending the air, as it shattered the piece of building that threatened to come even an inch closer to the boy.

       Puvhal took a deep breath, and turned back around the corner, muttering a few phrases to himself, “Possession of some kind, we will need to get close… seems to be focused on self preservation…”

       As Puvhal was thinking Archimedes eyed a piece of stone rubble in the alleyway on the ground in front of him, and with a flying spin, he thwacked the stone piece towards the ruins before jumping back to Puvhal. Immediately the lashing of a whip so fast it could be breaking the sound barrier was heard just beyond the corner, as the shattered tiny pieces of stone rubble littered the alleyway. Archimedes let out a very soft meow before looking back at Puvhal.

       Puvhal chuckled nervously and nodded, “You’re right, it is very focused on self preservation. Should we just try and talk to the boy?”

       Archimedes just stared at Puvhal, his eyes just barely beginning to narrow.

       “You never know! It could work…” Puvhal muttered as he stepped out into the ruined courtyard, Archimedes immediarely began hissing and trying to bite his slacks to pull him back but to no avail.

       “Hey young man? If you’re in there you might want to try and resist that thing on your head!”

       As soon as Puvhal began to speak, the boy’s head jerked in less than a second to face Puvhal, the rest of the boy’s body almost caught off guard and being forcibly pulled with it, as if hanging off of the weight of his head. Puvhal could now see that the skin of the boy’s head was obsidian that beheld ruby eyes that seemed to glare at Puvhal angrily. And behind those ruby eyes were a set of deep brown eyes, laden with misery and tears that made Puvhal hesitate. But before he could continue, the Skull opened the boy’s mouth, and out of it poured another tendril of darkness that rushed at Puvhal.

       “Nope! Okay!” Puvhal exclaimed as he instinctively raised his hands, quickly completing an arcane mandala in the air and muttering a few words under his breath as the aquamarine and stone mixture was drawn from, producing a shimmering field of arcane force in front of him that the tendril lashed at before dissipating. Grimacing, Puvhal slammed his right hand into the ground shifting his hand in a clockwise motion while his fingers each independently drew arcane glyphs upon the floor as he drew from the topaz and ruby mixture. In but half a second, he closed his fingers into a fist, as twelve broken stones and bricks rose from the ground, surrounded by a crimson glow, before flying directly at the boy.

       The Skull just continually forced the boy’s mouth open as darkness poured out, producing several tendrils that all lashed out, destroying the stones that Puvhal had sent flying at him. Not taking any time to waste, Puvhal began to dash towards the boy while it was distracted by the incoming projectiles. He knew he had to get his hands on the Skull in order to banish it from the boy, but the Skull was far faster than he. In just a brief moment after dealing with the stone fodder, several more black tendrils rose and whipped out simultaneously towards Puvhal. In reaction, he drew twice as much from the aquamarine and stone mixture than before, producing another shield of arcane force that protected him from the various blows. As the arcane shield faded, Puvhal saw several more tendrils already formed and beginning to rush towards him, and he quickly realized shields would not work for so long. He rose his hand to the sky, letting loose a string of garbled arcane phrasing once more as his fingers intertwined to create a complex arcane sigil above him, as he drew from the gold and leaded mixture. Just before the inky black whips lashed out against his flesh, Puvhal was surrounded by a blinding blue light as his flesh, clothes, and entire person all became tiny bright cerulean motes of light. The whips lashed against the new form Puvhal beheld, but it was akin to trying to cut fog, as the motes just floated back into place as the tendrils faded. Puvhal only had a few seconds while in this form, and he slowly floated backwards, as the Skull produced more and more tendrils in preparation for flesh to reform.

       Puvhal cursed himself for putting himself in such a vulnerable position, as those tendrils would probably lash at him as soon as the light faded, and they would come before his hands could make another sigil. But at least it could give him a little more time to think. But before Puvhal could think of what to do next, the Skull whipped around to the opposite direction, dragging the boy’s body with it, practically limp. Puvhal’s eyes widened as he saw a familiar elven woman beginning to dash towards the boy. Kysira was sprinting head-on, her hair tied back, shifting her weight to expertly dodge out of the way of incoming black whips, crouching, sliding, and jumping through the air, all while having a near impenetrable defense through a mastery of predicting, dodging, and attacking as she was threw six inch dagger after dagger at the boy, forcing the Skull to parry them. Puvhal was so enraptured by the grace of her movements, how easily she could shift her weight, dodging, running, jumping, and fighting that he scarcely noticed his form beginning to become physical once more, and the whip of darkness that came for him at a blinding speed, inches from rending Puvhal’s head from his body.

       With the shattering of stone, Archimedes leap in front of Puvhal, before slamming into the ground to the size of Puvhal, one of Archimedes’ wings and two of his legs ripped off and in crumbled tatters, revealing clay and stone as opposed to flesh. Archimedes just hissed in frustration at Puvhal, who shook his head, focused, and ran towards the boy, not nearly as fast as Kysira, but not drawing the Skull’s immediate attention. With the Skull distracted, Puvhal once again drew from the aquamarine and stone mixture, creating fractions of arcane shields to simply parry incoming tendrils. As Kysira and Puvhal each got closer to the Boy, for a brief moment they locked eyes. Puvhal made an awkward half smile grin chuckle, while Kysira just raised an eyebrow in confused amusement, before she deftly reached into one of the pockets of her leather armor and tossed a bright glowing stone that collided with the Skull. As soon as it made contact, a dozen lightning bolts sprung from the stone as it burst open, the lightning-like energy redirecting itself to wrap around the Skull, causing the boy’s body to convulse and shudder as the Skull was held in place.

       With a smirk, Kysira reached the boy first, jumping forward as she wrapped her legs around his neck, using her own bodyweight to slam him to the floor, as she braced her legs against his neck and grabbed the base of the boy’s jaw. She then began to pull with her arms and push with her legs, the Skull angrily frothing with darkness that could not penetrate the quickly-fading lightning-like energy that held it in place.

       As the boy’s neck muscles began to strain, getting closer to ripping, Puvhal, still a good distance away shouted, “Wait!”

       Put off by Puvhal, Kysira hesitated, as the Skull began to angrily chatter, the shadowy whips beginning to push past the lightning-like energy that held it back. As Puvhal got closer and closer, he began stringing together a web of different arcane formulas, leaving glyphs and mandalas throughout the air as he ran, connecting them all and drawing from every mixture he had at his disposal before finally reaching the boy, just as the lightning-like energy faded away. But Puvhal reached it just in time, slamming his palm on the forehead of the boy and completing the spell. With a flash of brilliant light Puvhal, Kysira, and the boy were all pushed back from the energy released. In Kysira’s hands, was the Skull, and in Puvhal’s hands, was the unconscious boy.

       There was a moment of stunned silence as Kysira and Puvhal both caught their breath.

       “Thanks,” Kysira said with a smirk, as she tossed the Skull in the air, catching it with her other hand. “That thing was fast, and I don’t even think I was fast enough to get to it without you there.”

       “Yeah, you should’ve seen me before you got here. Couldn’t even get half as close as you,” Puvhal said with a nervous smile.

       “Well, thank the Gods for your arcane skills. It really did help,” Kysira paused before adding a more genuine and simple, “Thank you,” with a soft smile.

       “No uh… not a worry. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for your help,” Puvhal fumbled, scratching the back of his head, as those two words hit him harder than any of the black tendrils that he had deflected. Barely gaining his composure he added, “Yeah. Thanks for your help too. Don’t think I could’ve handled this one alone.”

       There was a pause as they both awkwardly stood up, Puvhal gently setting the unconscious kid aside.

       “Sorry I can’t split this one with ya,” Kysira said with an apologetic smile, tossing the Skull in the air.

       “That’s okay.” This was his moment. He should do it. He should ask her here. They just worked together. She seemed genuinely happy that he was there, she took a second to actually thank him genuinely. He should do it. No, he was going to do it. He wouldn’t let his chance slip away again. And a few awkward seconds passed as he gathered his courage and finally opened his mouth.

       “I’m gonna get going,” Kysira said, “Got a payment to get, you know?”

       Puvhal closed his mouth, his bravery dying down.

       “Yeah, of course,” he said with a forced smile.

       “See you around,” Kysira said, a tinge of regret in her voice as she turned and walked away.

       “See you…” he muttered, as he sat on the ground and watched her walk away. Archimedes slowly limped up and let out a soft meow as he rubbed his head against Puvhal’s leg.

       “Yeah…. Next time for sure.”