Conor headed out from the Hydromancer's tower, the tallest building in his village. He headed to the Bazaar to get supplies for his father. On returning, he saw the door was slightly ajar. Stepping slowly, he ascended the stairs to his father's room. Trying to makeno noise, he entered.



"Hello?" he asked, suspicion echoing through his voice.



He found his father lying on the ground, his skin pale and wrinkled. He rushed over to his father's frail body.



"Dad?" he whispered, tears already falling.



His father rasped and pointed to the window, "He came up behind me, I didnt hear him, I didnt hear him" he sobbed. "I don't have much time left, I fear he his too strong for you on your own, you must enlist the help of fellow mancers"



"I will" Conor sobbed



The dying words of his father echoed through his mind "The one in the shadows must be brought into the light".



Then his father lay there, lifeless. Conor donned the saphire robes of the Hydromancer, the robes he shouldn't wear until he was 18, almost 2 years away. He packed his provisions and ran out the door, ignoring the townspeople's greetings. They'd soon find out why. And so, Conor traversed road after road with endless fervor only to run into a group of thieves.



"Give us your money and no one will get hurt" the Brute of the group shouted". The brute was easily 6 foot tall, broad chested and arms Conor thought were bigger than him.



"I'd like to see you try, I am not having the best day" Conor snarled.



And in that instant, the thieves circled him, little did they know of Conor's true character. And so Conor let the Mana flow, his hands turning blue. The water being carried from nearby plants like thin streams, with a flick of his wrists, the water cascaded like two whips, lascerating two of the attackers, both fell down with a thud.



A sound from behind was met with a surge of water to the lungs, rendering the thug unconscious. All that remained was the Brute, sweat trailing down his forehead,



"You think your party trick's scare me?" he bellowed "I could spit more than that!" His eyes betrayed his tough exterior, Conor could see his true fear.



"But what could I do with that spit? Puncture a vein, artery, bone?" Conor grinned "It's your choice!"



Dagger in hand, the Brute lunged. With a quick side-step and some water nearby. Conor formed a little Sword and placed it right between two ribs.



Conor walked away smiling, only to hear the sound of a slumping body echo through the woods. He headed north to the next town, hoping he'd find the Necromancer.....