The Messenger Fiction - October 15th 9PM EDT

EM RoenickEM Roenick Posts: 153Event Moderator
Petree finished adding in the finishing touches on his final potion stirring it once counter clockwise. After hearing that his King had been waiting on a messenger to bring him important news that was long overdue, he knew what he needed to do. Petree felt the need to atone for his attempts at the festival and knew that a simple locating potion would do the trick. Pouring the potion into two separate vials and placing them within his satchel he prepared to venture out of the castle to begin his quest. By taking the potion, it will guide Petree in the direction of the messenger until he is in the exact location. “I will prove that I can do what they are looking for and be the greatest replacement for Robert the Alchemist that they could ever dream of.” Reaching the bailey surrounding the Castle Petree tipped the vial of potion into his mouth and tried not to gag at the lingering taste. Whispering the name of the messenger “Winston Conner” three times he felt the undeniable urge to head west. Heading off in a hurried pace Petree cast one last glance at the castle behind him as he scurried along the path through the forest. Petree cast a glance up towards the moon hoping that it will light his way for his long journey ahead. Sooner than he would have expected Petree stopped dead in his tracks just alongside the Britain graveyard. Turning in a full circle waiting for the need to move Petree pulled his cloak closer hoping there were no grave robbers about. “This can’t be right.” Petree thought when he felt no pull in any direction. Maybe the effects of the potion had worn off already. Leaning against the fence Petree balanced his leather satchel atop his knee as he rummaged inside looking for his other vial. Pulling it from inside, a sudden caw from a crow started from a tree nearby Petree fumbled the vial in his hands before clutching it against his chest. “Stupid bird” he muttered as he pulled himself upright to give a look around. Prying at the cork on the vial Petree commended himself on how thorough he had been with his seal. Maybe a little too thorough he thought as he failed to remove the stopper. Thinking he could use his small dagger to help him pry it open, Petree reached beneath his cloak for the sheath upon his hip. Vial in one hand and dagger in the other Petree used the sharp tip to try and loosen the wedged cork from its resting place. Gasping in sudden pain as his hand slipped and he cut into his thumb Petree instinctively released his hold on the objects in his hands. With the sound of shattering glass Petree realized his quest had come to a fruitless end. Grasping the bars of the fence and hanging his head in regret Petree turned to return to the castle only to have his thoughts of trying again interrupted by a strange rustling noise and the smell of wet, fresh tilled dirt. Turning back to look around Petree sighed in embarrassment as he saw skeletal hands reaching towards the sky from inside the graveyard. “Oh my, looks like I have done it again.” Petree turned to run back to the castle to gather help.
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