Drokore's Unexpected Visitors

The evening tranquility of the Fey was beginning to settle in as the last rays of the day were consumed by the encroaching twilight. Wizard #959 was at home, enjoying the comforting routine of packing his pipe with his favorite Fey-grown tobacco when he was interrupted by the protective growl of Ace. His trusty companion had a keen instinct for strangers, and his playful bark had transformed into a low warning growl.

Peering out the window, Drokore saw the silhouettes of two figures approaching his secluded abode. The setting sun cast long shadows that danced with the strangers' movements, creating an ominous sight that was enough to pique his curiosity and raise his guard. By the time the strangers - Eizo and Jack - had reached his door, Drokore was prepared, his pipe glowing gently in the fading light, his mind alert despite the calm demeanor he presented.

"Greetings," Drokore initiated the conversation, his voice steady despite the mystery of the situation, "I don't get many visitors out here. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

When Wizard #333 spoke of seeking the Sacred Flame, Drokore's interest was immediately piqued, but he managed to maintain his calm exterior, responding with a slight narrowing of his eyes, "And why should I just give it to you?" He took a puff from his pipe, the sweet scent of Fey-grown tobacco momentarily lightening the tense atmosphere.

However, Wizard #2223's interjection, with his hand resting on his Bag of Tricks, brought the tension back to the forefront. Drokore understood that the tranquility of his evening had been replaced by a confrontation he hadn't expected. Ace, sensing his master's unease, growled low, standing guard by his side.

As he found himself caught in a standoff with Eizo and Jack, Drokore couldn't help but realize he was outmatched. He had encountered a Mamba Stick before and was aware of its capabilities. He shifted his gaze from Eizo's grip on the weapon to Jack's stoic expression, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in.

Eventually, realizing that a conflict at his doorstep was not an appealing option, Drokore proposed a trade. "Look, I'm not one for fights. Especially not on my own doorstep. Let's... let's talk about a trade, perhaps?"

Their expressions softened as they considered his proposition. He turned his attention to Jack's Bag of Tricks, a collection of magical items that had piqued his curiosity for its potential to turn the tides in a game of Runes. Suggesting a trade for something from the Bag, he waited for their response.

The small red crystal that Jack revealed was an intriguing item, its origins from the Secret Tower adding to its allure. Jack wasn't certain of its capabilities, but that only increased Drokore's interest. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded in agreement, but a lingering curiosity prompted him to ask about the significance of the Sacred Flame.

But Jack's firm stance on the matter brought the negotiation back to its seriousness. "You're not exactly in a position to be asking questions or making demands, Drokore," he said. He was right. Drokore had pushed his luck, and he recognized that his usual hustler's grin wouldn't help him this time. Resigned to the situation, he agreed to the deal. "Deal."

And thus, the Sacred Flame was exchanged for the mysterious red crystal from Jack's Bag of Tricks. As Eizo and Jack departed, leaving Drokore in the solitude of his Fey home, the hustling monk was left to ponder the encounter. Every game had its lesson, and every player was a teacher - this was something Drokore firmly believed. Even if he hadn't exactly "won" this round, he had gained something valuable from it.

As Eizo and Jack disappeared from sight, Drokore turned his attention to the small red crystal now in his possession. Its mysterious glow ignited a spark of curiosity in his heart, a hustler's intrigue for the unknown. As he held it up to the remaining twilight, its crimson light scattering in a thousand different directions, Drokore couldn't help but feel excited. He was eager to find out what this mystical artifact was capable of, and how it would influence his next hustle.

Drokore turned his gaze towards Ace, who responded with a wag of his tail, an emblem of unwavering loyalty. Despite the interruption, the serenity of The Fey soon returned, filled with nothing more than the faint glow of Drokore's pipe and the playful barks of Ace. His evening hadn't gone as planned, but it was another tale to add to his repertoire of hustling stories. As Drokore often said, "Every encounter is a game, every game a story, and every story a lesson."

Entered by: 0xa211…D41F