The Realm of Austur Episode 1: A New Light

Walking into the store, familiar despite the foreign land, Hamon finds himself assaulted by all five of his senses. A copper sphere dangling from the ceiling emits an array of all kinds of light, even those somebody unattuned to type-4 magic wouldn't even be able to see. The smell of recreational smoke wafts so heavily through the air Hamon can taste it and it makes his eyes water. And most notably, music plays from some unknown location in the store, loud enough to make the whole interior vibrate.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95tJNXhhnTY)

Any local stepping inside for the first time might think 'Something tells me I'm not in Cleatia anymore.' And they would be right. For this was Akbar's Magick Assortments, a little piece of Kadath, in Shaldra.

"Welcome, welcome, 'ello, mon!" The shopkeeper greets enthusiastically, in the same made up accent as the shopkeeper in Kadath. "Was 'dis? You from Jafet, bruddah?"

"Yeah, I am." Hamon grins. "A long way from home. You Akbar's brother?"

"Ya, Mon! Me name's Akbar!"

"You're also named Akbar...?" Hamon asks.

"Ya, is whad I said, Mon." The store owner replies. "We all named Akbar, me and my bruddahs." He takes a contemplative haul from his hookah, before blowing out the smoke and adding "Guess me ma liked da name, ya?"

"Ya." Hamon replies dully, before going to look at the posters. He spots a woman in a scholarly robe down the isle, looking at some of the holographs made with type-4 magic and machinery, something which would probably seem unique or even alien to a Cleatian like herself. The holograph in question...

Nosferatu's Thrall, and Other Vampire Love Stories... Well, I can't accuse her of having ordinary tastes.

Looking back at the posters, Hamon sees something he recognizes. Reaching into his satchel, he produces an identical poster from his possessions.

"One of yours...?" Hamon looks over at the woman who asked the question, the one evidently interested in vampires.

Gah! She's looking at me like a hungry wolf looks at a lamb cutlet!

The woman seems to look at him expectantly, but doesn't say anything else. "Look, if you want customers, just ask. I've got no class. Shouldn't you be working in a brothel or some street corner?"

Aw, hell no!

Hamon is pushed to the ground by increased gravity. He struggles to get up now weighing double his usual in the same mass, first forcing himself onto his hands and knees, then struggling into a crouching position. The gold on him became especially crushing.

First lesson of the day... If a type-3 wanted my belongings, it'd be theirs. I need to buy some time to think...

"Heh, your magic's not bad, professor, but you're pretty easy on the eyes, too." Hamon taunts in a strained tone. "Ever considered a change in careers?"

Hamon hears a slight internal crunching sound as the gravity again forces him downward, although this time he expects it and manages to remain kneeling.

Dammit! Cleatians have no sense of humor!

"Y'know... I could do what my gut tells me and demean you further..." Hamon gasps from the pressure. "...But why don't we both just spare my... Fragile, still healing bones... You say you need an assistant? Let me go and you got one..."

Hamon grumbles something about how he's allowed to make whoring jokes because his brother's a prostitute, but clears his throat as he stands.

That was easier than I thought... I didn't even have to blow her brains out. I didn't have to anything her brains out, for that matter.

"Fine, no more whoring jokes. I make no guarantees about not wise-cracking anything else, though. Name's Hamon, the Kid."