'Well... I won't be able to get much for these parts,' Jung thought, wiping a piece of roasted frog from his boot.
The young man sighed, gazing down at the money strung through a chord on his belt: three silver rings and a handful of copper bits. It was barely enough to last him two more weeks.
The magi assessed his surroundings, looking for a safe spot to rest. He decided on an alcove in the roots of a large river tree.
Jung squeezed into the alcove, and with a wave of his wand, the tree's roots formed a tight door, protecting him from the outside.
Enveloped in the darkness, Jung closed his eyes. With every breath, he fell deeper into a meditative state. Gradually, his senses dampened. The dewy moisture in the air faded, and the chirping of nearby birds grew silent. Jungs couldn't feel the soreness in his muscles anymore, in fact, he couldn't feel anything.
Jung pushed about, ripping himself: his true self, from his material form.
The magi's soul exited his body. It took the form of a blowing ball of white light. Jung looked at his soulless body, tucked away in the roots of the River Tree, before flying through the tree and into the open air.
In his spiritual form, Jung could see the weak souls of thousands of insects burrowing miles below the surface, the schools of RazorFish in nearby ponds, and the mighty spirit of a BlueStriped Jaguar hunting in the nearby marshes.
Now high in the sky, Jung zeroed in on what he was looking for- a Redtail Hawk riding an updraft.
Jung's soul attacked the hawk, assaulting it with vicious blows. The hawk fought back, psychic talons racking Jung's mind, but the magi beat out the Falcons' weaker soul, ripping it out of its body.
Without a vessel, and no psychic abilities, the falcon's soul flew upwards. Jung didn't know where the spirits went, he just cared about what they left behind.
Jung squeezed himself into the body of the falcon. His eyesight sharpened, and he could feel the wind beneath his wings. Jung flexed his razor-sharp talons, letting out a triumphant screech.
Now in the form of the Redtail Hawk, Jung surveyed the marshes. His keen eyes quickly spotted what he was looking for, plumes of smoke and a group of buildings 12 miles northeast.
The magi gleefully flapped his wings, diving through updrafts and wind currents, piercing through clouds.
Hawk-Jung looked down at the tree where his body lay. Why did he have to go back? He could stay as a hawk. There was a delicious-looking snake down there! Jung loved snakes. Then he could migrate west...
Snapping back to his senses Jung tore his soul from the vessel, hastily retreating back into his body.
'If it feels like every time I Soul-Steal, it gets harder to return, especially the birds.'
With the location of the nearest settlement, Jung began his trek back to civilization.
Dense marsh and wetland slowly turned to forest, and then to grassy planes as the ground sloped steadily upward. By the time the sweltering hours of the afternoon faded into a cool, breezy evening, Jung had found a road and followed it toward the rising smoke, generated by the town's cooking fires.
The magi passed farmland with budding crops, and barns full of animals. Farmers watched him pass by, giving him a weary look. They were getting ready for the spring harvest and kept diligent watch for thieves.
Jung noted the worn sign outside the settlement with the words, 'Blackrock Town' written in flacking black paint.
The magi quickly discerned that the town was named after a local stone deposit of a distinct, black rock. Major buildings like the church, stores, and two taverns were made from this material. The biggest feature of Blackstone Town was its stone keep, a fortified position placed on a hill in the middle of the settlement.
'It seems decently run' Jung thought, noting the guards positioned around the town and on the Keep's walls. The quality of settlements across the Territories varied, ranging from some cities being controlled by powerful dynastic families to bandit towns run by various gangs.
After making his way to the town square Jung regarded two inns, one was larger, bustling with the noise of drunken farmers and craftsmen. The inn across the square was smaller and seemed a bit more run down. A sign hung over its door, labeling the building: "The Blue Moon Inn."
Entering the smaller inn, Jung looked peered around the building. The scene was depressing, a few laborers sat at the bar nursing their drinks, and two finely dressed women sat in a booth in the back, deep in conversation.
The owner of the Inn was a middle-aged woman, who wore a green and blue dress with her hair tied up in a yellow scarf. She hurried from table to table, refilling mugs of ale and running platters of steaming food to the hungry workers.
"I need food and meals for the week," Jung told the owner, "I also have a proposition."
"Sorry, I'm not interested in buying anything, have you seen the state of this place?" The woman replied, filling a jug of mead.
"I'm a Joyman," Jung said, pulling a long silver flute from his satchel, "My music can fill your establishment with customers for the duration of my stay: which will, of course, cover my room and board."
The owner looked Jung up and down with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Well, I've heard Joymen look nice. I'll bring you your dinner once you've filled the place up."
Jung nodded in agreement.
He began setting up a small stage with some crates and stools. Some of the bar patrons glanced at him but quickly lost interest.
Once he was set up, Jung sat on the stool, his back straight, and raised his instrument to his lips.
The silver flute came to life, weaving a probing melody that floated through the tavern like a wisp of smoke. The song did not have lyrics, it wasn't supposed to: its purpose was to warm the few patrons of the Blue Moon up.
Boots started to tap the ground to the rhythm of his tune, and people moved to tables closer to the Joyman who had just rolled into town. Jung smiled, he felt at home in a nice tavern, with a warm fire and good food.
'This will be a nice night.'
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