Riding under the scorching sun of Xerob, Scion now has the time, and calmness of mind, to inspect the amulet is his hand.

It is a small circle made of iron, with the shape of a lamb’s skull. Beneath the skull is a shape of a tree, with the metal trunk branching out from the skull, decorated with small leaves throughout. As his hand circles the outer rim of the amulet, the strange warm sensation reach his hand, contrasting the preconceived coolness of iron. This further convinces Scion that the amulet was indeed infused with Haavare’s Majik, providing irrefutable evidence to the presence of its power to protect the user from even Death itself. On one end, the chain was broken from the bullet shot of Scion to take it off the priest earlier. Sighing, he turns his horse towards Forge-ville, a close-by town where there should be a blacksmith to fix it for him. He would also needs a refill of water, and if lucky, some good wine there, if he is allowed. Reaching back to check on the bags of coins he took from the Nomads, Scion confidently feels a sense of contentment. After all, golds is a universal language, and an effective one at persuasion.

On his way to Forge-ville, Scion tries to ignore the burning thirst in his throat. He quite regrets having chosen to attack that settlement over refilling his supply first. Despite living on the Savannah for most of his life, Scion often forgets, or deliberately delays, refilling his water and food. He swears someday, he might die not because of being killed by his enemies, but because of his basic needs unfulfilled amidst this Savannah.

In moment like this, Scion wishes he could use Majik to create a feast out of thin air, like stories he has heard of in taverns in many towns, or from the nomads themselves.

All he knows, Majik is essentially a miracle performed by mortal men and women. Often, some chosen fews would be able to use this source of power to very small capability, limited to pushing or picking up objects, or person, from afar.

Scion personally experienced this before: In one nomad group he attacked, there was a boy who was called the God-heir. While Scion barged in gun-blazing, he suddenly felt a strange pressure on his neck, as if someone was choking him. Gagging for air, he was lucky to spot the child making the choking-motion on his hand. Intuitively, Scion turned his gun around and planted a bullet deep in that child’s chest, releasing him from that Majik.

However, faith proves to be an empowering catalyst to Majik. Those who can control Majik when devoting their thoughts to a god — whether following the orthodox religion of Niskam, the Sun god, or the more heathen cults of the pagan lesser gods such as Haukur or Haavare, like the Nomads roaming Xerob — will be able to tap deeper into their potential to create more miracles that are closely related to what their god of adoration stands for. Those with both high affinity of Majik and devoted worship to a god are commonly call Majker, maker of both wonders and destructions, and Scion himself has observed both with his eyes.

Once, Scion was a young boy in a rundown town in the middle of the Savannah, which was a desert long ago. It was the longest drought anyone has ever witnessed in their lives. The soil dried up and cracked under the scorching heat. Trees turned into thin branches with no leaves. Water became a luxury that even a man with the largest pocket of gold could not afford it. However, at the most dire moment, there was a woman, who went by the town. The fact that the woman dared to travel the crime-stricken roads of Xerob alone and unharmed was already an indication of her unusualness. Once witnessing how desperate the town was for water, the woman waved her hand, and it was something Scion can never forget.

Blue ethereal mist danced on her hand playfully like a piece of cloth. It then slowly rose toward the blue clear sky. The air itself suddenly felt a strange sense of stillness, which signaled the coming rain. Almost instantly, the cloud darkened. The hot savannah wind turned into cool, refreshing air. The cloud slowly swirled into a vortex, and down poured rain. Everyone, stunt by the otherworldly power of a Majker before them, was almost hysterical when the droplets of rain first touched them, and started collecting water from the blessed rain. The cracked land, the dried well, and the thirty people were revitalized by the strange woman’s Majik.

However, in Xerob, no good deed goes unpunished.

After their first sip of water, these townsmen were already trying to attack the woman, in hope of capturing her and exploiting her Majik to create an endless water supply. Ropes and chains were thrown at her, in hope of restraining that woman. However, as they managed to pull her to the ground, the Majker’s eyes grew bright blue, and lightning stroke at her, freeing her from the chains. And that was the first time Scion witnessed Majik’s capacity of destruction.

The Majker rose into the air, carried by the strengthened wind. Lightning flashes across the sky with deafening roar. The wind cut like knife, tearing apart the houses’ walls, and swirling into a tornado. Rain torrent poured ever harder and relentless, like pebbles being thrown at those treacherous townsmen. The woman screamed, her voices echoed across the hailing wind, “You dare betrayed me? After I show you mercy from Orn, the Storm Eagle?” Her tone deepened and was thick with murderous intent.”Face a god’s wrath”.

With those simple words, the woman unleashed her power, and destruction razed the town. People were picked up by the tornado helplessly, and thrown far away than eyes could see, while their screams faded among the roar of the storm. The sky cracked opened and lightning rained down in fury. Those unfortunate enough were struck by them, with flashes illuminating the desert with blinding white, and reduced to mere ashes on the ground. The others who were lucky to survive ran away from the Majker’s rage into the houses. Yet quickly, they could feel the wood groaned and tried its best to shield them from the unbridled wrath of the storm. Then, before their eyes, the house were torn apart by the storm as if a god had reached down to break it in half, with the upper half, and all people inside, consumed by this maelstrom of Majik and destruction.

When the young Scion opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back amidst the savannah, about a few kilometers aways from his old town. It took him minutes to get back, and there he stood in horror. In front of his eyes, everything he had ever known was destroyed. No house was left untouched, and dead bodies, soaked in rain water, were scattered across town. The rage of one Majker was enough to level a whole town. His parents, his friends, everything was gone.

However, rather than feeling devastated, Scion found himself excited at the thought of being able to wield such power. Sadness was nowhere to be found, only hunger, and ambition for those mysterious power. Nevertheless, he was quickly disappointed when he found himself lacking such affinity for Majik, even just a little. However, for those like him, who are not blessed by the gods, there is a way to borrow their powers: Relics. Objects imbued with gods’ power, either via the blessing of Majker or directly from them, can grant the users a small taste of the god’s Majik. To satiate his thirst to control such power, Scion has been hunting for those relics since forever, making a name for himself as the Despoiler, who hunts and steals the Relics, even slaughtering the previous owners, to the Nomads who roams the roads of Xerob, as well as various towns scattering this savannah.

Lost in his thought of the past to distract himself from the burning thirst, Scion is pulled back to the presence when the horse neighs loudly at the gate of Forge-ville.

Leading the horse to the public trough, Scion ties the horse securely to the trough along with other horses, before joining them to drink the water from the trough. The smell definitely is not pleasant, but at least the water can help quenching the thirst burning Scion’s throat for now. Wiping the water off his face, Scion lifts his head to a rifle barrel aiming between his eyes.

“Scion Tarso, the mother-!@#$ing Despoiler. The !@#$ are you doing here?” - A man in his 50s grunts out each word with disgust and loathing. He is wearing a wide-rimmed hat, covering his blond white hair underneath. His hands in leather gloves are holding a long double-barrel rifle. Most noticeably, on his shirt is a star made of copper, whose surface has clear signs of weather and patina, signifying the prolonged and arduous service of his as the Chief of Law-keepers of this town. Behind him stand several figures clothed in black, revolvers in hands and aiming straight for Scion’s head.

Forge-ville is among the more “civilized” towns in Xerob. The houses are built with stones and woods, with iron beams and columns supporting these houses. Smoke fuming from the chimney of the forges, with the sound of hammer striking against the anvil ringing in the air, interweaving with the sizzle of hot metal cooled in cold water. It is truly a sight to be hold, compared to the poor towns that are more commonly seen in this Savannah. In the middle of the town, a three-story building stands tall and proud, with a sun symbol made out of iron planted at the very top of the wood roof. The Law-keepers, a group of righteous man in the name of Niskam who have volunteered themselves to uphold order and peace for this town, uses this building as their headquarter. They are the force that single-handedly stops Forge-ville from declining into a den for thieves and murderers, like one where Scion was raised. This town now thrives on the business of mining for materials and forging them into weapons, utilities and even jewelry. They even finds opportunity to trade both materials and goods with other towns, even with the Kingdom of Lys. Forge-ville is also the place where they unearth a multitude of different artifacts scattered across Xerob; however, as they can’t figure out what they are, most are sold to the Lysian scholars.

Scion is a cold-blooded killer, but not some foolish lunatic who is always ready to go in gun-blazing when the odds are overwhelming against him. Often, he even prides himself for his astuteness, to understand the situation and take advantage of it as most beneficial to him as possible. Thus, slowly raising both his hands, Scion stands up.