The Gate Traveler

Sonak sat in a big, bustling bar, sipping on a delightful fermented fruit juice. This was his favorite place so far in this world. The kaleidoscopic images on the walls, shifting and glowing with the slow pulse of mana crystals, painted the whole room in moving fragments of color. The band at the far end played with a sound unlike anything he had heard before, a mix of drummers pounding deep rhythms and flutes carrying sharp, winding notes. He would have called it tribal, but he had visited a few tribes in the past, and their music had sounded entirely different. Still, something about this melody stirred that same sense, as if it carried an echo of something primal, unrefined, and real.

The various perfumes in the air fought for dominance, rich scents of spice, fruit, flowers, and musk weaving together in a dizzying contest, while laughter rolled over the tables in waves. He leaned close to charm a local lady, her eyes bright and curious, her tail swaying slowly behind her chair in a rhythm that matched the music. He had never entertained a lady with a tail before, and the thought alone filled him with a reckless sort of adventurousness.

Then, without warning, a ripple passed through him. A subtle pull. He felt a presence brush against the edge of his awareness. Another Traveler.

Run? Stay?

He listened to his Perception, but it was quiet, offering no warning signs, so he chose to stay.

The Traveler entered the bar. He had azure-blue skin, long blond hair, and extra-large black eyes almost without sclera that glowed like all Travelers. Like Sonak, he was likely glamoured, but Travelers could always see through each other's disguises. The Traveler paused in the doorway, looking at him with hesitation. Sonak smiled and waved to invite him over. The lady at his table noticed she had lost his attention, flicked her tail with mild irritation, and slipped away into the crowd.

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As the Traveler approached, Sonak cast Silence Bubble, a common practice among Travelers, a quiet courtesy to ensure privacy in public spaces. They exchanged introductions, offering names and classes. The Traveler was called Guar Shum and said he hailed from Tamya.

They sat together, drinking and talking, comparing their travels, Gate locations, and destinations. Guar spoke of Shimoor with boredom, dismissing it as uninteresting. Sonak disagreed at once. He, too, had come to this world from Shimoor and thought its endless wilderness, untouched and beautiful, was the perfect vacation spot after the hectic world he crossed over from. Guar then recounted a horror story about a place called Dirt, his voice carrying enough disgust that Sonak decided on the spot never to set foot there. In turn, he shared his own stories, both good and bad, drawn from the countless worlds he had visited. He had far more of them, for he was a seasoned Traveler.

The hours slipped away unnoticed. When the night began to wind down and the servers started wiping down tables and stacking chairs in preparation for closing, they moved to a quieter setting. At an inn, they took a room and swapped various items from their Storage, laying out things they no longer needed but thought the other might find useful or interesting.

By morning, their business was done, and they shared a firm handshake before parting ways. Guar left for his next world, and Sonak prepared to continue along his own road.

It was a pleasant chance meeting on the road.