This Title's job is to make no absolute sense (Azmot)

Mystic slowly crossed the empty plains after coming across a few things of gold, which he placed in a backpack that he carried with him. The boy was about to look for a town to sell these to get some gil. Mystic looked around. Mountains...more mountains...mountains-at thsi point Mystic got completely bored. So he decided to tease some of the nearby birds. The boy found a nest of strange creatures and disturbed it with his staff. Birds don't like you messing with nests and decided to peck at Mystic. Mystic screamed and ran the otehr direction, birds in tow.

The enigmatic, mocha-eyed Channeler lay rest in the flowing plains next to the town of Azeroth, one of the many unheard of villages that are littered across the world. Azmot had been meditating deeply on his spiritual focus, attempting to contact the Aeons of the "Otherworld". However, it had proven unsuccessful, his thoughts swimming through his head with no apparent target. Still in his meditating position, which is just him sitting with his legs crossed, eyes closed, and his hands on his knees, the young man took a deep inhale, as if all of his troubles and thoughts depended upon the silence that plagued him. For seconds across the peaceful horizon, he held his breath, opening his eyes to take in the majestic scenery. He enjoyed the moments that gave him internal happiness, the uninterrupted waves of grass rolling over the prairie, the still silence-borne...

"SQWAAAAAAAAK!"

The roar of an upset of birds echoed throughout the area, the shaking of trees imminent to Azmot's right. With a sigh, the young boy stood and dusted off, his curious, yet pessimistic, nature leading him on.

If I'm lucky, it'll just be something eating something else. If not, it'll be something eating me.

He thought slightly as he moved through the trees, shifting towards the source of the disturbance as slowly as he could slink. Azmot hit a clearing, the bright daylight slightly blinding him as his eyes adjusted to the spectacle ahead. A man, an adolescent really, was being chased by some pre-cooked poultry. It seemed that even one so young had troubles, which the angsty Summoner could relate to. With a second of thought, Azmot calculated the distances that pertain. He had appeared mere feet from the boy, and therfore the birds were only slightly above him and to the left. As soon as the boy past him in his run, Azmot stepped forward, his staff appearing in his hands. Arcing the weapon upwards, he used the hook of his staff and snagged the two birds, their flesh sizzling on contact with the staff. To animals, and such small ones at that, that this dark energy would incapacitate them quite effectively. Soon the winged rodents stopped struggling, so he slid them off of his weapon slickly. Turning to the hopefully paused teen, he spoke.

"I hope you are okay.", he lied. In honesty, he didn't care in the slightest if the boy was injured, but he was forced to put some emotion into his words, wanting to make friends with the stranger. Azmot felt that if nobody liked him, then nobody would listen, so he needed to make as many allies as he could manage. "Why were those opaque pests assaulting you, by the way?

Mystic, who was being chased, soon stopped as he heard the birds squawking in pain. He turned slowly and saw a man behind him, who decided to help Mystic out. Mystic sighed in relief, especially after the man showed concern. Though when asked what happened, the boy studdered, "I-I do not kn-know, I just got lost...again...and ended up tying to find my way out of...well, here." The boy stayed quiet about the valuables in his backpack for now. They were his, and no stranger could come and claim them. The boy simply stayed quiet for a moment before saying, "Um, thanks, then."

"Of course." He said, sighing again. Today was just a day to sigh, he supposed. "Might I ask your name? My name is Azmot." He introduced himself dully. There was no point in making flare of his introduction, so he left it at that. Analyzing the what Mystic had said, it was clear that he was either nervous or fidgety. And by the look of him, it could very well be either. With a slight smirk, Azmot closed his eyes and turned at Mystic's response, whatever it may be.

"Your lost, huh? Well, I happen to know of a town close to here, by the name of Azeroth. Would you like to trek their now, or do you have other affairs to attend?"

Mystic untensed a bit after the man changed subjects a bit. Mystic merrily said, "Mystic haru, glad to meet ya too!" When he heard there was a town nearby, Mystic thought a moment before saying, "Actually, I have no plans right now, so sure, what the heck. Lead the way, oh compadre of mine!" With Mystic hyped up again, he was happily strolling off...well, wherever he was going.

Tch, he thought as the eccentric boy sang, giddily moving towards their destination. Hugging the trees, Azmot would avoid entering the forest unless absolutely necessary, which would lie evident due to the converging greens up ahead. Reluctantly, as they neared the forest, he looked back at his companion, for now. "Be prepared, the forest's inhabitants lay hostile towards people like us."

With that, the Channeler swiftly stepped inside of the shaded area, trees surrounding them effectively. Azmot continued to walk, stepping lightly while he heard whispers beyond the damp foliage. After minutes of walking, a pattern became clear, heavy breathing not belonging to them becoming louder. He stopped, putting his hand in a "stop" notion behind him as well. Within seconds, the duo was surrounded by a group of eight goblins, their deeply sullied tunics offset by the sharp glint of their knives.

"I thought I heard a tribe of mutts following us. Do you have a preference on plans, Mystic?"

Mystic cheerfully wandered his way forward until his new travel part stopped him, warning him. Mystic just nodded and continued forward cautiously. Mystic, unknowingly, was being followed, alright, and Azmot seemed to know this. In an instant, some goblins with pointy knives were around them. Mystic just took out his staff and said, "I would say not to attack unless threatened, but this is threatened enough. I mean, I don't think they want to invite us over for tea or anything." The boy just stayed defensive and waited fro his foes to move first.

Yes, I don't suppose they do. However, for now, let's try to avoid conflict. He said dryly as he noted an opening to their 2 o'clock. Nudging his head in that direction once, he hoped the boy got the message. Azmot waited for a clear opening so that the succession of their escape would remain high, so that they might get the advantage or not fight all together. Though they were just goblins, it might be a problem trying to protect such a small child. Though he was not too much older himself, Azmot felt a responsibility in case that the young "mage" was not so fluent in the art of defense.

Suddenly, in his train of thought, a pair of goblins from their front and right side barreled forward, the barbaric rush tactics a ploy not to unfamiliar to Azmot. It was typical, and not very appealing. In one fluid motion, Azmot crouched and dipped towards the opening between the group, twisted such so that he went right past them. In that same turn, he used the "hook" on his staff to grab the goblins on Mystic's right, and Azmot's left, and pushed them towards the other group so that they were reflected off of the young magi's path. Shall we go? Azmot said, the slight sizzling of Goblin Skin still crackling in the air.

Mystic sensed the oncoming danger coming when the goblins moved. The boy, ready to counterstrike, was interrupted by Azmot coming in and easily defeating the goblins. The young mage sighed as he didn't have to fight, and untightened his grip a bit. "Let's." Mystic responded casually. The noise of the goblins sizzling bugged him a bit, but he got over it.