Purple smoke swirled and danced on the air, it was thick noxious and strong smelling. He took another deep drag on the pipe and exhaled another cloud of smoke into the room. Silently the spirals of smoke made their way to the slightly open window and the fresh night air. Muraqaba lowered the small pipe from his wine stained lips and regarded the fine room he found himself in. A huge apartment in the white stone building that overlooked the Eishenbank. 

Carefully Muraqaba raised the silver goblet to his lips and took another gulp of his wine. This really was a nice place to live- shame it wasn’t his. He’d just walked broken in for the strategic value. The owners – a well off couple arrived at their front door that moment. Muraqaba didn’t even flinch, instead he remained on the comfy couch and gazed out of the window. 

The first in was the man he spotted the intruder instantly. The man rushed over to Muraqaba his mouth agape shouting insults the woman had seen him, and had just started to scream. “Silence! The pair of you!” They both stopped making noises instantly. “You, slit your throat.” Muraqaba said to the man, offering him his shaving razor. The man took the razor, opened it up and slit his throat. He fell to the floor dead and bleeding. Muraqaba didn’t even look around, his emerald gaze still hadn’t shifted from the bank.   “As for you, fetch me more wine and clean that mess up.” Muraqaba gestured at the woman’s dead husband.  

He finished his remaining wine and stood up, crossed the room and put his hands on the window frame. Muraqaba had the power to walk into the bank in the middle of the day and tell the cashiers to fill a carriage with all the gold and leave; but that plan would make him notorious. He had kept his dark gift a secret this long because he was clever enough to keep it under wraps. If he really did want all the wealth in that bank, he was going to need a much better plan.

“Hold the wine. I’m going to the pub.” The woman, who had been in the kitchen preparing the wine stood there holding the bottle. “No, urgh. Put the wine down, clean him up.” Muraqaba shook his head.   “If I’m not back in three hours lock the front door and set the place on fire.” With his last command issued, Muraqaba pulled on his long black coat and walked down to the pub.

Outside a burly looking man stood beside the door laughing with his friends. “Open me the door.” Obligingly the thug opened the door and allowed entry to Muraqaba. “Most expensive whisky, to the table by the fire two glasses.” He commanded the first barkeep he came across. As he arrived at the table before the fire, he found three guards sat there. “Go sit in the pigsty.” At once they got up and left. 

He sat alone, dressed in black and immaculately clean at the best table in the building. An expensive bottle of wine sat on his table, opened a glass of whisky was poured, the other glass sat empty. It would only be a matter of time before someone approached him. 

The Oracle had watched the man carefully from the moment he entered the tavern to when he sat down. She'd seen him use mind control powers on several of the weak-minded men in the pub. A frightened, dainty barmaid delivered him two glasses of high-end whisky, rattling the tray in fear. This sorcerer was dangerous, and Calypso didn't need her tarot cards to figure that out.
She got up from her corner of the room, and tried as discreetly as possible to quietly slip behind the man: a difficult task, as she was 8 feet tall. Wary eyes watched her every move as she approached the sorcerer. She ignored them with an unchanging face.
Standing silently behind the man, she knew he sensed her. He ignored her, continuing to sip his drink.
"Your magic," the Oracle whispered to him, "where did you get it?". She sat herself across from him, too close to the fire, not far away enough from the sorcerer. She hid her fear easily; and was careful enough to not let her guard down. True, he could use a manipulation spell on her, as she hadn't a protect spell. But she didn't think about that, no, she was set to learn where this man had gotten his powers. After all, all she could do was regain her own power.

Muraqaba’s magic was dark, and powerful, but he had to be precise with its use, despite how carelessly he flaunted his gift. For example, to control a person he had to give them a direct command. Once he got inside a person’s head, he was truly in control. The barmaid took a few silver pieces from him in exchange for the bottle of whisky. He took a little sip from his glass as someone very large approached him from behind. He saw the reflection in the bottle a woman with dark skin, she sat down in front of him. 

“What would you do with magic like mine?” Was she an orc? He was unsure; she certainly was tall. From his pocket he produced a pipe, he filled it with tobacco and lit it, taking a deep drag then releasing it in a cloud of hazy blue smoke. “You are an interesting one. What is your name?” He gave her his most mischievous grin.