"I'll have to ask him later. How did you do that? I've never been able to manage magic.. those daggers on the table yours?"
Gorlas took a moment before he answered the question, thoughts of his father and the rest always made him stop in his tracks for a second.
"My father was a mage, I was part of a band of witch hunters and holy mercenaries since I was old enough to cast a lightning bolt. We would hunt necromancers, vampires, werewolves, you name it. I was never particularly interested in magic, though, I was surrounded by it since I was a boy, so it wasn't unusual. My love was Archery, and Swordsmanship, but many of our band frowned upon use of such basic weapons. The mages of High Rock are smart though, and soon enough my father came across a man able to conjure weapons from thin air. My father and I stayed with him for a few weeks while the others went ahead, and by the time we left I could conjure a dagger and a weak sword. By that winter I could cast the bow, but I'd practised with a real one father bought me beforehand. It's a difficult spell, most people would rather just carry a bow, but that's not really my style."
He looked to the daggers and back to Gidian.
"They're not mine, I only carry this one."
He opened his cloak slightly to unveil an Elven dagger, clearly quite old and rarely used, but still in good condition.
"Just in case."
