[While Tycho is browsing the wares of the Unearthed Arcana.]
“How do you come by all these wonders?” By now, Tycho had spent more time chatting with the kindly old man than browsing his wares.
“Oh, well, there is who you know...and over here you have favoritism...and, well, I’ve been doing this a long-time now son.”
Tycho laughed, “All right keep your secrets, but the Arcane, that does fascinate me. How it can be harnessed, bottled if you will, and imbued in a sword, or a shield. Why not an arm?”
“These things can be done, but it takes time...dedication...and a bit of wit up here,” the old man pointed to his temple with a knowing tilt.
“I have those things. I have dedicated myself to the craft of swordsmanship, and that I will not forsake. But now I dedicate myself to becoming the Blade, and I know the Arcane lies along that path; a path on which I feel destined to tread.”
Morley chuckled; it was a surprisingly deep, substantial sound, “Many a brash young man has told me much the same. Perhaps your ambitions will bear fruit, while theirs only withered and died along with their names.” In that moment Morley took on an ominous visage that unnerved Tycho. Not a feeling of fear, but of awe.
Tycho blinked, and he found himself sitting once again with the old man, who said “Come see me again. I’ve enjoyed our talk, and you need practice at dragonchess.”