"Where is the relic?"
A small man in bandits clothing hovered above a sharp spiked rock, looking deathly scared in front of a hooded figure The figure was covered in a cloak that hid his weapons and his form. The only distinct feature that one would remember are his eyes. Many a person has stood transfixed before his glowing eyes, almost like the stars themselves were plucked from the sky to rest in his head. For this, he was called 'Starry Vagabond', the wanderer of the stars. In his hand shone the only clear thing from this man, a long staff covered in cloth, a small orb resting at the top, covered in just as much rags as the vagabond himself. The bandit, on the other hand, was not to be remembered. His fate was in the hands of the vagabond now, and the vagabond was not known to be forgiving.
"Tell me where it is." The vagabond spoke again, his deep voice commanding respect. 
"I...i don't know... i don't know no evokers!!" The bandit sutured. 
"There have been numerous reports of raids performed with the assistance of a magical object, otherwise known as a 'relic.'" He said with contempt. "Someone in your gang has a relic." The bandit hesitated. 
"I know nothing, there are no evokers!" The vagabond sighed. The man would be useless. He reaches to pull off some of the cloth that covered the Sphere, revealing a smoky substance to be inside it. But in the middle there was a shining, memorizing light. The bandits breathing relaxed, transfixed.
"I hope you enjoy the sight," The Vagabond said. "It is your last." The bandits eyes had only a second to widen in surprise before a heavy force of gravity smashed him into the ground, effectively snapping his spine, leaving no evidence. The vagabond re-covered the sphere, turning to walk up the road, remembering it leads to a coronation that would be happening soon. "Perhaps the new king will assist my journey." The vagabond walked of, leaving the corpses of five broken bandits behind him. Not a trace to be seen...