Imagination is everything…
Supper & Spider
Jan 6th
Randyst sat down at the table, making small conversation with young Losien. Soon after, a knock came to the door, which Losien’s mother answered. It was the wizard.
“Forgive my rudeness earlier m’Lady,” Herminicle said, bowing politely. “You have kindly offered us food and shelter which I have rejected it out of a personal quest that can clearly wait. If you would still have me, i would like to reconsider my decision. ‘Tis been more than ten days since i enjoyed a good home cooked meal and a soft bed.”
The woman turned to the paladin who nodded and smiled in approval.
“Of course master Wizard,” she answered, “you are most welcome here. Sit and relax, dinner will be ready soon.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and, about fifteen minutes later, reappeared with food the likes of which Herminicle hadn’t seen in a long time. There was roasted duck, oven baked potatoes, boiled carrots, and even warm strawberry pie for desert.
Throughout the meal, however, the wizard couldn’t help but notice the shine the lady took on the Paladin, and there was no doubt in his mind which bed Randyst would be sleeping in tonight. The wizard didn’t feel jealous; he couldn’t care less about romance and love.
Just as well, he thought to himself, the boy needs a new father and perhaps Randyst could teach Losien a lesson or two in the ways of the Light.
He knew his days of journeys with Randyst had come to an end; no doubt the paladin would decide to stay with the woman and Losien. It didn’t matter though, there were other adventurers out there waiting for Herminicle.
As the sun set, Losien’s mother brought Herminicle to his room. It was a small, cozy bedroom located on the second floor of the house. Herminicle laid down and slept, taking advantage of comforts hadn’t seen in a very long time.
***
Herman awoke to the sounds of birds chirping in the forest.
The storm must have subsided, he thought to himself.
He got up, causing a pile of papers to slide to the side. Looking at it, he saw the letter from Fort Caspien. Herman picked it up, went upstairs and closed his secret door. He broke the seal, pulled the letter out of the enveloppe and read.
Herman,
We know not any confirmation of whatever rumors are abound about you, but I bring you this letter to send word of caution that war comes to our country soon and strange things have occurred. I sent for heroes to investigate Hamlet, but i want you to be prepared and urge you to shelter yourself within the fort’s walls if need be. Village or forest, you are still a citizen of Tarra and it is our duty to make sure you stay safe. If you see anything suspicious please report back to me at the Fort.
General Losien Minso
The name of the young boy he had once saved echoed in his mind, bringing back memories that were many years old. Although he didn’t mind the young lad, the mention of the Kingdom of Tarra made him grin. The Kingdom’s population were at odds with many of Herman’s thoughts and beliefs, to the point where he had left the cities long ago to enjoy a life in solitude in Hamlet Forest.
Herman grumbled, crumpling the letter and tossing it back on the floor. He would stay put, and ride out whatever storm the gods had in store for the land. He had done it before, and he could do it again.
Suddenly, a tremor rumbled through his cabin, causing everything to shake violently. Flasks and pots fell to the floor, some crashing into small little pieces and, at the end of the room, Herman’s large library tipped over, causing a barrage of old dusty books to fall to the floor. The wizard himself almost lost his balance, although he managed to grab hold of the wall.
Shuffling over to a window, he looked outside, trying to find the source of the rumble. He took a step back as he saw a giant spider like creature climb out of a large hole in the ground. Another tremor rumbled through his home as the beast began digging a new hole and burrowed itself back into the ground.
What in the nine hells…? Herman thought to himself.
Both curious about the creature and angry at the intrusion, the wizard grabbed his travelling robe and magic equipment and raced out of his home, hopping down into the large hole it had just created.
The Goblin Chief
Dec 7th
Randyst signaled Herminicle to get ready. The paladin drew out his blade while the wizard prepared to cast a spell.
They would surprise the foul creature.
With a war shout to his god Pelor, Randyst leap to the monster, his longsword gleaming with energy. The goblin noticed the intruder and managed to side step out of the way, just in time to avoid a cleaving strike.
“Grr, you human no take Thork dinner! Me kill you, make cake with your eyeballs!” It growled in broken common, pointing towards the armour clad human.
Randyst turned and faced the goblin chieftan, pointing his sword towards it.
“Foul beast! I will not allow you devour this young one. Prepare to face the gates of oblivion evil one!”
The goblin let out a guttural threat but before completing it, was met by a mystic bolt that struck it square in the chest. The goblin staggered a bit, but did not fall. It looked around and spotted Herminicle.
“Rawr! you bring magic here? Thork have magic too!”
The goblin shot a dark bolt towards the paladin but missed. Randyst charged the creature, swinging his longsword, striking the chieftain who still held on.
This one is definitely a tough opponent, thought Herminicle.
Thork grabbed his mace – a weapon with its head shaped like the skull of a ram - and took a wild swing at Randyst. The paladin parried the strike, pushing back and making an overhead counter attack that missed the goblin. Another magic missile was launched but the goblin evaded the attack and shifted away from his melee opponent.
He turned to the hanging cage, where the young boy was watching the battle with intrigue. The goblin smirked and pointed his finger towards the rusty old chain holding the cage aloft. Randyst knew what the creature planned: he was going to drop the boy to those spiky stalagmites!
“Nooooooo!” Exclaimed Randyst. ”Wizard! Save the boy! I will deal with the creature!”
Herminicle nodded and rushed towards the stalagmite pit while Randyst reengaged with the goblin. Before the wizard could do anything, however, Thork shot a dark missile towards the chain. The chain strained under the stress, the cage swinging wildly from side to side. The goblin cursed, quickly turning its weapon up as the paladin came upon him with fierce resolve.
“Hold tight boy, we will get you out of this”, said Herminicle.
The paladin made a horizontal strike and shifted behind the monster. Turning, he saw the wizard in the midst of casting a spell, no doubt to free the boy. Something bothered him, however, and as he brought up his sword to strike at the goblin, he realized what the wizard was doing: he was going to blast the cage!
“Herminicle! what are you doing? Don’t hit the cage, the boy will surely plummet to his death!”
The wizard ignored him, blasting loose the chain. The cage, with the boy inside, dropped.
“By Pelor’s light! No!” shouted Randyst.
The goblin took advantage of the paladin’s distraction, sneaking an attack with a dagger he switched to. Randyst saw the switch, however, slashing his weapon down, cleaving the arm of the goblin right off.
Thork looked in horror as he saw his arm fall to the floor, blood splattering everywhere. He cried in pain and tried to cast another spell at the paladin with his one good arm. The paladin screamed in rage and despair at the death of the boy and ran his longsword right into the monster’s mouth. The sword easily slid through the head, sticking out the other side. The sword was soon retracted, the goblin corpse making a wet thud on the floor.
Randyst looked around and found Herminicle, walked up to him and grabbed his collar, pulling him up to his face.
“Damn it wizard! What have you done!”
Something from behind the wizard caught his eye. It was the boy. The boy was alive and, floating? Randyst let go of the wizard and saw that the boy was still in the cage, which floated atop a glowing disc.
“See what I meant when I told you about the usefulness of magic,” said Herminicle, crossing his arms and grinning.
Randyst let out a sigh of relief: “That was reckless, but you saved his life.”
The wizard brought the disc with the cage away from the pit and set it down slowly. Randyst then struck the lock with his sword, cleaving it easily. He opened the cage and helped the boy out. Meanwhile, the wizard looted the corpse of anything valuable, noticing a talisman of sorts. Unable to identify it, he pocketed the item while the paladin was busy overseeing the boy’s health.
This item could be useful, no point in telling him about it, he’d just make me get rid of it thinking its some evil demonic artifact, Herminicle thought.
He walked towards the paladin, who was crouching down and talking to the boy.
“You are very brave lad, you did not seem frightened there. what is your name?” The child looked at the paladin with admiration “My name is Losien sir, Losien Minso.”
“Well young Losien,” said Randyst, “your mother is very worried about you and sent us to find you. I am Randyst Firestrong, a paladin in the service of Pelor. This wizard who saved you is Herminicle Vortexus.”
Little Minso walked up to the wizard and said: “Thank you sir.” Herminicle returned his thanks with a simple smile and a slight nod.
***
Later that day the duo arrived back in Fort Caspien with the boy in tow, his tearful mother very grateful for his safe return. They also informed the Fort Guard of the location of the missing supplies and dead goblins.
The mother invited both heroes to a home cooked meal and an overnight stay in her house. Randyst accepted gracefully, while Herminicle politely refused, saying he had an important task ahead of him.
“Herminicle, why do you refuse the offer of this woman’s hospitality? Do you not care for anything other than yourself?” Randyst had asked.
“I have my own quest to undertake, pious one, I need not you to tell me how to operate my life, thank you very much,” he answered, frustrated.
“Tell me then wizard, why did you put that boy’s life at risk by pulling a stunt like that back there? What if the disc disappeared before he landed on it?” asked Randyst.
“Sometimes in life, one must take risks to achieve ones goal,” said the wizard. He walked up to the paladin, giving him a small stuffed dog he had found in the cave. He assumed that it must have belonged to little Losien.
“Remember, Paladin, just because I do not follow the same path as you, does not mean I am an evil, uncaring creature,” Herminicle finally said, turning around and walking away.
Dreaming of Goblins
Nov 24th
The man opened his eyes after his meditation and etched some runes on the dusty rocky ground. The page of his spell book describing the shape and form the runes had to take.
Almost done…
“Herminicle… what are you attempting?” Asked the voice behind him.
The young man did not respond. Instead he focused, concentrated on this ritual.
The voice sighed “This is a waste of time”
The young man, Herminicle Vortexus, was about thirty years old. He had jet black hair worn in a ponytail with a short goatee. He carried a crystal staff and wore red and orange robes etched in protective runes. He was not skilled in close combat, but he kept a good repertoire of spells and rituals, one of which he had just completed, a disk of energy now hovering beside him.
Herminicle turned towards the scource of the voice: a grizzeled, yet handsome warrior, a Paladin more precisely. He held a longsword that was drawn out, wearing glimmering plate mail. The Paladin, known as Randyst Firestrong, tapped his plated boot impatiently on the stony floor.
“This object is known as Tenser’s Floating Disc. It may prove useful on this quest Randyst,” said the wizard.
The paladin sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Useful in what Wizard? We came here to exterminate the goblins that have been terrorizing Tarraneze caravans. Save your strength for your mystic bolts and thunder waves.”
“You’d be surprised the various use magic can be, Paladin,” replied Herminicle.
Although annoyed at the piousness of his companion, the Wizard did not doubt his valiant heart or his combat prowess. No big goodie saint himself, he had joined with the Paladin on this quest, which had originated from a woman who’s son had gone missing.
The woman in question only had her son left, her husband having been murdered by goblins several months earlier. Word had spread of the increasing number of goblin attacks on passing caravans, and a call for help was made for heroes to come and slay them once and for all.
Randyst had answered the call, as well as Hermincle. Both were looking to complete the quest and find the woman’s son, although the Wizard was more looking forward to the bounty rather than doing the work for free like the Paladin. Herminicle suspected, though, that Randyst had taken an interest in the young widow.
He can have the widow, he thought, I’ll take his share of the bounty, if he doesn’t donate it that is.
Satisfied that the disc was summoned and working well, he urged his companion on. They both didn’t bother to resume their little debate on Herminicle’s disc, seeing as how they had more important work ahead of them.
So far the party of two had tracked the goblins to their lair and killed most of them. They had even found some stolen supplies that had been heading to Fort Caspien, although there still was no sing of the young boy.
No doubt, I would not be surprised if the goblins ate the poor lad, thought the young wizard.
After walking for what seemed like an hour in the twisty caverns, Randyst raised a hand to stop Herminicle and brought up a finger to his lips to indicate silence. The pair silently walked through an opening silently and, sure enough, came face to face with a goblin.
This goblin was bigger and dressed differently than the others they had previously killed. The goblin’s armour was made of bone, with a wolf skull as a helmet and necklace that appeared to be made of fresh human finger bones.
Randyst looked around the room and saw that the goblin chieftan was taunting a small figure in a cage hanging over a pit of stalagmites.
It was the boy…
Strawberries & Secrets
Nov 13th
After several seconds, the pain in Jecthor’s abdomen had grown to an almost unbearable level. Herman quickly circled him and, using his staff, gave three quick taps on the courier’s back. As the third tap hit Jecthor’s back, he let out a loud, pink-coloured, strawberry-smelling belch. The burp was loud enough that it resonated with Herman’s kettle, causing it to spill over to the side.
“Uhh… what was that?!” Jecthor asked in a demanding tone.
“Oh relax,” Herman said, “your skin isn’t purple!”
“What?!”
“Calm down! It was nothing lethal, and you’d only be purple for about a week,” Herman said, trying to console the young man. “It’s actually the base alchemical fluid stage that i am stuck at. After that it’s the different components needed for each different effect. According to the book, knowing you got the base potion right is by drinking a sample and see if your skin becomes purple… or was it blue… hmm, maybe pink… Regardless, I think I may have used too much Otyugh dung in that last brew…”
Otyugh dung? Jecthor decided his stay here has come to an end, storm or not.
“Uhh, Herman, sir. I err… believe it is time for me to head off. I must return to Fort Caspien.”
Herman nodded slowly. “Eh? Allright. I must return to my work. Go, go, and close the door please.”
The old wizard, still ignoring the letter Jecthor had brought, walked the courier out. Jecthor stood outside in the stormy weather, the rain having eased its fierce pour. As he walked out of the forest and back on the road to Fort Caspien, Jecthor pondered into his thoughts.
What kind of research is this madman doing? He thought, wiping the rain from his brow. I saw no library or no alchemy lab, just a crazy old coot. I do not know what business General Minso has with him, but as far as i am concerned about this codger is that maybe he really is just some old crazy hermit.
Jecthor felt his stomach rumble and let out another small burp, which again tasted like strawberries.
***
Herman watched the courier walk away, then headed towards an unlit sconce at this kitchen wall with his book tucked underneath his arm. He pulled the object sideways and a wall panel slid away. He took a nearby torch and walked down some stairs until he reached a room.
In that room was a few alchemist’s benches with beakers and vials of different shapes and sizes, some of them containing a sort of liquid bubbling near burners. There was also a few dusty bookcases with various books, letters and scrolls all neatly arranged. Indeed, Herman kept himself a wizard’s study, but preferred the more subtle abode of a house. After all, what better way to announce a wizard’s home than a big tower.
Feeling tired, Herman set down the book on a small table and went to his bed nearby.
As he slept, a dream of the past flooded his mind.
The Courrier
Nov 7th
The rain poured down hard on the lone figure walking on the dusty, now muddy path. The man held his cloak tight to try to shelter himself as best as he could. It did not matter how the weather was, he was tasked to deliver the message and deliver it he would.
The courier arrived at a fork on the road. The directions given to him by General Minso indicated that he was to walk off the path and through the forested area at this spot. He kept a hand to the handle of his longsword at his hip within its scabbard, staying ready should any nasty surprises should pop up his way. The courier was less than confident that he would handle anything more than a goblin or a kobold, but he was duty bound to his task and pressed on.
Through the forest he walked, the wind howling at his back with the crashing sound of thunder and the brilliant display of lightning. After about an hour of trudging through the forest, the courier is finally able to make out a house of sorts nearby.
Only a crazy fool would live out here by himself, thought the courier. He walked up to the door and saw a light through a window.
“Well, it could be worse I suppose,” said the courier, talking to himself. “I wonder if he’s as crazy as people say he is…”
He knocked on the door…
No answer.
He knocked again, a little louder.
Still no answer.
The courier let out a long sigh: “Perhaps I have the wrong place.”
As soon as he said these words and turned, he heard the door open. The courier turned back and looked at the person looking back at him. He looked quite aged, having probably seen seventy winters or more, and was bald, with not one hair on his head – not even a stubble on his chin – save for grey bushy eyebrows. He wore some old haggered robes and held a withered, willow staff looking more like a support for his skinny, lanky frame. The courier could not believe this to be the old wizard, if it was him at all.
“Well what is it? I haven’t got all bloody day you know. If you are here to engage in a staring contest with me, you’d stand a better chance being indoors away from this rain, no?” The old man said irritably, the courier snapping back to attention.
“Umm, my apologies, but I seek a man, an old wizard named Herman who lives here. Are you by chance he?” asked the courier, ignoring the wet rain drops touching down on his exposed head. “I am here on business on behalf of..”
The old man shook his head and interrupted the courier: “Are you another one of Minso’s prospects seeking to be an apprentice? I keep telling them the same thing; I’m not interested! I do not take apprentices, I’m but a poor old hermit with a few parlor tricks. There are much more powerful wizards in this land that you could bother!”
The courier walked up to the old man, holding out a sealed envelope “W…wait, sir… I am not an apprentice, I am a courier sent by Fort Caspien’s General Minso with an urgent letter for you.”
The old man looked at the courier, and rubbed his chin in thought for a minute. He then made a slight nod and took the letter.
“Well why didn’t you say so in the first place, boy? Don’t just stand there, come in, come in! Take a few minutes off from the weather! I am Herman, yes… would you like some tea? i got a kettle going presently.”
“That is most generous of you sir, I will kindly take your offer with great respect,” the courier said, deciding to take in the hospitality. He was satisfied that his task was done, and wanted to wait until the weather cleared up.
“Bah! Leave the formalities for the bureaucrats, boy. Just call me Herman,” Herman said, turning back as they walked into his house. He walked towards the kettle sitting over a small fireplace. The courier welcomed the warmth after walking into the cold rain for a bit.
***
“Tell me, young one, what is your name?” Asked Herman as he poured the tea into an old ceramic cup, passing it to the courier.
“I am Jecthor Delanis, courier to General Minso of Fort Caspien, si…Herman” the courier replied.
It didn’t seem to him that this crazy old wizard was in any way interested in the letter – or at least presently – since he noticed the wizard randomly tossing the object in question on the floor. He thought better than to question the old man, however, since his job was done and the old man did show him some hospitality.
Jecthor looked at his surroundings and noticed that this house did not resemble what he had expected for the living area of a great wizard. It looked like a typical villager’s house, albeit messy and in disorder, but there was nothing spectacular or magical about it.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a single, open tome sitting at the table with a quill in a jar of ink. Hermit caught sight of it and got up and headed towards the book.
“Here, let me show you something interesting boy,” he said.
Jecthor got up and followed the old wizard and looked at the book. He couldn’t make out any of the writing, but he was able to make out some of the pictoral markings a some kind of animal symbols. There was the head of a bull, the head of a fox, what resembled the paw of a bear, the head of a cat, the head of an owl. There was also one last form, which looked like a form of a bird – an eagle most likely - but the courier wasn’t sure.
Sensing his curiosity, Herman started to explain to Jecthor: “Ah you see this, boy? I am researching old magic. Many, many years ago, magic and spells worked quite different than today. Even potions had a different effect. I am trying to recreate some of these old potions. For example, the bull’s head sigil you see here represents the potion called Bull’s Strength which grants the imbiber a boost in his muscle power.”
“I see,” Jecthor nodded.
“There are several potions here I would love to recreate and have young adventurers like you use them,” Herman continued, reaching over to his cupboard, taking a vial and handing it to the courier. “Here, drink this” he said.
Jecthor took the vial and looked at it for a bit, then turned his eyes towards the wizard.
“Go on, it won’t harm you. It’s not poison you know!” Herman exclaimed, to which the courier shrugged and quaffed the vial down not daring to taste its contents.
At first, he felt nothing, but after several seconds, he felt his stomach grumbled, and then a sharp pain go through his abdomen. The pain was so intense that Jecthor stumble down onto his knees, letting out a loud scream.
The wizards stood by him and grinned.
