Raistlin Majere (
magus_majere) wrote in
filthhub2019-07-18 07:43 pm
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"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.
Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.
"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.
Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"
"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."
That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"
"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."
Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.
And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.
Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.
"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.
Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"
"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."
That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"
"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."
Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.
And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.
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There's a good chance that's a joke, but regardless, he sets aside the empty wine bottle.
"Alright, I feel less shitty now."
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The amount of info he could rattle off about bullets and explosives alone was a good indicator of that.
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"Back to the old murder drawing board. I'll see if I can't think of something when I get home, I need a nap." After a week of 'napping'.
More nap.
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Murder session over!