Greyhawk 636 CY: The Rise of Asmodeus

The Case of The Merciful Illusionist (Part II)

Flocktime 26, 636 CY

The Case of The Merciful Illusionist (Part II)

Quentin Gabriel Tarella III was supposed to be the greatest non-gnome illusionist on Oerth. I accepted the fact because four of him were bolting in different directions: For perfect hims, that is. Each one was as good as the original, but only one was the original. My master dove for one while I collared another quickly. Mine was solid in my hands and I was sure my quarter chance to snag the real one had paid off, until I looked up at my thrilled master pointing at his copy as well.

Frederik,” he said beaming, “this is amazing…heartbeat, consistency…a full reality really.”

Jeremy!” I yelled, more than slightly upset, “Are either of these real?”

“What? Oh no…no. There is a slight deviation in the way negative energy flows through them, they are not alive…but I would not have noticed it unless I came pre…”

I reached out and grabbed my master by the front of his face, “Can…you…follow…it?”

“You mean the trail of energy…I think so.”

I released him, “Then while we are young and you still have hair…let’s follow it.”

“Of course…wait…you think I will go bald?”

“No, I’m going to tear your hair out.”

“Oh, what a relief.”

A few moments later we were crossing the great market of Zeif with nearly reckless speed. In the distance I spotted the form of Tarella ducking into a rug store. I picked up my speed. Under my breath I muttered: “No…no…no…nononononoooooooooo…”

My fears proved true as he burst from the shop on a flying carpet, knocking Jeremy to the ground and nearly doing the same to me. Having been prepared and expecting a flying carpet, I managed to grab onto the back end of it and pull myself up to the surface.

Tarella turned around, “Oh please…what are they sending now? I mean…sure you look kind of human but to the trained eye…”

“To the trained eye, I am a pissed off strong human who has no problem dangling you by your eyebrows for the remainder of this flight.”

“I was going to say…to the trained eye you were a golem. But, maybe not.”

“MAYBE!”

“Ok, too much emotion. Well tell you master that I refuse to work for evil people who want to use my magnificent skills for vile endeavors; Or something equally noble and dramatic? Spice it up. I will be leaving you…”

He began to take a step backward to take a dive off the carpet when my master rose up behind him. “When did I want you to do something evil? I think you are confusing us with people far more nefarious.”

“Really,” Tarella asked, “the pale flying guy…not evil?”

Jeremy shook his head, “Racist.”

Tarella paused, “I…I have no response for that.”

“They rarely do.”

We had a name for this, it was called confuse and bruise. So as Jeremy knocked Tarella off guard with his bewildering logic, I took two exaggerated strides forward and placed my index and middle finger behind his trachea and the knuckles of my pinky and ring fingers on the front of it. “In this position,” I said, “I can tear out your windpipe…in fact if you knocked me out or down I really couldn’t stop it from happening. And since we only want to talk to you about fighting an evil gnome and nightmare cleric and boogeymen…I would rather not kill you and have my master raise you to cooperate.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. “I’m good with the having a trachea and being alive outcome.”

My master bowed in mid air, “Allow us then to introduce ourselves…”

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