06-04-2017, 10:09 PM
Still, whether or not the mage had any native charm, he was a valuable resource, competent in his chosen profession and not given to unwarranted panic. Chatterly respected that, so when Hezekiah Sugman, court wizard to the Duke of Harnburg, sent word that he needed to speak with him immediately, the spymaster didn't waste any time.
The wizard's chambers were in the algae-sodden catacombs beneath the castle, under the Northeast corner of the Duke's Keep. Chatterly was short enough that at the low ceilings weren't a concern, but it was still very unpleasant: the building's foundation was below the level of the nearby lake, and it leaked like a sieve. Water dripped from slime-covered masonry and rippled ankle-deep around Chatterly's boots as he made his way down a stone corridor, breathing through his mouth and taking care not to touch the walls, gloves or not. The mire gurgled and hissed continuously, draining through unseen grates in the floor. After several minutes of increasingly irritated wading, the agent came to an iron door with a single stone step at its base, raised just high enough from the floor that it could be opened without any water passing the threshold. It swung open at his approach.
A hoarse male voice called from within, "C'mon in, Slick."
Chatterly frowned, but he did as he was bid.
The wizard's study was originally intended as a storage vault. It was the only dry room in this section of the catacombs, large and dark, lit by the glow of a single crystal ball, and several bowls of burning incense placed haphazardly about the room on shelves and chairs. The pungent smoke drowned the smell of algae and rot that spilled in through the open door with the burnt-metal-and-grass-clippings scent of whatever mystic potpourri Hezekiah preferred. The slate-tiled floor was covered with half-completed diagrams describing curves and angles of dubious significance, nearly invisible in the flickering light, but was otherwise bare. There were several wooden tables, scrupulously clean, a chest of drawers in one corner, and a variety of shelves pushed flush against the walls. Chatterly took a very professional non-interest in what those shelves contained.
In the middle of the room sat Hezekiah, cross-legged on top of a seemingly mundane boulder which he'd had the guards haul in from the cliffside, with a crystal ball in his lap. The man was skinny and young, barely out of his teens, with hair the color of copper wire and a meticulously groomed and briaded beard that hung nearly to his knees. He liked to dress in bright blue and yellow coveralls, and he owned the most constantly-bloodshot pair of meteor-crater eyes that Chatterly had ever encountered. They were horrible, but made it nearly impossible to look away from the mage's face.
"I still don't understand," said Chatterly, closing the door behind him, "why you insist on living down here. His grace the Duke offered you a tower, and yet you choose to have your study in the most inhospitable corner of the entire Keep!"
Hezekiah shook his head. "Don't do towers, Slick. Bad associations. Underground - belike, that's the place to be. Decievers can't see you down here. Ya got any gum?"
Chatterly's lips pulled into a thin line. The incense was beginning to give him a headache, and the mage's conversational peculiarities weren't helping. "No."
The wizard shook his head. "Too bad, Slick. A well-prepared fella should always have some gum. Check this shit out." He waved a spidery hand over the crystal ball, and the tiny image within expanded, projected into the empty space between the two men by rays of hazy light.
It was of King Ghidorah, in his full three-headed glory, soaring through the air above a post-industrial city in some nameless continuum, blasting golden lightning left and right. The ground erupted in his wake, shattered by his mere presence.
"I hope this isn't all you wanted to show me," responded the agent, taking a handkerchief out of his cloak and folding it over his nose. "I already knew he was terrible - though that shock-wave effect is new. What's your point, Hezekiah?"
Hezekiah grinned, and his horrible eyes gleamed. "Bug-lady's been talkin' to me in my dreams, Slick. She says Goldenrod's bad news. Says Goldenrod's not just some crumb-bum dragon who likes to break things."
Chatterly rubbed his chin, the yellow light from the crystal casting shadows on his narrow face. "'Bug Lady'?" It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
The wizard's chambers were in the algae-sodden catacombs beneath the castle, under the Northeast corner of the Duke's Keep. Chatterly was short enough that at the low ceilings weren't a concern, but it was still very unpleasant: the building's foundation was below the level of the nearby lake, and it leaked like a sieve. Water dripped from slime-covered masonry and rippled ankle-deep around Chatterly's boots as he made his way down a stone corridor, breathing through his mouth and taking care not to touch the walls, gloves or not. The mire gurgled and hissed continuously, draining through unseen grates in the floor. After several minutes of increasingly irritated wading, the agent came to an iron door with a single stone step at its base, raised just high enough from the floor that it could be opened without any water passing the threshold. It swung open at his approach.
A hoarse male voice called from within, "C'mon in, Slick."
Chatterly frowned, but he did as he was bid.
The wizard's study was originally intended as a storage vault. It was the only dry room in this section of the catacombs, large and dark, lit by the glow of a single crystal ball, and several bowls of burning incense placed haphazardly about the room on shelves and chairs. The pungent smoke drowned the smell of algae and rot that spilled in through the open door with the burnt-metal-and-grass-clippings scent of whatever mystic potpourri Hezekiah preferred. The slate-tiled floor was covered with half-completed diagrams describing curves and angles of dubious significance, nearly invisible in the flickering light, but was otherwise bare. There were several wooden tables, scrupulously clean, a chest of drawers in one corner, and a variety of shelves pushed flush against the walls. Chatterly took a very professional non-interest in what those shelves contained.
In the middle of the room sat Hezekiah, cross-legged on top of a seemingly mundane boulder which he'd had the guards haul in from the cliffside, with a crystal ball in his lap. The man was skinny and young, barely out of his teens, with hair the color of copper wire and a meticulously groomed and briaded beard that hung nearly to his knees. He liked to dress in bright blue and yellow coveralls, and he owned the most constantly-bloodshot pair of meteor-crater eyes that Chatterly had ever encountered. They were horrible, but made it nearly impossible to look away from the mage's face.
"I still don't understand," said Chatterly, closing the door behind him, "why you insist on living down here. His grace the Duke offered you a tower, and yet you choose to have your study in the most inhospitable corner of the entire Keep!"
Hezekiah shook his head. "Don't do towers, Slick. Bad associations. Underground - belike, that's the place to be. Decievers can't see you down here. Ya got any gum?"
Chatterly's lips pulled into a thin line. The incense was beginning to give him a headache, and the mage's conversational peculiarities weren't helping. "No."
The wizard shook his head. "Too bad, Slick. A well-prepared fella should always have some gum. Check this shit out." He waved a spidery hand over the crystal ball, and the tiny image within expanded, projected into the empty space between the two men by rays of hazy light.
It was of King Ghidorah, in his full three-headed glory, soaring through the air above a post-industrial city in some nameless continuum, blasting golden lightning left and right. The ground erupted in his wake, shattered by his mere presence.
"I hope this isn't all you wanted to show me," responded the agent, taking a handkerchief out of his cloak and folding it over his nose. "I already knew he was terrible - though that shock-wave effect is new. What's your point, Hezekiah?"
Hezekiah grinned, and his horrible eyes gleamed. "Bug-lady's been talkin' to me in my dreams, Slick. She says Goldenrod's bad news. Says Goldenrod's not just some crumb-bum dragon who likes to break things."
Chatterly rubbed his chin, the yellow light from the crystal casting shadows on his narrow face. "'Bug Lady'?" It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.