(DAY12) Hey, no art today, nothing is coming out the way I want when i be drawing, so I instead have a short story I wrote for a player who missed last session. context: the player is a gnomish wizard who got expelled from wizard academy for a reason he can't remember, as though his memory had been wiped. I hope you all enjoy!
"After the events inside the Mimic colony, you truly feel the exhaustion of the past 24 hours weigh on your shoulders, and you soon pass out on the donkey’s back. You enter the fathomless black expanse of slumber, only to then find yourself looking out a dizzingly high window into a cold, ice-clogged sea, and you feel instantly at home. Of course, you are in your mentor’s office back at the university. Your mind drifts to the many moments you shared with Wulfhard, the old coot, before he calls out to you,
“Wicket, quit daydreaming and come help me move this sample,” he huffed. Wulfhard Mizakonos was an incredibly ancient wizard, especially for a human. He was dressed in lab gear draped over his dress clothes, and his magnificent white beard was tossed over his shoulder like a scarf. You remember this, one of the last experiments before you were expelled for… what was it again? No matter, you think as you help him lift and dump the contents of a cauldron into multiple funnels and beakers.
“Now, do you remember the next step, my apprentice?” he asked, eyes gleaming and waiting for your answer. You remember that this was a sample of a revolutionary new intelligence potion you two had worked through as a side project, before graduation.
“We… add… a dash of troll dandruff?” you hope.
“No, that is the last step; you forgot the mimic extract,” he sighed, “I know you are excited to show off your doctorate project, but we cannot lose focus on our current task.”
Doctorate? You haven’t thought about it since you got kicked out. What was the project again? As you start to realize you can’t remember what it was, the dream starts to break down: the room melts, Wulfhard turns to smoke, the potions all simultaneously boil over. As panic sets in, the sea, normally a good 300 feet below, starts to flow in through the window. As you realize you can’t swim, you awake in a sweat, your travelling companions silently gathered around a fire in the vast desert twilight."
