Post by Imp (Dan L) on Jan 4, 2020 20:26:15 GMT
"Alright, alright. I'll admit, I made a mistake," the half-elf said, holding his hands up apologetically. His name was Imp, and he almost deserved it. Anyone looking closely would notice a smattering of rings across the long, bony fingers. Anyone looking *very* closely would notice that these were about as genuine as his smile.
"Mistake?! You sold them snake oil!"
"Technically, basilisk oil," Imp said, looking around the Mage's office. There was a plant that looked almost alive in the corner, moving in a breeze that wasn't entirely there. There was a whirring device that occasionally went 'ping' and skittered in a small circle atop the desk.
"'Technically', it was honey and olive oil! You cannot go around throwing the names of good mages into disrepute!"
"Why not? You do."
"What?"
"Hm? What does that device do?" Imp asked, pointing at the table. It went ping again, and clattered into a mug that said 'World's Best Arcanist'. Imp doubted the veracity of this claim. The 'World's Best Arcanist' had tucked his trousers into his slippers.
"I- I think it goes ping. Imp, you're getting into too much trouble, doing reckless things-"
"Like stealing your scrolls?"
"Yes, like- wait, what?" He placed his hand on his desk and chanted a few muttered words. A desk drawer rolled out, revealing four spell scrolls, rolling gently from side to side with the momentum. Imp shot him a disarming grin across the table, just as a chime went from the door.
"Stop fooling around, Imp. Look," the arcanist said, rubbing his forehead with the air of a man whose already tenuous grip on reality was being stretched to breaking point, "just stay here. I've got a client to send on his way."
"Oh! I had no idea," Imp lied, "I'll wait here."
Imp had, in fact, every idea of who was walking through the door that was being held open by the arcanist. It was an elf, visiting a long-lost relative whom Imo had suggested teleportation to just a few days prior. He'd arrived right on time.
As the arcanist walked through to the teleportation chamber with the elderly elf in tow, he shot a quick glance back at the desk and closed the drawer quickly, the scrolls rattling from side to side. Imp smiled to him, and bent down to tie his shoelaces. He checked his pack: everything there, along with his recent additions rustling in a secret pocket.
"Where you off to today, sir?" He asked the elf as he sat up.
"Oh, Kantas. I've got a relative there," he said. Imp smiled. Kantas would do just fine. Nobody knew him there.
The circle glowed, and Imp peered in. 5, 4, 3... The elf stepped in.
And so did Imp.
"Mistake?! You sold them snake oil!"
"Technically, basilisk oil," Imp said, looking around the Mage's office. There was a plant that looked almost alive in the corner, moving in a breeze that wasn't entirely there. There was a whirring device that occasionally went 'ping' and skittered in a small circle atop the desk.
"'Technically', it was honey and olive oil! You cannot go around throwing the names of good mages into disrepute!"
"Why not? You do."
"What?"
"Hm? What does that device do?" Imp asked, pointing at the table. It went ping again, and clattered into a mug that said 'World's Best Arcanist'. Imp doubted the veracity of this claim. The 'World's Best Arcanist' had tucked his trousers into his slippers.
"I- I think it goes ping. Imp, you're getting into too much trouble, doing reckless things-"
"Like stealing your scrolls?"
"Yes, like- wait, what?" He placed his hand on his desk and chanted a few muttered words. A desk drawer rolled out, revealing four spell scrolls, rolling gently from side to side with the momentum. Imp shot him a disarming grin across the table, just as a chime went from the door.
"Stop fooling around, Imp. Look," the arcanist said, rubbing his forehead with the air of a man whose already tenuous grip on reality was being stretched to breaking point, "just stay here. I've got a client to send on his way."
"Oh! I had no idea," Imp lied, "I'll wait here."
Imp had, in fact, every idea of who was walking through the door that was being held open by the arcanist. It was an elf, visiting a long-lost relative whom Imo had suggested teleportation to just a few days prior. He'd arrived right on time.
As the arcanist walked through to the teleportation chamber with the elderly elf in tow, he shot a quick glance back at the desk and closed the drawer quickly, the scrolls rattling from side to side. Imp smiled to him, and bent down to tie his shoelaces. He checked his pack: everything there, along with his recent additions rustling in a secret pocket.
"Where you off to today, sir?" He asked the elf as he sat up.
"Oh, Kantas. I've got a relative there," he said. Imp smiled. Kantas would do just fine. Nobody knew him there.
The circle glowed, and Imp peered in. 5, 4, 3... The elf stepped in.
And so did Imp.