#wizard apprentice problems

[barely-living-wizard-apprentice]

why are spells stored in dusty old tomes why aren't they audiobooks

[the-gnomish-bastard]

Anyone know a spell to unshit your robes? Asking for an apprentice.

[krashsmashthewizard]

the high mages wonder where all their unripe peaches went when they LITERALLY watched me steal them straight from the back garden

[chromegnomes]

worst part of coming from twitter to tumblr is that my unironic wizardposting over there would make me look like a poser on here

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 2: SIMON PETRIKOV

Let me know if I missed anything!

First of all the title sequence is fucking cool. I don't want to speculate about the various things we see in it, like the apartment getting blown up or the Fern tree growing into its 1000+ version, because I'm sure the show will get round to all that!

The first scene was an awesome reintroduction to the post-apocalypse, showing us the dynamic between Simon and Marcy. The button popping off Marcy's dungarees was a reference to young Marcy's first appearance, Memory of a Memory, when she removed one of the buttons herself to fix Hambo's eye.

Simon was show playing a live set at Dirt Beer Guy's tavern in Obsidian. It seems they've gotten to know each other quite well over the past twelve years. Dirt Beer Guy asks Simon if he's read his new book draft, about a character called Joe Milkshake who was first mentioned in the episode Root Beer Guy.

Despite the fact we saw Jake in the trailers, Finn and T.V. pretty much confirm in this scene that Jake is dead, and has presumably been dead since before Obsidian. I guess Bronwyn wasn't the only Jake descendant who Finn took on as an apprentice, but T.V. doesn't seem all that into it. The Finn and Jake we saw in the trailer are likely from an alternate universe that we have yet to see.

Finn uses his weed whacker to cut through these bushes. A nice way of showing he's fully recovered from his Fern guilt. The focus here is very much on Simon's problems instead of Finn's.

Finn parts with Simon to go and visit Huntress Wizard. The nature of their relationship remains ambiguous and I expect it to stay that way.

Simon has the Island Lady from The Party's Over Isla de Señorita in his phone. I guess they reconnected after he became Simon again. He also has Abracadaniel. I always liked Ice King's friendship with Abracadaniel and the rest of the Order of Giuseppe so I hope they're still friends!

Cute Bubbline scene. Back in the episode Bonnibel Bubblegum, Mr. Creampuff suggested he and PB get matching tattoos. Now she's (trying to) do the same with the girl she's chosen rather than some guy who was chosen for her! Also Marceline is using the same phone she's been seen with in a few previous episodes, including Go With Me and Be Sweet.

I think the flying human city is called Up-Ton.

Choose Goose! He keeps coming back! And he's evil now! People were joking about him being the antagonist of Fionna and Cake after that weird post-credits scene in Wizard City and the fact he was in hell in Together Again. I wasn't expecting that to actually come true. Glob knows why he's hanging out in a cage in Simon's house.

The pattern of GOLB's eyes is reflected in Simon's glasses during the ritual. He is doing the same dance that Betty was doing to summon GOLB in the finale.

Among the objects in Simon's GOLB shrine are the Farmworld Enchiridion, the flying carpet that Simon stole from Ash and was later frequently used by Betty, the crocodile clips that Betty used for her magic rituals, two effigies of GOLB, and what looks to be the shell of the snail who was seen throughout the original series.

In this credits sequence, Fionna and cake are dreaming about the mask being worn by the bear than Finn slew, and a butterfly with a smiley face on it. Perhaps symbolising Finn?

Tune in next week for episodes 3 and 4!

[foone]

idea: a warlock researcher. That's not a researcher of warlocks, but a researcher who is a warlock. At least, that's what they appear to be: They've got a patron and all, and they are able to research things incredibly effectively because their patron is able to find out all kinds of information for them.

But it turns out they're really a chronomancer: Their patron is themselves, in the future (or past, depending on how you look at it).

Their patron doesn't have incredible knowledge: their patron doesn't know anything they didn't spend the time to find out themselves.

But once they finish learning the thing, they send it back in time to their previous self, making it look like they got the answer immediately.

So, like, if you go to them and pay them a dozen gold to develop a reusable genderswap potion recipe, they'll call up their patron and their patron will hand them a scroll with the ingredients on it. Bam, done!

Except what actually happened is that they spent weeks or months studying the problem, scouring libraries, consulting other wizards, getting into swordfights with the God of Gender, and endless experimentation on their poor apprentices. Just when they were done, they sent the results back in time, undoing that branch of the timeline, resulting in the recipe appearing out of nowhere, a grandfather-paradox item with no creation event.

Really, 12 gold is a bargain for how much work they didn't have to do for you.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: Roilwreak, Temperamental Elemental

WHATS SHAKING YOU WIZARD BITCHES, GUESS WHO BROKE CONTAINMENT AGAIN?? THAT'S RIGHT, ITS MEEE!!!

Beginning life as an apprentice's over ambitious and much procrastinated thesis project, this arcane entity has entered into a troubled adolescence marked by making itself a calamitous nuisance. Being a Weird ( an elemental composed of two contradictory natures) Roilwreak is possessed by a destructive restlessness that only seems to find an outlet in causing problems for others, whether it be in property damage, petty arson, or the disarray of arcane workings for the sheer shit-disturbing fun of it.

Adventure Hooks

Roilwreak spends most of its time in a warded enclosure on the grounds of the academy in which it was summoned, tended to by apprentices and occasional studied for its unique ability to interfere with different kinds of magical energy. There's a rumour that upperclassmen (and even faculty) sometimes sneak in after hours to bargain with the elemental in order to fuel their more elaborate rituals.. which might be how the Weird managed to escape this time. Pheraps the homebrew potion dregs and scraps of firecrackers from the nearby market can point at a suspect.

The elemental has given the academy the slip and disapeared into the city's pipeworks, resulting in minor flooding as pipes crack under unexpected pressure and a number of injuries as a pubic fountain boiled off into scalding mist. The local garison have put a bounty out for whoever can slay the elemental, but the academy just want it returned safely. It IS a sapient creature after all, and it can't help that chaos is in it's nature.

A villainous mage has heard of the Weird's powers and wants to make use of them, binding Roilwreak into a weapon or draining off its energy for some awful ritual. Having organized an infiltration (or perhaps the current breakout) it's a race to see who can catch the hyper-charged herptile first.

[natalieironside]

There were some, like, fantasy guys dealing with fantasy problems and they were like "We need The Wizard for this" but The Wizard's apprentice was like "He's dead. :( I'm here, tho!" and went on the adventure and when they got to the place where a wizard would be most useful/necessary the apprentice takes The Wizard's ashes out of his backpack and resurrects The Wizard and it's revealed that The Wizard committed suicide shortly before the adventure guys got to his house because he didn't want to walk all that way and found an easy way to make his apprentice carry him.

I swear to Garsh I've read this plotline in a book or seen it in a movie or something but I cannot remember where and it's been bothering me my whole life

[probablyfunrpgideas]

Alternative Specialties For Con Artists

Maker of taxidermy cryptids.

"I can drink more ale than anyone" but you have a bag hidden under your shirt or a magical storage ability. After you win the bet you still have like, a week's worth of ale for later.

Pretend to cast Sending spells for a fee, make up a response.

Trick a wealthy person into committing a crime (or believing they have committed a crime), then ask for money to "make the problem go away".

Counterfeit spell scrolls for apprentice wizards. "Oh, that's too bad. You must not be ready for spells of the second order yet." Remember, people don't get to know the result of their caster level check when they try to use a scroll!

[lorkai]

づ A/N: This idea has been living rent free in my head for a few months now and I finally had time to sit and write down. Might write a part 2 but idk yet. Also reblogs are appreciated!

Characters: Thirteen, Solomon, Simeon & Barbatos

There are stupid things that are expected to be common sense. For example, everyone knows that eating Solomon's food is an extremely dumb idea. Alas you are dumb and decided to eat the pasta he had made after one lesson you had; resulting in you gaining immortality.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Thirteen is the first being to notice the change. Your candle is forever frozen just like Solomon's, motionless, the flames static and the reaper is left in a mix of feelings when she understands what happened; what that terrible wizard have done to you, poor you and your beautiful soul and mortality. She questions you about it as soon as she sees you, no matter who is around, questioning you about your immortality, about what happened and if you are happy with your decision.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ For her, this was what you wanted so when she finds out that you didn't even know about it Thirteen doesn't know how to react. You recount the day's events to her, how you trained magic with Solomon and then had dinner with him. It's so comical, so unbelievable, several humans searched for a way to obtain immortality and you just had to eat the food that Solomon prepared for you. She is crying with laughter and rolling on the floor at this point, however, the reaper will be more than happy to help you find a way to undo your immortality if you so desire.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Solomon was by your side when Thirteen appeared suddenly and he is so surprised by this information. I mean, he doesn't understand how a simple pasta can make you immortal since he himself only became immortal through one of his failed experiments, but he also didn't know his cooking could do this??? He is not at all sad about the news as now he know his beloved apprentice will live forever, however, yes, immortality has its downsides; the death of friends and family, the pain of remembering how you forgot their faces, voices and cherished memories and there is nothing you can do to get them back.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But he is here to support you in every difficult and painful moment as well as in the most joyful and happy moments. He's here forever to be by your side, to give you a helping hand and a shoulder to lean on. Though saddened he would help find a way to reverse your mortality if you truly wished for it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Simeon's mouth had never been so open. You, immortal? How, when, why? He listens to you recount the day's events, but he still can't comprehend how Solomon's dish could do something like this. Simeon knows that the thing Solomon calls food is capable of doing, but being able to grant immortality to someone? By heaven, he doesn't even know what to say, he doesn't even know what to do. Do you need to be comforted? Do you want a hug? Are you well? He's more nervous than you are, honestly. Simeon tries to calm you down and offers solutions to your problems.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When everything was done and said, he felt a little happy. Angels don't know what the pain of loss is like and he wishes he didn't know what it's like, he wishes he didn't live to find out what life was like without you. You're like a ray of sunshine, so cheerful and chaotic and a welcome part of his life.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Barbatos found out about it from Simeon. The embodiment of "disappointed but not surprised", if you subjected yourself to eating the horrendous pestilence that was Solomon's food then you knew the risks you were taking and didn't care. The lord of time holds back from giving you a good lecture as soon as he sees you. Who in their right mind would eat that??? Why, MC, why??? He wants so much to understand what you were thinking at that moment and what you are thinking now, what you feel now, becoming immortal can be a bit shocking, even more so with all the pros and cons that come along with the experience of being immortal.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is the one who helps you adjust to your new life as the years go by. The one who helps you get a house, new documents and teaches you how to deal with everything when things get too much. He already did it once to his master and now he's going to do it to you now. If you ask and Diavolo allows it, Barbatos will look into the future for a way to reverse your immortality. That's your wish and he respects it but then why does this possibility leaves an empty feeling in his chest?

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

What If...

What if Astarion and Gale had met years prior to the events of the mindflayer invasion? What if instead, Astarion had met a young wizarding apprentice at a bar?

Pairing: Astarion/Gale

Rating M (Nsfw under the cut)

Sweet and Supple

The tavern is noisy when Astarion walks inside, the conversation doesn’t stop but he clocks the interested stares and glances his way as he takes off his cloak and drapes it over his arm. It’d been a long day of signing warrants, issuing warrants, dealing with the petty problems of even pettier people and now he wanted a drink. 

Maybe something tart. He passed by a young elfen woman. Her eyes like pools of water. Or spicey, the tiefling near the stairs to the second floor wasn’t hard on the eyes. Maybe robust? He ran a hand through his hair clocking the ranger at the bar. 

He sat at the bar, a seat between himself and the ranger and drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited for the bartender. He ordered a glass of wine. Red. It tasted like vinegar but one did have to keep up appearances. 

Astarion barely hid his grimace on the first sip and scanned the tavern again. He knew the ranger kept glancing at him. Could feel in the interested stare, the low hum of his pulse from the blood rushing through his veins. 

He was prepared to give the ranger what he wanted when another smell reached his nose. Something soft and sweet. He turned in his seat, curious and narrowed his eyes at the young man almost huddled at a small corner table. 

Young. With a soft face, dark eyes, shoulder length mousy brown hair. He kept scanning the bar as if he was waiting for someone but it was mostly nerves. There was a glass of wine on the table and a bottle. 

Broken heart perhaps? Astarion titled his head to the side. 

He ran his tongue over his teeth and stood, ranger forgotten as he made his way to the table. The young man startled when he saw Astarion leaning against the chair opposite him. 

“They say drinking alone is worse than finding a kobold in a barrel of firewine,” Astarion smiled a bit. “Waiting for a friend?” 

“I…was supposed to,” the young man nodded a little. “Seems, they forgot…” he cleared his throat. “I was just leaving though, you can uh, have the bottle if you like.” 

“Now, what did I just say about drinking alone?” Astarion chastised with no real bite behind it. He pulled out the chair he’d been leaning against and sat down. “Stay a spell.” He looked at the bottle and whistled impressed. “Arkhen’s hoard? Pricey.” 

“Is it? I uh…just sort of picked something random,” the other man admitted and rubbed the back of his neck. 

Astarion leaned back in seat, glancing him over once more, taking in his appearance. He was dressed in a bit more finery than those of this particular tavern might be. There was a half of a crest that he could make out on the young man’s coat. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Astarion guessed. 

“I’m visiting from Waterdeep,” the young man told him. “I, well I was visiting Sorcerous Sundries. I had hoped to get a peak at some of their more priceless volumes but, even a student of the great Eliminster can’t get past the clerk…” he sighed. “I’m Gale, by the way.” He offered his hand. 

Soft. Warm. He could feel his pulse quicken slightly. 

“I’m Astarion,” he smiled and shook his hand. 

****

“I um, I have a confession to make,” Gale glanced over at Astarion as they continued to walk down the street of the upper city.

They’d left the tavern a little after the sun had set completely, the air was cool and smelled like saltwater from the docks not too far off. Gale’s cheeks had a nice flush to them, almost rosy in color. 

He’d gotten progressively closer to Astarion in the course of their walking. He didn’t seem to pay too much attention to his surroundings once he started talking and gods did he talk. 

“I’m an apprentice wizard,” Gale told Astarion. “Elminster is my teacher and I’ve been told I’m something of a prodigy.” 

“How modest,” Astarion had teased drinking more of his wine. 

He talked about magic, he talked about Elminster, he talked about the Weave and someone named Mystra. Who she was, Astarion had no idea, but Gale was mesmerized by her it seemed. 

“And what’s that dear boy?” Astarion asked. 

Gale’s cheek darkened more at the term. 

“I wasn’t actually waiting for anyone…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I did go to Sorcerous Sundries, but I was hoping to speak to the man who owned the store, the wizard Lorroakan. All I got was a smart ass projection and a not very helpful rare book clerk.” 

“So you intended to get drunk and forget it happened?” Astarion asked. 

“More of less,” Gale nodded a bit embarrassed. 

“Well, I’m glad,” Astarion mused. He reached out, first touching Gale’s cheek, running his thumb over the young man’s lower lip. “Because it meant that I got to meet you.” 

“O…Oh?” Gale looked up at him. 

Those big dark eyes, so open. 

“Mhmm,” Astarion leaned in. 

He took his time, both as not to startle Gale, but not so fast that he could pull away if this isn’t what he wanted. He brushed their lips together, Gale still hadn’t moved, but then he surged forward, pressing his lips more firmly to Astarion’s. 

Astarion made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, backing them up they were partially hidden under one of the stone walkways. He pressed Gale against the stone wall, one hand at Gale’s lower back, the other braced on the wall. 

Gale’s hands were around Astarion, gripping his coat so tightly Astarion was briefly worried it might tear. He only pulled away when he could feel Gale’s chest heaving against his own, the young wizard titled his head back against the wall, panting. 

Astarion could almost hear the blood rushing in his veins and moved the hand against the wall to the back of Gale’s neck, wrapping some errant curls around his fingers. He kissed him against, working his way down his chin, his jaw, letting his teeth scrape against the soft skin of his throat. 

Gale shivered parting his legs as Astarion nudged them apart with his knee. 

Astarion peered up at him threw his lashes. Gale’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, panting. He licked a stripe up his throat and tugged at the ties of Gale’s pants. He wormed his had inside, wrapping his hand around Gale’s cock. 

“This alright?” Astarion nibbled at his neck. 

“Nng,” Gale thrust into his hand. 

“Words darling, words,” Astarion teased. 

“Ye..yes, fuck,” Gale held onto his coat tighter. “Please, please, please.” 

And who was Astarion to deny such sweet words. He gave a few teasing strokes, smearing the precum along the length. Gale rocked his hand, trying to thrust into Astarion’s hand. His cock throbbed, the scent of him quickly filling the air. 

Astarion quickened his pace wanting to time it just right, Gale’s pulse quickened and Astarion opened his mouth, sinking his fangs into the young wizard’s throat as Gale tensed pressing against him, grinding against his knee and hand as he spilled into his hand. 

Astarion moaned as the blood filled his mouth. So sweet and supple. Like a pear just the right side of ripe. He pulled back, running his tongue along the marks he made. He slipped his hand from Gale’s pants, licking the spilled seed from his fingers. 

Gale slumped against the wall, Astarion shouldering most of his weight. Not that he minded at the moment. 

“That was uh...um…” Gale panted and swallowed. 

“Wonderful? I couldn’t agree more,” Astarion leaned in and kissed him. Softly this time. “But alas, it is late. Where are you staying?” 

“U…uh,” Gale licked his lips and swallowed. “The Elfsong.” 

Astarion deftly retied Gale’s pants, stepping back so the young man could compose himself. “I shall walk you there.” 

“Oh…I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Gale replied.

“Good thing you’re not asking,” Astarion told him. 

The walk to the Elfsong was not as long as Astarion would have preferred. Feeding aside, he actually enjoyed the other man’s company. It was refreshing, not talking about warrants, and citations. Petty problems of the upper elite. 

Astarion stopped just outside the Elfsong, with his hands in his pockets. “Will you be in Baldur’s gate long?” 

“Couple more days,” Gale nodded. “I wanted to visit the Stormshore Tabernacle. They have a shrine dedicated to Mystra and I’d feel rude not paying my respects.” 

“I’ve unfortunately got a mountain of paperwork to accomplish, but perhaps the day after tomorrow, we could do something a bit more proper?” Astarion asked. 

“More proper as in, not shamelessly making out and ahem, shoving your hand down my pants,” Gale coughed lightly into his hand. “Not that I minded.” 

Astarion chuckled and nodded. “Is that a yes then?” 

“Yeah, yes,” Gale nodded. 

“Good. Tomorrow night after next,” Astarion told him. 

He watched Gale head into the Elfsong and ran his tongue over his teeth again. He could still taste remnants of the sweetness of Gale’s blood, the musk of his seed and turned on his heel as he began his walk home. 

“Absolutely delightful,” he mused.

[barely-living-wizard-apprentice]

what about being an old ass wizard makes you answer every question with cryptic nonsense. "Only time will tell whether you surround yourself with allies or enemies" dude I just asked what kind of chips you want

[the-gnomish-bastard]

Turns out one of my apprentices has been teaching someone behind my back. He had his own secret apprentice that he was teaching everything that I taught him. Apparently, he had plans to overthrow me with his apprentice.

I’ve never been prouder. Both of them have been cast into the astral plane.

[troublesometrollhunters]

Jim's sibling AKA reader meets douxie for the first time?

~ First his mom falls for a changeling and now THIS??? Jim's honestly tired of his families sheingians. He knows he's heads over heels for a sorcessres but that's a bit different.

~ You and Jim have always been close and after dad left you got even closer, which makes him protective of you even if your older. For a long time you didn't need anyone except your family and Toby. And for most of your life it really was just you, Jim, Mom, Toby and of course Aunt Nana. Until you and Jim started falling for different people. Jim fell for Claire and theater while you fell for Hisirdoux and music.

~ You met the handsome wizard at the cafe he works at. You were picking up an order before your college classes and one to drop off for your mom since Jim forgot to cook that week. He was so nice to you and the shop was really serene so it becomes your regular place and after awhile you just begin getting closer. You'd always loved that area but you'd never been into that cafe before that instance. And when you bumped into the mysterious hazel eyed stranger it just became apart of your routine.

~ When Jim became the Trollhunter you started seeing Douxie less and apprentally he noticed. After a long month of homework, trollhunting, and dealing with an angry mom, you popped into the cafe to get your favorite comfort pastry and drink. Douxie winks at you when he sees you, waving the charge and asking where you've been. You couldn't be more greatful as you began to drink your large order.

~ After the free drink and him really showing an interest in you, you ask him for his number. You begin texting regularly and even start to meet up on campus. Your still busy with trollhunting but you do your best to make time for him. You start seeing each other a lot more and get closer. You can't tell him about what's happening to you but you can tell him about the stress and all the pressure mom puts on you. He can't tell you about his wizarding night job but he can talk about his stressful cafe job and a growing pest problem in Arcadia.

~ Jim started to complain about a punk guy he'd seen around while you complained about a certain purple haired theater nerd. Neither of you understanding or knowing that you were talking about your respective girlfriend/boyfriend.

~ You finding out each other's secrets was an accident on both your parts. Hisrdoux was fighting some ancient evil from the shadow realm while you were going against a troll assassin sent by Gatto. As his spell collided with your enemy, your weapon went straight through his. It wasn't how you wanted him to find out and it wasn't how he was going to tell you but standing there adrenaline coursing through your veins you couldn't stop yourself from the kiss you'd wanted to give him for weeks now.

~ None of your confession went to plan. But neither did his. That wasn't how you wanted him to learn you were the Trollhunters sibling. And that's not how he wanted you to learn he was Merlin's Apprentice. But life doesn't always go the way you want to and while Merlin and Jim didn't love it you both loved each other and really? That's all that mattered.

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame {Pt.5}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Happy thanksgiving y'all!!! full chapter is up on the ao3, splitting the tumblr portion into 2 parts as per usual. :)

Word Count: 2.3k

“I struggle to see the amusement in this.” The statement is harsh, nearly spat out as he paces the room. Having sent out his apprentice to retrieve groceries from the inner city, he and his familiar are able to talk freely about the new development in his plan. Of course, Tara seems more keen on bragging about it than truly discussing it, only adding to the mountain of stress resting on the wizard’s shoulders.

“Is it too brash to say ‘I told you so’?” She taunts, splayed over a velvet lounge chair in the room. “I knew all along, if you can believe it. You never were the sort to give up. No matter what task you’re faced with. ‘Twas merely a phase, just as I originally predicted.”

“Save me the boasting. Gods, this discussion is useless. There’s no point in arguing fate. I cannot act out of selfishness.” He takes a deep breath, collapsing back in the chair at his desk, the upper half of his hair messily pulled into a bun, though it does little to contain a few spare strands hanging in front of his face. The orb burns, feeding off of his emotions as they slowly build to a frustrated rage – one he has nobody but himself to blame for. His breathing is heavy, fighting to wade through the thick ocean of thoughts in his head, and his leg bouncing as he tries to come up with any possible way around this ‘problem’ of his. 

But he’s tried to come up with solutions before, and everything his mind produced was a dead end. He was a hopeless case, he’d come to accept that, and he’d stopped wishing to be more – he’d lived with the fact for so long, he’d truly forgotten what it felt like to have a reason to want otherwise. Gale’s eyes close, his head tilting back as he attempts to steady himself, both physically and mentally. Of course, he does so to no avail, and only finds himself more irritated, despising the familiarity of his helplessness. He grips the arm of the chair, leg still bouncing rapidly, and even such firm contact with physicality leads to nothing.

With a groan, he shoves himself back onto his feet, quite nearly stomping towards one of his many bookshelves, though this one contains more scrolls than leatherbacks. He grabs several, maybe eight, all crumpling in his hands as he hauls them over to his desk, shoving the misc trinkets there out of the way. Two books fall off of the desk, hitting the rug below with a thud, but he pays them no mind. 

Now faced with a pile of spells contained in rolls of paper, he begins to sort through them, tossing some behind him, making a larger mess of the floor. In his rush, a few of the scrolls develop small tears and rips in the paper, but he hardly feels he has the time to check on them. All of them, spells he knows. All of them, as useless as his own mortal hands. 

Eventually, he reaches the bottom of the pile, grumbling to himself at the inadequacy of the scriptures, even forming a fist and nearly slamming it on the desk, but he forces some composure before he acts too quickly. Knowing he has more that he can look through, he whips around, only to be met with the presence of a brown and orange creature, forcing a startled gasp out of him as he presses a hand to his chest, and his back against the desk. 

“Whatever are you looking for? You’ve surely gone mad! You ought to pick those up, sir, especially seeing as how this room was just straightened,” Tara demands, her wings waving as she hovers in the air, perfectly eye-level with the man she was scolding. 

“I don’t have the time to worry about keeping up appearances. I need to find a solution. Sooner, rather than later – as I expect waiting too long will give the weave ample opportunity to strike.” Gale shakes his head, leaning off of his desk and moving back over to the shelf of scrolls. Tara finds a landing spot amongst the scrolls, sitting firmly on top of the wooden surface as she spectates Gale’s anxious search. 

He gathers up the remaining scrolls, though both of the study’s current inhabitants both know that they won’t offer any solutions. This isn’t the first, third, or even fifth time he’s combed through them, desperate for a way to repair his damaged body. 

Unfortunately, this may be his last. 

“Slow down, dear. You’re only going to stress yourself out more,” Tara sighs, her words met with a displeased frown from Gale, who now stands before her, scrolls stacked upon his arms. 

“Move. Please.”

“Put them back. Sit down – take a breath, Mr. Dekarios.” As stubborn as ever, Tara lays down on his desk, her wings extending on either side of her, taking up as much room as tressym-ly possible. Gale’s expression hardens, equally as stubborn, and he steps closer, threatening to bury her underneath the papers. Tara shakes her head. “What would your mother think?” 

There’s a switch in his eyes, and Tara instantly knows that she’s won. With a sigh of defeat, he drops the scrolls to the floor and sits back down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tressym relaxes, sitting up once more, unable to help but feel ashamed of the state the study now resides in. She hopes that they’re able to pick up the mess before his apprentice returns. 

Gale’s eyes close, and his thumb crosses over the creases under his left eye, touching faint purple lines that are nothing but visual – yet he swears he can feel them under his finger. Artificial Netherese arteries nestled comfortably alongside his real veins, as though they have any right to belong under his skin. 

Even with as handsome of a face as he knew he had, he wonders if they take away from the appeal. If they make him appear sickly – or perhaps cursed. Cursed, he is, but even a cursed man can be an attractive one. Maybe his priorities are amiss, to desire vanity when his survival is on the line, but maybe it’s the minor inconveniences that keep him sane. 

He’s lost, mentally, and it’s such a strange occurrence to simultaneously be so physically comfortable, surrounded by stark familiarity. His apprentice was right; he is still Gale Dekarios. A blighted, wrecked, mess of a man – but a man nonetheless. His face, however doctored by the weave, is still his own. It’s grounding in a way; knowing that no matter the perils, he is still the man, the prodigy, he always has been. 

And, just as well, he knows that Gale Dekarios has never been a quitter. Giving up is a shame that would be wrought upon his family, his goddess, himself – and now his apprentice. Once, had he not been everything he’d worked to become, to surrender to fate would be meaningless. Of course, if he wasn’t the prodigy he’d trained and studied to become, fate would never be such a dire threat. Tara has as much of a point as his apprentice; people will suffer from his actions. He’s doomed either way, really – abandoning his allegiant alongside his ancestors to chase an idealized suicide. 

He cringes at the thought; his own death is his best-case-scenario. Wherever did things go so terribly wrong? The entire situation is nothing short of convoluted, and while he’s never been the type to shy away from complex subjects in pursuit of higher understanding, he feels that there is no end goal, no reason, to keep fighting. To risk the lives of those around him just to engage in a wild goose chase of potential solutions is strikingly dangerous and quite impossibly, arrogantly selfish. 

Is turning his back on the ones he loves an even worse fate? 

Gale sits up, eyes wide with a sharp realization. At last, an idea; “I must seek Elminster. If anyone, he’d be the man capable of an answer. Since Mystra has so fervently refused me any assistance, I’ll pursue my next best chance. My only chance,” he informs his familiar, and she tilts her chin up, tail flicking proudly. 

“An ingenious plan, Mr. Dekarios. Make the most of these remaining days – secure yourself the promise of more dawns. Save me the trouble of informing your mother of your death. How sadistic you must’ve been to believe a letter would do the trick!” She scolds, though her tone is brimming with enthusiasm, pleased that he was able to come up with a resolution. Or, at the very least, a potential resolution. 

“Twelve days. Perhaps eleven – even ten, if I cut through the Far Hills. I’ll require artifacts to settle any cravings on the journey. And gold for the necessary rations.” Gale rises to his feet, making his way over to a long roll of paper. He grabs it, returns to his desk, pushing the remaining scrolls away, and lays out a map showcasing the mid-section of Faerûn. His finger follows a path towards Shadowdale – a long trek, but one that will be entirely worth its perils and time if it guarantees him a longer life. “I could secure a mount at Daggerford, then proceed to…” His index travels down, and he rests on a new location. “Boareskyr bridge.”

“Even with as powerful as you are, it would still be safest to remain on the trade way,” Tara advises, and Gale shrugs in a begrudging agreement. He continues to trace his planned path, traveling down to Scornubel, and then east to the Far Hills, directly towards Arabel, and eventually he stops his finger on Archwood in the Dalelands. 

“Four artifacts should be plenty to keep me – to keep it happy. And I’m quite sure Elminster will be willing to spare extras for my trip back. As gluttonous as he often is, I believe he’ll understand and aid the mission to quell my own appetite.” Assuring himself, he nods along with his own words, only turning his attention to his familiar once he’s burned the path into his mind. What he finds staring back at him is a gratified smirk – or at least the closest thing to a smirk that a muzzle can manage – as Tara tilts her chin up, giving him a nod. 

“I’m pleased to find that your intellect has not yet slipped away from you,” she praises, lifting a paw and running her tongue over the back of it, smoothing the brown hairs there. “I do believe Elminster would be quite honored to meet your apprentice.”

“Oh, no – the two of you will remain here.”

Tara continues to groom herself for a few seconds, and then she freezes, throwing her paws to the desk and standing up, her wings jutting out as she takes a defensive pose, paws stationed in a wide square, coming close to hissing. “How wrong I am! Have you lost all sense?” She cries out, dramatic and hurt. “Tell me you mean to fool me!” 

“Hush now, Tara, I’m being entirely rational. It isn’t too long of a journey, I should be darkening this doorstep before a third week comes to pass, you’ll barely even–”

“Preposterous! First, you dare threaten the loss of an acute mind such as your own, and now you gloat a newfound arrogance! To leave us behind is entirely for the birds – a madman, you must be. Whatever have you done with my darling wizard?” Tara lets out a mawkish yowl, her tail straightening, wings extending more thoroughly, flaunting feathers usually hidden in the folds. 

“Someone must look after the tower, no? I don’t wish to keep them from the opportunity to study, and by extension, you’ll need to remain here to keep them company. Mentor them in my place.” Gale reaches forward, fingers curled and ready to provide a reassuring scratch, but Tara ducks out of the way, hopping to the side with a certain kitten-like playfulness. The reaction draws a chuckle from Gale, having not seen such energy from her in many years. 

“A wise sage once said ‘books can only get one so far’. Lest you truly be an impostor, I do assume you recall your own words?” She huffs, taking an extra step as she puts another inch of distance between the two of them, wary of his plans. 

“Yes, I recall. There’s hardly much room for practice when confined to a saddle for a tenday or two. Anyhow, I reckon Elminster might just scare them off the path of magic dare I let them accompany me. A tragic tale, he spins – quite overbearing for such an elderly man. I’d much rather my trip be quick and concise,” Gale explains, his hands waving as he speaks, his animated mannerisms being just enough to reassure Tara that she was, indeed, speaking to the Dekarios she trusted. 

“You may as well turn this tower into a prison! Oh, how you bruise me. You mean to reduce them to an arrant worrywart, do you? Mr. Dekarios, you only just informed them that your body will soon waste away; the sole matter on their mind right now is your approaching demise. As well-meaning as you may very well be, I can only predict that they will fall quite short in any attempt to understand your intentions.” Tara finally relaxes, her feathered appendages closing in on her sides as she sits. Her whiskers twitch, and a soft, defeated sigh escapes her. “Come now, out with it – I can smell your scheming from miles away.” 

Gale nods, splitting a smile, proud of his ability to problem-solve so quickly. “Right, yes, I expected as much. Should every section of this journey go off without a hitch, the entire trip will take twenty-one days. More realistically – as I am nothing if not rational – it will be closer to twenty-four,” he explains, and Tara squints, finding his rambling completely unnecessary.

“I am plenty capable of mathematics, sir. Spare me the technicalities. I ask again, dear – What is your plan?”

[cringecannon]

Master of the tower rolan taking advantage of a apprentice 🤭🤭 I know his dick hard when they call him master.

His first apprentice. You were honored he chose you over all the other candidates. Working in the Tower was one of the best possible opportunities for any wizard. You had to put up with some… minor inconveniences, but that’s part of the experience.

You respect him. You want to be him. So young, but already so powerful- it’s nearly impossible to not be envious. You’re ambitious and willing to do whatever it takes to rise up in the ranks. Even if that means ignoring the phantom hands slipping under your robes, palms pressing against the back of your thighs as you count stock behind the counter.

Your grip on the quill tightens when you feel fingers skim up the inside of your thigh, shifting your weight uncomfortably. You hear him lean against the counter and you squirm under his intense stare. He asks if something is the matter. You shake your head, face heating when a third hand gropes at your chest. He scowls. Refer to him correctly.

You look away, face burning. You have to reassure him that there’s no problem, master, and apologize for making it seem like there was. It was his turn to squirm. His face remains impassive but his fingers dig into the counter as the hands under your clothes get more frantic. They squeeze and prod and try to reach every sensitive spot they can find.

Rolan shifts, standing straight as he takes a step back. As soon as you’re finished, you are to report to his office or face punishment. Do not disappoint him.