The Leader

Sufficiently powerful magic swords can overwhelm their owners and take control of their bodies.
So when the fighter we’d hired with a king’s ransom in the tavern drew the sword we’d lent him and growled “This one will do” in Razorwind’s cold steel voice, we knew we had our party leader back.
“This time, can you save a healing spell for my handler?” the sword asked our cleric. “The money you keep paying and taking back from them can buy a potion or two.”
The cleric whispered “Certainly, sir.” and Razorwind pulled back from his neck.
And we marched on.

Cinderell-huh?

If Cinderella’s glass slipper fit, why did it fall off?
And when it fell off, why didn’t it turn back into her ragged ordinary slipper when the clock struck midnight?
The horses turned back into mice.
The carriage turned back into a pumpkin.
Her ball gown turned back into the clothes she was wearing the day before.
So why not that slipper?
It’s because of the Fairy Godmother.
Why she didn’t just blast the wicked stepmother and the two sisters with her magic wand and make the prince her undying love slave, well, that’s because she was a manipulative bitch.

The Lame Of Thrones

I hear a lot of hype regarding this Game Of Thrones television show, but I don’t have much interest in it.
I mean, how many games can you play with thrones, anyway?
The first one that comes to mind is Musical Thrones.
(It’s like Musical Chairs, but with thrones.)
I can’t see how much fun that would be.
I mean, the king sits in his throne, the queen sits in hers. They win.
And if anybody else tries to sit in their thrones, they get their head cut off.
If I want to watch people getting beheaded, I’ll watch Al-Jazeerah.

Myth or Legend

A myth gives a religious explanation for something, while a legend is a story told as if it were a historical event.
This is just one of a thousand rules every member of The Storymerchants Guild must learn and follow when conducting business.
There are laws about proper labeling of products and services, and stories are no different.
One must be precise, otherwise proper tariffs, taxes, and fees won’t be collected.
And The Royal Auditors are quite diligent about checking the details.
In fact, I remember one time when two goblin bards…
Wait… hold on…
(Is this Myth or Legend?)

Seven of Swords

I knew a warrior who carried seven swords.
They were the finest blades I had ever seen, each more magnificent than the last, and each had its purpose.
One to thrust.
One to swing.
One to parry.
One to stab.
One to riposte.
One to chop.
And with that, he lumbered off into battle.
“What is the seventh sword for?” I shouted after him.
But it’s too late. The weight of the heavy swords left him defenseless, and he’s killed before he can answer.
We buried him, and stuck the most magnificent seventh sword at the head of his grave.

Harvesting Shadows

The best times to harvest shadows are at sunset and sunrise when they grow the longest.
They’re harder to cut, though… so most mages wait until noontime, when the sun is brighter.
Natural shadows are best for magic spells.
No self-respecting wizard would use a shadow made by torchlight or candlelight for an important spell. They do not have the same power. And they are wilder, harder to control.
And harvesting your own is important. Residual aura conflict can result in spectral friction.
Which causes explosions.
And for us to bill your parents for the damage to our labs, student.

Forgotten

Most wizards agree that the Armageddon Spell is the rarest spell.
As the High Mage of The Byzantium Library, I know that it isn’t.
The rarest spell is The Lost Spell Of Forgetting, of which the only copy is in the Library.
Why is it The Lost Spell?
Because I lost it.
I have no idea where the spell is in all these shelves and cupboards and desks.
I’m surprised I even remember there’s a Forgetting Spell.
Just reading it makes you forget what it is.
Hey… that’s strange… what’s this in my pocket…
It’s a scroll.
Of… um… what?

Lanterns

The adventurers met at the cave entrance at dawn, and everyone was carrying a large lantern.
The thief. The fighter. The dwarf. The priest.
The whole party standing around, lanterns in hand.
The wizard scratched his chin. “Did anyone bring a weapon?”
The paladin and the dwarf looked at each other. “Well, we talked about it being dark in there last night, right?”
The wizard nodded. “I have a light spell, you know.”
The thief pointed at the wizard’s lantern. “So what’s with that?”
The wizard shrugged.
Back in town, the lantern salesman laughed all the way to the moneychanger.

Apprentice

The old wizard coughed… checked the handkerchief.
Blood.
He called for his apprentice.
“Yes, master?” said the apprentice.
His apprentice had mastered every spell he’d been taught and learned it quickly.
He’d make a fine wizard.
“One more lesson,” said the wizard, taking down a glass flask from the shelf. “Magic Jar. Relax, and feel your life’s essence flow into it.”
The apprentice closed his eyes and breathed out into the jar.
And was still.
The wizard patted him on the back. “Well done. You’ll make a fine vessel.”
He placed his bloody lips on his apprentice’s… and breathed out…

Hasten

Hasten your step, child, for we are in Dragon Country.
You’ve heard the tales of fire-breathing dragons, yes?
Well, they’re extinct. Knights hunted them down to the last.
Now that there are no more dragons to hunt, they sell dragon insurance.
No, not insurance to dragons. They’re extinct, remember?
They’re selling insurance to travelers like us. If we’re attacked by dragons.
Yes, I know there’s no dragons to attack us. But knights put on dragon costumes and attack travelers.
You’d think knights wouldn’t pull that kind of crap, but deep down, they’re assholes.
Shhhhhhhh! I hear it too!
Hurry up!