Wizard!: Part 2

Torgor blinked. “What? There’s no reason to get mad about it. Destroying the source of a wizard’s power is the classic way to defeat one.”

“But that’s not the source of my power, moron!”

“Oh.” Torgor nudged a piece of pottery with his foot. “What was in there?”

“My mother’s ashes!”

Torgor stopped, foot in mid-nudge, and then took a small step away. “This is kinda awkward,” he said after a moment.

Urgan glared at him. “You think?”

“I thought it was the source of your power!” Torgor said. “Wizard’s always keep them close at hand!”

“No we don’t. That’s just a story we spread so idiots like you’ll attack us in our towers.”

Torgor folded his arms. “Then it’s really your fault I broke your mother’s urn. If you spread stories like that, of course someone’s going to take a swipe at her vase.”
With a sigh, Urgan pointed over his shoulder. “You’re supposed to attack that.”

Torgor looked up. There was a large globe above the door, set in an ornately carved clawed hand. The orb pulsed with sickly blues and greens, with the occasional spark of red.

“Huh,” the barbarian said. “I completely missed that.”

“Obviously.”
The wizard and barbarian glared at each other.

“Well,” said Torgor suddenly. “It’s late and I’m sure you’d like to re . . . uh . . . inter your mother, so I’ll just let myself out.”

“Fine.” Urgan gestured and a large, leather-bound tome with a golden clasp appeared in his hand. He opened it and began scanning the pages. “I just need to see if I have some sort of ‘vacuum’ spell.”

“Okay then.” Torgor walked over to the doorway, stepping over the remains of the door. “No hard feelings!” he called out.

“Sure,” Urgan said, as the barbarian darted down the corridor. “At least until I get mother squared away,” he continued. “Then I’ll hunt you down and turn you into something small and fluffy and give you to my cats.”

Cheers,
-Jason

Wizard!

The barbarian, his massive frame covered only by a thick fur loincloth, shattered the stout door with a single kick.

A throne room stretched out before him, its floor inscribed in golden runes. Smoke from a dozen braziers curled up, as the smell of exotic incense filled the air. The stone walls were hung with tapestries worked in gold thread, depicting scenes of decadent delight. And upon a throne of marble, a silken pillow padding his bum, sat a man in a tall pointed hat.

“So,” began the man on the throne, as he made a note to call the carpenters. “Tardor the Barbarian isn’t it? You slew the Three-Eyed Dragon of Corumbia and vanquished of the Potentate of Fresno, did you not?”

“I am he. Him? Whatever,” said Tardor. “And you are Urgan, the Black Wizard of Bakeria!”

“Guilty,” said Urgan, with a slight chuckle. His hand rose to stroke his thin, white beard. “And I suppose you’re here to defeat me?”

“Yes! Everyone knows the villainy of Urgan!” Tordor pointed his huge two-handed sword at the wizard. “Your deeds are infamous! The destruction of Vomen! The burning of Avellia! The Baby-Souffle on Sundays!”

Urgan raised a finger. “Actually, I don’t do the baby thing. My marketer went a little nuts,” he said with a shrug.

“I care not! You will die for your crimes!” With a roar, Tordor leapt across the room, even as Urgan raised his hands, a spell tumbling from his lips. The barbarian’s huge sword swept down, cutting through the wizard’s point hat, but rebounding from his head as if he’d struck solid stone.

Urgan laughed. “You are a fool, barbarian, to challenge a wizard in his home!”

Tordor regained his balance and inspected his sword. The edge where it had struck the wizard was bent and twisted. “I thought the tales were a myth,” he said slowly, his eyes roving around the room.

“No, no myth. My magic protects me from simpletons with swords!” Urgan rose from his throne, tossing the remains of his hat to one side. He rubbed his head where Tordor’s sword had connected. “Not even a headache. Now then,” Urgan continued. “Time to die.”

The wizard raised his hands and lightning spat forth from his fingertips. Tordor leapt at the last second and the energy exploded against a tapestry, setting it alight. Urgan cackled, as he continued to spray lighting at the nimble barbarian.

Tordor dodged and weaved as the lightning crashed around him. He ignored the wizard’s taunts as he bounded, seemingly searching for something. After several minutes, he suddenly gave a shout.

“I have you now, wizard!” The barbarian leapt across the room, his sword raised high. Above the throne in a small nook, a golden vase rested upon a length of velvet. His sword swept across the vase, even as the wizard screamed.

The vase shattered, a fine powder billowing forth. Torgor landed and turned, a smirk upon his rugged features. “There, wizard! I have destroyed the source of your power!”

Urgan stared at his foe, his mouth open. “You . . . “ he began, as if unable to find the words. “You dick!”

Tomorrow: Part 2 – Someone Gets a Surprise!

You Shall Not Pass!

A Ricky Gervais/Ian McKellan(sp?) bit.

Not quite as good as the Patrick Stewart bit last week, but quite funny nonetheless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43sbtkQM6zc

Cheers,
-Jason