Wizards

In an effort to not offend people who happen to read my blog and notice themselves and threaten me about "seditious libel", I've decided to just post short stories about wizards from now on...

Zerleft the Enchanter stood atop Seer's Mountain, overlooking the battle that erupted below him. The Orlagons of Kefferdom were kicking the shit out of the armies of Epknick'radoogan. His spell had worked. He'd been able to prevent the Orlagons from harm with his Cloak of Invincibilty spell. He should have been happy. The Orlagons, afterall, were his employers. And his work would certainly be rewarded after the battle.

But he was not happy. He was frustrated.

There he stood, high atop Seer's Mountain, in his new brown cloak and matching ghillies. He was crestfallen. He'd cast an incredibly difficult spell and had been successful in averting an all-out slaughter by the Epknick'radoogan armies. But he wished he'd chosen his black cloak on the way out of his lair this morning.

He had spent several anguishing minutes debating between the black and the brown cloaks on his way to the battle, finally chosing the brown because it was new and matched his footwear.

But it really didn't make him look cool, he thought. The black definitely would've been a better choice. He just wasn't warming to the brown cloak at all.

As the battle raged below him, he wondered if he had time to go back to the lair and switch cloaks before anyone saw him.

His dragon had called in sick today so he'd have to walk, but if he really hoofed it he'd probably make it, he reasoned. So he ran. He ran as fast as he could...