[World Builder] [NSFW] Never trust a Wizard in a siege.
[World Builder] [NSFW] Never trust a Wizard in a siege. stories
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Twas the twelfth day of the siege, the pyromancer arrived. The sorcerer’s robes were charred, ragged and his hair had been almost completely singed off save for a red beard and mustache adorning his chin.
Source: poppy201 https://www.reddit.com/r/...

[World Builder] [NSFW] Never trust a Wizard in a siege.

by poppy201

Twas the twelfth day of the siege, the pyromancer arrived.

The sorcerer’s robes were charred, ragged and his hair had been almost completely singed off save for a red beard and mustache adorning his chin.

The pyromancer also lacked had some rather serious looking scars from burns on his neck, arms and feet.

Never trust wizards Nana used to say. They’re mad as young men and have none of the caution of old men. Nana would know.

Her brother had been killed at college of magickes when a tear in reality had opened and deamons had spewed out slaughtering the castle’s occupants and the village below.

“Bet ye he blows it.” Walter said to Smithy.

Smithy stared transfixed at the magic user with equal parts terror and fascination.

“Get on with it Topknees!” Lord Winkler shouted from atop his warhorse from a safe distance away.

The Pyromancer glanced back at the lord with a sullen glare before raising his staff and chanting an incantation in a language Walter didn’t understand.

Sparks began from his staff and a flaming ball slowly took form from the sparks at first, the size of an inflated pig’s bladder but soon, a roaring inferno that even the defenders noticed.

Suddenly, a stray arrow managed to fly past the barricade and into the wizard’s shoulder. The man grimaced with pain and fell back.

The break in concentration was only a few seconds but that was enough time to burst the ball bathing the pyromancer in a shower of flames and anyone else standing too close.

The barricade caught afire and suddenly the air was filled with the shouts and screams of burning men, women and horses.

Walter managed to avoid the worst of it by throwing himself face down into the horse trough and submerging himself as best he could.

He came up for air and saw the Elven ranger Farelian dodge a thinly constructed shack made of wood collapsing in smoke and sparks only for her to get trampled by a burning pack horse as

it galloped past.

Lord Winkler rode his stallion through the chaos shouting for order and attempting to rally his troops. Eventually, he managed to organize a group to start putting out the fires.

Conventional water didn’t work.

Eventually,

it turned out that pissing on the fire caused it to die and Walter found himself thrown out of the trough as soldiers of multiple species attempted to fill their bladders from it’s contents.

Men dropped their britches and stood around coordinating in groups where to aim their appendages while women took turns squatting over buckets before forming a chain to empty their urine

into the flames. The strategy paid off with even Lord Winkler having his squires undo his cod piece so he could join the effort.

When the flames had finally been extuinguished and Winkler had finally finished cursing wizards, sorcerers, warlocks and anyone else brave or stupid enough to practice magic, he called to Walter.

“Bombardier! Fetch the gun!

500 words.

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