January 7, 1456
I was looking through my spell book at some of my beginning spells. I stumbled onto my first fire spell. I remember running the fire over my hands in awe that it didn’t burn me.
I was in the barn daydreaming on a pile of hay. I really wasn’t quite smart. Fire and hay do not go together ever. A small fire started at the base of my feet and started spreading.
Luckily I had learn a water spell, so I could get out of watering the animals, and put out the fire. I was such an idiot. But I did take that spell out into the world.
I went to Germany and told them I could solve their fire problems. They had a lack of ways to light fires and I offered them a deal to start their fires if they paid me in beer.
Now German’s beer is a thick hearty brew that is not that Blossom Light that is so popular in later on. This stuff would wipe you out faster than you could say Apoy.
They kicked me out after I got too drunk. Turns out you can’t do much magic if you are drunk of your ass. The trip home was quite the pain.
Trying to get across Europe in the winter without food or money is how should I put it? Living hell.
When I finally got back there was a young girl waiting for me. She looked about 19 years old. She was as short as they come, maybe 4’11”.
Her short black curly hair stuck out of her cap that was torn and rugged. She sat on my stoop with a look that a child of her age shouldn’t have.
I approached her and asked her if I could help her. She seemed shocked that I spoke to her. She said that God was punishing her for not being married.
She couldn’t sleep at night and thought the worst things of herself. The more she talked the more I knew what was going on. She was what the doctors would call depressed.
I had seen it many many years later that hundreds of people would suffer like her. But now in an age of God and demons, that meant nothing.
There was nothing I could to do help her without her breaking some law. I decided to the best option was to give her medication and convince her to come see my twice a week.
I invited her in and she reluctantly came in. My price was as it always was, whatever she could give. Her father was apparently a master carver and had made a staff that had a ram's head.
It was carved beautifully and really made my biceps look good.
She sat down in my Chippendale chair.
She gave a look of confusion due to the fact that she was a french peasant she was sitting in one of the greatest work are art, made years after her family would all die.
This was my favorite things about mortals, their intense concern that I could time loop. After she got over this concern she told her name was Olive. Such a pretty name for a child so upset.
I found my diagnoses sheets I found from 2045. With every question I asked her, I could see her star to close up and spiral. This was going to go nowhere if I kept digging at her.
I told her to come tomorrow and I will have what she needs. She was very happy to get out of my hut and back to her sad life. She ran from my house and yelled that she promised to come back.
As I turned to open a door to later, I ran through my head what I needed to get when I got to 2045.
I don’t remember getting the drugs. I wish I did.
She came back the next day with a weight around her that could only be described as deathly. I knew talking would only make things worse for her.
So I handed her the pouch filled with her medicine. Twice a day until you run out. Never more. Never less. She nodded and walked down the back back to the village.
I was tempted to remind her to visit me twice a week, but I knew she wouldn’t come. That is her life and her weight to bear.
God it’s late. I gotta sleep. Even Warlocks gotta catch some Z’s.