Transmuting is fun!
Transmuting is fun!
Disclaimer: Wizards of the Coast owns AD&D, Joss Whedon owns BTVS.
Aramil followed the spirit until he heard the scream of an upper-crust woman of demon.
Ah there were no real demons here tonight; they paled in power compared to imps that were summoned to test his arcane barriers. Aramil was happy that it was only a human maiden; surely one of his race would never make such a racket. He saw a cutlass-wielding human heathen coming towards the female and for a second considered allowing him to take her. However, she just screamed louder as he approached so Aramil summoned forth a mage’s hand to impact a small rock against its head. The mud-worshiping spirit chattered at him to take the woman and follow her. Aramil summoned an unseen servant and bade him usher the woman towards him. Aramil followed the tree-lover into an abode and froze in shock. There was a painting of him, the tree-worshipper and the human noblewoman standing in friendship. After studying the painting for a minute, the vermillion-tressed ghost demanded he rescue a cat folk. With a wave of his hand, Aramil sent the unseen servant to fetch her as he focused his mind onto the patterns of a flare spell. The dog decided to come at him with growling and bared tooth. Aramil simply transmuted a flower into a stout switch of ash and then yelled
“Thaer” and released the stick on a trajectory down the street.
Like a faithful servant, the hairy mutt chased after it, unawares of the Levitate spell on it.
Aramil turned to the cat-woman who started chattering as bad as the tree-worshipper.
Fed up he spoke the spell, “As you desire to be so you shall.”
Cordy was turned into a yowling kitten.
Aramil picked the cat up by the nape of the neck and deposited the feline in the human female’s arms while he studied the marvelous painting of himself.
While he was studying the lack of brush strokes, he heard a sound in the kitchen.
He saw another human struggling with a bastosti; swiftly liberating a knife from the countertop he decapitated the bastosti as his teachers at the Academy taught him.
As the necrological forces dispersed from the creature it fell to dust. Reaching over to the human, he helped him up. The skin was cold, either he was a Tyr Oli or undead.
“Eir Tharaes.” Aramil said.
When the All-Father’s name held no sway over the creature, he assumed he was a Tyr Oli, one of those bound to the cold.
The night continued to be one of strangeness, until the magic jar spell ended and Aramil returned to the Academy. One of his instructors berated him at length for falling asleep during an alchemical lecture. Later on Aramil had a decidedly strange craving for Solor, or yellow Elven snack cake.
A/N: I did use actual translated Elvish: Thaer means fetch. bastosti means vampire Eir Tharaes means All Father. Tyr Oli means Cold one and Solor is Elvish for Twinkies.
I will be putting this fic on indefinite hold to free up time for my other fics. However within the next four months you can expect an unspecified number of updates.