Snippet #1795545

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...

"Mage Elminster, we have news." Templar Abraham says, knocking on the door. "Our weaponmasters have created a flamethrower from parts around the school. It's creator is requesting that you look it over, seeing as you are a master of Fire."

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...


With each rattle spread a darker grimace on the LARPwright's face, he hated being interupted, not just during his spells or study or basically any facet of his life ...and ceratinly NOT DURING DELICATE EXPERIMENTS THAT INVOLVE THE FRAGILE PSYCHE OF THE HUMAN MIND. Letting out but a tolerated sigh, he mustered his composure and continued his work ...

"Mage Elminster."

The Templar repeated.

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF-" He paused to consider his religions. "..."

"Hold on to your panties, I'm coming! Geez ..." He grumbled as he dropped the pendulum back into his pocket and hustled out of the room, complaining under his breath how he was to achieve great work or how a never day passed without him being burdened by mundane people, basically, complaining about everything under the sun. It was one of the very few things in life that made him this way.


Then he unlocked the door, keeping as little of the room revealed as possible when he walked out to greet the templar.

"Yes, what is it, Knight Abraham." The Wizard asked dully and Abraham presented the flamethrower promptly.

"Your leader has asked of me a favour, to distract an entire horde of our enemy, who could probably run faster than your or I combined. Climb higher, jump further. This is no easy feat, I assure you." He lied, it was easy, but he wanted something more from the battle, which made it less easy. "To survive, nonetheless."

"And now, he asks of me to appraise his weapon? What do I look like? An Engineer? Part of his crew?" He asked the stunned knight who had really no answer to reply with, save for the awkward silence that passed between them the few seconds later. Sighing, he gave the flamethrower a good look over, placing his thumb over the lighter and spraying some of the gas out. He then snapped his fingers as small sparks erupted, lighting it briefly as the Templar shirked back. Elminster remained undaunted by such paltry fire.

"Kindly tell the Artificer that made this to use a liquid medium instead of gas, he wants to fire-and-forget, not stand within melee range and attempt to barbeque the enemy ... Might as well use a sword then, at least you'd have a chance of winning. Gases have no reach and are too easily deflectable if you know how, have him ..OR her substitute it with aqua vitae or petrol and increase the pressure in the nozzle to match. Also, acrylic melts. Melamin doesn't."

"Now," He handed the device back to the Templar who seemed slightly confounded by what he said but at least knew how to convery the message properly. Paladins and Templars were known to occasionally dabble in the Divine Arts (technology), this was not too far from their grasp at least. "I must get back to my work if I am to save any of your kinsmen."


He was about to close the door when he felt something unpleasant, something annoying in his chest.

"...And take these." He tossed a sachet of few white pills to the Templar. "For your efforts. Keep them to yourself. They wipe away the pains of wounds and infections." Elminster shut the door behind him and leaned on it, reflecting upon the situation that just took place.

Guilt. Compassion? What useless emotions to have. But he was glad to be rid of their nagging annoyance. Truth was, despite his cold, calculating exterior. He had a semblance of a human heart, if only slightly, which was what made him fight to protect the LARPers in the first place. Even if he felt no obligation towards Oan and the other GMs.

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A long while later, the doors of the Laboratory opened once more.