WHO: Caleb Widogast WHAT: A familiar nemesis arrives in Vallo. WHEN: This evening, Sept 6th WARNINGS: Swearing? Dirty wizard. (Literally dirty, not the OTHER KIND) STATUS: Complete narrative!
Caleb had been on edge the entire day. It was like energy in the air was annoyed somehow. A little tingle or shiver sent through his spine for the day. He wasn’t sure what was causing it - was it Vallo’s nonsense, again?
That was until later, when he was headed to the tower and took a minute to do a little exploring, having seen a glint of something in the far distance.
He knew what it was before he even came within a hundred feet.
“Fuck.”
A smart man would have gone back to tell everyone in his house what it was. He could have relayed the information, seen if they could come up with a plan, to get a bit of help.
But sometimes Caleb Widogast was not a smart man. A book smart genius, perhaps. A master of magic. A wily wizard. But that damned gem had been besting him for some time and he would not stand for it a minute longer. He didn’t know what came into him, he’d done the same when Essek and himself had returned to Aeor - he had become focused on besting this thing.
It was ridiculous, it really was. The gem stood the same as it had back home, deep in a pillar that was stuck in the ground, taunting him. He could almost hear it singing come and get me, and Caleb took a second to unfasten his jacket so he could throw it to the ground.
Challenge Accepted.
The gemstone had done no such actual thing, but the necrotic energy coming off of it was just the same. That pulse could be felt from him as he came within sixty, fifty feet. He pulled out his spellbook from it’s holster and thumbed through it. He’d done telekensis, a few times, to no avail. He’d done Cat’s Ire. Immovable object. He had tried polymorph, and levitation.
He had not tried any of Essek’s more difficult spells, however. Dunamancy had always been a possibility, though at the time his boyfriend had just kind of chuckled at him in that way Essek did, the one that felt loving, instead of pretentious, and made Caleb feel as if he were a smart man doing something cute instead of a stupid wizard with a vendetta against this fucking gemstone.
But surely it would be impressive to do this with the magic learned from a man he had come to love?
Caleb pulled a fistful of iron fillings out of his reagent pocket, the one Essek had enchanted for him to be a neverending void, much like the drow’s own spellbook pocket. He concentrated, looking to the gem, and positioning himself a good sixty feet away just in case.
He knew from experience that probably wouldn’t matter, however. With the words memorized in his brain, he tucked the spellbook back into to its safe spot in his holster and recited them back. The iron fillings in his hand floated to the air, and swirled around him, before shooting out to the gem.
They reached it and twirled lovingly, before creating a sinkhole just behind the gemstone, in an effort to make it pop out.
That did not happen.
Instead, Caleb once again felt that familiar pulse of energy and was swearing in Zemnian as he turned and took off running in an effort to avoid the damage it had dolled out to him before.
That did not happen, either. He was knocked off his feet and went flying into the air, through the forest branches before he landed in a puddle of mud and moss nearby.
Fuck.
After laying there for a second, the cold muck just seeping into his trousers and vest, Caleb lifted himself up off the ground and stood there. As a callback to what felt like years ago - Gods, it was years at this point - he reached down to stick his hand in the mud, brought it up to his face and smeared it across the freckles that dotted his skin.
Caleb turned back to the pillar, glaring, wet, dirty. “Oh, it’s on now. I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve, you piece of shiny crap.”