The old warlock was at it again. He was impervious to his own glaring failures and that caused him more than simple headaches. One time he caused a whole realm headaches, but that was not the point. The circle was ready, “new and improved” he said, as if he wanted to sell me some kind of summoning paraphernalia at discount prices; perhaps he should be selling scented candles and protection scrolls instead of doing all this ritualistic stuff that really gives me the creeps. And you know something is really bad when I get the creeps. I am supposed to be the one causing that, not the unfortunate one on the receiving end of the deal.
He used this time apple scent, because “everyone knows that old demons love apples” -go figure how he came to that conclusion, I will not ask-, plus a rather good looking apple as the “bait”. I merely watched him with halfhearted interest as he searched for his old staff and repeated to himself the spell he had to cast when the creature appeared in the tower. Last time we tried this he failed to take into account inter-realm transportation speed and he had such a huge success bringing something “fast” that I wonder why he complained about the huge black blotch that redecorated the north tower. Oh well, he is stubborn, beyond measure, reason, and sanity.
I covered my head to mitigate any possible damage from the sudden arrival of our latest guest. I have to admit he actually brought something that managed to stay in one piece after the ritual; much to my dismay, this time he brought a large brimstone fiend, a chunk of smoldering rocks with a pungent smell and an even worse mood. The circle took well the first strike, but announced with a loud crack that it would not take more than three, so before we found out how many hits did it take to break it, we found ourselves hiding in the basement, hoping the creature returned to its home realm, whatever hellish place that might be.
A quick glance at the book of sorcery revealed that apples were a great ingredient for rituals with permanent effects, so the loud crashing and thumping was not going anywhere unless we did something about it. Of course, those were my thoughts, the good old warlock was on the verge of collapse, but I was not sure if it was the effect of fear or just the toxic fumes that had spread through the whole construction. Good thing I could smell, but did not actually needed to breathe, so if someone were to clean this mess, that would be me. Just like every single time he managed to knock himself out of this world and left me to deal with the consequences of his careless spellcasting.
Just a couple spells, maybe a ward or two and I was ready to go toe-to-toe with big smelly. Neither of us had toes in the human sense of the idea, but I was not in the mood to explain that to the guest. I would say uninvited, but a certain knocked-out man downstairs had been idiotic enough to hand him an apple-scented “bring doom to us all” invitation card. Because nothing spells out success as a warlock better than an angry demon packed with a stench foul enough to make a skunk complain about it. Well, well, it was just chewing out our walls. I felt tempted to ask him if he wanted a side of marble, or maybe a few gemstones for dessert, however someone down here needs fresh air, so the best course of action would be pushing this thing some ten stories down and see if he likes the taste of black earth.
I never feel comfortable being almost twenty times my usual size. It feels so wrong to be so heavy, but given the circumstances I have little choice. Gargantuan size, blaze breaker and astral slicers, I have to admit that for a fool, the old warlock packed some nasty spells. Quite useful in times like these. Indeed, not being subject to the niceties of temperatures high enough to boil water on touch and having fangs and claws sharp enough to pierce solid rock, yes, that is convenient. The fiend did not even notice me as I prepared my assault and I think it was not quite sure what happened when we landed right in front of the exterior wall of the castle. Oh, right, claws. Let me introduce you to them; and them into you.
How can anyone get angry at the old man when he brings so much fun to the world? He could have kicked the bucket a hundred times already and I still wonder how the king and the wise council even allow him to own this ginormous tower. He will wake up, do a little huff and puff, and then the tower will be ready for the next round; just as planned, he will surely say. I would kill him myself, maybe showing him the fast way downstairs just like the brimstone thing I just disposed of, but maybe no one will take me home then and I really like the treats he bakes. Hey, speaking of which, maybe he left a couple in the oven. Maybe those crunchy ones laced with smoked salmon.
Ah, he can do anything he wants as long as he keeps baking these. Whatever magic he uses for them pleases me greatly and for all intents and purposes I am basically his lord and savior, and I am being modest here. I think I should wake him up, my fur needs some brushing after such intense exercise and I do not feel like coughing hairballs today. Such a hard life I have.
Easter week is over and finally a good update came to mind, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it!