Interlude: Paracosm

Longstar Keep towers at the center of a great cul-de-sac, standing tall and solum against all who would oppose it. Overlooking Castle Brown to the west, Castle Shaw to the east, and its native Castle Sullivan to the south. Crafted of fine, rare timber from far realms beyond, sitting atop the branches of a great tree, older than the land itself, it faces out across the grassy plains that lay between it and the kingdoms of the north. 

Deep within the rune-warded walls of that fortress do we find its keeper. The Wizard of Longstar Keep, Bearer of The Seven Secrets, wisest of his age, the last of his kind. We shall call him Mimir, for that is what he calls himself. 

He sits by the window in his library, sinking deep into his bean-bag chair as he thumbs through a dusty stack of tomes. Many hours have been whittled away in this chamber, scrying the stars, unlocking long buried secrets of ancient and forbidden magics. Long have been his studies, and wide is the breadth of his expertise. He knows spells of far-speaking and far-listening. He knows a spell to light the sky with fire, and how to apply that spell against his enemies. He has contracted with The Great Beasts of The Black Pit, and can summon them to lend him aid in times of need. Rok, The Goblin King, Graug, The Great Manticore, and Eaavas, The Black Dragon. 

Today though, the great wizard has put his studies aside. The pages he flips through now contain no forbidden knowledge, only simple stories. Short, and meticulously illustrated, they chronicle the legend of a great and righteous knight known as the “Spider-Man”, and his struggles against the machinations of a wicked and conniving illusionist. The wizard is killing time. He glances down at his watch. 

4:43pm. Riley said he’d be here an hour ago. 

One would think such a wise and ancient sage would be blessed with fitting patience. Mimir is not. He is anxious and temperamental by nature, and like many of his occult vocation, acutely aware of the passage of time. It is a precious resource, one he prefers not to waste. He is short of patience, and what little he has is being tested. 

Sir Riley of House Sullivan, first of his name, Knight of The Realm and heir to his kingdom, is Mimir’s oldest and dearest friend. Brothers both by blood and by bond, many a battle have they fought at each others sides, the sharpness of Mimir’s wit matched only by the swiftness of Sir Riley’s blade. But as of late, Riley has been, in Mimir’s venerable opinion, distracted. His knightly duties neglected in favor of… carnal pleasures. Mimir shutters at the thought. A knights focus should be on duty and service to the realm, not consorting with some wench from a few kingdoms down, who probably doesn’t even like him. 

Mimir is roused from his meditations, the voice of The Queen echoing out from the parapets of Castle Sullivan. 

“Zack! Dinner in twenty minutes, okay? Don’t be late this time, please!” 

“Okay mom!” Mimir replies, his rumbling voice booming out for miles, the walls of Longstar Keep resonating with primordial magic. 

“Are you doing your homework up there, like we talked about?” 

“… Yup!” 

“Well that’s funny kiddo, because I’m looking at the kitchen table and I’m pretty sure that’s your backpack.”

“… I took my stuff out of there already, its up here with me!” 

“If I look in there, am I going to find your math workbook?” 

“… No?” 

“I already did. Come down, please.” 

Mimir kicks an empty box of pop-tarts across the room. The Queen had commissioned from him a sequence of alchemical equations, for the purposes of transmuting lesser materials into gold. A vain, frivolous exercise which left him little time for personal research. He plops back down on his bag, milking the last few moments of solitude allowed him within his sanctum. It had not always been like this. Once, his days had been filled with magic and discovery. He and Sir Riley had spent their days mapping each of the far realms, facing down all manor of beast and fiend. Living stories of which the bards still sang. Then, at some point, things had changed. Mimir wasn’t sure when, but they had. Now he spent his days alone in his tower, preparing him self for quests that never seemed to come calling. The hermit of Longstar Keep, they call him. Or, that’s what he imagines they would call him. He isn’t sure who he would actually ask. 

Then, from far below, Mimir hears the rumble of hooves as a carriage rolls up the path toward the castle. The Great Wizard springs to his feet, peering down over the edge of his observatory to gaze out at the kingdom below. He does not recognize the carriage, but he recognizes its occupants. The honorable Sir Riley, and the wicked sorcerous Becca. 

Sir Riley exits the carriage, circling around it to lean against the drivers side window and speak to his vile temptress. Mimir bellows down to his lifelong comrade. 

“Hark, Sir Riley! Hast thou forgotten thine obligations? A full cycle of the moon I have waited for thee, and only now dost thou dane to reveal thine self? Come! Cast aside that ungodly woman, return to your duties, there is much to be done!”

“Oh my fucking god.” Sir Riley mutters under his breath, his posture tensing, his face flushing red. “I’m so sorry, that’s my little brother. Its this thing he does, he gets really intense about it. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.” He speaks quietly, whispering to the lady in the carriage. But Mimir once spent a summer traveling with a tribe of nomad wood-elves, and his senses are keener than most. He hears every word. 

“SIR RILEY.” Booms Mimir, arcane power crackling through the walls of his sanctum. “You test my patience. Now come, return to your knightly duties at once or I will be forced to compel you to do so!”

The young woman in the carriage laughs, cracks the reins, and rolls off along the cobble road. Sir Riley watches her, waiting until she has disappeared beyond the horizon, then turns back toward the wizard and his tower. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

“RILEY.” Bellows The Queen, from within her castle. 

“What the fuck.” Sir Riley mouths, through gritted teeth. 

Mimir stands at his balcony, staring down the knight, until it becomes clear that his old friend is not going to come to him. Grumbling, he slides through the hole in the center of the room, skipping every other step on the ladder as he descends the great tree. He approaches Sir Riley, and the two men stand before each other, both primed for the coming conflict. 

“Explain thine self.” Says Mimir, breaking the silence. 

“Excuse me, what? Me?” Sir Riley shoots back. “Explain thine self you little shit, what the fuck was that? In front of my fucking girlfriend?” 

“Protectors of the realm do not have girlfriends! Or hast thou forgotten thine knightly vows of celibacy?”

“What. The fuck. Are you talking about. Who taught you that word? Do you even know what it means?” 

Mimir flushes, stomping his foot in frustration. “You know she’s only with you to get back at Jared Benowitz.” 

Sir Riley allows himself a moment to take that in. 

“Fuck off, Zack.” 

“Mimir.” Says Mimir, defiantly. 

“Zack.” Says Sir Riley, mirroring that defiance. “I’m done, I’m not doing this anymore.” 

Mimir doesn’t know how to process that.  “You said 3:45.” He mutters, averting his gaze.

“I just don’t want to do this shit, okay? I don’t want to play pretend, it isn’t fun for me anymore. Is it still fun for you? Don’t you have better shit to do now?” 

The Great Mimir, Wizard of Longstar Keep, speaks over one thousand tongues. He can converse on philosophy in the lilting, etherial language of the high-elves, and tell crude jokes in the stoney speech of the dwarves. He can even, if he so chooses, speak the language of the trees, in which the utterance of a single syllable can last a decade or more. And yet, despite the many words at his disposal, none of them come to him. 

“You said Fridays.” He eventually replies. “After school, until dinner. You said we’d hang out.” 

Sir Riley lets out a sigh, and turns his back toward Longstar Keep. “I just… I don’t know. Grow up, Zack.” 

For a few seconds, the wizard feels nothing at all. Then, he is only rage. In a fury, he flings himself on to the ladder, ascending up into his keep. This is not the Sir Riley he knows. Becca, that filthy cur, that creature of of the pit, has bewitched him. Turned him against his dearest friend, sucked his soul from its corporeal vessel, leaving some twisted hell-spawn in its place. Sir Riley is dead, and only this thing, this monster, remains. Mimir knows how to deal with monsters. Sir Riley taught him that much. 

He gathers his materials, and whispers a word of binding. He runs to the balcony of Longstar Keep, takes aim, and launches a spell of flame at the thing that was once his brother. It whistles as it arcs across the sky, letting loose a burst of blinding arcane light as it collides with its target. 

“FUCK!” Screams Sir Riley, flinging off his jacket, throwing it to the ground, trying to stomp out the flames. “DID YOU JUST SHOOT A FUCKING FIREWORK AT ME?” 

Mimir stumbles back, sudden clarity hitting him like a smack across the face. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” He mutters. He digs through a pile of mystic artifacts, searching for his staff. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Sir Riley rages as he flies up the ladder. Mimir tries to block the trap door, but is flung back as Sir Riley throws it open. He stumbles to his feet, finally finding his staff as he cowers in the corner of the room, holding it out in front of him. The hulking revenant approaches, undaunted. 

“Are you just fucking crazy, is that it? Are you just like, fully disconnected? Huh?” Sir Riley shoves the wizard against the wall, a shock running through Mimir’s arm as his elbow bangs against the wood. He shrinks down a little lower. 

“You ever think this is why no one else wants to be around you? Why you don’t have any fucking friends? Because you pull shit like this?” He shoves him again. 

There are many reasons wizards do not pray. For one, the gods would not have them. They are jealous, territorial creatures, and do not look kindly on those who would attempt to recreate their works. But even baring that, it is simply against a wizard’s nature. They do not wait for intervention, they shape things to fit their will, take power for themselves. They make the universe meet them half way. Why worship, when you could contract instead? So when a wizard seeks aid from the divine, they do not look above. They must look below. 

He raises up his staff, then drives it hard into the ground. Mimir, The Wizard of Longstar Keep, Bearer of The Seven Secrets, wisest of his age, the last of his kind, plays his final trump card. 

“Eaavas! Dragon of The Black Pit! I summon thee!” 

Incident Report 12466A-C

Agent [REDACTED]

Department of Homeland Security, Intelligence and Analysis

10/12/09

4:49 pm - Address: [REDACTED], [REDACTED]. Unidentified very large animal sighted. Winged reptilian, approximately 330 feet long, 120,000 tons, 780 foot wingspan.

4:50 pm - Produced cone of black flame from mouth, rotating 360 degrees, melting everything within a 500 foot radius of ground zero. On-site forensic analysis suggests fires burned at minimum of 6000 degrees Kelvin, immediately melting all structures on impact. 87 confirmed dead, 9 missing, 1 injured and in critical condition. 

4:53 pm - Unidentified animal exits [REDACTED] Ave, proceeds into greater [REDACTED] area. All attempts to contain animal prove ineffective. Animal creates path of destruction, most of [REDACTED] reduced to rubble. 9297 confirmed dead, 329 missing, 5 injured and in critical condition. 

5:01 pm - Unidentified animal unfolds wings, seems to attempt to take off. Unable to lift itself off ground. Unidentified animal collapses, unable to support its own weight. 

5:06 pm - Unidentified animal ceases movement, confirmed dead. 

Whitenesses have been placed in indefinite protective custody, along with all early responders, baring those with appropriate security clearances. Media offered “a series of gas explosions” as official explanation. 

We are at this time unable to determine a point of origin. 

All interviewed whiteness described the unidentified animal as “a black dragon”.