10. The Wand of Polymorph

The Adventures of Godrik the Magician*

The sun has risen over the city walls of Thothia, a quarter-mile to the east. A blackbird has begun singing in a nearby oak, but its wildly beautiful twitter fails to lift anyone’s spirits. Two party members lie dead. Their bodies are laid out parallel to one another in the midst of the camp, their cloaks covering their faces.

Godrik has stripped down to his trousers, and he’s hanging up his torn tunic and cloak to dry. He’s got three nasty cuts sustained from his dagger fight with one of the vault guards last night. He’s also got a bruise on his shoulder. The cut on his left arm is a deep-puncture wound, and it seems the most serious. He’s grateful that the Sun has finally come up because the party has not lit a campfire. The air is still quite frigid on these spring mornings, but the Sun’s rays have now begun to dispel the chill from his recent bath in the river.

Zeb and Sennez are still down by the water, washing blood and sewer stains out of their cloaks. Alexander has kept his armor on. The warrior is sitting on the ground, reclining against a tree opposite Godrik. He’s staring at the bodies of Radovan and Feiler, but he seems to be looking right through them into some kind of troublesome memory. His brow is creased, and Godrik suspects he is reliving last night’s battles over…