Parvil's Journey: A Prequel Story

Gretchen let out a sigh as she pushed the rolling ladder down the row of shelves. “I realise you believe that you are smart, but I have bad news.” she said as she pulled a box half-way out checking its contents, sighing again before pushing it back in place and moving to another box. “Did your ‘friend’ tell you that was a smart idea?” Gretchen asked her voice as flat as ever.

“Friend…?” Parvil asked, “Oh…oh… nope, Parvil original.”

“Oh…” she said in monotone. “So you don’t have an excuse then.” Gretchen added, pulling out another container, tiny clinks and rattles filling the silence between words.

“Suppose not.” Parvil replied, fiddling with a hexagonal crystalline bottle on the counter.

Gretchen slid the box back in place and let out a grunt of effort as she pushed the ladder a bit farther down the row of shelves. “Remind me…what do you need this for again? Without telling me your stupid idea again.”

“I want to try making a magical trap…” Parvil started but the flat voice cut in, half finishing his sentence but with a note of chiding to it, or as much as her voice carried.

“For a full wizard…” she said, “You’ve said that, and still don’t hear how stupid that sounds?” she asked him as she checked the next box.

“I don’t suppose I do.” he said.

Gretchen slid the box out and something thunked against the tilted end and she let out a grunt leaning over the ladder, her ladder started to push sideways as her fingertips tried to push the box back in. Before Gretchen could even ask for help Parvil had strung over the counter and was half up the ladder behind her pushing the box in, while getting her back on the ladder. But was back down it the second she was balanced again, not wanting to be told off for being so close.

“As I was saying, it is stupid because you are a warlock, and a human.” Gretchen explained fixing the back of her dress where Parvil brushed against it. “He’s a full fledged wizard and an elf, he’s had far more practice than you.”

“Practice isn’t everything, Lucky and cunning count for just about as much.” Parvil said.

“But not for everything.” Gretchen replied, sliding the ladder down the row a bit again. “There it is.” she said, “Come grab this.” she said to get Parvil to take the box off the shelf before moving on. Inside the box was a smaller dark wood box with a smokey glass window on its lid, behind the glass even in the dark tint you could see the oil shimmer black chalk. “That’s it right?” she asked climbing the ladder to a higher shelf to look for the next item.

Parvil let out a long surprised whistle. “Where did you get so much of this?” he asked looking up from the box.

“Here and there, it varies in age so we’ll get you the best one.” Gretchen said, “But once I finish gathering everything.”

Parvil took the box out and set it down with an air of reverence. “Can’t say I’ve seen this much void chalk in the same place.”

“Most people don’t collect it,they use it.” Gretchen said checking a box, sighing slightly and pushing it back.

“I suppose…” he said, going back to watching Gretchen work.

“You suppose?” She asked, “It’s the same thing you plan to do with it.”

“Probably not the exact thing but you made your point.” Parvil responded.

Gretchen pulled another box free. “Get this one.” she said, and Parvil did as instructed and took it to the counter. Inside was a strange bit of curled wood not unlike a cinnamon stick, but white and speckled with black like birch.

“Witch wood?” Parvil asked.

“As good a conductor as any, and it won’t burn up right away.” Gretchen answered, checking the next box.

“Can’t recall ever seeing this in person,” he said, “Are you sure you want to part with this? I’m sure a better magic user than me could get real use out of it.”

Gretchen slid down the ladder holding the last box putting it on the counter. “Parvil…Parvil.” she said, shaking her head. “You are like a pug.”

“Is that some magical term I don’t know.” he asked, checking out the last box.

“No you buffoon like the dog.” she sighed. “You are cute, but dumb, and your don’t have the sense to realise you aren’t a wolf.”

“I…I don’t follow.” Parvil said.

Gretchen sighed. “Parvil. I like you, you are a great friend. I don't want you to run out there and try to fight a wolf. Do you understand?”

“Ah…mage is a wolf, I’m a pug.” Parvil said sceptically.

“Exactly. The metaphor doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to die, so I am giving you every chance I can.” Gretchen told him, taking the last item from the box, it looked like a spool of silvery white thread, gossamer thread from a Mindlash Greatweaver.” she said placing it gently on the counter seeing Parvil’s shock.

“I can’t…” he said in a whisper.
Gretchen pushed it towards him. “But you will, I like you too much to let you die to that prat.” she said proceeding to hand him the witch wood. Gretchen opened the box of chalk finding a perfectly unused, unbroken piece that was a barely noticeable darker tone then the others.

“Payment.” Gretchen said, not letting Parvil take them yet.

Parvil nodded, snapping himself out of it. “Right…right.” he said reaching into the satchel at his side and produced six old scrolls, tattered, water and mould stained, sealed with a wax dry crusty wax stamp that’s old red colour had turned a greyish-green with age.

It was then Gretchen’s turn to be shocked. “Are they genuine?” she asked him before reaching.

“They feel it, and my ‘friend’ says they are.” Parvil shrugged. “So I can only assume ninety five percent sure. Can’t know till you test them though.” he explained.

Gretchen gently moved the scroll closer to look at the wax seal. “Never thought I’d live to see one of these. Scrolls of Edmar.” She studied the seal a bit more. “Not his strongest work…but if I can translate these…” she got lost in thought for a moment at all the possibilities. Snapping out of it she looked at Parvil. “Next time you come back, whatever you need is covered…So come back…” she said, giving him a serious look. “And if your plan doesn’t work, don’t stick around to try anything else.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll be back. If those spells are anything good. I want a copy.” he told her. The two shared a long hug before he left, stepping out into the street and going to the alley beside the building. “Ianuae.” Parvil spoke, drawing signs through the air with his hand, and in a bright flash of light he was pulled from the alley to a forest bathed in the fading light of day and the cold hit him like a smack to the face… “Where am I…?” he asked himself. After getting no help from the ‘voice in his head’ he decided it was best to set up camp. Throwing his portable hole against a nearby rock face he settled in for the night. He’d figure out where he was in the morning.

To be continued.

http://www.ongoingworlds.com/games/3856/posts/342