I had been poring over a favorite tome of mine in preparation my for my thesis when it happened. I peered around my (quite expensive) solo dorm. The books were shaking and falling off the shelves, my work desk rumbled as I felt tremors rush up from the floor, and then my prized magical light fell off its stand and cracked apart. Reading by candlelight has never been my favorite; the flickering flames oft times have a mind of their own, and with the ambient magic in the air at the college I’m certain they do; the stories of destroyed final reports consumed by flames have left me more so cautious. So, I had invested in some lovely magical orb that had the most fascinating trick of responding to thought, adjusting their brightness to naturally accommodate whoever had the know-how to link up with such lovely things, like myself. I believe that my love for these glowing glass orb stemmed from the fact that their magic manifested from the evocative school of magic, which also happened to be the main focus of my magical studies. That orb was now broken and I was, for lack of a better words, fucking livid.

Evokers, quite honestly, get a bad rap. Those that study our branch of magic are often perceived as hot-headed, aggressive, and dangerously explosive. However, this is almost never the case, and indeed the malefactors that act like this find themselves at the mercy of some evocation guild, club, or group that don’t want such a soul ruining their good time, and more importantly their business. I, Draznop the Droll, am not so tribal though. I quietly go about my day, work on the days scheduled magical practices, and then promptly conclude the night with a bit of light reading such as my favorites “The Practical Applications of Evocative Magic in Day to Day” or “The Question of Lightning as Reliable Energy.” Everyone has a breaking point though, and destroying my prized possession during a particularly enjoyable reading session was it.

I slammed the door to my room open and peered down the halls, seeing not much besides a vivid red as I cast my vengeful gaze at my peers. They, too, seemed confused about the situation and recoiled from my ire, but this did not deter me. I marched up to Gruzbin the Salacious and grabbed him. Demanding answers about these tremors the little man sang like a songbird, knowing just exactly what I was capable of. He informed me that the second year transmuters and necromancers were working on some project meant to show the practical application of their crafts and he could only guess as to why most of the locale was now suffering from tremors.

How grand, the disturbed necromancers and ever popular transmuters working together? I retreated to my dorm, and hastily assembled the few practical reagents I had laying around and sent out for revenge. While I wasn’t too familiar with the layout of the campus, mostly concerning myself with the most direct route to classes and home, I still managed to find the transmuter dorm by the smoke that was rising from it. By the time I arrived at the doors to the living space the tremors finally died down, but screams were apparent from inside the building. Navigating the rather posh transmuter dorm, I followed a trail of destruction and some disgusting black slime when I found the cause of all this dreadful commotion. It had an oily black rippling surface, and seemed to have the consistency of gelatin as it oozed through the corridor. Worse yet, the monster was full of bones and I could see the dissolving articles of clothing denoting necromancy and transmuter sophomores inside the sludge. Who would reimburse my magical orb now?!

While I was mulling over the details of what to do and if I should even bother, the tar creature seemed to take notice and lash out at me with a pseudopod. Unfortunately, the reflexes of a wizard leave much to be desired. I took the blow as it smashed against my arm and I felt energy drain from my body. When the pseudopod finally retracted I quickly glanced at the part of my arm it had hit. It looked deadened and pale like that of a corpse, seemingly drained by the necrotic energies of this… beast.

Draznap is no fool though, and I quickly retaliated with a quick utterance and gave the creature a taste of pain. The fireball shot out and quickly consumed the beast, causing it to shrink away on instinct. Pushing the advantage, and acting on survival instinct as well, I shot a bright blue bolt of crackling electricity down the corridor. The metal frames of portraits lining the halls and bolted stands melted in wake of my destructive deluge. The creature was struck as well, and chunks of it exploded and it responded in kind with another pseudopod. Having lost myself a bit in the beautiful electricity, the strike caught me unawares, and I felt my jaw go numb as it slapped me in the lower part of my face. My focus would not break though, this creature would die for destroying my precious light and ruining prep work for finals.

The creature was shrinking in size, and its desire to survive urged it to begin hurriedly rushing towards the shattered window at the end of the hall in an attempt at escape. Not eager to let the cause of my anger get away so easily, I decided to test out a magical theorem I had been working on earlier, and began twisting my fingers and uttering the final parts of the spell and my spell took shape over the goop. I had caught it in my storm of ice, and the ooze creeped to a halt as the ice finally solidified it into a black icicle in the middle of the hall. I dared not approach the thing-cicle, and instead turned and went back outside before promptly falling over from exhaustion.

When I woke I was promptly greeted by some emissary of the headmaster calling herself Stelda the Stately. She thanked me for my service for stopping and even preserving the “Finals Project” despite how that was not my intent in the slightest. She gave a wink and a smile and promised that the Evocation classes would find themselves with a nice bump in funding after how I so… expertly handled the debacle. She also, in no uncertain terms, made sure I wouldn’t be letting this incident find its way to the news; which I quickly agreed when weighing the option of being expelled after years of hard work. She ended our meeting by asking if there was anything I wanted, within reason of course.

So that brings me back to my room, turning the page of “Evocation: Advanced Magical Theorems” under the well-lit glowing lights of several lovely crystal orbs. The simple wooden chair that gave my rump so much discomfort instead cushioned by a lovely plush velvet cushion. The auto-quill doing its job and jotting notes down as I dictated. Who knew things could get so much easier if all I had to do was sling a few explosions around, maybe adventurers aren’t so crazy after all…