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I think I hear whistling? It doesn’t sound like bird song; I think there is a person making actual music! Maybe with their mouth, maybe with an instrument, I don’t care right now, I just hope they aren’t hostile. Would it be chauvinistic of me to hope it’s a pretty lady, too? I hurry my steps towards the whistling, and finally notice a big floppy hat holding a fishing pole. Maybe there’s somebody under that hat? I see a rainbow fringe around the base of that hat, this is looking promising. As I raise my hand to call out to this Mysterious Whistler (TM), I notice dangerous heads snaking through the water. More dragons? They do not have the big nose horn, and really they look like alligators, but alligators are pretty scary all on their own. I must save this Mysterious Whistler (TM)! I guess closing their carotids would be the best bet? Oh they did not like that. That is some serious thrashing. And the whistling stopped? Now you are just Mysterious, and no longer (TM). Well, the thrashing stopped too, time to announce myself to this person.
“Haha, suffer the wrath of my mighty cantrip, foul swamp denizens! Um, I did that, you know. To save you. From those things. You’re welcome.”
I probably should come up with better savior greetings, and maybe work on my delivery. I sound more awkward than a 14-year-old on a blind date.
“Cool, man, cool. I was planning on taking them down myself, but I don’t mind an assist.”
This person stands and I am confronted by an old, bearded hippie, wearing a rainbow poncho, with pointed ears, and light green skin.
“Oh wow, you look pretty far out. Can you magic them over here Mister Wizardman?”
“Maybe? Let me try.”
I imagine each molecule of water surrounding the sinking corpses pushing them towards us as well to the surface of the water. Don’t fail me now, vector skills!
Huh, a window popped up proclaiming I have improved Multicast, but the corpses aren’t really moving that much. How many water molecules are there? Can I move trillions at once? Well, it’s moving faster. A trillion is ten to the twelfth power, after all. I don’t think that’s very many molecules though. Considering the density of water, let’s assume I need to be moving maybe ten gallons of water for each. Hmmm. I will ballpark around thirty octillion water molecules. And…. Oh my.
“Geez, you don’t mess around! How are we going to get them out of that tree?”
Well, the new guy is impressed. That’s something, at least.
“Um, what did you need from them? I have a magic spell to process their corpses or something.”
I don’t know if the loot window from whatever game my data comes from is normal. I feel it is safe to assume everything about me is probably not normal. I just cast thirty octillion cantrips at once. The pop-up windows have not stopped assaulting me yet, in fact. Maybe I was off by a factor of ten? I should practice more math. Give me math skills, stupid pop-up windows! Trying to work with mols in my head while dealing with fanged beasts is so hard, I shed a single tear of frustration. Oh, this person was talking, I should pay attention.
“I also cook them into a pretty good etouffee, but with all the pigs and crawfish at my pad, I figured gumbo would be perfect. And I just got a new batch of wine that I need to try, so really just the meat is all I want, you can have whatever else.”
Wine? That is relevant to my titles. I should test this out. I am not an alcoholic; I can stop any time I want.
“Yeah, let me check these out and see what I can salvage after I get rid of the splinters.”
I conjure up a loot window, and find meat, skin, shoes, and a purse. It says it is a purse, but it looks like a satchel. I shall call it the man-purse.
No teeth? I thought teeth would be good. And eyes and organs and stuff for this guy to cook, as aren’t swamp people into eating weird organs?
“Here, have some meat, I guess that was all my magic could get? I’m still learning the ins and outs of that spell.”
“Awesome, that was super-fast. No liver? That’s okay, I can make boudain with some other livers.”
He seems sad, and that makes me sad at myself.
Oh no, is boudain some magic potion? Did I screw it up? I can probably find some more to butcher; this ecosystem looks like it can handle my poaching.
I probably shouldn’t call it poaching. Is some legal representative about to pop out and arrest me for slaying fanged swamp beasts? It is a possibility, but it seems remote at best. I really need to learn more about this world to get rid of these anxious thoughts. My new friend, Floppyhat McRainbowponcho can surely help with that.
“Only thing thicker than swamp drakes is mosquitos out here. You could kill another dozen and the swamp wouldn’t care.”
An endorsement for my actions. Begone foul anxiety, I am justified in my ravaging!
“My name is Moso.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance Mister Moso, I am Zavyyn.”
We have exchanged names, and now I imagine an affection meter floating beside this fellow. Time to fill it up and then be sad he is a crusty old hippie man and not an attractive young woman.
“Pretty cool to meet a talking troll. Being a wizard on top of that is crazy, man!”