In a quiet part of Moonveil forest, nestled in a glade of trees, sat a parked wagon covered in odd fabrics and bells and baubles. While the vehicle itself was loud and colorful, the occupant currently romping through the grass around it was even louder, adorned in a bright violet coat, clothes that looked like they’d been sewn from the fabric of circus tents, and all the sparkling silver jewelry you could imagine.

Morrigan Moonweaver was in Moonglade in search of flowers once more.

Currently, the self-proclaimed great wizard of the wastes was trying to fill a quota on health potions- now that they were a member of the Golden Consortium, there were certain obligations they had to fulfill. The thought of being tied down to the will of anything, be it man or organization, was something that irritated Morrigan to no end, but the perks of being a member of the guild were too good to pass up, even if it meant going on little errands and brewing whatever the consortium needed of them.

They weren’t especially versed in brewing healing potions, so they were currently in the middle of replenishing some of their stock, which meant another trip to the forests of Moonglade in search of their rare plants. Unfortunately for Morrigan, the forests were dreadfully boring without company. They had Bubbles, who was currently hanging on the back of the wagon, little legs dangling off the edge while they played with a dandelion, but the little kobold was hardly a conversationalist. Mostly they just parroted back whatever story Morrigan was telling them with gleeful abandon. Nor could Morrigan attempt any scams out here, as the woods were a good ways away from Moonveil village, and not many people ventured out into these forests.

Oh, well. Morrigan supposed they would have to make do for now, though they were utterly bored out of their skull. Hopefully this monotonous task of flower picking wouldn’t last too long, and Morrigan could get back to something more entertaining, like brewing or hatching up another scheme. The people of Moonglade had yet to be introduced to Dragon-Be-Gone, and Morrigan had snake oil to burn.

For now, they would just go along picking flowers, and hope that something might happen to cure this dreadful plague known as mind-numbing boredom.

---

Bringing Minions
Bubbles (Warlord I)

Bringing Pets
Bottle of Snowlings
Black Bog Leech

Beist's wagon trundled along the well-worn path that he used often to reach the field of medicinal herbs he used for brewing his healing potions. The trees were far enough apart even for his huge wagon to just squeeze through with the occasional bump of a tree root under a wheel, but the wheels were sturdy enough to not be damaged by such a thing. They had to be sturdy enough to carry a practical giant, after all. Dora walked along, pulling the wagon behind her. The huge griffon knew the path very well. She needed no steering from Beist, but he sat at the front of the wagon anyways just to keep her company. Their conversations sounded entirely one sided, Beist speaking and Dora screeching like an eagle in response, but Beist could understand her words. They carried on pleasant conversation to pass the time.

The griffon broke through the tree line and into the serene little glade of tulip shaped herbs. She was about to pull the wagon to the side, along the trees, to not run over the flower field in the middle. She was surprised, though, when she looked to the side to see another wagon was already parked in their usual spot. She turned the opposite direction from usual, and Beist tilted his head to the side in confusion until he also saw the parked wagon with a little kobold sitting on the back. He looked around and saw the most colorfully dressed person he had even seen bent down and picking flowers from the field.

He hadn't expected company. His journeys to this field had always been in only the company of his little pets before. He had never seen anyone else here. He had never seen this man anywhere. But he was picking medicinal herbs, so maybe he was also an alchemist? And he had a wagon? That's two things in common at least, maybe they could get along nicely. Well, as long as he didn't immediately think Beist was a monster at least.

"Hello! I didn't expect to meet anyone here!" Beist called out as he stepped down from the wagon. Inside the wagon, Ned felt the vehicle stop and immediately became excited. The big bee loved coming to this flower field and immediately flew out the window at the front of the wagon, buzzing happily, and started playing in the flowers.

---

Bringing Pets
Griffon (Sleigh Bell)
Big Bee
Raccoon Dog

The rumbling sound of a wagon’s wheels cutting through the silence caught Morrigan’s attention. The charlatan straightened, tail flicking behind them in suspicion. Was someone else on their way? Morrigan had heard from locals that this spot was fairly remote, and yet, someone was clearly approaching OH GODS WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.

Morrigan nearly fell flat on their ass as a giant, four-legged winged creature burst through the path, lugging something big behind it. Was that… some kind of weird harpy? Morrigan had fought harpies before, but they walked around on two legs, not four, and this thing looked more like some kind of avian… creature than humanoid. Admittedly, Morrigan knew jack shit about animals besides what parts made good potion components. Just as they reached for their fan, the creature whirled around, and Morrigan got a better glance at the huge wagon it was lugging behind it, rolling to a stop just beyond the field of flowers.

… Huh.

Just before Morrigan could puzzle over the strange beast, an even stranger one stepped out of the wagon, waving excitedly at Morrigan as if they were old friends, a giant bee flying out behind him and flitting through the flowers.

Morrigan’s first thought was, dear Solaria that thing is going to eat me and harvest my bones.

A few moments later, Morrigan’s second thought was, huh. He’s not harvesting me and eating my bones.

Maybe he was friendly. Either way, he hadn’t attacked Morrigan- in fact, he seemed pretty excited to have company- so Morrigan would treat them the same way. Flashing the man- humanoid beast?- flashing the stranger a showman’s smile, Morrigan approached them with gusto, jewelry clinking loudly as they did so, before coming to a stop in front of the man. And had to crane their neck up to look him in the eye… a lot. He was over twice Morrigan’s height! It wasn’t often that their stature bothered them, but right now, Morrigan couldn’t help but feel small in comparison to this behemoth of a man.

Well, they’d already made it this far, they may as well finish the approach. Morrigan held out their hand, which was covered in far more rings than any hand ought to be. “Hail and well met, friend! You must forgive me- much the same as you, I was not expecting to see anyone this far away from civilization, so your presence has caught me quite off guard.” They dipped low into a bow. “I am known as the Wizard of the Wastes- enchanter, diviner, storyteller, godslayer, creator of miracles, and maker of elixirs most wonderful. But you can call me Morrigan Moonweaver, and right now, I am not but a humble visitor to Moonglade in hopes of replenishing my stock. I was told this spot was remote, but I see now it is more well-visited than I first thought. What brings you so far into Moonveil Forest, my friend?”

These particular tulips were usually only used in the making of potions- Morrigan’s tail flicked as they tried to parse whether this stranger was an alchemist, like Morrigan themselves. Perhaps they might get away with a scheme here, if they could swing it. It would all depend on whether this stranger was knowledgeable on potions, and how easy of a sell they were.

Beist had to lean forward slightly to look down at the man before him. Oddly, he'd seemed bigger when Beist had seen him from farther away. Maybe he just had that sort of energy about him. He'd thought the man's outfit was a lot before, but now he could see all the jewelry he was wearing, he was even more... more. Well, he seemed friendly in any case. The beast man wasn't one to judge others harshly on their appearance. He'd be quite hypocritical if he did.

Beist listened to the man's torrent of accolades with a smile. The Wizard of the Wastes? He'd never heard of him. What Wastes was he even from? Enchanter, diviner, storyteller, yes yes, maybe a bit much, but sure. God slayer...? Creator of miracles and elixirs most powerful...? Beist raised a skeptical eyebrow, but kept smiling. This youngster sure could talk a big game, couldn't he? Morrigan Moonweaver. Beist would have to remember that name. Maybe check some wanted posters. He reached out and took Morrigan's offered hand, entirely engulfing it in his own, and shook it gently.

As he shook his hand, a tiny white-scaled snake with a pair of little golden wings and golden eyes suddenly popped out of the fluffy fur around Beist's neck and hissed. "He's a charlatan! Who actually calls themself a creator of miracles? Ha! God slayer!? As if this little man could slay a god! I'd like to see him try to slay me! A powerful celestial! Closest thing to a god he'll ever see! Hmph!" the snake ranted, its voice only heard by Beist. To Morrigan, the little snake just looked to be staring at him with narrowed eyes. Beist just kept smiling and ignored the snake's tirade or insults being thrown at the man who thankfully couldn't hear them.

"I didn't expect to see anyone else here either, but it's a pleasure to meet you. Actually, you are correct. This place is quite remote, I'm one of few who visit here regularly to restock on supplies. It's usually just me and my travelling companions, though." he said and looked over at the massive griffon still standing in front of the wagon and the bumblebee buzzing around happily. "Oh, excuse me a moment."

Beist walked over and removed the griffon's harness, unbuckling it and pulling it off of her. The griffon almost immediately took a few steps away and stretched, like some enormous house cat. Her wings that had been tucked in close while walking through the trees stretched out and flapped lightly before she plopped down in the grass, the sun shining on her.

"My name is Beistmild, but please call me Beist. I am just a travelling alchemist. This is Dora, my griffon, and that big bee over there is Ned." he pointed to each of them in turn. "And this feisty little guy is Pretzels." he pointed at the little snake who hissed again.

"Stop calling me after a snack food! I am Quetzalcoatl! The King of the Mountain! The Winged Serpent! The Holy Snake! I deserve respect!"

There was a beat of silence after Morrigan introduced themselves that the stranger said nothing. There was a contemplative look on his face, one Morrigan was intimately familiar with. It was the kind that one wore when they weren’t quite sure how to react to the menagerie of titles Morrigan wore like a fine coat, and had to decide between awe and exasperated shock. Eventually, the stranger took Morrigan’s hand with his own, and wow he truly was large. And yet, as Morrigan had expected, his handshake was not firm but soft and kind.

And then a small snake poked its head out of the stranger’s fur, hissing and spitting at Morrigan as it it was so angry it was attempting to actually yell at Morrigan. This wasn’t exactly a surprise- animals didn’t tend to like Morrigan all that much. They usually shied away from the Charlatan, of if they were aggressive, would try to attack them. The golden wings were new, though. Last Morrigan heard, snakes were really only meant to be long, spindly creatures without any limbs. Had snakes evolved wings while Morrigan wasn’t paying attention?

And then the stranger explained why he was here and introduced himself- Beistmild, a fitting name for someone of such mild demeanor as him. And a traveling alchemist, at that… well, that was one commonality between them, even though Morrigan was starting to get the inkling that conning this gentle giant into buying stock in Dragon-Be-Gone might not go over well. But the day was young, and Morrigan still had time yet to butter up this Sir Beistmild before attempting to make the sale. Perhaps Morrigan could even play their own trump card…

“An alchemist, you say?” Icy blue eyes sparkled in interest, tail flicking behind them as they spoke. “Why, I happen to dabble in alchemy quite a bit. You see, while my main profession is magic and wizardry, my side hobby is the making of potions! In fact, so much so that I have even pledged my allegiance to the Golden Consortium!”

They clicked their tongue together as they crossed their arms. “And I would not say you are just a traveling alchemist, Sir Beistmild. Why, with your cart and your menagerie of animal companions, I’d say you’ve amassed quite the list of titles yourself! Beistmild, tinker of tinctures, master of beasts…”

Including the ones he’d introduced to him- the bee, the avian beast, which Morrigan now knew was called a griffon, and the snake, which was still hissing at Morrigan like it had a personal vendetta against them.

“Oh, Pretzels?” Morrigan cooed. They would have reached up to pet the animal if they could even get up that high, but given the sheer height difference between Morrigan and Beist, that wasn’t happening anytime soon- and just as well, as Pretzels might have bit Morrigan’s hand off if they tried. “What an adorable name!”

Morrigan didn’t have many pets themselves, but it did give them a thought. They reached for their belt, unhooking the glass jar that was attached to their waist before holding it up for Beistmild to inspect. Inside was a fat, black leech, writhing around and striking at the glass with sharp rows of teeth as it searched for blood. “This here is no ordinary leech- this here is a violent, aggressive Vampire Leech from the cold, haunted woods of the Marshflats. You may call my beloved aggressive animal companion Junior.” They gestured to the mount currently still hooked to their wagon. “My faithful steed, Sparkle Blossom, and…”

Oh!

“How could I forget my lovely apprentice of the arcane, Bubbles?” They said as they spotted the kobold who was still playing with flowers on the back of the cart, watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes.

Beist couldn't help but be shocked when Morrigan said he was a member of the Golden Consortium. Beist was trying to join the Consortium himself, and this man didn't strike him as the Consortium type. Whatever the Consortium type was, that is. Beist didn't actually know yet, since he wasn't in yet. He shouldn't be too quick to judge. Maybe Morrigan was more reliable and skilled in potion making than Beist had thought at first glance. Maybe he wasn't the charlatan he had pegged him as. Or maybe he was lying about being in the Consortium. Did he just say making potions was his side hobby? How... how was he in the Consortium when Beist wasn't...? Now the giant beast man felt like the small one.

"Really? I actually happen to be trying to join the Consortium myself! How did you manage it?" he asked, trying to hide any hint of embarrassment in his voice. He'd have to go make sure to finish joining the Consortium once he left here. This old man couldn't let some young circus tent show him up too much longer.

"I don't really care for titles. Just Beist the alchemist is enough for me."

Pretzels hissed angrily at Morrigan from Beist's shoulder. "Scammer! How dare you call me Pretzels! I don't even want him to call me by that name, what makes you think you have the right to call me that!? What makes you think you have the right to address me at all!?" he turned to hiss directly into Beist's ear. "Strike him down! Flatten him! You can do it in one punch! You have the strength!" Beist ignored the hissing snake and looked happily at the leech in the jar.

"Oh my, how adorable! So energetic! You know, I have a cute little bloodsucker of my own. He's asleep in the wagon now, though, so I wouldn't want to disturb him." 

Beist looked over to the horse at the front of Morrigan's wagon and gave it a wave. "Hello, Sparkle Blossom!"

The horse looked back at him. "My name used to be Gerald... why did I have to get saddled up with this sparkling pompous ass?"

Beist lowered his hand, his smile faltering a bit. "Uh... He- hello Bubbles! A pleasure to meet you!"

Perhaps this was a moment where any normal person might have noticed the dejection on Beistmild’s face at the mention of the Golden Consortium, the way his ears drooped ever so slightly as he asked how Morrigan had managed to gain entrance to such a prestigious organization, and taken the moment to comfort the gentle man. Morrigan, on the other hand, noticed all these signs, and could not resist the opportunity to brag. They waved a glimmering hand into the air with a spot of joyous laughter. “Oh, it was quite fun, in my opinion.” If one ignored the fact that Morrigan had nearly been slain by the hands of a long-dead vengeful god possessing their dearest friend. “Have you hunted for the rare plants, my friend? My colleague and I set out in search of the elusive Ash Roses native to Mount Drakolt, and the Ice Beans in the harsh mountains of the World’s Crown.”

They swept low into another bow. “Should you need any assistance on how to find these elusive plants, or anything on the Consortium, feel free to pick my brain.” The offer was genuine, but perhaps not for the right reasons. Morrigan’s mind, more often than not, was on the scheme, and how they could twist an encounter in their favor. Discussing the consortium added validity to their claims. Maybe then Sir Beistmild would reconsider buying some of Morrigan’s stock…

Pretzels erupted into another round of indignant hissing, almost completely enraged as it trained its heady little molten gold eyes on Morrigan. “Pretzels sure is a wily one, is he not?” Morrigan asked as Beistmild happily fawned over Junior, who was still writhing around in his jar. They rubbed their finger against the glass, prompting Junior to lunge for it. A leech might have seemed an odd companion to have, but Morrigan found them interesting for their anti-poisonous properties. It was a testament to how much Sir Beistmild loved animals that he did not even blink at having such a strange creature shoved in his face, even going so far as to offer that he had his own adorable little bloodsucker in his wagon.

“Really?” Morrigan’s eyes widened, wondering if Beistmild perhaps had a leech of his own. “What kind of blood-sucker?”

Beistmild seemed more interested in Morrigan’s own animals, even going so far as to offer his own wave to Sparkle Blossom, who looked as delightfully energetic and bubbly as ever, and then Bubbles themselves, who immediately lit up as they were addressed. The little robed Kobold picked up his overly large wide-brimmed wizard hat sitting next to him, and the little stick that he carried around and pretended was a wand, skittering up to Beistmild as fast as his little feet could carry him.

“Oh goodness, oh goodness! New friend new friend! Master Moonweaver has a real friend!”

“Bubbles, this is Sir Beistmild.” Morrigan introduced. “He is another alchemist, like Friend Kvasir. Treat him with respect, understand?”

Bubbles’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Master Moonweaver has so many powerful friends! But did you know…” Bubbles tugged on Beistmild’s cloak, beckoning for the gentle giant to lean down before whispering excitedly, “Master Moonweaver is the most powerful of them all? They are so strong they once even caused an earthquake to discover an entire magical city underground and even once split the very seas with the wave of a hand!”^[1] Bubbles said with such earnest, childlike delight that Beistmild would have a hard time disbelieving their words. “I want to be just like them when I grow up!” They waved their little stick in their hand with earnest.

Morrigan preened under the compliment. Bubbles often sang their praises to anyone who would listen, and Beistmild was no different. Of course, everything that Bubbles said was a lie that Morrigan had fed them, but an illusion of power still gave truth to the lie, and despite barely brushing five feet in height, Morrigan wanted to appear larger than life to the alchemist.

---

1. Smooth Talking

"Hm, I'll keep that in mind." Beist replied friendlily, but didn't want to keep on the sore subject any longer. They didn't think they'd ask him for help, either. Morrigan seemed a bit of a braggart, and Beist felt the slight twist of the knife in his voice when he spoke of how he joined the Consortium. He'd definitely go out to find a couple of exotic plants to gain entry soon after this.

"Wily!? WILY!? You are the wily one, you con man, aren't you! Beast man! Make me larger! I will kill him myself if you won't! Just give me some of my power back!" Pretzels hissed indignantly.

"He can be quite energetic sometimes, but he's harmless." Beist chuckled, petting the snake gently as they hissed.

"Harmless!? I will harm him! I'll harm him to death! Just give me strength! Oh, that feels nice..." Their hissing fit ended as Beist stroked their back and they twisted around so he'd stroke the bottom of their neck.

Beist looked back at the wagon that Bull was still currently sleeping on the ceiling of. The little vampire bat was nocturnal, so they were sound asleep right now. "My cute little bloodsucker is a vampire bat. His name is Bull. I'd love to introduce you to him, but I wouldn't want to interrupt his sleep." 

Beist looked down in delight as the little Kobold ran up to him. He bent down closer and listened to Bubbles praise Morrigan. It all sounded so unbelievable, but the little Kobold sounded so earnest in everything they were saying he couldn't help but to actually believe it. At least, he couldn't bring himself to deny or even question any of it and hurt the Kobold's feelings. Bubbles was so cute, Beist considered trying to find a helper of his own. Maybe someone that could look after his pets while he was busy and couldn't bring them with him.

"Oh my, how impressive! He must be quite strong to cause an earthquake and split the sea! Truly amazing! You have a lofty goal ahead of you, don't you?"

Beist stood up again and looked at Morrigan. "My, I had no idea you were so strong! You know, I'm pretty strong myself. Now I'm curious to see how I compare to someone who can cause an earthquake and split the sea. Would you care to arm wrestle?"

As this conversation was happening, Ned went about the flower field gathering the tulip bulbs in a little basket diligently, buzzing to a tune as if they were hummin a song as they worked. 

He certainly doesn’t look harmless, Morrigan avoided saying as they watched the snake angrily spitting at them as if it was actually convinced it could talk. “What kind of snake is Pretzels?” They asked as Beist gave it pets to soothe it. They’d never seen a snake with wings before… what was it, some kind of strange magic python? Once Beist calmed it, though, Pretzels didn’t seem especially interested in biting Morrigan’s face off anymore, and Beist went on to describe some of the other members of his menagerie of pets.

“A vampire bat?” Could bats even be turned into vampires? Morrigan had met those loathsome creatures of the night before, and they vaguely remembered hearing myths that vampires could turn into bats, but they thought that was just a myth… now they were wondering if Sir Beistmild secretly had a vampire hidden away in his wagon. If that was the case, then that made Sir Beistmild a formidable opponent indeed…

“I will have to meet him when he’s properly awake, then.” And possibly with a wooden stake, just in case.

Morrigan smiled with smug satisfaction as Sir Beistmild seemed to but Bubbles’s story, but that was a given. Only the most cruel, heartless of bastards could gaze into Bubbles’s round, innocent eyes and not believe whatever he said. Now, Beistmild definitely thought of them as a powerful wizard capable of moving the very earth with barely a thought, and they could easily sell him on a case of Dragon-be-gone-

Did… Did he just challenge Morrigan to an arm-wrestling match?

Morrigan blinked, an owlish expression on their face as they broke character for the first time in utter confusion. Beistmild had a kind, if not earnest expression in his eye, as if he genuinely wanted to see one of Morrigan’s Miracles in action, one that Morrigan could not truly deliver.

Damn.

Well, far be it from Morrigan to leave a kindly man lacking from a smile. Despite how big he was, he seemed rather sweet- Morrigan doubted he could offer much challenge in the way of strength and tenacity, which would mean that Morrigan should at least be able to put up a decent fight. They pulled off their jackets, revealing rows of intricate, spiraling black tattoos that were meant to resemble runes, but upon closer inspection, any mage worth their salt would be able to tell they meant nothing. It was all to give the illusion of magic and power. The jacket was tossed haphazardly to the grass, narrowly missing Ned the Bee, the unfortunate innocent bystander who was nearly swaddled in layers of circus cloth before he swerved away and returned to sniffing flowers.

“Such courage should be commended!” They said with a sleazy, fanged grin. “I applaud such a brave soul who has the mettle to challenge a powerful wizard. You, Sir Beistmild, have earned my respect. Now, where shall we set the stage for our grand battle?”

Eventually, they decided to bring out a wooden crate from Morrigan’s wagon before settling down on either side, staring at one another. Once more it was made woefully obvious that Morrigan was dwarfed by Beistmild’s sheer size. Despite the fact that they were about to be veritably and utterly destroyed, in a feat of true stupidity that said they either had no idea their shit was about to be rocked, or that they didn’t care, Morrigan offered Beistmild their hand.

“Now, may the best man win.”

They were about to learn exactly who the best man was the minute that Beistmild grabbed their hand and slammed their arm to the side of the crate, shattering their incredibly fragile bones in one single movement.

Beist sat on the ground across from Morrigan, lessening the difference in height just slightly with the man sitting on a chair. He smiled confidently, but he was actually a little nervous. Bubbles had said that Morrigan was incredibly strong. Beist was confident in his monstrous strength, but what if Morrigan was far stronger than he looked? He would just have to take this little arm wrestling match seriously. He wouldn't hold back once they began!

He took Morrigan's hand, his elbow barely fitting on the crate they were using as a makeshift table. His hand dwarfed Morrigan's, engulfing it entirely, really. It hardly looked like an arm wrestling match, and more just like Beist grabbing Morrigan by the arm. But, he might be surprised by the Tiefling's strength. Bubble tried to act as something of a referee, putting their little hands on top of Beist's hand. The beast man tensed their arm, ready to begin. Then, Bubbles released their hand and hopped off of the crate.

And that was how Morrigan Moonweaver, the Wizard of the Wastes, died.

Just kidding, but actually, the devastation to Morrigan's arm was swift and horrible.

"Oh Ginma, I'm so sorry! Oh dear!" Beist panicked, not knowing what to do. Morrigan's arm was mangled, the bone snapped and poking out of the skin. How had this happened!? Wasn't he supposed to be incredibly strong!? "Pretzels!" Beist looked to the little winged serpent who had a satisfied smile on their serpentine face. They already knew what the beast man would want from them. They had been very angry at Morrigan, but watching that had washed that away and they acquiesced, lending Beist some of their magic.

Beist placed a hand on Morrigan's shoulder, channeling energy into him. The bone snapped back into place with a crackling sound and the flesh began to shift back into place, the skin regrowing, and Morrigan's arm was perfectly fine, as if the arm wrestling match had never happened at all. The same could not be said for his blood-soaked sleeve.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I hadn't expected that to happen! I thought you were stronger! Oh, the bone, it was like glass! I've never met anyone so fragile, I'm so sorry!" Beist apologized profusely, not noticing if anything they said might be taken as offensive. They were just relieved that Morrigan's arm was healed now. They hoped they hadn't caused any lasting damage.

The entire time, Ned just continued to gather flowers and buzz happily. Dora lied on the ground lazily, sunning herself.

---

Massive Healing

Oh, gods. What the hell just happened?

As Sir Beistmild called out to them, expressing their concern over the absolute torment he’d wrought on Morrigan’s arm, Morrigan could only wonder if they’d died and gone to the astral realm in the sky. No, wait- Morrigan wasn’t going there. Yes, Morrigan had died and been sent down to the infernal plane, where their torture was to try and fail to scam the living daylights out of a kindly old man who could apparently render their bones to powder.

Morrigan had received many injuries in their life. They’d been nearly killed by a god, stabbed by a bird thief, mauled by a displacer beast, and had nearly been pummeled by any number of angry men who they’d scammed before. And yet, this somehow felt like the most humiliating injury they’d ever received.

“I’m… fine.” They wheezed as Beistmild frantically apologized for what he’d done, as if he hadn’t expected his own strength. To be fair, Morrigan hadn’t expected his own strength either. “I’m as fit as a young spring chicken. I can… I can go for a round two.” They choked out despite the fact that they couldn’t even currently lift their arm, which looked like it had turned a darker purple from the bruising, and was coated in blood.

But then Beist touched them, and Morrigan’s shoulder lit up with warmth that seemed to travel all the way through their body towards their arm. Within seconds, Morrigan’s arm was back to normal, though… the energy seemed to diminish faster than usual. Morrigan flexed their arm experimentally. Most everything seemed fixed up, which was a relief. Magic hadn’t seemed to be working as well on Morrigan lately… sometimes offensive spells just seemed to fizzle out before they could even get close to Morrigan. They had begun to wonder if it was only a matter of time before healing magic stopped working, too. But for now, everything seemed to be in working order, which left Morrigan with one important question lingering on their mind- why the hell did their shirts keep getting ruined every time they visited Moonglade?

And then Sir Beistmild started going on about how he hadn’t expected Morrigan to be so fragile. His concern was touching, Morrigan supposed, but they couldn’t help but wrinkle their nose at the implication that they would shatter at the slightest touch.

“I am hardly made of glass.” There was a touch of derision in their voice, genial mask slipping just a bit. Though it was true their physical body was not exactly strong, they still hated any kind of pity from another person with a burning passion. Even if they weren’t a true wizard, they had survived this long despite years of stupid antics, hadn’t they?

They crossed their arms, trying to force the indignant anger down. No longer was Morrigan that weak child who’d not been allowed out of their room for fear they’d shatter every bone in their body. They had power, in means of influence and money, and it didn’t matter if this behemoth of a man believed Morrigan to be a little brittle.

“Clearly, you are much stronger than you look, Sir Beistmild.” Morrigan said, despite the fact that Beistmild definitely was as strong as he looked. “It’s not often that I meet someone of your caliber.”

Bubbles clapped his little claws together, still somehow joyous despite the fact he’d just watched his master’s arm rendered into a noodle. “Yes, Master Moonweaver never loses! Friend Beistmild is so strong!”^[1]

They stood, dusting off their pants. “Well, that certainly was an adventure, but I suppose I should change my clothes now, and I could use some refreshments. What day you, Sir Beistmild? Can I make you a drink?” Inside of the wagon of wonders, half of their alchemical station had been converted into a mixing station- they could whip up something easily. Of course, this meant that sometimes Morrigan accidentally put deadly poisons in their cocktails, but… that was what the leech was for, wasn’t it? You lived and you learned.

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1. Smooth talking

"Oh, no, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean your bone was made of glass, I was just surprised by- Um. Nevermind. My apologies." Beist stammered, trying to figure out how to say Morrigan was much weaker and more fragile than Bubbles had lead him to believe without sounding rude or possibly troubling Bubbles by implicating him in the destruction of Morrigan's arm. He decided it might just be best to move on from the subject altogether and pretend it never happened. He just waved away Morrigan's compliment toward his strength. His strength was unsurprising given his size, and it was only further enhanced by remained of his werebeast ancestry that still remained through his alchemical altering of himself. He looked incredibly strong, but was actually stronger than he looked. One of the reasons he easily accepted the idea that the Tiefling man might have some hidden strength in him. But Morrigan didn't need to know any of that. He wondered why Bubbles had lied about him being so strong though. And he had sounded so earnest about it.

Beist just blushed and waved away Bubbles' compliment as well. He usually handled compliments better, but once again, he couldn't help but believe Bubbles' words. He was strong wasn't he? Maybe Morrigan had thrown the match for some reason, who knew?

"Oh, a drink would be lovely." Beist replied, expecting some tea or water. It would be rude to refuse the offer.

“Practitioners of the arcane such as myself often focus on sharpening the mind rather than strengthening the body.” Morrigan said with a wave, attempting to assuage Sir Beistmild’s stammered apology. Partially because they were trying to save face, and partially because for some reason, seeing Beistmild so downtrodden made an unpleasant feeling twist in Morrigan’s gut… something that almost felt like guilt for making the poor man sad, if guilt was even something Morrigan was capable of. Why am I trying to comfort him? He’s the one that crushed my arm!

As Morrigan hopped up on the ledge of the Wagon of Wonders, they flashed Beistmild a lazy grin, tail swishing behind them. “Now, if I’d been using my magic to my fullest extent, that would be a different story. But alas, I swore never to carelessly use my magic in front of mortals, for your sheer proximity to it would have simply turned you to ash!” They shook their head, a faux-mournful look on their face. “It is both a gift and a burden to be blessed with such abilities. But it is one I must bear nonetheless. Now… what kind of refreshments do you fancy? I have wine, or spirits if you prefer something stronger.”

Morrigan, completely oblivious to the fact that Beistmild was probably expecting something nice and mild like tea, dashed into the cart before Beistmild could give an answer.

The drink station was built into a small part of Morrigan’s alchemical table, but rather than filled with jars of potion components and complicated brewing glassware, the drink station contained bottles of any drink you could think of, sugary syrups, and garnishes. They went about mixing themselves a drink with the deft hands of an alchemist used to weighing and preparing things. But when they got to Beistmild’s drink, Morrigan paused.

Wait. Beistmild seemed far too mild mannered for a drink like this… wouldn’t he want something boring? Morrigan groaned as they realized the gentle giant probably wouldn’t want something like alcohol at all. And it wouldn’t do to get on the bad side of someone they were trying to scam. It would be better to appear attentive and kind, so that Beistmild would begin to relax and let his guard down.

As Morrigan was working, setting water to boil over a small fire, they accidentally knocked over a small bottle of snow settled on the alchemical station with their elbow. The snow spilled out, forming little pink, sparkling balls of living snow that began to scuttle off the table and dash around the room. “Damnit-!” Morrigan tried to chase after the wayward sparkling snowlings, but it was too late. They were already on their way to the exit of the wagon, leaping past Beistmild and into the tall grass.

“My snowlings!” Morrigan cried, scanning the grass for any sign of the little glimmering pink traitors, but the only animal they could make out was Beistmild’s bee. They turned to Beistmild, a look of panic taking over their normally calm features. Normally, they wouldn’t care about losing an artificial construct that they could just synthesize again, but those ones had meaning. Morrigan needed them back. “Sir Beistmild, you must help me find them.”

"Mm, I see." Beist said under his breath as Morrigan spoke. For some reason, he didn't feel quite so compelled to believe Morrigan's words as he was Bubbles. Sharpening the mind over the body... Beist didn't feel the need to say that he also did the same, he just happened to have this beastly body thanks to his alchemical attempt to alter his ancestry. He already felt horrible for hurting Morrigan's arm so badly, he didn't want to hurt the man's pride anymore by telling him he had also held back some. He also wasn't keen on sharing his giant, more monstrous form with him. He was still mostly a stranger.

"Oh, uh-" Beist stammered trying to respond to Morrigan, but he had already disappeared into his wagon. Wine or spirits? He wasn't a huge drinker. He had expected tea, perhaps, but this man was offering to make him a cocktail in the middle of the day? Was he a day drinker? Beist looked down to the little Kobold that was smiling up at him. "Candy?" He asked as he pulled some strawberry candies in little strawberry colored paper wrappers from his pocket and offered them to the Kobold. "So... you seem to like Master Moonweaver very much. Does he offer alcohol to everyone he meets?"

But as he was speaking, Beist's attention was stolen by the sound of breaking glass and turned to see some little sparkly things rush out of the back of the wagon. "Wha-" Beist took a step back in surprise, but then, not knowing what these were and not wanting to trample any of them underfoot, he stood as still as possible as the little creatures rushed by him and into the grass. Morrigan rushed out of the wagon after the little sparkle balls looking troubled.

"Oh! Yes, of course! Uh, just a moment." Beist replied in surprise. From their interactions so far Morrigan had seemed awfully prideful, so Beist hadn't expected a sudden plea for help from him. These snowlings must be very important to him. Beist completely understood as a pet owner himself. He would be crushed if anything bad happened to his babies, so he would help find these snowlings as quickly as possible! He knew exactly what to do.

Beist went into the back of his own wagon and emerged after a moment with a yawning brown raccoon dog cradled in his lower pair of arms. "I'm sorry to wake you up Awd, but this is an emergency! Will you please help?" Beist asked while rubbing Awd's belly with one of his upper arms. The raccoon dog gave a little chitter and Beist smiled. "Thank you!" Beist carried Awd over to the back of Morrigan's wagon and set him down on the ground gently.

"This is Awd, my raccoon dog. He's an exceptional tracker! He'll find those snowlings of yours in an instant, he just needs something that smells like them to get their scent."

“Candy?” Bubbles’s eyes grew as wide as saucers when Friend Beistmild offered him a sugary treat. He clicked his little claws together once more, practically bouncing up and down in anticipation as he reached up to pluck the little goodies wrapped in mysterious pink paper. He carefully unwrapped the paper of one candy, folding up the gift, and tucked it in the pocket of his wizard robe. The single piece of candy went in his mouth while the others went in his pocket as a treat for later. He squealed in delight at the taste. Friend Beistmild was so kind! Master Moonweaver had so many nice friends. Friend Kvasir gave him flowers sometimes and now Friend Beistmild gave him sweets! He didn’t have much to offer back, but he did have a little shiny rock he picked up on the way here. Bubbles reached into his pocket and offered it to Beistmild.

“Here. You can have my treasure, friend Beistmild.”

He tilted his head to the side when Friend Beistmild asked about Master Moonweaver. Bubbles loved those questions! Master Moonweaver was so big and sparkly and exciting and Bubbles loved them! He also loved the stories Master Moonweaver told him, and loved to share them with other people. But this question, Bubbles didn’t understand. He tilted his head to the side, eyes still wide and bright as he asked Friend Beistmild, “What’s an… al-chol? Is it a potion! Master Moonweaver makes potions! They make…” Bubbles struggled to remember the name, “Dragon-Be-Gone! You wanna know something funny?” They giggled as they beckoned Friend Beistmild to lean down again, as if sharing a secret. “Master Moonweaver told me the recipe once. They said the secret ingredient is that it’s just water!”[1]

It was at that moment the sparkle-lings, the little capricious tricksters, freed themselves from Morrigan’s glass vial and out through the fields and into the great unknown. Morrigan swore under their breath in infernal as they made their way back to Beistmild, frantic. What the hell did enchanted snow want to do out in the middle of a forest? It was snow! But thankfully, Beistmild seemed to have some idea how to track down the little pranksters. He retreated to his own wagon for a moment, coming back with some weird looking Pomeranian he called a raccoon dog. Morrigan squinted at it for a moment- the dog almost seemed to squint back. They almost asked how in the hell a dog was supposed to solve their problems when Beistmild explained that this… Awd would be able to track down the Sparkle-lings.

“Something that smells like them?” Morrigan repeated, deep in thought. “I suppose that would be the glass… give me a moment.” They returned to scoop up the pieces of the bottle before returning to Beistmild and Awd. They allowed the dog to sniff the shards, which seemed to be enough. Awd set off in the direction of the sparkle-lings.

Meanwhile, Ned the Bee, who was still flying around the tall grassy area, suddenly found themselves confronted with a small, glittering passenger who’d somehow gotten on their back and was currently flying around on a joyride.

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1. Smooth Talking