The Peacemaker

 A/N: This is Story #3 in the Fantasy Fiction podcast style, and the very first story I wrote in the Mandaran Cycle, about 12 years ago. The Fantasy Fiction podcast is what inspired me to write, so these early stories were written as though they would be orated. I'll also generally be trying to leave them unedited aside from fixing typos I happen to catch. I want to preserve how I wrote back then as a good comparison to now.

 

Wizman the wizard was the most peace-loving wizard in all of Mandara. He was a human wizard with a short white beard who wore an orange robe with suspenders on it and wielded a wizard staff made of platinum with a fist on the end. Wizman carried with him a wallet that had the phrase "Take No Prisoners" stitched into it, full of photos of him with everyone whom he killed after he killed them. There was one of him and the corpse of an orc, one where he stood on top of a lizard man's dead body, one where he posed inside of a dragon's mouth like he's being eaten but he wasn't.

Wizman approached a dark, dank cave. The smell of wizard weed wafted from the depths of the cavern and he could hear laughter inside.

"Time to add to the collection," said the peaceful Wizman as he stepped into the cave. After what seemed like hours of walking, he happened upon a small opening in the cave, within which stood various people of various races getting hizzy-high on some atomic stanky danky wizard kush.

"Hey, man," said a hairy-ass troll. "Hand over the joint; I wanna take another hit." An equally hairy-ass (feathery-ass?) bird-man handed him a huge blunt without uttering a word.

"Not today, you fuck," spoke Wizman as all the people in the cave shot right the hell up.

"Oh shit!" said an elf shaman. "Everybody run! It's Wizman, P.I.!"

"You're goddamn right it's Wizman, P.I.!" Wizman said as he shot a bolt of magical energy from his hand into the hairy troll boy. His arm was blown off completely as his blue troll blood was spraying everywhere: on the floor, on the wall, on a portrait of that one bird-man's mom, all over the cache of weed on the coffee table, and all over the bird-man.

"Harvey, what the fuck?!" shouted the bird-man at the troll. "My mom is gonna kill us for getting your nasty-ass troll blood all over the place, bro! Shit out of dicks, man! What the--" The birdman was cut off by having his skull caved in by the platinum fist of Wizman's staff. Bird brain, blood, saliva, and cranial fluid burst out of his head as Wizman brought the massive fist down on it. Wizman raised the staff from what was left of the bird-man's head. He then waved his hand around and shot blue magic into the bird-man's barely living body. His whole body convulsed before turning inside out in a gnarly heap of flesh and bone.

"Looks like his mom won't be able to kill him," spoke Wizman as he turned to the elf shaman, still high A.F. on that toasty dub-dub.

"'Sup?" said the elf as he took the blood soaked blunt from Harvey's disembodied arm and took a drag from it. Wizman closed his eyes and pointed towards the elf. A third eye opened on Wizman's forehead and black magic shot out from his fingers and entered the elf's head. The elf's eyes turned black and he stood up. He then walked over to Harvey and began to beat him mercilessly. Death metal played the whole time. After Harvey was sufficiently brutalized, the mind-controlled elf began to eat Harvey alive, starting from his toes and working his way up. Harvey screamed the whole time and it was really gross but strangely cool. Troll gore was everywhere. Wizman touched the blood soaked elf on the head and his body shook violently. Suddenly, his skeleton jumped out of his mouth and landed in a handstand on the pile of flesh that was once Harvey and the elf.

"Happy Birthday!" yelled the skeleton, proud of his cool trick.

"What's your name, skeleton boy?" questioned the hard-as-tits wizard.

"My name's Louis," said the skeleton.

"Let's ride!" said Wizman as he pulled out his iScroll and snapped selfies of himself, Louis, and each of the corpses. They walked out of the cave and then Louis spoke.

"Hey boss," he said, "Why did you kill all those people?" Suddenly, a black carriage rolled up to the duo. The window rolled down and an older bird-woman, dressed in black, handed Wizman a sack of gold.

"Thank you," said the lady. Wizman took the bag and nodded.

"No problem, Harvey's bird-man friend's mom." Louis gasped a skeleton gasp.

"Twist!" shouted Louis.

THE END