Being an Account of How I Came to Leave Behind the Prime Material Plane and Journey Into Other Realms Where I Would Meet My Lady Love
There are those who might say that I, Manuel, am a liar. There are those who will say that I have never left this plane, that I have made up everything that I write here or, at best, read a book that described the planes which I claim to go to. To those people, I say this: you are lying bastards, and I will have my way with your wives and daughters. For I, Manuel, have traveled the planes as surely as any Demigod or Elemental.
Those who believe me a liar usually believe that no man travels the planes on accident, that I must have been some manner of potent wizard, capable of great magical feats. And while it is true that I am capable of some small feats of magic, I am not so vain as to say that I am a great wizard. I am, at my best, no more than a simple storyteller, a liar when I must be, and capable of the odd act of magic when it is required of me. It is for this that some claim that my story is untrue: that I am a liar, and an admitted one. For this, some say that all things that I say must also be lies. But this is not true.
I began, as I have said, my journey to the planes quite on accident. There was a woman, you see. She was an older woman, perhaps a thousand years, and an the wife of a powerful elven wizard. I was young, and foolish, and believed that I was more than a match for her husband. I believed, foolishly, that he would not have some manner of scrying spell upon his wife. I was not wholly foolish, and had detected for such spells upon her, but because I could see none, I thought that there were none.
If only I had been more cautious!
But, where women are concerned, there is only so much caution that a man of my urges can exercise, particularly when faced with such beauty as was hers.
And she was beautiful. Her thighs were as delicate as an elephants tusks, and as pale. She was thin, like a twig, but a twig which was finely formed and shaped to be pleasing to the eye. Her tongue was like a frog, but less disgusting. And her passion was like that of a woman a tenth of her age.
I convinced her husband that I must perform for him, personally, at a private party at his house. I told him that I would tell to him a special story, one which I save for my most special and favorite audiences. He asked me what I wished for payment, and I named a certain magical item which I knew to be in his possession. It was seven times my normal asking price, but I knew that to win my way into his home, and into the arms of his wife, who until then I had only seen through the windows of his home, I would have to convince him that I was serious.
He believed me, or so I thought. He planned a party, with only a handful of guests, and promised me that they would be the most sophisticated audience that I could wish for. I told him that, for a performance such as this, I would need to come to his home in the afternoon before the gathering, to get a proper feel for the location where I would be performing. I knew that he would be at his tower, away from the house, and unable to guard his beautiful wife. He agreed. I thought that he was blind to my lies, but I would prove to be wrong.
That afternoon, I arrived at his house as I had promised. He was not there, but a golem let me in. It led me to the room of the performance, and I went. I sat down, as though to practice, or take in the room. But that was only my cover.
I left an illusion of myself sitting on the floor while I, invisible, stole away through the house in search of the wizard's wife.
I found her on the second floor of the house, in such a state as I have earlier described. I looked her over for magical protections, but found none, and so I believed myself safe.
What occurred between us is not for the telling by a gentleman, but if a gentleman is reading this, than I can guess that his imagination will provide the scene that it would be improper of me to provide.
All that I will say is that, at my moment of maximum satisfaction, I heard a sound. I turned to discover that her husband, the wizard, had appeared behind me, and he did not look entertained.
I may have been young and foolish, but even then I knew that there are some situations which I cannot talk my way out of, no matter how good of a liar I may be. An angry husband is just this sort of thing.
And so I attempted to leave, by magical means. In my youth, and my foolishness, I had not realized that he would be guarded against just such an act.
When I awoke, I was in quite a different place indeed.
Those who believe me a liar usually believe that no man travels the planes on accident, that I must have been some manner of potent wizard, capable of great magical feats. And while it is true that I am capable of some small feats of magic, I am not so vain as to say that I am a great wizard. I am, at my best, no more than a simple storyteller, a liar when I must be, and capable of the odd act of magic when it is required of me. It is for this that some claim that my story is untrue: that I am a liar, and an admitted one. For this, some say that all things that I say must also be lies. But this is not true.
I began, as I have said, my journey to the planes quite on accident. There was a woman, you see. She was an older woman, perhaps a thousand years, and an the wife of a powerful elven wizard. I was young, and foolish, and believed that I was more than a match for her husband. I believed, foolishly, that he would not have some manner of scrying spell upon his wife. I was not wholly foolish, and had detected for such spells upon her, but because I could see none, I thought that there were none.
If only I had been more cautious!
But, where women are concerned, there is only so much caution that a man of my urges can exercise, particularly when faced with such beauty as was hers.
And she was beautiful. Her thighs were as delicate as an elephants tusks, and as pale. She was thin, like a twig, but a twig which was finely formed and shaped to be pleasing to the eye. Her tongue was like a frog, but less disgusting. And her passion was like that of a woman a tenth of her age.
I convinced her husband that I must perform for him, personally, at a private party at his house. I told him that I would tell to him a special story, one which I save for my most special and favorite audiences. He asked me what I wished for payment, and I named a certain magical item which I knew to be in his possession. It was seven times my normal asking price, but I knew that to win my way into his home, and into the arms of his wife, who until then I had only seen through the windows of his home, I would have to convince him that I was serious.
He believed me, or so I thought. He planned a party, with only a handful of guests, and promised me that they would be the most sophisticated audience that I could wish for. I told him that, for a performance such as this, I would need to come to his home in the afternoon before the gathering, to get a proper feel for the location where I would be performing. I knew that he would be at his tower, away from the house, and unable to guard his beautiful wife. He agreed. I thought that he was blind to my lies, but I would prove to be wrong.
That afternoon, I arrived at his house as I had promised. He was not there, but a golem let me in. It led me to the room of the performance, and I went. I sat down, as though to practice, or take in the room. But that was only my cover.
I left an illusion of myself sitting on the floor while I, invisible, stole away through the house in search of the wizard's wife.
I found her on the second floor of the house, in such a state as I have earlier described. I looked her over for magical protections, but found none, and so I believed myself safe.
What occurred between us is not for the telling by a gentleman, but if a gentleman is reading this, than I can guess that his imagination will provide the scene that it would be improper of me to provide.
All that I will say is that, at my moment of maximum satisfaction, I heard a sound. I turned to discover that her husband, the wizard, had appeared behind me, and he did not look entertained.
I may have been young and foolish, but even then I knew that there are some situations which I cannot talk my way out of, no matter how good of a liar I may be. An angry husband is just this sort of thing.
And so I attempted to leave, by magical means. In my youth, and my foolishness, I had not realized that he would be guarded against just such an act.
When I awoke, I was in quite a different place indeed.
Read on, gentle reader, to learn where Manuel awoke and what he did there.
Thought it would be more like:
ReplyDelete"Oh, Countess du Hoopskirt, though I am a simple yet noble and shirtless warrior from the untamed Fire Plains of Zaxthrutsil, I shall always be by your side, even when the stars themselves shrug as if to say, 'whatever'."
"Oh Manuel! Rip my bodice thusly!"
That or it's this universe's parallel to the Farmer's Almanack.