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Chapter Three: Vardadraug and the Cosmic Ore

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Luna turns and heads for the door with her dress pulled up so she can run. "I'm coming too, Kitrin! Right behind you." Wolf, don't do anything stupid until we are there to help. What am I saying? Just don't do anything stupid!
 
Bria turns to Otiorin, "Oh, I fight; My system of fighting just doesn't involve harming anyone. But what does getting a half-chewed piece of bread out of you have to do with fighting? How did that, pardon the term, come up?"


As you race toward the way out, Bonny and Whittle wave their hands in a frantic attempt to get your attention. "Wait!" Bonny cries. "You can't just leave us here undefended! I mean... Stewart, do you have some means of protecting us while the Wanderers... wander?"


Stewart shakes his head at Kitrin and Bria and pats the center of his chest. "I believe the two of you saw the results the last time I attempted heroics."


Whittle folds her hands over her mouth in worry. She looks like she is about to burst. "I'm all for running out after a fellow who needs the help, but we need help too, don't you see?" Whittle and Bonny look at each other and then look around the room. Their eyes fall on Kitrin. "Killer Kittenpaw! You understand, don't you? Use your good hobbit-sense! You just can't leave us here undefended in the wild! Couldn't just one person stay?"


Bria and Powerpaw look at each other. Powerpaw grabs his pack which contains his gear and recently-repaired armor. In his other hand, he sports his enchanted maul. "The moar we talks, the moar Wolf an' little wolf get away. How iz we gonna catch up to 'em?" They look to Luna for reply.
 
Luna leads Powerpaw and Bria outside at a rapid pace. As she runs, she shouts over her shoulder at the two new additions to the team. "Wolf has been our advanced scout for a while, and he marks his trail with a very distinct pattern of marks. All I have to do is look for those, and we'll be right on his tail." With the aid of her Boots of Striding and Springing, the normally unathletic Luna is able to set a good pace after Wolf and the wolf.


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Kitrin skids to a halt, not quite managing it before she passes through the odd front door of the wagon, turns around, and runs back in, narrowly avoiding Luna. "Right! Sorry! You guys go, I'll stay here and guard and, um, finish getting dressed. But go now! They aren't that far ahead yet!"
 
Otiorin watched as the others scrambled around like mad things, chasing the mysterious wolf cub as it disappeared out the door. Then, he saw the Meadowsweets confronting Kitrin and he could see her being drawn two ways.


"It's okay, Kitrin, go on ahead. I'll remain with the wagons and protect everyone. Besides, I'm still a little short of breath. I also wanted to ask Stewart a question that had come to mind before I tried to kill myself with baked goods."
 
Bria races outside, but Powerpaw pauses. "I haz magic boots dat make me haul-tail. All of you iz small ta me, so either Rin or Kitrin jump on."


Whittle and Bonny nearly run into each other in their effort to help. "Deary me! You can't run into danger without your armor!" They both go running to fetch Kitrin's suit of armor as quickly as their small feet can carry them. Needless to say, this will take time.
 
In anticipation of a fight, Luna will cast her Mage Armor spell. It will last for the next six hours.

Cantrips: Read Magic, Ray of Frost, Mage Hand, Detect Magic


Level 1: Shield, Burning Hands x2, Shocking Grasp


Level 2: Mirror Image, Scorching Ray x3


Level 3: Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Displacement


Mage Armor active
 
"Right! Good! I'm off!" Kitrin dashes out after Luna and the others, calling over her shoulder to the Meadowsweets, "No time! Got shield, got skills!" With any luck, that cute little wolf cub will be single-minded enough to be running in a straight line so that they don't have to do too much tracking. At Powerpaw's offer, she giggles and jumps at him. "Kitty ride!"
 
"Just hold on, hobbit-face!' Powerpaw tears out of the dining room, out into the hallway, through the pool area, and out of the Adventurers' Wagon at speeds most non-adventuring hobbits are not comfortable with.


At that point, Otiorin finds Stewart watching him with a most peculiar expression. "Now what question of yours is so profound that you refrain from whatever-it-is-Vardadraug-found-THIS-time?" Then he adds. "My, it is a bit quieter in here, isn't it? Kind of nice, come to think of it."
 
Otiorin smiled enigmatically as the wagon emptied of Wanderers, then went over to his pack. From within, he withdrew a certain well-wrapped bundle.


"My question comes in response to you saying that Bilal the Bloated used Vardadraug to find a great many things. But surely, he must have means to seek out treasures before that? Else he wouldn't have had the means to finance such wonders as this.", he replied, waving the bundle to illustrate the wagon around them. He inwrapped the bundle of waxed canvas to reveal the sheathed shortsword, Moonlit Edge.


"Pray, good master Stewart, are you aware of whether Bilal came across, or heard rumor of, the blade that pairs this one, a superlative Elven weapon known as the Sunfire Blade?"
 
"Don't mislead yourself, my friend. Bilal was a master of the coin and he financed this wagon and all of the others solely through Vardadraug's finds. The treasures he had before that were mundane by comparison. He was just like the others in his ring of merchants before that, scrabbling for ideas and work. As each find grew and each show provided gold, he added a wagon, until Bilal's Menagerie grew into a caravan of wonders. Yet this..."


Stewart quietly rises from the table, apparently not to keen on alerting the Meadowsweets who are still absent from the dining room. He leans over the table and fixes his eyes upon the Moonlit Edge. "...is a wonder you were wise to keep secret." Stewart does not gaze at it long before waving his hand toward Otiorin as if to return the blade to its hiding place. "I have seen this before. Just last night. I came across it when I was collecting everyone's items prior to returning them to you. I did not draw it, though. Now that I see it free, I am humbled by it."


"As for this blade or its mate, I know not. Monsters are my forte. However, I do know who best to ask. Oscar. He is the one lore-master who can beat me at my own game, and as it just so happens that he resides in Higwind serving King Wildegard. Yes. Oscar of Highwind, the finest fact-keeper I have ever known. What a fellow."


 


[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU3qNi8UaQY[/media]


Blood pumping, Wolf races through the woods, around trees, and into the uncharted depths of forest where few tread and fewer remain. Wolf realizes quickly that little Vardadraug is very, very good at moving at top speed through brush and bramble and over stream and fallen branches. Where he goes, Wolf follows. Moving with such swiftness, neither animal can silence their tracks, yet neither of them betrays where they have been, such is their bond with the natural realm. For long minutes, all there is is the chase - hot, laboring lungs, flying limbs, and total focus on the scene rushing before and past them, there and gone like a faerie dream. There is no time to think, no opportunity to pause, for to pause is to lose.


There is only the chase.


Vardradraug does not tell where he is going or why or for how long, and wolves are known for their endurance on such treks. Nor does his small puppy size slow him in the least - he moves as quickly and as surely as an adult of his kind. Wolf learns soon that the forest does not stop the little fellow in any manner; each of them cruises through it as easily as Pecker soars through the sky. Above and not far behind them both, that lively falcon speeds over the treetops without so much as a chirp. He too is in the chase.


Behind them at the clearing where only the prison wagon and Adventurers' Wagon are parked, the rest of the Wanderers, by comparison, blast and bludgeon their way into the greenery with all of the grace and quiet of drunken ettins. It is here they must depend on their own senses and training just to keep up, lest the sounds of the wolves dwindle away and be lost to them.
 
Unfortunately for the Meadowsweets, they do not quite hear Kitrin's call in time. They bolt down the corridor towards her room and are gone.


Stewart watches down the hall as you hear the sounds of their little running feet receding. "Leave it to hobbits, the smallest among us, to want to be prepared for anything."


Then an odd look comes over his face...


"Boccob take me for a fool!" Stewart spins on his heel and makes for the kitchen as quickly as his old body will allow. "Otiorin," you hear him say from the other room, "If you have any other questions, I recommend you ask them now. I think you - oof! You have a little something to do if you want to aid the Wanderers." Stewart returns to the dining room bearing armful of goods, one of which is clearly a short recurve bow of Dwarven make, all wrapped in a beautiful evergreen cloak.


He rolls his large eyes and shakes his head. "I meant to provide these to everyone. You know, after the morning meal? Now the Wanderers have a real need for them!" He presents the hefty bundle to you. "You wouldn't mind running after them and dividing these up, would you? They belonged to the Wayfarer."


Just then, the Meadowsweets burst into the room with a couple of armloads of hobbit-armor each. Their smiles are big but their eyes are wondering.


"You just missed her," Stewart tells them. "In your haste to be off, it was decided Otiorin would stay."


Bonny walks up to Otiorin and looks at the wrapped bundle. "But... I say, it looks like you're sending him off!"


"Precisely."


"Yondalla's girdle! Who then who will guard us?"


Stewart stands straight and proud, likely in an attempt to bolster worried hearts. "Tut tut, Mister Meadowsweet! I am probably the only person within miles who owns a trumpet and knows how to use one well. If we get into trouble, I will blow the horn while the three of us lock up inside here. The Wanderers will certainly hear that and come!"


Whittle hurries to Otiorin and now the half-elf is surrounded by people who cannot rightly defend themselves. "What say you, Mister Otiorin? Will you go or will you stay? There is a bit more pancake batter to make cakes with if you-"


"Let him decide!" Stewart sighs. "Hobbits..."
 
Otiorin was caught between two difficult decisions, do as he had promised and remain behind to protect the wagons and the non-coms therein, or carry the potentially vital equipment Stewart was carrying to the others before they got into too much trouble. On the one hand, the other adventurers were well-versed in fighting for their lives in none-too-excellent conditions, but on the other, Stewart had his horn should they need help. The gnolls had been scattered and were less than a threat now. But pancakes...


Moments later, Otiorin was sprinting through the brush, the bundle of gear in his hands and a pancake rolled up and clenched between his teeth. I'm the fastest amongst us all. If there's trouble, I'll be able to get back in a hurry.
 
Being totally oblivious to what has been going on Bronze continues to study the shiny, poking, prodding, giving it a squeeze, even tasting it. "Hum, need to fire up the forge, and bake it a bit..." Finally comes up for air. "Uh where did everyone go?"
 
"They went out," Stewart firmly tells Bronze while the Meadowsweets wave and shout praises after the receding Otiorin. Stewart pours himself a glass of juice and watches with calm interest as Bronze looks about. "Care for an extra hand firing your forge? Or if nothing else, idle company while you perform you work?"


Wolf speeds through the forest like an arrow launched from the bow of a hunter. His pace is incredible. He knows this is one of the best forest runs of his young man's life, for at no time does he lose his speed or the wild zig-zagging little wolf pup, despite the crisp branches of the trees, the armies of bushes and brambles, roots and stones all along the leaf-strewn forest floor. The distance in meters increases from dozens to hundreds until finally, they are well over a kilometer away from the Adventurers' Wagon and deep in the rich greenery of the wood. These last steps have been challenging indeed, rising up a tall sloping hilltop until its perch is finally overcome. Here, with a panorama of the nearby forest and streams is a breathtaking view of the Road of Kings as few have ever seen it. The sun, high overhead and veiled by wide, slow-moving clouds shines down on the tree-strewn hilltop which stretches out before you. A carpet of leaves creates a path of reds, golds, and browns before you.


At the end of this path there lies a great stone jutting out of the earth, circled by trees. The stone is half-again as tall as Wolf and many times as wide. It appears ancient and covered by more than green and yellow moss. Here, Wolf's eyes see the telltale marks of timeworn runes etched carefully along its leaf-littered surface, their meaning, for the moment, an enigma. On a lone perch atop the great stone, Vardadraug sits like a little prince of the forest, the trees rustling their dry branches above and about him.


Here, says the voice of Vardadraug in Wolf's mind, if he chooses to hear it. This is the place. Though something is off. It is as if- yipe!





Vardadraug does indeed cry out as, without warning, the leaves around him explode into motion and a mass of rope from beneath his little feet appear, trapping and pulling him off of the stone until he dangles about a meter in the air. Then, from behind the rock, comes a voice you have never before heard.


"Ha! Listen to the wizard, I says, and I was right!" There is the sound of spark and fire.


Out from behind the rock, a scruffy-looking black-haired man dressed in old hunting leathers appears brandishing a torch in one hand and a freshly-used tindertwig in the other. On his hip is a nasty-looking short sword kept in a stained sheath. He has yellow skin and scrawny limbs with bad teeth and bulging eyes. You cannot quite tell how old he is, but he moves with a spryness unknown to most civilized folk.


"Hold there!" he shouts at you. The torch hovers under the rope-net that Vardadraug now dangles from. "I have a proposition fer the likes of you. A man I know says ta me that you have the shining stone that fell from the sky! That stone be precious, but I gather so's this little fellow ta you... isn't he?" He smiles cruelly as he ruffles Vardadraug's fur. The little wolf snaps at him with sharp teeth, but the ruffian does not flinch.


"We can hear your friends comin' already! What say you? An honest trade! The fallen star fer the little wolf's life! Unless, of course, ye fancy hearin' him buuuuurn alive! Ahaaa ha haaaa!'
 
Finally, was the first thought that came to the ranger's mind when the run finally came to a stop. He was a good runner, but the terrain was difficult and he doubted for how much longer he would endure. Yet just when he'd caught his breath and hoped to start exploring the place that Vardadraug deemed important enough to run off to as if the gods were chasing him, this happens.


He didn't know exactly who else was coming of his party. He could only guess at who this cretin was, or where his friends were. He had no idea why he wanted the star. But he knew one thing; or more precisely, he just realized at that moment - that he was ready to do anything to keep the cub alive and close to him.


"I can only give that which is mine to give," he started, then drew his bow and nocked an arrow pointing at the man as fast as he could while adding: "The ore is not. But this arrow is." And he fixed him with a piercing glance.
 
"Oh, you think I'm bluffing?!" The very moment Wolf reaches for his weapon, the shady man puts the flaming torch right inside the net with Vardadraug.


The whole net catches fire. The little wolf makes no move or sound as the flames engulf him.


"That's what you get!" the man shrieks. "Nobody messes with us! Get him!"


From behind the rune-engraved stone, four large muscled warriors, each the size of Powerpaw, emerge. They wear hide armor and carry large-sized bladed weapons. Each of them towers over Wolf, even though they are 20 meters away from him. They seem slow and brutish, but this, Wolf knows, is mostly a ruse for the inexperienced. As they come out of their hiding spots, Wolf realizes without doubt what they are:

166834255.jpg



(Image from guides.gamepressure.com)


(Two important differences: 1. Minotaurs in my game have four fingers and one thumb...


... and in terms of ferocity, they also look mean as hell, like this:


minotaur_by_kikicianjur-d3astri.jpg



(Image from forum.supercell.net)
Wolf, and everyone else in the Wanderers knows what minotaurs are, and where to find them. These are not the brave and barbaric minotaur tribe that dedicated themselves to Highwind (a tale that made it big around adventurers and would-be adventurers), these are their more common brethren: Bloodland Minotaurs. The Bloodlands are a diabolical nation and the worst threat to Summerset that ever was. These, whenever they can afford them, are their well-disciplined, front-line heavy troops.


Like their Highwind "cousins," they are very proud, eager to fight, easy to anger, hard to take down, and average about 8 feet in height at around 400 pounds of trained muscle. Unlike their more noble brethren, these creatures are wholly evil and care only to destroy and plunder and work their way to higher "glory." What they are doing working with a human like this is beyond you, but their motives are clear - they are likely here to take the cosmic ore from you by way of surrender, or (more to their liking) from your freshly-bleeding corpses.


"Are we not going to blow the horn?" one snorts as emerges with a powerful large-sized composite longbow.


"Come on, human," grunts another wielding a large-sized greataxe. "The wizard said to blow the horn if we found them."


The human nods eagerly at them. "Sure, sure! But first I want to hear this puppy screaaaaaaaam!"
 
Wolf didn't actually think his opponent was bluffing, but he also didn't think he'd be so eager to use the torch on the trapped puppy. He was hoping that he'd achieve some kind of stalemate, but that would have clearly been short-lived as well given the sudden appearance of the minotaurs.


Damn it! The ranger cursed silently. From behind the drawn bow his eyes shifted from the beasts to the man they were with, and to trapped Vardadraug. Instinctively he wanted to race to him, but even without the peril of certain death would he make it in time? Maybe. Luna and the others would be there any second. Perhaps to lessen the enemy numbers at range before the unavoidable clash, to give them an edge? No, it would take more than one shot to bring down any of those things, even with a critical hit. What, then?


Well they say no good deed goes unpunished, so why should the evil ones? Focusing for a perfect shot Wolf lets the arrow fly with a whispered prayer to Solonor Thelandira, aiming to make that laughing idiot die with a scream of his own.


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Looks at Stewart, "Sure I could use the help, do I need to make some household stuff by the way?" being of a focused mind Bronze has a tendency to get a bit "Overly-Focused" on things that catch his attention. "Yanno, I didn't even notice everyone leaving, I don't know why I get distracted like that."
 
Stewart brings his drink with him as he assist Bronze in setting up his portable forge, this time in the Adventurers' Wagon's well-stocked kitchen where the smoke can safely escape into a vented hole in the high ceiling. Stewart carefully considers Bronze's question. Then he answers. "We have just about everything we need for household goods, including provisions; that is, if Kitrin and Powerpaw do not consume it all first." Stewart chuckles, clearly in a good mood now that things are quiet. Meanwhile, Bonny and Whittle sit and chat in the nearby dining room as hobbits are wont to do.


Upon the strange rock, the black-haired ruffian draws a horn from a strap on his back. Struggling not to laugh, he inhales and places the yellow bone horn to his lips, but instead of something coming out of his body, something else enters. Perhaps the Elven God of Hunting nodded to the human ranger for his prayer, for Wolf's arrow tears through the air and strikes true! The shaft strikes the villain's upper neck, beside his windpipe, and blood spurts from the wound. The ruffian cries out and immediately collapses and squirms upon the huge, runed stone, his blood dripping red along its ancient surface. The smoking torch smacks upon naked stone and the unsounded horn topples to clatter upon the stone and into the sea of leaves. The minotaurs suddenly burst forth in harsh laughter.


"He-, help me! Pu- puleeze! I am dying!"


"What? Do we look like a bunch of clerics? Save yourself, weakling!"


"Hah! He shot him! I would have shot that little bitch too!"


"About damned time somebody put an arrow into that loudmouth! Har har har!"


The largest and apparently oldest of the quartet steps forward and onto the strange rock as his fellows point and guffaw at the fading villain. The brown-skinned, red-eyed monster-of-a-warrior clops forward on hooves the size of Wolf's head. He holds a scarred large shield covered in curved spikes and a massive blood-red flail decorated with three heads somehow made into steel. A trio of sad dwarven faces stare unseeing as they dangle from thick chains. The minotaur's horns are sharpened to fine points and he gnashes his teeth and peers into the fiery net.


"Why don't I smell wolf-fur burning, human? Why don't I hear painful howling?"


"P-p-pleeaaaaze! My- my blood! Get this arrow... out!" The ruffian's strength is dwindling. Clearly, this fellow was not an adventurer, but something more mundane, despite his high ambitions.


The leader of the minotaur team looks down at him. Those cruel horns sway as he shakes his head. "I like it where it is." Then with his full weight, he steps on the arrow, and the man beneath it. The ruffian squirms and thrashes madly. His terrible muffled screams do not last long as his skull explodes under the minotaur's grinding stomp.


The thin rope web burns brightly, crackling and popping in the air. The web fails, sending its smoking contents out and down toward the great rock. There is the sound of stone against stone. The minotaur leader leans down and rights a solid stone little smoky statuette Wolf has definitely seen once before - and Wolf could swear the statuette is grinning mischievously at him.





The minotaurs stop laughing and gaze at it. "That was a puppy a moment ago! Unless the human tricked us!"


"Humans are all full of trickery and foulness."


"Yes. And that one still has something the wizard wants."


The minotaurs glare with hate in their red eyes at Wolf, their weapons held high. At that moment, Wolf faintly hears the rapidly-moving feet of probably two people coming up the hill to the hilltop, perhaps 30 meters away behind him. The minotaurs, he knows, are as yet, too far to hear it despite their own keen senses.


"What's it going to be, little man?" The leader raises his deadly dwarf-headed flail in one giant arm. "You give us the fallen star without any more excuses. Or... do I destroy this? And then you?"


At that moment, yet another oddity takes place...


The very second the leader takes his eyes off of the statuette, it suddenly turns into a wolf pup. Little furry feet quietly skedaddle into the brush. The leading minotaur has no clue anything is amiss until his fellows start laughing again.


"What in the Nine Hells is wrong with you?"


"Us?" An ugly, one-horned minotaur wielding twin battle axes chuckles. "You're the foolish dumbass who can't even keep track of a puppy!" He points.


"What?!"





The leader looks to his hooves and roars lets out a curse just as Vardadraug takes off running into the brush with the same alacrity and skill Wolf experienced before.


"You little shit! Come back here!" The leader tears off after the little pup, but it is obvious to Wolf that the giant in hide armor is not fast enough to catch him.


For a brief moment, the minotaurs' eyes are not on Wolf.


Luna and Bria rush over roots and under branches making all kinds of noise, yet between the two of them, they are sure they know where Wolf went. "He was headed to that hilltop," Bria states. "Boy, am I glad we have this enchanted footwear or we'd be headed back to the wagon about now!"


Pecker soars through the air, never far from Wolf. Above the din, the hunting falcon quietly circles the hilltop, his brown and white wings wide as he glides through the air. This, Luna and Bria see very easily as they come to the top of the hill, they hear the sounds of giant creatures laughing at some jest. Both wizard and healer see the great runed stone and the creatures before it, including Wolf, and the corpse upon the stone. Wolf does not see them as they are directly behind him, currently concealed by brush (if they keep their heads low).


"Oh dear!" Bria whispers and quickly performs three brushing movements over her fighting robes. The robes meld and shift into rich forest green and earthy brown. "Bloodland minotaurs! Here?" The peaceful monk turns to Luna, her eyes asking for advice in direction.


Sparkle grumbles and vanishes on Luna's shoulder. "Such evil should have stayed northwest where they belonged," the old dragon hisses.
 
Luna gets a very sour look on her face. "I have never faced minotaurs before, but I do know this: they will burn if they try to hurt Wolf! Come. Lets get closer. We have Powerpaw and Kitrin on our heels, so if things go bad we won't be outnumbered, and I don't want Wolf to think that he's by himself out there. Lets hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Shield! Mirror Image!" Suddenly, there is a plethora of Lunas all crouching down next to Bria, and as one, they stand and advance towards the minotaurs.

Cantrips: Read Magic, Ray of Frost, Mage Hand, Detect Magic


Level 1: Burning Hands x2, Shocking Grasp


Level 2: Scorching Ray x3


Level 3: Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Displacement


Mage Armor, Shield, and Mirror Image spells (6 duplicates) are all active


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Bria keeps her head down and stays put. In fact, she crouches down and takes cover as best she can. She whispers, her tone full of worry. "Oh, Luna, I hope you know what you're doing!"


One by one, the minotaurs hear Luna walking through the brush. They turn to her. The minotaur leader speaks something in the Giant language to his fellows. They spread out, weapons drawn. The bow-armed minotaur slides behind the great stone, taking cover. Due to their large size, there is no way you will lose them in the brush. The leader remains on the great runed stone dangling his flail over the bloody corpse.


"Aww..." he grunts to Wolf. "Little woodsy man doesn't have any balls of his own? Needs his woman to handle his business?" He shakes his head and snickers in disdain. "Now that's fucked up..."


He grins confidently at Luna, readying himself into fighting stance in a leisurely manner. "As for you, woman, at least you got guts. Now why don't you ask your little bitch here why we have come?"
 
As she advances forward, Luna looks at the lead minotaur with a cold expression. "I don't care for your tone of voice, nor your description of my noble comrade in arms. If you have something to say, then say it before I lose my temper and show you what it means to anger a mage."
 
The leader chortles and rolls his eyes. He chooses his words carefully and speaks slowly, his voice deep and powerful. "Oh no... Another mage... Allow me to guess. Red. A fire mage, are you? What are you going to do, burn us down? Haven't you thought about this at all?"


The minotaur with the mighty composite longbow trains on Luna with a gleam in his eye. "You arcanists all think you're hot shit! I'll take a hot shit on you!"


Creaking in his armor, the leader grins at his cohort and takes a few steps toward Luna. He is roughly 10 meters from Wolf and 15 meters from Luna (and 20 from Bria). "Are you supposed to be the head of your band? The wizard told us to get the falling star. You've got it. Give it to us and you live. Otherwise..." he hocks up and spits a green glob at the bloody corpse, "...he winds up just like him." The minotaur leader aims his flail menacingly at Wolf.


"What's it going to be? It's your move."


"Bitch."
 
She stands there for a moment, then offers up a slight smile. "I think . . . not. Scorching Ray!" With that, Luna provides her answer to the minotaur by raising up her hands and from them come forth a pair of burning hot beams of light.

Cantrips: Read Magic, Ray of Frost, Mage Hand, Detect Magic


Level 1: Burning Hands x2, Shocking Grasp


Level 2: Scorching Ray x2


Level 3: Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Displacement


Force Missile x8


Mage Armor, Shield, and Mirror Image spells (6 duplicates) are all active


The Scorching Ray is a Ranged Touch attack, so even with the 11 I rolled it should still hit.


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