A well meaning schmuck: Drin Yeagel
-
Character Name: Drin Yeagel
Account Name: yeahchrisboDisclaimer:
1. I don't believe in proofreading
2. The vast majority of my characters aren't heroes.
3. It reads like a Terry Pratchet novel combined with the movie Hudsucker Proxy
Several thousand miles west of the country of Narfell lies a thoroughly unimportant city named Hillsford. In this city lived an equally unimportant gnome. He was named Drin Yeagel. The son of Nordil and Eilora Yeagel, Drin had, for most of his life, shown little talent, and had, by all regards, led a completely mundane life. This was all to change.
When Drin was very young he was told by an ascetic mystic that he was a conduit for magical energy and had within him the power to blur the borders of the planes themselves. He dismissed it as nonsense, which was only rational, as another man in rags, three blocks earlier had told him that he was the mortal incarnation of Tyr. Living in the city one gets quite used to these sorts of interactions.
One day while Drin was sitting on the john reading one of his favorite publications he accidentally summoned a Pseudodragon from one of the outer plains. The two have been fast friends ever since.
This event sparked Drin's interest in the arcane. He was referred by a friend to a small organization in his city called the 'Commission for the Preservation of Metaphysical Resources'. It was a small time non profit organization. The purpose of this organization was to carefully document, study, and spread awareness about magical anomalies. Although Drin had little experience, as he was considered a suitable candidate for employment; mostly because he was somewhat of a magical anomaly himself. Drin accepted a low level position as a scrivener and copyist.
Drin held this position for many years, until one fateful day. He had been sitting at his desk working on his latest assignment, making copies of a 500 page report on teleportation mishaps for each of the 30 upper level researchers that worked with the commission, when he received a most disconcerting message.
"The High Wizard Zanward would like to speak with you in his office," it was Cairath, a new employee of the Commission. Apparently, she had been stuck with the task of delivering the bad news. The normally ceaseless sound of quills scratching ink onto parchment suddenly stopped.
"Pardon?" said Drin as he glanced up from the large stack of papers in front of him, the corners of his mouth twisting apprehensively, "d…did he say what about?
Cairith shrugged, shaking her head apologetically.
"He said it was urgent."
It was a well known fact that the high wizard's favorite part of his job was firings.
Drin stood up wearily from his desk in the dark copy room, a knotted feeling developing in his stomach. He walked silently past the rows of desks lining the walls. He glanced nervously towards the faces of his coworkers and saw that every eye in the room was fixed on him. The turned their heads slowly as Drin walked straight into Zanwards office.
Avarial Zanward, Mr. Zanward or High Wizard Zanward to all except his mother, was not a kind man. He was fast asleep, dreaming of his own greatness, when Drin Yeagel committed the first and greatest error of his career: he didn't knock.
The door at the far end of his huge office opened slowly and a small hat adorned head peeked out from behind it. Drin's eyes moved over to Zanward's desk, and saw his sleeping form. Almost instantly Drin realized his mistake. This is when Drin made the second mistake of his career. Upon seeing the image of the man he most feared in the world he made an unintentional sound; a slight whimper escaped his lips. Zanward's eyes snapped open instantly. For a moment, Zanward was caught off guard, a look of pure rage passed over his face. However, after collecting himself for a moment his face returned to normal. He had a look detached ambivalence permanently plastered onto his face, accompanied by a sneer.
"Sit." he said, pointing towards the chair placed in the center of his office at least 15 feet from his desk. He said it with the tone one uses when they give commands to their dog. Drin silently obeyed.
Zanward made a gesture, and some papers floated over to him from the far corner of the room; Drin's file. For a moment he pretended to read them.
"Hmmmm..." he said, buying himself enough time in order to think of a way to properly punish Drin. He had intended for it to be a standard firing, but after Drins failure to knock and the further insult of seeing him in a moment of negligence he decided that he was going to make this one really special.
"...How long have you been with us?" He asked, after a long period of silence.
"Eight years sir." said Drin, shifting in his seat nervously.
Several more minutes of silence followed. The only audible sound being the scratching of quills and Drin's heartbeat. Suddenly a disturbing smile slowly spread across Zanward's face. Drin felt like he was going to be sick. He braced himself for whatever awaited him.
"Several senior members of the Commission, myself included, have decided that the time has come for you to be rewarded for your diligence. We have decided that you deserve the chance to prove yourself on a field commission."
Drin's eyes, before tightly closed, snapped open. His jaw dropped and he found himself incapable of making a sound.
"Congratulations," said Zanward, his mouth opening up into a yellow-toothed grin.
Drin found himself unable to verbalize his feelings, his state of shock was so complete. One word kept coming to his mind though: finally.
"We're sending you far to the east to the Narfell region. We have some disturbing reports of heavy outbursts of wild magic. We're sending you as a junior investigator."
Drin slowly nodded, his jaw hanging open.
"I assume I don't need to tell you the specifics of what this entails. You are to make a report. This report will be used to inform the main team in their own investigation. They will release the final results. You will be magically transported there and sent back once the main team arrives."
"W...when do I leave?" said Drin, blinking.
"Today." said Zanward, once again exposing his toothy grin.
"When today?" Drin blurted out without thinking.
"Now." he elaborated, losing his smile.
Drin leaped out of his chair with a grin on his face. Finally his efforts had been noticed, he thought.
"I have to pack my things!" exclaimed Drin excitedly.
"Of course." said Zanward, nodding, "Speak to Walnan. He will send you on your way. After that I will start assembling the main team. I expect you will be ready for them by the end of the month."
Drin nodded rapidly and scampered to the door. As a last gesture of gratitude, he turned around just before exiting, and flashed Zanward a big thumbs-up.
"Thank you, Sir." he said.
Moments after Drin had left Zanward put his feet back up on his desk. Needless to say, no other team would be sent. Drin's position would be handed over to Cairath and he would say the firing had gone off without a hitch.
Zanward fell back into a peaceful sleep.
If you made it this far I salute you.
-
Reviewed, XP pending
