Constellation Special Edition - "A Man Walks Into A Bar...." copyright 1994 by Dave Van Domelen Coherent Comics UnIncorporated ========================================================================== It was th' damn'dst ting I ever did see, I tellya. In alla my years tendin' bar in dis city I seen wizzerds come'n'go, but not never one like dis one. Jest lemme get Ort onta th' table cleanin' job, ya know how lazy he is, and I'll tellya about it. Now where wuz I? Yeah, *damn'dst* ting. It wuz a coupla years'go, back when th' great wizzerd Calamorten wuz pertecter of th' city. Oooh, he wuz a mean one. All fire an' undead n' lightnin' spells. 'E believed th' best way ta defend a place wuz ta kill anyone who might even tink of attackin'. B'fore yer time, I guess. Anyway, I wuz tendin' bar like I have since I took over fer my pap, and this stranger comes in. Nothin' spectacular, it's a port town, we gets strangers ever' day. His silver wuz a bit on th' impure side, but he paid enough a' th' strange coin ta suit me, so I served him. I forgot ta mention, he wuz dressed all in grey, a loose tunic and baggy britches, weird-like shoes I ain't ever seen walk in th' door before 'r after, and a wild head a' blah brown hair held back by a cap. Odd cap, too, it had a brim but only on th' back. Strange writin' on it, prolly 'is native tounge. Now, he's just sittin' there, drinkin' his beer real slow like, like he's waitin' fer somethin'. Then he makes this real sour face, like someone just cut wind in his face. Course, I sniff th' air, just in case I had food goin' off 'r th' like. Nothin'. Then Calamorten walks in jest a tick later. Now, I hear wizzerds got th' Second Sight, but this grey fellow, I figger he had the Second Smell. Yeah, Cory, you gots a second smell too...and a third. Breathe some other way, eh? So, I figgerd right off the grey guy wuz a wizzerd too, since Calamorten looked real peeved, like he always did before killin' some body and addin' ta his undead army. He shouts like, "So, innerloper, ya gonna leave th' city or is I gonna haveta string my guitar wit yer guts?" only more flowery like a nobleman. Th' grey guy only smiled, lopsided-like, an' said, "Why don't we step outside where there's some fresh air an' I don't gotta smell yer flea-bitten hide." Not exactly like that, but ya get th' idea. Naw, I still didn't smell anyting but ale and th' firepit. Now, a normal, sane man woulda run like the devil wuz at his ass. Anyone could tell a wizzerds' dool wuz gonna start. An' bein' near one a dem ain't zactly healthy. But I knew enough bout Calamorten ta know I wouldn't be able ta run far enough ta be safe if he really cut loose, so I stood in th' doorway. Hey, if th' world's ending, I want a good view, eh? So they walks to opposite ends of th' street, Calamorten surrounded by his bullyboys at one end, and the grey mage at t'other. Now, if ya ain't ever seen a wizzerds' dool, count yerself lucky...it's dangerous. But if ya ain't, ya gotta know that each and ev'ry wizzerd has his own way a' callin' spells and critters. Kinda like yer people tattoo themselves, Ronji. Calamorten's way wuz ta spit out flames from his eyes, which turned inta whatever. Th' stranger's way seemed ta be shooting stars from his fists, which then filled in like ya'd fill in thatch between beams. I'm sayin' it now so I don't gotta say it every time I describe somethin' being called, that's why! So, Calamorten spits out his fire, and it shapes inta this hairy manthing, looked like a man-sized one a them monkeys sailers bring inta port. It looks around confuzzled, like it's spectin' there ta be trees around and there ain't. But then it gets this glassy look and runs up ta the grey mage, like it was aimin' ta eat his head. SNAP! And there's this iron cage around the monkey, made out of stars and gunk which turned inta iron. Calamorten frowns and smoke comes from his eyes, makin' a cloud above him. Then there's this big flash and boom and stuff, and I'm bowled onta me bum by what hadda be a lightnin' bolt. When th' spots go away, I see th' grey mage standin' there, only he ain't grey anymore. He's solid black, like someone took a knife and cut a chunk of daylight outta the place where he wuz. Th' monkey was too close, and it's kinda smokin' from th' groundstrike, dead as business on Holy Day. I figgerd there'd be a monkey zombie soon enough, but they must take time ta make, since Calamorten'd called in some zombies he had patrollin' th' city, and they walked up behind th' grey mage right then. He fills up wit' stars, looking like a chunk of night sky, and then he points his finger at th' zombies, stars streamin' from it. Where th' stars hit, zombies fly apart inta rotten hunks a' meat n' bone. This bought Calamorten some time ta perform some kinda dark ritual, and this time there's a black flame from his eyes, strikin' th' grey mage in th' back. I seen Calamorten do this before, it wuzn't pretty those times. He just sucked th' life right outta his victim and got stronger. I saw th' stars on the stranger start ta wink out, like they were bits a' his soul 'r somethin'. Now, before this, the stranger looked like he wuz jest toyin' wit' Calamorten, havin' a bit of fun and seein' how tough the local talent wuz. Near as I kin tell, he musta been one a' them Walkers. What? Ya never heard a' Walkers? They're wizzerds so powerful that they kick back a few cold ones wit' th' gods after a hard day's work. A damnsight more powerful than our local 'pertecter' fer sure. Anyway, the stranger didn't take kindly ta havin' his life sucked out through a straw. He was *really* hacked off, I tell ya. He pulls out this flamin' sword from nowhere...it looked like a hairy star, what, a comet? Okay, like a comet, Mr. Astrologer. Feh. Anyway, he comes screamin' over ta Calamorten like he's gonna tear his lips out through his bum. Calamorten panics and brings up this wall of fire, but it don't even slow the stranger down. He sticks th' sword in Calamorten's chest, but no blood comes out, funny ting. I could swear that I saw Calamorten's shadow bleed, though. Then th' stranger calms down a bit, and disappears. He must not have liked wizzerds who drained life, eh? Calamorten lost his powers when that sword got him, so he lost his job. This druid came in after him ta pertect us, but didn' wanna be away from his grove so much, so he left. We ain't really had a wizzerd since then, and good riddance. How'd it feel ta have his magic pulled outta him? I dunno rightly, I ain't never had it happen ta me. Ya could ask Calamorten, though. Hey, Ort! When yer done with those tables, come over here and tell the customers what it felt like ta lose yer magic! What? Someone hadda give the poor guy a job....