@gangler wanted a fic involving the (rather rude) mage Thalantyr from the Baldur’s Gate series, and a fic he so has! This is a mage having a bad day…

Thalantyr slunk about cautiously, green robes drawn tight around him, face marred by a vicious scowl, magic at the ready. He’d suffered a very rude awakening only a fraction of an hour ago, brought into the day by a loud thud and the discovery of both his flesh golems stuck at the bottom of a pit trap that had been dug beneath his own paved floors. Worse, though they still functioned they had been speared through by a number of sharpened branches arrayed below. Clearly this was more than just some fool’s prank, and even if a prank was all it was, anyone who could break into a mage’s tower and go undetected long enough to arrange such a trap was of great concern.

So, he crept, using the keen eye of an ex-adventurer and a handful of useful spell scrolls he kept about for just such worrying occasions to scout out clues as to who could have defiled his home. There had been little luck so far, whoever it was had cleaned up after themselves well. All he’d found was some dark fur, meaning whoever had done this had been at work since the colder weather weeks before. It was not a discovery that filled him with confidence.

“Of course,” he grumbled low under his breath as he turned a corner heading for the kitchen, “probably some adventurer getting froggy. I knew I shouldn’t have settled in such a backwoods-”

The kitchen wasn’t a complete disaster, but it certainly wasn’t how he’d left it the night before. The leg of a chair had snapped in two, pieces of bread were scattered about. After a quick glance around, in case the intruder was still there, right in front of his nose, Thalantyr stepped inside. Really? Was nothing sacred, that somebody would defile a man’s home and his kitchen?

Again, besides the mess already mentioned nothing much appeared out of place. Pots and pans seemed to be where they should, drawers were shut, there was more fur- who was still wearing fur in this weather?- but beyond that, at first inspection everything seemed in line. It wasn’t until he opened the pantry that he went from annoyed to angry.

He knew perfectly well he’d had a fully stocked pantry, loaded with preserved meats, pickles, jams, hardy fruits and vegetables like apples and winter squash. No longer. The crate that had held dry fish had been prized open and a fair chunk of the contents devoured. A jar of raspberry jam lay open and cleaned on the floor. There was a half-eaten apple in amongst what remained in the barrel. And Thalantyr was seeing red. How could he not? Someone digging holes in his floor, breaking his furniture, eating his food-

When the thud sounded out in the hall, he didn’t bother to stop to think. Scowl itself twisting he resummoned his flesh golems, sending them out ahead of him as he stormed towards the sound. He didn’t know what they wanted and he didn’t care, he was getting this person out of his home in however many pieces it took! Golem feet and leather boots thumped against the stone in a small racket until, not twenty feet down the hallway, the stonework again gave way, Thalantyr’s golems crashing down into a mess of sharpened branches.

It was another fucking pit trap.

He plastered himself against the wall, working off the assumption that they would’ve stuck to the open areas of floor rather than risk having to shore up walls as well, glancing down into the pit. Same as the one before the walls and branches were rough, and he could see where thinner branches had been stuck into the sides of the pit to barely support the flooring above. Somebody had done this twice, had planned ahead. Clearly this was an attack on himself, one that would not go unanswered.

There was another noise up ahead, a scuffling, and Thalantyr cast a Flame Arrow in its direction, grinning wide at the sound of impact.

“Yes, take that you little-” Show whoever they were that even at his age, he could still go with the best of them. He darted forward as fast as he could while still hugging the wall, pulling back when he reached a window just in time to see a flash of black and fire near the front door. “Oh no, you aren’t getting away that easily!” In a flare of magic he teleported himself from his home into the woods where the intruder had seemed to flee. Tracking them from here was no difficulty, he need only trail the glow and smoke until he found the smoldering cloak snagged against a bush. He glorious victory was sort lived though, as he closed in to find the cloak shifting and tugging too low to belong to any of the sentient peoples of the land…

“What in the world is this?” he asked, a horrible feeling creeping up his spine as he grasped the article of clothing and yanked it free, pulling with it the large, dark rat around whom’s neck it had been firmly clasped. “Oh…” This wasn’t whoever had caused him such trouble, not unless they had somehow polymorphed themselves without his noticing the flare of magic. No, this was a decoy- Stamping out the flames, Thalantyr tossed the clothed rodent aside and called upon his magic again to return him to his home.

Nothing happened. He cursed to himself. Clearly he had done too well with the wards and protections, and he would have to be inside to modify them, gods damn it all. The mage broke into a run, crashing through low shrubbery and ducking under and around trees and branches on his way back to his towers, up the stairs and

SLAM

up against a door that wouldn’t open. He yanked at the handles, pounded against it with his staff, threw out every spell on hand, even kicked the damn thing, all to no avail. Whoever was behind all this, they were still inside. Whoever this villain was, they had tricked him.

And insult to injury, they had locked him out of his own damn house.

~~

At the center of the keep, on the second floor, was a study as those had by all settled mages. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets, loaded down with everything from books to scrolls, components to artifacts. Magic buzzed through the room like bees through a summer field. On the floor was a rug, plush, warm, and woven with protective enchantments.

On the rug, children played. Two of them, wrestling with joyful abandon, safe and with full bellies. Their watchful mother stood close by, leaning against the dark oak desk that took center stage in the room, inspecting a piece of parchment she had found in a locked drawer. The deed to the plot of land on which the keep stood. With a confident murmur she began to scrape away at some excess ink with a sharp claw before picking a quill from the desk up between her toes, dunking it into the nearby inkwell, and fixing what had clearly been a grievous error on the document.

Property of

Blueberry the Bear, Esq