[SillySorcerer]

Sit back and allow me to regale ye with the tale of the overconfident sorcerer—Powerful was he, level thirty with all manner of devastating spells with which to strike down his enemies. A swath of blood and destruction did he cut through the fair land of Amn as he solo’d from town to town and dungeon to dungeon. No man or beast could stand against him, lest they be wilted into oblivion or, if the powerful sorcerer was feeling generous, turned into a squirrel. Dragons and liches had been reduced to ash by his awesome power. Wizards and knights had been delivered into the next plane by his magic. O’er four hundred foes did he smite, some in the spirit of good charity and some as the result of an evil temper. In some villages, the people raised statues in his honor. In others, the citizenry ran away screaming in terror at the mere sight of his foreboding figure.

And so it was that as the powerful sorcerer entered the compound of the notorious Shadow Thieves, he was feeling more than a little confident. The first waves of enemies fell easily—Their pathetic weapons could nary harm his flesh and he took enjoyment from the sight of their bodies chunkifying as he unleashed his powerful magiks. “Oh, this is simply too easy!” he thought as he proceeded down an unexplored hallway. “It shall certainly be a small thing to destroy these foolish thieves!”

Yet then did the powerful sorcerer encounter a mage of absolutely no repute, an unimposing cut of a girl whose name he would never know. “Shadow Thief” was the reply to his inquiry and the sorcerer knew that the girl represented no more threat to him than had any of her comrades, all now dead.

“You dare to challenge my might, silly girl?” the sorcerer snarled while trying to decide what terrible spell to unleash on her. “Shall I strike you down with a horrid wilting? Or shall I deliver your demise in the form of a flaming arrow? Perhaps you would prefer a less painful end, such as a feeble mind? Or shall I simply summon a Dark Planateer and allow it to deal with you?”

But the unnamed girl was brave. She ignored the threats and began to wave her hands in the air. Mystical words rolled from her mouth as she formed a spell on winds of fate.

“Ha!” the sorcerer replied in amusement. “More powerful foes than you have tried to ensnare me in their magiks. But my saving throws are much too low for the likes of you! None of the spells available to a mage of your limited power will even effect me much less--”

The overconfident sorcerer’s words were cut short as the spell washed over him. “Power word, fear?” he gurgled while trying unsuccessfully to control the terror clutching at his soul. His eyes bulged. Sweat beaded on his brow. He ran about the room like a kobold with its head cut off.

The girl prepared and released her second spell. The terrified sorcerer stopped in his tracks, now the victim of Power word, stun. Despite all his great power, he was now utterly helpless. “Damn!” he moaned as the girl proceeded to reduce his health with a seemingly unlimited supply of flaming arrow spells. “How could this have happened?”

And as the overconfident sorcerer slumped to the ground, the last of his life force draining from his body like the blood from his open wounds, he used his final breath to utter a curse upon the unnamed mage and all of her kin. “To the Nine Hells with no-reloads! I am coming back for you, you little b*tch and next time things will be different!”