Professor Kal

Khorag was sitting atop his trusty steed, looking down at the city sprawled out in front of him. It was a medium sized city, covering a large expanse of land. Soot filled smoke dirtied the sky, turning it from clear blue to a hazy brown. A wall made of earth and timber encircled the city, protecting it from the outside world.

"This place is worse than what that poor fellow remembered. Stinks too, oh well, off we go." He said, patting the side of Dugong, the horse, urging him forward.

He named the horse just for fun, plus with its droopy eyes and long neck, it looked like a Dugong. Dugong trudged forward, Khorag swaying side to side, keeping his balance. The city walls were getting bigger in his vision, soon, it was all he could see.

The city gates were open, there were no long lines, only two guards lazily leaning against the wall. Khorag ignored them as Dugong continued on. He made it just inside the gate when one of the two guards stopped him.

"Hold it there pal, need to pay the fee to enter." The guard said, spitting on the muddy ground.

He was dressed in cheap leather armor, with an even cheaper sword on his waist. His armor and sword looked to be poorly kept, tears and rust adorning it. Holding out his hand, he closed the distance between them.

"C'mon, pay up. I ain't got all day."

"Oh, right, right, sorry about that. Dugong, pay the man." Khorag said, eliciting a disgruntled neigh from the horse.

"I'm very sorry, it seems my hoofed friend left his money pouch at home."

The guard looked at him with furrowed brows, not amused in the slightest.

"Very funny, funny man. Keep it up and we'll see who'll be laughing."

"Very well, I'll cover for you this time." Khorag said, looking at Dugong crossly, then pulling his ill gotten money pouch from his storage ring.

He dug out a gold coin, not knowing how much the fee was. He thought that it would surely be enough. He looked back over to see the guard standing there with his mouth agape, staring at the pouch that had magically appeared in his hand.

"Here you go, the fee." Khorag said, holding the coin out for the guard.

The guard stood still, not moving. Khorag thought him strange, but just shrugged his shoulders then placed the gold coin in the guard's open mouth, closed it for him and patted his cheek.

"There you go, wouldn't want a bird to mistake you for a latrine. Dugong, forward!"

Dugong shook his head, rustling his dirty mane, then clopped forward, making a squelching sound in the mud. While Khorag passed on his horse, the other guard jogged over to his friend that was standing there.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked.

"Mage." He said, spitting the gold coin out onto the ground.

"What was that? What'd you say?"

"That man was a mage. He pulled his money pouch out of thin air." He said, coming out of his daze.

"Well, shit. We better tell the mayor, nothing good can come of a mage being in town." He said, then looking down at the gold coin now covered in mud.

Bending over to pick it up, he said "At least we both can get drunk tonight."

.....

"Where do you think would be the best place to gather some information my illiterate friend?"

Khorag was riding down the middle of the muddy street, looking around at the rundown wooden structures. There wasn't much about this town in the memories of the merchant he 'questioned'. This was an outpost town, mainly for logging the tall trees of the forest nearby. The merchant was just part of a caravan trading common goods, on their way from this town, heading back to the capital.

He was looking for more information on what had happened in the world since he started his seclusion. If he could find a library that would be for the best, but so far, it was a bust. He doubted very much that any of these fine specimens could read, let alone have any books. Most of the people he could see were either walking around drunk, covered in mud, or heading out to the forest to log trees.

"I'm afraid you might be the smartest living thing in this filthy thing they call a city." He said out loud, patting Dugong, drawing attention from a man walking by him.

Looking over in anger, the man put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "What did you say, stranger?"

"Oh, I'm sorry for getting your hopes up, but I was talking to my horse here." Khorag said, sincerely apologizing.

The man's face turned a deep shade of red, he was already drunk and known for his temper. He had just finished his shift, logging the ancient trees of the Frigged Forest. His arms were thick with muscle, and was over six feet tall. He still had his axe over his shoulder, but was gripping it tightly, ready to use it.

"Are you calling me stupid?" The man bellowed.

"Compared to this horse? Yes. There's no need to be angry though, I'm certain you're smarter than at least half in this city." He said, trying to defuse the situation.

The man didn't take too kindly to Khorag's words. He pulled his axe off his shoulder, taking it in a two hand grip. A crowd was gathered around them, all were wanting to see the man that insulted them killed. As the man was preparing to swing, Khorag lifted his index finger and pointed it at the raging man.

The man's face instantly drained of its color, his whole body started to shake. The front of his pants darkened in color as he evacuated his bladder and bowels. The axe slipped from his hands, sticking headfirst in the muddy road. He tried to back peddle, but tripped over himself, falling in the mud. Screaming, he tried to get away, slipping and sliding, failing to gain any traction. The crowd was confused, not knowing what had happened. They were anticipating the fatal swing of the axe, only to see the man shit and piss himself, then flail around in the mud.

Khorag pulled a notebook out of his storage ring, along with a quill pen. He started to take notes, mumbling to himself. "Low intelligence, over aggressive, weak bowels. It seems the humans of this age have regressed slightly. I'll need more samples to make a definitive judgement."

Putting away his notebook, he spurred Dugong forward, leaving the still screaming man in the mud. The crowd parted for him, not wanting to end up the same way as the unlucky man still incoherently muttering to himself. Not even sparing them a glance, Khorag continued his search for a source of information. Once he was out of sight, some members of the crowd went to help up the fallen lumberjack.

"Demon, demon, demon." Was all the man could say, still deathly pale.

.....

Khorag found himself sitting at a table in a smoky tavern. After searching for the better part of two hours, he came to two conclusions. There was no library in this city, and that humans' most favorite pastime was getting drunk, at least from what he could see. If a person wasn't working, they were drinking, it was quite the sight. Humans stumbling over themselves walking down the road, humans throwing up in alley ways, humans passed out before the sun was even fully up, a bunch of degenerates. The taverns were the most well built buildings in the whole city, most likely from soaking up the funds from the local population.

What was called 'ale' was sitting in front of him, only a few sips had been taken from the wooden mug. With the spell creating living flesh that covered his body, he had all of the senses that a living human would have, he wished he hadn't. He hadn't eaten since he was human, there was no need to. Even though his memory was a little muddled that far back, he was sure nothing he had tasted that bad. It was sour, going so far as to burn his throat as he drank it. The aftertaste was even worse, he didn't have the memory to compare it to anything, but it made him gag.

Pushing the mug away, he nixed the thought of trying the food. If he wasn't already dead, he feared it could kill him. He pulled out his long pipe, made of sycamore, carved in the shape of a twisted spine, the bowl a skull. He packed it full of tobacco and lavender, lighting it with a snap of his fingers. The pungent smoke mixing with the already smoky atmosphere.

Most liches dedicated their undeath to their research, abandoning any mortal pŀėȧsurės. Khorag had always been a little different, he still took time to enjoy his undeath. What was the point of eternal life if you didn't delite in the occasional adventure. Don't get him wrong, he loved researching just as much as the next lich, but balance was key. Although, he was just holed up in his lab for the last two thousand years.

As he blew large smoke rings, trying to make each one larger than the last, two men came up to his table.

Walking through Khorag's finest smoke ring, a man waved his hand, clearing the smoke from his face "Good day sir, are you perhaps the mage that has entered our humble city?"

"You've just destroyed my finest creation!" Khorag wailed, mourning the destruction of the largest smoke ring yet.

"I...I'm deeply sorry sir. Please forgive me!" The man said hastily, the story of the lumberjack flashing through his mind.

"Think nothing of it." Khorag made his pipe disappear instantly, already forgetting about the smoke ring.

"What can I do for you?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"W..well, the mayor, Mr. Blumfield, would like to invite you to his manor, to show you the hospitality of our city." He said, quickly collecting himself.

"Does he have a library?" Khorag asked, becoming serious.

"A library?"

"Yes, a library. You know books, paper pages with letters and words. Even if you can't read, you should know what a book is." He said, annoyed.

"Yes, yes he does." He said.

"I know how to read, sir." He added under his breath.

"Good for you. Now, lead the way!" Khorag said enthusiastically, standing from his chair.

He followed the two men out the door, not even bothering to pay for the ale still sitting on the table.