Amatu is reluctant to leave his home, the farm, the village he grew up in. A place where he is loved and accepted despite his odd appearance. The immortal mage decides to stick around for a while, since things about this young man are more than a little interesting, but thanks to one form of magic showing in the bell, the next starts to show in his abilities growing stronger. He yells at a crooked trader from another land to tell the truth when the man tries to lie to a child about medicine that's supposed to help his sick pet, and the trader starts spilling his guts about every crime he's ever committed since he started his business. OOPS!
Amatu and the mage are from this story.
@internutter/challenge-03088-h180-if-i-had-a-bell -- Fighting Fit
The traveling medicine show was entertaining, run by a Yuanti selling his personal oils as a panacea. Well, his personal oils and a special blend of herbs and exotic spices from the furthest reaches of Horseshittia. The slur for the man would be 'naga', since his lower half was that of a frighteningly large python. His head was more like a cobra's, and there was something about his smile that would make smaller creatures tremble.
Except for the residents of Merrivale. Who had far scarier locals. Exhibit A, an implausible Tiefling/Aasimar hybrid was watching the show with suspicious eyes. Exhibit B, the Ogre known as Pondermoore, was only a visitor. The surprise menace just blended in with the more ordinary audience.
"Snake oil," muttered Wraithvine, idly paging through hir spellbook to find something that Slithery Sam truly and utterly deserved. "Could it be any more obvious? He's shearing these good people of hard-earned coin for coloured water and moonshine." That, as it turned out, was the final inciting incident.
"I have something I want you to cure," said Amatu, stepping forward. He didn't reach for the bright magenta bottle. "I want you to cure your lies and TELL THE TRUTH!"
Something radiated out of Amatu in a planar wave, but it otherwise had no effect on anything but the grass.
Pondermoore, always a little ahead of everyone else, said, "Uh oh."
"My friend," began Slithery Sam, and then more words followed that were clearly against his will. "This is blue pea flower tea with lemon juice and a lot of hard liquor made out of turnips. It's not even worth the bottles I put it in. I've sold this line of horseshit in two hundred little yokel towns like yours, but I have never had so many willing to hand over so much gold so quickly..." At this point, he dropped the bottle and tried to hold his mouth shut, but it just didn't work. "When I couldn't sell the elixir of panacea, I ran magic tricks to pickpocket the crowd. I've run scams of every kind from here to Waterdeep. It's so easy it's laughable."
Wraithvine closed hir spellbook with an audible snap. "I think we can incarcerate him now. For his safety. Mister Baumkyn... Would you care to come along with us to help see justice done at Waterdeep?"
All in all, it was better that way. Destiny doesn't like foretold heroes staying in their hometown.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / petrov]
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