The Magical Misadventures of Morgan Mageflame

((OOC: This story will have elements of humorous reluctance and light bondage. The entire theme is meant to be lighthearted and fun, while being my first attempt at a fantasy setting. PM me for details and/or to express interest in joining. Designed for one-on-one, but may feature cameos for short roles.

-----------------

Benedict Mageflame had been one of the most powerful wizards the world had ever known. He'd vanquished more than his fair share of evil, stood up to and defeated the great dark lord Malfurionus, and was generally accepted to be one of the great heroes of these times. His death had been rather anticlimactic, however, and was felled slaying a dragon. Not by the dragon, mind you. After casting the spell that would prove to end the battle, the great Mageflame himself slipped on the unsure footing provided by the dragon's massive hoard of treasure and trinkets. He subsequently fell on a rather large diamond, which pierced his heart. In one hard-luck moment, the name Mageflame was now associated with both great heroism, and quiet snickers and chuckles. The powerful wizard, ended by a stumble.

Morgan Mageflame was certainly living up to the klutz portion of his namesake, while failing miserably at the powerful wizard parts. At the academy, he'd been a below average student, whose infamous acts had included setting the dean's prided beard on fire, accidentally turning the transfiguration master into a platypus, and demolishing an entire wing of the academy by setting loose a rather large, pissed off demon. The last of these would be his ultimate shame, and resulted in his expulsion from the academy, and the Order of Wizardry.

Before leaving under the berating of peers and masters alike, he stole a small book. Considered to be one of the most powerful books of its time, the Geonomicon had been written by his father, and given to the academy shortly before his death. The only problem, Morgan soon realized, was that the text had been written completely in runish script, a writing style which he had barely begun to learn. The last insult from his father, no doubt.

Now, Morgan Mageflame, barely into his twenties, had no money, no fame, and no home. He performed parlor tricks to earn trinkets and coin, but they were barely enough to pay for regular baths and meals. What he needed was a great act of heroism, to earn him wealth and fame. What he needed was a sidekick to help him on his quest. What he needed was a pillow other than the rock that supported his head as he slept in the woods near each town... He needed a miracle.

Today would be different, and Morgan was sure of it. He rose early, rubbing his head and shoulders to work out the kinks resulting from the hard ground, and changed his tunic and trousers. Today, he would find what he sought. Of course, he told himself this every day, but this was a new town, full of new opportunities, new pockets to swindle, and hopefully, real perils he could best. The latter was unlikely, but he hoped for it nonetheless, while gathering his shoulder-bag and setting off towards the town and its main market. He would start by dazzling the people with his illusions and skill.

After arriving, he set to work, guessing ages and weights (and being slapped silly by some rather sour ladies), juggling flaming swords (which earned him a few pence, before lodging a sword in a fruit basket and catching it on fire, pence paid to cover damages), and breaking chains using his mind and magic (slightly unappreciated by the audience). He was striking out, and he knew it.

Today would be no different...

The petite redhead yawned, stretching out in the makeshift bed forged in the open wagon, grimacing as her foot caught Dawson in the head. The man stirred, glaring at her as he fully came to waking. He said nothing, only a light harumph before kicking his brother beside him. The older sibling shot up far sooner than the other, his thick hand jabbing out to snatch the ankle that prodded his brother.

"You woke first. You find food." Dirk was a bit more vocal than his brother, but not by much. Shoving Fern's foot back, she nearly fell right out of the wagon as she tried to get up. Content with breakfast being assigned, Dirk turned to rousing his brother once again. "G'up. People will be coming through soon."

Fern, however, was already off on her task. Frowning slightly, she pulled a random cloak from one of the opening shops' wares, slipping it over her shoulders as she stalked through the market. She always fetched food. She was always the first up. And if Dawson didn't want a foot to the head, he should start sleeping in another direction. Still, she knew she owed them, and owed them quite a bit. The duo had taken her in, deemed her their little sister after finding her wandering the markets alone 7 years ago. They called themselves traveling entertainers, 'The Amazing Graystones'; passing through from place to place, keeping the people in awe.

She had learned many things since then, ways to keep a crowd watching, ways to entertain and amaze. Dirk and Dawson would do skills of their own, magic.

Magic fingers, to empty pockets.
While Fern danced and balanced her glass orbs, the duo would circle through the crowds, snatching what they could. Though she had her issues with it, the two insisted it was simply to cover the expenses of their act. With that satisfying her, she would simply go back to working on her performances.

But there was still that doubt. That maybe, just maybe, this was something they shouldn't be doing.

She sighed at the thought, plucking up a few apples from another stand and stuffing them beneath the robe. Stealing from people was wrong. Letting her brothers go hungry was wrong too. And people watching without paying was wrong as well. Maybe the brothers were right. Maybe this was how things were supposed to be. She frowned to herself with that thought, grabbing a few loaves of bread as she passed the open shop, a bottle of wine her next snatching before heading back toward the duo.

This was the life she knew now. But she truly hoped there was something else to it. Something with a bit more meaning than simply helping a couple of thieves rob people blind. What, she wasn't sure. She would know it when she saw it. Something with some good behind it, something with honor and purpose and benefiting others, not taking advantage of them. Her steps slowed as she approached her still arguing 'brothers', watching them for a moment as they started to brawl. Same usual morning routine. Dirk would hit Dawson in the head or stomach at some point soon, and-

*Kthunk*
"GAWWP-! YOU BASTARD!"

-and there it was. Right in the stomach. Dawson was now vomiting over the side of the cart. Same old, same old.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes slightly, though paused as she noticed a newly developing group of people, watching a man not that far down from them. Holding her recently procured items closer to her chest, she meandered a bit closer, watching curiously. Oh no. This town already had someone doing her brothers' bit? They wouldn't like this at all!

Fern's eyes widened as she saw his display. A magician. A real one. He was actually using spells, making things come and go and do things her brothers could never do. A smile spread across her face, watching in awe as he continued his show. This was amazing. She wanted to just stand there and view this all morning, watch him-

"Fern!"
The bark of her name nearly made her drop the food she held, quickly spinning on her heel to find Dawson staring at her furiously, though his face was still a little paler than normal. His hand darted out, throwing open the cloth surrounding her to snatch some bread and the wine.
"Stop staring at the competition. We've got work to do. Go get ready," he snarled around a mouthful, tearing off another chunk with his teeth before giving her a shove back to their own spot.

Morgan had actually settled into what could best be described as his groove. It wasn't often that this many of his spells actually worked as intended, and after the sword and burnt fruit incident, everything was going smoothly. After not gaining much in the way of popularity or coins from his chain act, he switched to some slightly more eye-catching material. Fire.

As a Mageflame, his specialty was fire. Well, creating fire was easy for him. Controlling said fire... That didn't always work out so well. It was always manageable, so long as he kept it simple. But telling himself to keep it simple, and actually doing so... Yeah, they were usually two different things. 'No risk, no gain' had been his motto as of late.

With the incantation, "Huth'jin Combole," a small ball of flame formed a few inches above his open palm, suspended in the air. Some ooos and aahs followed, along with the beautiful sound of money clanging into his bowl. Another chant, and a second small flaming orb materialized. Time to add a third. He found himself wishing he was more confident if front of crowds, knew ways to play up the show, bring in more potential customers. But he was never a public speaker, or really much of a showman. Such was fate.

The trio of flames sat idly above his spread fingers as he focused all his concentration on keeping them in place. His free hand moved up and twirled the fingers slowly, and the orbs slowly spun in place, making a slow spinning spiral. So far, so good. But then he saw her.

She was like a dream, a red-haired beauty, and his jaw dropped open slightly. She had the face of an angel, the body of royalty, and the hair of... Umm... Hair. Had he been speaking, he would have been rendered speechless, he was so lost in her vision as he struggled to see more of her over the crowd. She was a good distance away, and seemed to be with two rather unruly gentlemen. Such a shame. She was so beautiful, he was feeling the heat rise in him.

Heat. Real heat. Fire!

"Oh, hell!" He yelled out as the fire had caught the sleeve of his tunic. He waved his arm around crazily, desperately trying to douse the flame. No such luck, as it only got worse. Horse trough! He scooped up his money bowl and ran the twenty paces to the nearest water he could find.

Thankfully, after pulling his arm out of the dirty water and inspecting closely, he found no damage to his hand and wrist, just some minor superficial burns. So stupid... He glanced around, but the crowd was dispersing with small laughter, and his angel was nowhere to be found.

Damnit.

Fern tried to peer back over her shoulder to the curious flame-wielding man, walking almost on her toes behind Dawson as he trodded ahead of her. "What do you think you're leering at, Fern? Stop that. We've got our own things to be dealing with."

"Right, yes.... Sorry, Dawson." She frowned at her 'brother', dropping back down to her heels and hurrying to find her things.Dumping the apples and remaining loaves of bread to one side, she climbed up into the wagon, looking around with a frown. The two little crystal orbs had ended up buried beneath the haypile Dirk usually claimed as his bed, Fern horrified at first that the giant of a man had crushed them. No, they were fine. She breathed a sigh of relief at that, giving them a testing roll up both arms, then letting them leap back into her palms with a shrug of her shoulders. Shooting a quick glare at the back of the larger brother's head, she cradled the orbs in one hand as she reached for one of the apples with the other.

*SLAP!*
"OW! Dirk! What was that for?!"

"Dawson told me 'bout your lil thing over there. An' for that, no breakfast fer you." He narrowed his eyes, his thick hand taking two apples at once and shoving them in his mouth. "'Sides, ya barely grabbed 'nough for me and him t' split fairly, not even having to share with YOU."

She frowned again with that, her lower lip pressing out slightly as she hopped off the wagon. They were certainly in foul moods today. Her tight bodice was a deep green, the leather strips running from eyelet to eyelet accentuating her chest as it thrusted it upward. She had once worn a dress with her performances, but after a few tears and rips, her brothers had deemed it time to don a skirt instead. It was easier and cheaper to replace. She still had a pair of leather pants buried in that haypile, somewhere.

No matter.

Tugging out her sashes with braids and charms, she wrapped it about her waist, frowning as she looked to the duo. They had already finished most of the wine, Fern having hoped to at least get a little sip before their work began. "Dawson?," she asked softly, hesitantly tapping his shoulder. "One of my orbs got very dirty in there. I'm going to go wash it up, alright? It'll only take a second..."

"Be quick about it!," he snapped, tossing the bottle to his brother. "You've wasted enough time as it is!"

Clutching the orbs, she ran across the market, spotting a little trough set aside for horses, a smile coming to her face. Oh, someone was already there. Drinking from it with someone that close- that would be a bit embarrassing...

But her throat was burning terribly. She couldn't wait. He seemed to be wandering away already, anyway.

As he turned, she slipped over to the opposite side, trying to be as quiet as she could as she dipped her hands in, scooping up some of the water and pouring it into her lips. It tasted horrible, but was wet and somewhat soothing. She sighed softly with it, wiping her mouth as she glanced to the man.

The magician.
She froze, her wrist still pressed against her lips. Oh no. No, no, don't let him see me like THIS! She cringed, closing her eyes. She had to look like an idiot, drinking from this murky water...

Stupid fire, stupid burns, stupid...

He turned back towards the trough, his eyes finally lifting from the scorched sleeve of his tunic just in time to see her. She had her hand cupped to her mouth and was looking at him in almost pure panic.

...Girl.

What looked like a rivulet of trough water had slipped down her chin, and collected in a droplet not quite yet heavy enough to fall. It was slightly mesmerizing, and he stared for far longer than he should have. He just couldn't break... Finally, his green eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he tried to muster the warmest smile he possibly could.

"Were you... Drinking from that?" He asked, as he watched her face. "Oh! No, no, no. Its nothing to worry about! Here, let me clean it up for you... The water, I mean."

He looked around in a near panic for a container of some sort. She was a lady, he couldn't purify the entire trough and expect her to drink her fill. Nor did he really trust himself with that much water, either. Water purification spells could be tricky, more so as the body in question increased in size. He looked down at the money-bowl cradled in his arm. Perfect.

After dumping the coins in his leather satchel, mentally counting roughly as they clanked and slid. Should be enough for a couple of meals and baths. Maybe even enough for a night at the inn... He shrugged off the brief mind-wandering when the last of them slipped into the satchel, and re-tied the pouch tight. After tucking it away, he looked back and forth, scanning to see if anyone was paying attention to the fact that he was dipping a bowl into the trough.

With the bowl filled to the brim, he held it steady in both hands, then mumbled the incantation. Simple enough, the water turned from murky to clear before their eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, then held the bowl out proudly.

"There! Go ahead, its clean no-" he began, before being interrupted by the water exploding out of the bowl and all over the girl before him. "Oh my! Oh, I'm so sorry, oh..." His words trailed of as his eyes drifted to watch loose stream of water slide down her face and chin, down past her neck and collar-bone, only to drop from sight between creamy orbs... His eyes snapped back up to her drenched hair.

"I'm really sorry, I don't have a cloth you can use to dry up... Its these water spells, sometimes the uh--- water can ummm... You know... Eh--- get away from me." He blew that whole sentence, and he knew it. "But hey, there's still some clean water in the bowl. Don't worry! It won't blow up again!"

I hope...

Fern hesitated as he asked what she was doing. She didn't want to answer, only blushing furiously as the water dripped from her chin. She felt so foolish, so... disgusting before him, to actually be doing this! "I-I was just-," She stammered, unsure on what to say.

His own apology came just as quickly, Fern lost on what he was doing as he looked about in a panic. What was he worried about? She was the one drinking from a horse trough! Clean it up? How did he plan to clean it up? "No, really, it's- it's fine, I should be..." She trailed off, watching him curiously as he dumped his money into his satchel and used his bowl to collect some of the muddy mess. Curious, she simply watched him from across the trough, her eyes passing from the bowl to his mumbling lips. What was he doing?

She gasped as the water was soon clear, smiling in awe as he started to pass it over to her. This was amazing. Wonderful. With magic like that, he could truly do incredible things for others and-

Another gasp.
This one in shock.

The cool water erupted out from the bowl, all over her and leaving her rather drenched. Her eyes widened at the wet surprise, looking at him as she wiped running drops from her forehead. Was that intended too?!

No, no. He seemed just as shocked as she was.
Nerves, perhaps? Why was he nervous of her? She had rather put him on the spot with that decision he made. Maybe that had caused it to backfire slightly. "Thank you," she said softly, taking the bowl and sipping from it. He may have caused a mess, but this was truly much, much better than the dirty drink she had taken moments ago.

Her smile grew as she handed him back the empty bowl, a smile that seemed genuinely fascinated with the man who had just doused her. A little mistake, that's all, she was sure of it. He had a wonderful way with magic, much better than what her brothers claimed to have. "Thank you," she repeated, wiping more wandering water from her cheek. "I... I'm Fern. Fern Greystone..."

She wanted to stay and talk with him. Learn more about this strange man, his abilities.

"Ferrrrrn-!"

She cringed at the bellow of her name, quickly picking up her juggling orbs and hugging them to her chest before rushing around the trough. "I-I'm sorry, I... I have to go-!" Pausing, she turned back around, returning to place a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thank you again, sir..." She smiled, wincing as another howl rang out. "Yes, yes, I'm coming!," she shouted back, running toward the voice.

"Lookitchu." Dirk glared at her as she approached, shaking his head. "A mess."

Dawson glanced back while tightening the awning over the wagon, a quick secondary look causing a furious expression to come to his face. "What in the blazes did you DO?! Fall in?! They'll laugh at you, not be enamored by you! Idiot!"

"I'm sorry, there was a little accident, and I got all wet, and-"

"Not now, Fern. Not now. Just- shut up and go over there, alright?" Dawson sighed with a growl, rubbing his face a moment before nodding. "Right. Right, then I guess... I'll do the show. My swords, Fern. You'll be working the crowd."

"I don't like doing that...," she grumbled as she dug the two swords from the back of the wagon.

"Shut up! You don't get to pick, idiot!" He glared at her, waving a hand at her attire. "If you hadn't been so stupid, you would be dancing! But no, you'll be with Dirk." Snatching the swords, he gave her a little kick in the rear before taking a few practice swings and steps with the swords. "Now get out of the way."

She frowned, waiting as the people began to pass, a few curiously lingering to watch Dawson as he showed off his skills. More women than men were soon gathering before the wagon, peering at her brother as he moved. Dirk gave her a nod, his large frame meandering the outside of the group as she worked her way into it, her small fingers hunting for loose items of value.

She hated this, hated it just so much...
Her thoughts drifted back to the magician, the man she had met. She wanted to be like him. He helped her, some random girl he didn't even know... And here she was, picking the pockets of innocent people. She hated herself.

Fern Greystone...

The name matched the beautiful face, and Morgan found himself at a loss for words. Even as she was called away and was mixing apologies with gratitude while scurrying off, he couldn't bring tangible words from his mouth. He just stood there, as if with a curse of tongue, mumbling strange things that made no sense, even to him. Inside, he was cursing his inner turmoil, but that wasn't visible on the face filled with shock over what he'd done, and awe over how she'd reacted so smoothly to it. He had to talk to her, convince her he wasn't the bumbling buffoon he had demonstrated himself to be.

He cringed inwardly at the thought. If anyone from the academy could see him now... His fingers absently clutched at the small book tucked in the back of his long leather belt, hidden by bis tunic, while he thought of what they might say to or about him now.

Look at you, can't even talk to a lady. Some all-powerful wizard you turned out to be... Your father bedded many a maiden in his time, even your wench-mother! Some legacy... Why so shy, Morgan Magefail? You only doused the poor girl with water! The laughter and jeers continued to flow through his mind, before finally, he managed out a single word.

"...Wait." Too quiet, she'd never hear that. "Wait!" He called louder this time, as she disappeared into the growing crowd. His legs started moving, pressing through the same crowd as it grew before the sword artist. Several people were between them, now, and he bumped into almost every one as he tried to follow the path, closing behind the red hair he could barely make out through the bodies. Suddenly, a rather large man turned and shoved him, after being bumped.

"Hey! Miserable twerp! Watch where you're... My purse! You stole my purse!" The man bellowed, while Morgan stood in shock, and hands clasped on his tunic. He was lifted into the air by the monster of a man, his feet dangling uselessly as he tried to calm him. He mumbled apologies and misunderstandings, but was quickly drowned out as others in the crowd noticed empty pockets and missing valuables. Shouts of "Thief!" and "Scoundrel!" mixed with other angry calls and murmurs, which was leaving Morgan in a state of panic. His tunic was ripping now, as several hands tried to pull him around and cart him off somewhere, and Morgan was trying desperately to keep his tiny leather satchel and small book hidden from prying eyes and hands.

Great...

The son of the magnificent Benedict Mageflame, being carted off for pickpocketing, and he hadn't even done anything. His own hands flailed in panic now, and he couldn't see anything more than the pebble-cover ground beneath the waves of feet as he was dragged on useless legs away from the crowd. He'd always enjoyed being the center of attention, but not like this.

He was going to die, they meant to hang him. And all he could think about was the girl he'd just met, and what she must think of him...

Fern's fingers clasped about one satchel of coins, trying to remove it as quietly as she could- Then suddenly heard the growling anger of Dirk. What? What was he going on about? Someone had robbed the robber?

Turning to peek over her shoulder, she paled as she saw who he had clasped his giant hands upon; the magician from earlier. No, no! She stuffed the pouch in to her pocket, trying to shove her way back through as his attempted defense was drowned out. She had to do something! "Stop! Stop, please!"

Dirk was smirking now as the infuriated group of now empty-pocketed people took their revenge on the newly arrived and accused man, Fern glaring up at him as she made her way past him. "You're a horrible, vile man, Dirk!"

"Heh."

Dawson's swords halted for a moment, one jutting out to point at Fern. "Don't you dare! If you even think of it, then don't even try to come back home to us!"

"This is no home!," She snapped furiously, pointing to the crowd as they dragged her magician away. "This is- this is... horrible! You two are demons, terrible, horrific demons!" She gave a furious growl, throwing her hands into the air before rushing after the crowd. She could see him, the fear in his eyes. This was terrible, and all her brothers' fault... They were going to get a man killed because of their greed! How could they not care?!

He had helped her.
And she was going to help him.

The question on that was how.
She hesitated as she saw the group growing larger. Others that her brothers had scammed over the last few days... Oh, no. They were blaming him as well- and they had been ones where SHE had been the distraction. If she got too close, they'd surely recognize her. She lingered back a bit, nervous fingers meeting her lips.

He was a magician, right? Maybe- maybe he could get himself out of this...
Nerves and water had left her drenched. What would THIS cause out of him?

"Do something, my magician," She whispered, scared to death for him. "Do something..."

"Mageflame!"

"-uh!" Morgan's head snapped up from the table, evidence of drool still on his cheek, marks from his cloak sleeve imprinted in his red forehead. He struggled to look as awake and alert as he was supposed to be, though it was unlikely to fool anyone. Droopy eyes lifted to note the throbbing veins in the face of a very annoyed transformation professor.

"Ummm... Yes sir?"

"Tell me, the proper steps to achieving a perfect shape shift. Or were you too busy being too far ahead of the class to pay attention to that?" The sarcasm was about as subtle as a dagger pressed to a throat.

"Er... To uh... visualize the beast... and say the incantation... sir?"

"And?" Obviously something was forgotten. The blank look on Morgan's face told the professor all that he needed to know.

-------------

Morgan's face was now filled with panic, as the gallows came into view over the crowd. Apparently theft was taken to rather harshly here, and no amount of explaining or begging forgiveness for crimes not committed was going to help his case. His eyes were darting back and forth, and only one idea was coming to mind. Transformation. Shape shift. It had to be done, if only...

If only he could remember that something.

Green eyes rolled up as he visualized a powerful tiger, he could see the stripes, the fluidity of sinewy muscles beneath thin fur, jaws full of the sharpest of teeth, and piercing eyes taking in its prey. Beast visualized. With the incantation, he was set for the change, and all he needed was the last step before the key word was uttered.

But he was drawing a blank. His feet bounced off the steps leading up to the platform for his hanging, and he just couldn't think. He looked around, trying desperately to remember, when he spotted her.

She looked so scared, so worried for him. A wave of calm washed over him, while the noose appeared in the corner of his vision, and he spoke the last words, the catalyst to the process. A giant cloud of smoke, and hands fell from his arms in surprise. Everything was getting bigger as he got smaller. Bigger and bigger... Too big. Something was wrong.

A flash of teeth, and the small tabby cat had the spine of a rune-book and the strings of a coin satchel in its jaws. The cat dashed as if frightened out of its mind, only to leap into Fern's arms.

Fern watched with helpless eyes as the crowds grew, hesitantly hanging back as they jeered and snarled. She wanted to do something, help him somehow... but what was there she could do? She didn't want to risk her own hide too much in an attempt to save his.

But didn't she belong up there more than he ever could?
No time for thoughts like that right now. There had to be something.

She suddenly wished she had taken one of Dawson's swords. That could have been so helpful right now. It would have been the perfect way to cause some type of distraction for him, buy him some sort of time out of here...

She gasped as she saw what they were dragging him toward, frightened fingers coming to rest against her lips. The noose that hung so freely in the air made her knees weak, her head slowly shaking. "My magician...," She breathed, feeling ill.

Think, think, THINK!
She closed her eyes, growing frustrated with herself on not being able to come up with anything. This was horrible. She really was terrible on thinking for herself, wasn't she? Her brothers were right, she was just stumbling in the footsteps of others, always lost and-

Her eyes shot open as she heard horrified gasps around her, looking around herself.
He was gone. The wizard was gone!
Screams of furious words poured out around her; that he had escaped, that he had left his clothing behind to taunt them. The shouts made it hard for Fern to really focus, making the sudden arrival of a cat leaping into her arms even more of a surprise and almost causing her to scream out herself.

Instead, she hugged the feline a bit tighter to her chest, glancing around hesitantly to the angry horde growing even more illtempered as the moments passed. She shook her head, clutching the cat without realizing he carried a parcel as she whispered down to it. "It's not safe for either of us here, kitty..."

With that, she took a few hesitant steps back from the group, quickly picking up speed as she ran down the pathway out of the town. Through the stone gates and into the woods, she was gasping for breath when she finally reached a fallen tree and let the cat free of her arms. "There...," She puffed, looking back toward the gates as she tried to keep from crying. "You're safe, kitty. At least one of us is. I can't go back there. My brothers will be furious with me over what I've done... and- and I simply can't go in that town again, not... not after what they did to him..." She reached up, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm. "My poor magician..."

It seemed so impossible. What could they have done to him to make him simply vanish like that? Had he done it himself? It didn't make any sense at all to her. She had just wanted to know his name. That was all she had wanted...

"You should go, kitty," She sighed, reaching over to run her fingers against the top of his head. "There's far too many angry people around...here..." She paused, noticing the items that had fallen from her arms beside the cat. "What... Oh, you naughty, naughty, EVIL thing! That sachel was-is HIS! I should punish you myself, you horrible little thing! What do you-"

She paused once more, a different look overtaking her features. Moments ago it had been anger, but now it was of shock and curiosity. "...My... My Magician? Is that..." She dropped to her knees beside the log, peering at the cat curiously. "Is that you?," Fern whispered, running her finger against the cat's cheek.

Morgan had seven minutes, at most, as with any shape-shifting spell. But it was a thought quickly passing as he fond his wide-eyed feline face pressed up against luscious, fleshy, inviting orbs of warmth and safety. Much as it was cliche and stereotypical, he found himself purring despite his fear. For the first few moments, he'd been cursing at his mistaken form, but now... he was relishing the error. Except for the interesting fact that the faster she ran, the tighter she squeezed him. He was fighting the desire to bite, now. Which made him more fully aware that instincts of the animal one shifted into were often hard to overcome.

And she was running out of town and towards safety, bless her kind heart. As long as he could survive the death-grip between the slopes of heaven, he would be alright. It was a lucky thing that she was running, especially given that she didn't seem to recognize him. Even if he carried the satchel and book in his teeth, he could understand the lack of comprehension in her as she bolted into the forest.

She stopped at a fallen log, and set him down. While he was grateful for the unrestricted oxygen, he still stared longingly at her chest, half hoping she scooped him back up and held him in comfort for the remainder time he had left on his transformation. But he sat a swished his tail absently as she went on about how she wasn't safe, and seemed to grieve over the loss of a guy she barely knew. His heart went out to her, and he was wishing he could talk. He'd have to wait out the damn transformation, now.

Then she noticed the satchel, and her tone turned harsh. Morgan's feline body shrank and his ears dropped back in fear as she spoke, suddenly wondering if she had any animal cruelty streaks in her, as she spoke of punishment.

Until she stroked his cheek, her voice quiet as the truth seemed to dawn on her. He set the book and satchel down on the wood and resumed purring, before mewling a response to her inquiries abut his identity. Then he stopped and shook his head. had he really just mewled? His eyes rolled in resignation.

Great... I can mewl now...

His paws pushed him forward as he leapt from the log and began rubbing against her bent legs, showing his appreciation as only a feline could. His purrs soon stopped short, as he felt something odd. Crap. With wide eyes in fear, he realized that he'd lost track of the time he was supposed to have been keeping. The shift was wearing off, and his cat form wore none of his clothes. Which meant...

He panicked. The great Morgan Mageflame was about to be fully naked in front of a woman for the first time in his rather short, quite sad existence. He started bolting away, but didn't make it far, before smoke overtook him, and a fully nude young man stumbled and fell only a few feet away from the girl named Fern.

On shaky legs he righted himself, both hands covering his crotch as he hunched before her.

"Hi... I'm M... Morgan."

The little mew in response to her question made her eyes widen. This was really her magician? Or was this cat just meowing because of her affections? No, no, it seemed to truly be understanding, the look it was giving her being one of a deeper connection. This was her wizard. He had saved himself!

Fern was ecstatic.
"You did it! I knew you could do it!" She was laughing now, tough her tears still hung to her eyelashes, giggling even more as he circled her legs and rubbed against her. "Yes, I'm happy too! I knew you had something up your sleeve!" She started to straighten, reaching over to move his book and bag up on the log-

Only to notice he was running off.
"Magician? What are you-"

A puff of smoke, a strange sent to the air, like back in the square. What was he doing? Changing here?! Well, they were safe and all, she supposed, but...

Oh.
Oh dear.

She stared at first at the nude male form sprawled on the grass before her, only to realize what she was doing and quickly look away. "Oh-OH! I'm so sorry... I, um..." She glanced back hesitantly, finding him standing in an awkward stance in an attempt to cover himself.

Morgan.

She smiled at that.
"I'm Fern. But- But I guess you knew that already, huh? I, um.... OH! Here!" She glanced around, the sides of her 'new' cloak catching her eye. Taking it off quickly, she offered it out while glancing away again, a sheepish smirk on her face. "That was really quite the trick, though."

Morgan's face was about as red as the time he'd turned an instructor into a platypus (an accident, of course), though the embarrassment felt completely different than before. He hadn't exactly been popular with girls at the academy, and though gender intermingling in such a place of study was quite forbidden, it never stopped the more attractive members of his sex from attempting to spread their oats. But not Morgan. Plenty of desire, but no fields for the... erm... tilling.

Congratulations, moron. You're naked in front of a woman, for the first time. And looking the fool, nonetheless. Juuuuuust can't help, it, can you?

She was looking away now, no doubt horrified by his indecent exposure, as she told him of her name once more. His brow furrowed a bit, confused. No title to go with that name? Just Fern? Surely such a beautiful maiden was a member of nobility, or something important. It was a rather nice outfit hugging her curves, which were displayed even more when she removed her cloak (Was she wearing that cloak before?) and offered it to cover his shame.

"Th- thank you, my Lady... My apologies for my... lack of attire. It can't be helped with that..." His eyes snapped from her bosom as he tried to shake off the lingering desire to be held. "Transformation spell." The cloak was slung around his form, and while it was still slightly unsettling to be wearing nothing underneath, at least it gave him some sort of modesty. He dropped to a knee, as had been taught in his rather droll etiquette classes, and properly introduced himself, with hand offered to take hers in greeting. "Morgan Mageflame, at your service, my Lady." Owww! Rock in my knee... "I owe my life to you, as you have saved me from... the gallows."

His face twisted almost imperceptibly as he tried to ignore the sharp rock digging in. "Though, I'm rather uncertain as to why exactly I was slated for hanging... I swear to you on whatever honor I have, I am no thief... But what brought a fair maiden such as yourself to a small village? How did you come here, and what did you mean by brothers and being furious? You have family here?"

He stopped. Of course! Family, that would explain everything. But why was she scared of them?

"I... I'm sorry, my Lady... I'm afraid that I don't know how to not be curious, and I'm prone to be nosey in matters that do not concern common folk. Please. My life is in debt to you. How can I... umm... make it up to you?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would she require your aid? Always the fool, Morgan Mageflame.

Only thing to do now was wait for rejection.

Fern smiled at him as he took the cloak and donned it, finally feeling comfortable to look directly at him. A wizard such as himself shouldn't be stared at in such a state... She felt so guilty for having stolen a peek moments ago. "It's quite alright, sir. I don't really understand all the complex parts of magic, but you seem to have quite the skill at it..."

She straightened a bit on her perch on the log as he dropped to his knee, her eyes widening. What was he doing? No man had ever done that toward her before! "Lord Mageflame, please-," She started hesitantly, cringing as he thanked her for saving his life and the incident back in the village. Oh, no.. no, no, don't thank me on that!

Fern looked back to her hands as he continued on it, fingers twisting into her skirt as she bit her lips together. "Lord Mageflame...," She started softly, hesitant on how to explain this.

He asked on her brothers.
Oh, dear.

"My brothers... Yes..." Her eyes raised as he offered to help her in some way. Would he still be willing if he knew what had caused him to nearly lose his life? "Sir. My brothers- They... They're the reason that what took place, ah... Took place." She glanced away for a moment, not wanting to view his expression as she explained. "They are not my true family, sir. They raised me and had me refer to them as my siblings. They- They are thieves, sir. They lie and cheat and steal and- and it hurts me. So deeply, to do such things. I don't want to hurt people. I hate what they've made me become... I want to be helpful, not harmful. I want to do good... Not make people cry or- or like what happened to you today! That was- that was my fault..."

Her heart fell with that realization.
If she had done what her brother wanted...
If she hadn't run off for water...
He never would have gotten in trouble like that. Accused for her crimes.

"You must hate me, sir." Her voice was meek, barely above a whisper. "I... I am so sorry..."

Morgan straightened as Fern began to explain... Everything. As the situation and circumstances became clear more and more, he found himself in shock. His mouth opened to respond, but no words offered themselves, so he shut it again. Another attempt, and another closing in failure. His brain turned in confusion as the facts lined up. Thieves? Not family? Her fault? The lady he had just put on a pedestal seemed to be slipping off before his eyes. Then he actually felt something else rising within him. Anger.

He'd been played for the fool, and his brow furrowed in emotional pain as he clutched the book and his precious satchel to his chest.

"You... You stole from... Those people? And I was almost hung by the neck because of it?" His voice was quiet, as if still attempting to put the pieces together. Green eyes welled, and he felt more shame filling him as he realized he may just start crying in front of this woman he had only barely met. Who had already seen him naked. Who had almost gotten him killed. And who had cost him his clothes, which would require most of the coin in his satchel to replace.

He was about to either openly cry or begin yelling at the girl, or maybe both, when a noise from behind him stopped all thought. Heavy footsteps, and a voice. Morgan turned quickly to seek out the source. More villagers, come to finish the job? No... No! Her "brothers" stepped into the clearing, laughing and displaying their haul.

"Oy! There you are, Fern! Where ya been off ta? And 'oo is this? Ey! Its that skinny kid from the town! You gave us quite the slip!"

Morgan's rage built quickly as the man spoke, and he suddenly turned on his heel (no easy task while barefoot in the woods) and began to storm away. He was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder, which spun him back around to glare at the one who had grabbed him.

"I believe you have some coin that belongs to us, lad. Hand it over..." The man's breath was foul, and caused Morgan to grimace unpleasantly before he could respond.

"This is mine, I earned it fair, unlike the thieves that you are." His jaw was set, and for the second time today, he was sure he was about to die.

Fern stared at the rocks on the ground beside her, her lips tightened together as he spoke to her. She felt so horrible, tears slowly leaking down her cheeks. She understood his anger, completely. She was just as terrible as them... She was, and always would be, wouldn't she?

"Sir, please...," She choked out, starting to glance up at him, only to cry out as she spotted the two men approaching. No, not those two-!

Her fists balled as she startd to get up, trying to hide her fear with a front of anger, glaring at Dawson first, gasping as Dirk went after Morgan. "No! Leave him alone! Dirk, get OFF him!"

She cringed at Morgan's own response to Dirk's gruff demand, shaking her head as she cupped her hands to her lips. Her eyes closed for a moment, the tears growing even more. "He's RIGHT, you know!" Her hands had dropped, her eyes still tightly closed as she shouted at the two. "Thieves and cowards, the both of you! Horrible, disgusting things! You've made me hate myself every day... And loathe you completely!"

Dawson glared at her, seething. "Keep your place toward your brothers, girl!"

"You are NOT my brother," She hissed angrily, her eyes finally cracked open as she shook her head, shivering as she stood there. She had never gotten this brave before. It had all grown so heavy, all these terrible things- and then to have almost caused Morgan's death... She couldn't take it any longer. "He's a magician! A TRUE one, unlike those horrible tricks and lies you play upon the people! He can do things, I've seen it! Change into animals, ferocious things!"

Well, she hadn't actually seen that, but... If he could go so small to avoid those people, surely he could go large too!

"...He can control the elements!," she continued...

...But again, another statement made upon guesses at his abilities from what she had witnessed.

"...You should leave. Now. I've told him of what you've done. How you were the ones truly to blame, the whole trio of us. You value your lives, pathetic as they are." She looked back to the ground, taking a sharp breath. "He deserves his revenge. So run off, cowards. I'll let him take it from me."

Dirk. The monster grabbing his borrowed cloak was named Dirk. Well, at least now he knew the name of the man that was going to kill him...

But Fern was still talking, lashing out verbally now at her brothers, how her behavior with them had gone against her desires, what she had become. Morgan couldn't help but stand gawking in the man's grip as Fern seemed to explode before them. And he started feeling really bad about what he had said to her... Maybe he'd figured her all wrong, maybe she really was a good girl, caught up with bad people. Maybe...

Wait, what? Ferocious animals? Well... Sure, technically... I guess. Elements? Oh... I'm really not very good beyond fire creation and water purification... Even the simplest things...

"Well, actually-" he began, but his mouth clamped shut as she continued talking. She was threatening them? Oh boy... This wasn't going to end well.

Wait a moment... He was a magician! All he had to do was frighten them off, of course! They didn't know of his failures. He hoped, at least.

He struggled to seem bigger and more confident than he was, which was no easy task while painfully aware of his nakedness beneath a simple cloak that was threatening to fly open at any moment. He could do this, just keep it simple.

Don't mess this up, Morgan!

Finally, the timid magician found his words. "That's right. You had better run...cowards!" Was that a crack in his voice? Fantastic. "Else I will truly get...ummm. Angry!" There was a menacing delivery, if ever was heard.

Dirk obviously wasn't buying it. His fist balled and drew back. "Lissen here you..."

Morgan's eyes closed and he spouted the first cantation he could think of. Which just happened to be the very same one that had turned his professor into a platypus at the academy. Sure enough, the grip on his cloak fell away, and Morgan opened his eyes to look down at the duck-billed monotreme in the pile of clothes and boots at his feet.

It worked! The brother!

He quickly pointed at the other man and repeated the spell, and another cloud of smoke appeared. A pair of platypuses. Platypi. Whatever.

"Quick! Grab their clothes!" Morgan scooped up the clothes and boots at his feet and grabbed Fern's hand, making a run for it through the forest. Hopefully, to real safety this time...

His voice cracked. Fern stared at him, partially in awe, partially in confusion. What was that about? Then it hit her. Of course. He was afraid of hurting them...! A great magician would never intentionally hurt someone. It was a thought that made her hate herself even more for what she had done, her lips pursing inward as he chanted some curious jumble of words.

But then.
Dirk.
Dirk?!

Her hands covered her mouth in shock as her former caretaker was suddenly reduced to the odd-looking creature, crawling out from the pile of clothing that had once covered the burly man. As she stepped back in shock, she realized that he had done the same to Dawson as well.

He... he really was...

Her eyes widened as he shouted at her, confused at first, but quickly grabbed Dawson's clothing before chasing after him. A quick glance was stolen back at the two dumbfounded creatures in the middle of the woods, Fern giving a weak whimper at the sight before refocusing on her feet's movements.

When they finally slowed, she dropped against a tree, gasping for breath as she shook her head. "You- You turned them into-," She panted, her sight set on the grass beneath her feet for a moment, slowly looking up at him as she swallowed down. He had been so angry a few moments before those two came. So angry at her...

"I won't run from you, Sir Morgan." She tried to keep her voice from wavering too much, pushing off from the tree as she watched him. "I-I deserve the same as them. I know this..." She hesitated, looking back to the clothing in her arms. "But- but before you do it? Perhaps- I could ask you... And I know I should ask no favors of you, I've done something horrible and terrible and deserve it, but... I never wanted to do those things. I was young and scared and they told me they would keep me safe if I did what they said. I never wanted to be like that. I wanted to do something good with my life, not steal from people. Please, sir. Let me come with you... Let me learn how to be good like you?"

Her hands twisted together as she asked so delicately, fingers curling against her chest as she begged in a gentle voice. She had a chance, a slim chance in her mind... A chance to possibly start over with a better path.

Or just be a weird duck-beaver-thing if he didn't like her question.

Morgan was out of breath and trying to catch it as Fern started her timid talking. She seemed genuinely worried about the men he'd transformed, but he was even more surprised and amused when she asked if she could join him. He stood there, nearly shocked for a moment, before shaking his head to snap out of it.

"Uh... Come with me? You want to come with me?" He truly didn't understand why anyone would want this lifestyle. He could barely scrape out a living for himself, much less another. Besides, he wasn't even very good at what he did. Though he was starting to realize that she didn't seem to know that. He glanced down at the clothing in his hands. "Oh, umm... your brothers... or whatever... they're fine, really. The spell should wear off in a few minutes now. Though I don't suspect they'll be happy when they return to their original form without any clothes." A nervous laugh, then, "Speaking of which, can you, ummm... turn around?"

The timid Mageflame was probably a comedic sight as he almost fell over in his efforts to get his legs into one of the trousers taken off the transformed men. He had to cinch the belt tight, as the pants we're much too big for him. Not surprising, given his size. His feet slipped into the boots, while he removed the cloak and handed it to the girl. A tunic was next, and he noted the strong scent as he pulled it over his head.

It was official: he looked ridiculous in the outfit made for a man nearly twice his size. Brilliant. Morgan sighed and motioned that it was safe for Fern to look again. He leaned down and tightened the boots as much as possible, but they were only going so far. He was going to feel like he was trudging, rather than walking.

Could this day get any worse? Oh well... At least I'm not naked anymore...

"We need to get moving..." he said finally. "They aren't gonna be happy, but I don't think they'll chase us without clothes. So, as long as we keep going, we should be able to lose them. I... guess you can come with me... But I don't know how we're gonna survive, honestly. I just can't make enough money... Unless you know some tricks I don't. Honest tricks, I mean. If I wanted to pick-pocket, I know a spell that could do it to an entire crowd at once..."

But he trailed off, not really to entertain that line of thought. Instead, he waved his hand for the girl to follow, and set off south, near as he could tell.

What the hell are you thinking, Morgan Mageflame?

Turning back around as he finished dressing, Fern frowned at first, thinking he was about to shrug her off and tell her to get lost... But then realized his phrasing. WE need to get moving. We. As in both of them? She nodded in agreement over the loss of the brothers due to clothing. Yes, that made sense. Dirk really was an ogre when it came to no modesty, but Dawson wouldn't allow them to both go clomping about in the nude. Until they could find something else, they wouldn't be coming. That could buy some time...

Speaking of buying.
Her magician looked so funny in the clothing he had stolen from the duo; Dirk's shirts falling off him, Dawson's pants riding him so strangely. That would need to be fixed. She had a little money of her own from previous work with her brothers, but was hesitant to actually use it. She owed him somehow, though.

Honest tricks.
Tricks?
Why not just honesty?

"If... I might suggest something, Sir Morgan?" She smiled softly, trying to find the best way to suggest it. "I know you're against using your magic in less than honest means. Perhaps- perhaps if you were to use them in favors for people? In the right situations, they would gladly give money to those who've done wonderful things for them. Like- like what you did to that water! I can try to bring in what I can... I know I'm not as talented as you, Sir Morgan, but I can at least be entertaining..." To explain this, the two orbs were brought into view, Fern shrugging slightly. "Please, I want to help..."

Morgan was listening to her, but semi-distracted by the loose clothing hanging pathetically off his body. He was tugging and wrapping, but nothing seemed to help the loose material get any more secure around his form. He was mumbling incoherently too, which probably didn't help his case in the area of trying to appear sane and in control. But that was the least of his concerns right now, and as he took mental stock of his situation, that fact was becoming increasingly evident. A checklist was forming, and after what started out as a normal day, this was turning into quite the nightmare.

I'm on the run from two men who would just as soon see me dead than tell me the time of day. I have an infatuated girl following me, thinking I'm more than I am... and I don't have the heart to tell her the truth about me. And I need new clothes...

But as his green eyen lifted finally to her perfect face, his hands stopped their fiddling. It was difficult to deny the effect she had on him, and in truth, he was quite glad she'd decided to tag along. He wouldn't mind skipping a few meals for her company. Suddenly, his head shook as if awakening from a daze, and he turned away, ashamed by his own thoughts and desires for the girl he had only just met. His voice was low, and he stared down at his feet as he spoke.

"I've tried the good samaritan approach..." a soft sigh escaped him. "It just never really... works quite so well." There was more to the story, of course, and his face probably displayed as much. But he wasn't divulging any more information on the matter. He lifted his chin and stared resolutely off into the distance. "So, I do parlor tricks. Little things that most wizards wouldn't even waste their time with, but I do them. Someday, though..." His face softened slightly.

Someday I will be a hero...

"But first," he sniffed at the borrowed shirt and scrunched his nose. "I think a bath and some new clothes are needed. Let's keep moving, this way. Last I checked, there was another town south of the one we just escaped from, and flowing into it, should be a river where we can get cleaned up. Just a few miles, we'll be there before dark."

With that, he waddled forward again, continuing south with the strange new girl, who liked to show off her orbs.

"Oh. Uh- Yes, of course." Fern gave another light smile, trying to keep her own spirits up. She felt a bit of a traitor, having run off from the two men she had known for so long to go off with a new one she'd only known for a few hours... But she couldn't stand to be in that situation any longer. He may have been a bit of a stranger, but she already saw that he had far greater intentions to him than those two.

"I can help you replace that clothing!," She offered as they walked along, her right hand absently playing with the crystal orbs she was carrying still. "I promise you, I won't steal it. My br- I mean, those two were never good at keeping themselves clean. THey seemed convinced that a healthy coat of dirt kept other germs from getting to them.... but when that dirt was mixed with other stuff, I had to keep my distance from them. It was just... terrible." She paused, realizing something else.

She spent all of her time with them for as long as she could remember. Try as she might to keep herself clean, they had to have been... sharing that stink. "Ohh. Um... Sir Morgan? I... I apologize if I seem as vile as they left that clothing..." She suddenly missed the little bottle of oils she had found. It had smelled wonderful. Like fruit blossoms and spices... Dirk was probably going to drink it without her there to protect it anymore. Maybe it would make him ill. Good. He deserved it.

It wasn't long in their walking that they finally came across the water he had spoken of, Fern's smile growing even more as it came into view. "I'll wait, Sir Morgan," She told him softly, nodding toward it as she turned away. "If you wish, leave their clothes on the bank and I'll try to wash them up a bit for you..." As she spoke, she was already starting to peel off her own boots and setting them aside. "I'll join you in there in a moment..."