SISTENE

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Okay so I know there were more Baron Jormungandr votes here than there were Xannon The Great votes, but across here and mspafa there were more votes total for Xannon. I was planning to do the whole split paths thing with the different forums but thats out now that mspafa is dead. I might swing through all these characters as the story progresses, so I'm certain we'll encounter the Baron at some point. But overall if I'm just doing one version of this adventure I feel like it works better as not starring my Duke of Detroit knock off.

robot wizard

Xannon The Great, once known as H&C Futuristics Unit XTG-16, was most generally known as that robot that runs the curse shop (Xannon The Great’s Wonder Emporium of Hexes, Jinxes and other Magical Maladies to give it is full name). They were working in the back room, putting the finishing touches to a new range of Xannon The Great’s Skin Scratch Compulsion Pulverance, when they learned about the spirit.

They ground the carefully calculated mixture of herbs and other miscellaneous ingredients in a manner that was both very precise and extremely vigorous at the same time and they whistled along to a little light jazz playing from the battered old radio in the corner. The signal wasn’t the best at the best of times, Xannon had been surprised they could receive a broadcast from the mainland at all, but thanks to the weather outside the music was at least seventy five percent static. Xannon didn’t mind, they felt it had a certain charm all of its own.

Technically the shop was still open for business, but Xannon was not expected any customers. Since the storm had began their numbers had dwindled; even the residents of Freetown didn’t want to risk venturing out into this weather. If someone did happen to come in, Xannon probably wouldn’t hear the ringing of the bell above the door over the sound of the pounding rain and the static-jazz, but they were sure anyone would make themselves known; only a fool tried to steal from a shop that sold curses.

Suddenly the music stopped halfway through ‘Talk About My Voice’ by Hank Vaska, and Cithaeron, the announcer for JELR (Jorport Easy Listening Radio), announced an emergency broadcast from the Jormungandr Council. A recorded message played; the slightly alarmed voice of Princess Jormungandr, accompanied by a handful of identical voices bickering in the background.

“People of the Principalities, this is Jormungandr Cobalt. Please brace yourself for a level three? yes a level three catastrophe. A being of immense size and terrible beauty is flying, floating (?), over the Principalities. Though it hasn’t yet consumed the minds of those below some of us believe that this is a distinct possibility. We advise you to stay in your home, drink plenty of water and do not under any circumstances try to engage this horrifying sky leviathan. We are split roughly fifty fifty on whether tin foil fashioned into the shape of a hat will protect you, but my personal take is that it’s unlikely to hurt so you might as well try it and it could well be the latest fashion. We will bring you further information as and when we have it.”

This broadcast was, of course, interspersed with momentary bursts of static, but the thrust of the message was still loud and clear. Xannon stopped what they were doing, put down the half finished pulverance and drove over to the back doors, which they pushed open. The view from here was fantastic. The Emporium was on the edge of one of Freetown’s many cliffs; below Xannon could see the harbour district, normally packed day and night, now occupied by only a couple of individuals, some with umbrellas, some in thick robes or coats with hoods turned up against the neverending rain.

Xannon looked eastward towards the Principality of Jormungandr. Of course they couldn’t see the spirit itself, not from this distance, but the hue of the stormclouds was different there, a deep ethereal blue. Xannon had no personal experience of spirits, but it certainly matched the description Madame Agwyrs (the former proprietor of the curse parlour, back when it had been a curse parlour) had once given them. There was a bolt of blinding lightning somewhere out across the ocean, but Xannon barely noticed.

A spirit of such incredible power that its glow could be seen from here, even through this storm… Xannon considered. Then an alarming, and yet enticing thought, that this spirit and this storm might be one and the same. They could scarcely conceive of such power. It was a power certainly worth risking a trip into the Principalities once again, and they found that they were already considering how they would do so, how they would seize this tremendous power for themselves. They would become not just Xannon The Great but Xannon The Magnificent, maybe Xannon The Fantastic, perhaps even an adjective even more grand than that!

But this would not be an easy task. Freetown was an island and Xannon was pretty sure no ships would be sailing in these weather conditions, at least without a little persuasion. Not to mention that any wizard worth their salt would have come to the same conclusions. Xannon didn’t doubt that they would have a little competition in this spirit hunt. They closed shut the back door of the Emporium and considered their next actions. There was no time to waste.