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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/In_Yellow_Clad on 2024-04-10 00:43:45.
The Council of Magic slowly filtered into the cavernous room slowly, wizened faces bearing centuries of magical knowledge and expertise turning this way and that as they observed the throng of common witnesses that were to observe this special session. It wasn’t everyday that the Council sat in trial against one of their own, so this would be a special occasion for the common citizenry.
The head of the council, an elf by the name of Vesryn Faesatra, slowly settled down into his seat and snapped his fingers, triggering a bell toll to ring throughout the chamber. Immediately the not so quiet chatter of the common folk and the other council members died down.
“My friends and colleagues, we are gathered here today to determine what is to be done about one of our esteemed council members. The charges levied against him are few, but serious and quite rare. Bring in the accused.” He said, his voice clearly heard by all.
A set of doors opened at the far end of the room and all eyes turned to face them. A man in fine black and purple robes was brought in, magic suppressing shackles upon his wrists and arms and he was escorted by a pair of knights from the Winter Legion, though they were more commonly known as mage hunters.
The robed man was none other than Trerick the Ironclad. This title had been bestowed upon him at the battle of Carreti, where his defensive magics had held the entire right flank against the demon hordes. It was also what had elevated him to a position of high standing within the council. Yet even with the added responsibilities he had joined an adventuring party, never one to truly settle down for any amount of time.
Speaking of, as he made it a good ways into the room his party followed, disarmed of course, and shuffled off to a special booth typically reserved for family members of the accused. Since Trerick didn’t have any living family, they would have to do.
Vesryn waited for the robed human to stop at the center of the room before he stood, looking down his crooked nose imperiously while the older human stared up at him, a mad glint in his eyes.
“Grand Wizard Trerick the Ironclad, you stand accused of not only creating wildly immoral spells, but also of utilizing them. How do you plead?” He spoke, and Trerick sniffed, clearing his throat.
“Guilty!” He said, his voice echoing as a collective gasp was given by the crowd. His party all groaned and slumped in their seats, the only other full time magic user of the group burying their face in their hands. “Yet the argument could be made that all magic is immoral.” He added, and the councilors all looked confused. “Eh, something to discuss later.”
Vesryn shook his head and raised a hand, calling for silence and he received it almost immediately.
“So you do not deny the charges? You would not even defend yourself?” He asked and Trerick shrugged.
“I don’t see why I have to in the first place, it’s not like I’m running around using these spells willy nilly now am I? I used it once and in a very specific situation. I can even prove it!”
Vesryn’s eyes narrowed but knew from the reports he’d received from others that had witnessed the event in question that Trerick was not lying.
“Very well, we shall see things as they transpired from your point of view.” Vesryn raised a hand and gave it a slight flick, metal columns studded with crystals rising up around Trerick. Once in place they activated, mana flowing through them and creating a link between his mind and mana projector.
Above his head appeared his memories, jumbled at the moment but as Trerick closed his eyes and focused, the images resolved themselves into the beginning of the incident.
– – – – – –
There was naught but fire and ash, screams of wounded and dying adventurers. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and molten metal flowed freely into wounds or onto the ground. A roar split the air, the deep bass of an elder dragon. It wasn’t just any average elder either, it was THE elder dragon, Etyr. He needed no epithet, no dark title, his name alone was enough to instill terror amongst any who heard it. It was this dragon that a contingent of adventurers and knights had been tasked with slaying, a task that many now felt was impossible.
Though thick black smoke obscured the bright light of day, the shadow of the dragon soaring overhead made it all the darker, what warriors that remained doing their best to remain out of sight. Their initial plan of sneaking up on the dragon had gone to shit rather quickly, as before they’d even made it to the lair of the beast it had been upon them, as though it knew exactly their intentions. While they had put up a valiant effort, it had meant little against the searing, sticky flames the dragon spewed forth. Magic seemed to have little effect against it, and arrows never once found a chink in that scaley armor.
Trerick huddled with his party under a large rock, casting an annoyed yet distant look towards the sky as another roar filled the air.
“We can’t stay here, eventually that thing is gonna land and roast us all.” Syllia hissed, clutching her sword firmly. She was the group’s resident elf, and the leader of their party as well. An old elf for certain, though her appearance begged to differ.
“Oh sure, just run out there into plain view and get roasted even quicker, or worse, eaten and slowly digested over a few days. That sounds like a really good idea, let’s do it!” A halfling said, Zalser was his name. He was a ‘reformed’ cutpurse, or so he said. If any of them needed something that was dubiously legal, he would always manage to acquire it… somehow.
“Well, do you have a better idea?” Syllia spat, and Zalser grimaced before shaking his head. Another chorus of screams filled the air as Etyr made another run, bathing a huddled group in flames. The party grimaced, Trerick included though his gaze remained fixed upon the sky. “Trerick! Any ideas?”
“Hmm? Oh… No, not really. I might have one if I knew the sex of the beast, but it’s hard to determine that from here.” Trerick said, and for a moment the slaughter around them faded as the party stared at him in bewilderment.
“The… sex. The hells would you need to know that for?” Zalser said, Trerick sighing.
“Some spells work better on certain sexes, I’ll have you know.” He retorted, and the third member of the party shook their somewhat bouldery head.
“But magic is useless against those scales. Spells just bounce off them or get absorbed.” Said Bahk, the group’s tanky golem.
“Why, yes, I already knew that when I watched my perfectly good lightning bolt get deflected and annihilate that poor sheep. These spells don’t attack the outside, they attack the inside. Very specific parts of the inside mind you.” Trerick explained, only for the collar of his robes to get grabbed by Syllia as she pulled him close.
“Then cast the damn spell already!” She yelled, casting a look towards the sky as the dragon made another pass and it appeared as though they’d been spotted.
“TELL ME THE DAMN SEX OF THE BLOODY DRAGON THEN!” Trerick yelled back, his patience now thoroughly expended.
“MALE!” The rest of the party responded and Trerick threw himself out from cover, standing and raising his staff towards the dragon that now dove towards them.
“SAESTARI KORRUUPTI!” Trerick nearly screamed, the end of his staff blazing a rich violet for a brief moment before the dragon choked on his roar and plummeted to the ground like a stone hurled by the gods. The beast slid, leaving behind a deep furrow in the ground before coming to a halt with a keening groan. The forelimbs of the dragon slid under it, clutching between its rear legs and shuddering violently, even as its eyes rolled in their sockets and it seemed to dry heave a few times.
The survivors, what few there were, left the safety of their hiding places and gathered around the incapacitated dragon, looking in confusion while Trerick looked quite pleased with himself. His party gathered around him, Syllia motioning at the dragon with her sword and looking at another party. They nodded and moved forward to finish the dragon off.
“What… what did you do to him?” She asked, and Trerick chuckled.
“Simple, I gave something precious of his a little twist!” He said, and they just looked at him confusedly. “Ugh, to put it simply, I twisted his balls.”
Immediately Zalser, and any man close enough to overhear, cringed and squirmed uncomfortably. Even Syllia looked a bit mortified.
“And… You’ve just been sitting on this spell the entire time? Why haven’t you used it before now?”
“Well, it is a particularly nasty way to fight isn’t it? I figured it was a good spell to hold in reserve, for when it’s really needed. Besides, I wasn’t really sure it’d work.”
“Ooookay… And why didn’t you know he was a he from the beginning?” Zalser asked, adjusting his britches a bit as if he was still uncomfortable with the thought of balls being twisted.
“Listen, I study magic, not dragons. Besides, all the stories always assume a dragon is male until proven otherwise. For all I knew, the beast could have been a very angry lady.” Trerick snapped.
“And if he was a very angry lady?”
“Well then I’d have made her uterus implode.”
Now it was Syllia’s turn to shuffle about uncomfortably, while everyone else just groaned.
– – – – – –
The memory faded and everyone save Trerick’s party looked at him with barely disguised horror, several men ev…
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