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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Quickleaf" data-source="post: 6571619" data-attributes="member: 20323">In the beginning was the word. Shandrizar the All-Seeing knew all too well the power of a word, the power to heal, the power to kill. He was, after all, Shandrizar the All-Seeing, Scryer Supreme of the Plane of Concordant Opposition, Master Augur of the Fraternity of Order, Diviner Preminent in the Lady's Cage. True, that last title was self-given, but there was very little he did not know. That's what made his current predicament so maddening. It was supposed a routine trip thru a portal to Great School of Glantri to acquire some unique spell components from Headmaster d'Ambreville only availble on that prime backwater. He should have stepped out of Sigil's damp sooty air into the musty halls of the Great School. Instead there was just... Darkness. Loss of Self. Disembodied dread. Compression of all his thoughts onto the head of a quill.And then the word. Followed by another word. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. He couldn't see anything. Was he...was he inside a backpack? No, perhaps a bag of holding? Clearly he hadn't died otherwise one of his many spell contingencies would have kicked into place. What was this? He felt jostled, pushed up against other things in whatever extra-dimensional he had been trapped. Was that a change of drawers? Inconceivable! Perhaps a cunning fiend had trapped the portal? Yes, that was the most logical explanation.The words were muffled but he began to make them out. Why did Rusty refer to himself in third person? Who had the annoyingly high squeaky voice? Who were these bumbling clueless primes? Shandrizar the All-Seeing was used to making himself heard, and yet he could not utter a single syllable.Adding another level of awfulness to his predicament was the sudden smell of fecal matter. This was no depository of bat guano cultivated for evocation spell components. No, this was a toilet. Then he heard the words taking shape in his mind. He knew those words like the back of his hand, but they were muddied somehow, like his memory had been shaken with chaos matter. It was a find familiar spell. Why did he feel so irresistibly drawn to the words of that spell? No... With dawning horror, Shandrizar began to realize what was happening. Screaming, he fluttered to awareness."Ahhhh!" Graydon's open spellbook screams, the pages suddenly fluttering open and closed simultaneously. In the rapid fluttering of the pages a masculine slightly bearded face forms. Its eyes dart around in confusion before locking onto Graydon and falling silent, blinking rapidly, head shaking in denial. "Ahh!" The book screams again, abruptly hurtling backwards against the stall wall with a loud 'thud'. Whirling about, the book smashes into Graydon's head, spins in a circle, and collapses on the floor. The face in the pages seems to be hyperventilating. "A clone spell gone awry? No, no... A dream spell? Maybe, unlikely... A familiar?" The arcane conjecture seems to help the face in the book calm himself, though once the truth settles in, he glowers at Graydon, the book floating up in a wobbly manner. "Of all the places you could summon a familiar, you chose a toilet?"</blockquote>

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