“SHOOT!” Alkiath yelled, a second before firing his own arrow. The volley of 9 arrows unleashed against the flying spearhead formation. The witch at the tip of the spearhead spoke back loud, but too far off to make the words out. Whatever she’d yelled though, the intention become obvious. A clear crystal blue fog seeped out of her hands with a sudden speed, followed by violent, twisting, twirling motions. As the arrows came near, this distorted blob of blue fog shot forward and spread out like a thick vertical foggy pancake. Neither Rum nor any of the elves saw what really happened to their arrows. The second after the arrows had disappeared into the fog, no related sounds came; not of crashing against the ground, nor any other signs of impact. Instead, the witch squad burst forth from the blue fog, heading for their party with accelerated speed. Behind them, the great body of the magic merely dissipated into nothing. The arrows merely gone, like they’d been just consumed by the blue fog blob.

Nobody needed to tell the elves to reload. They hadn’t even waited for impact. Their bows were already armed with new arrows. Strings were strung and targets aimed at. “SHOOT!” Alkiath yelled again. And again, the head witch of the spearhead just said some words, and then a crystal blue fog shot forth from her fingers, consuming the arrows in what became a mere repeat of events. For a third time, arrows were put to elven bows and aimed. This time, however, Alkiath hesitated. He let the witches come closer, and did not fire.

“Now!” yelled the foremost witch, and the flying formation of witches rapidly began slowing their flying speeds. In doing so, a familiar murmur started to sound from each of their mouths, rising to the level of a brief magical choir.

“Oh damn” Rum let slip, “this is gonna hurt. Again.”

ZAP-ZAP-ZAP-ZAP-ZAP! To Rum’s relief, he wasn’t the target this time. The witches had rather sent half their ranged warriors down on the ground, spasming with magical electricity, instantly out of the fight. Alkiath, who also survived, retaliated against the closing witches the only way he knew how: “SHOOT!” As if the elves had lost their bite, the head witch didn’t even bother to conjure up her defences now. With ease the broomstick flyers gracefully dodged the 5 aroows. And if that wasn’t worrisome enough, the witches treated them as so little a threat, they decided to descend down with their broomsticks, instantly stopping when their feet hit the ground. The witches, only 10 meters or so away from their party, dismounted, and then stood there – SMILING! The smiles a mix of menacing, devious, mocking, excited.

Their feet firmly on the mountain floor, the witches now changed their formation, spreading out into a half circle facing inwards towards Rum and his party. While the newcomers did so, Rum knelt down on the ground next to Arrovani, one of the downd elves. Keeping one careful eye on the witches, he began bringing the elves back up, starting with the little whisper: “Trinity of Healing”.

“That mage is annoying” spoke the one Rum guessed to be the witches’ leader; the former tip of their spearhead formation.

“Yes, very annoying” another witch on the leader’s immediate right flank agreed.

The witches were a variety of ages. The leader was perhaps late 40s, or a well-kept 50 year old. On her right flank, the one who’d spoken looked maybe in the earlier 40s, while the one right of that perhaps late 30s. On their left were a couple of younger witches, around the early or mid 20s. All the witches wore large dark red pointed hats along with their characteristic dark red robes. Rum noticed that the older witch carried a number of rings on her fingers, and below where her robe ended, were soft-looking silver-fabric shoes, curved silver pieces and small sparkling red rubies decorating the footwear. The same description could be given, though to a lesser extent, to the slightly less old witches. A contrast appeared when looking over the younger witches however. They wore boots, and their fingers carried only a simple ring each. Although the younger looking among them, the first on the left flank, had a necklace featuring the strange twisted shape of a humanoid octopus. Every witch had a wand, a little wooden stick in their hand, vaguely pointed in the direction of the elves, ready to cast spells.

Wands were not a regular necessity for any mage. But wands had at least a couple of common features that made them useful, and one possible feature that could make them absolutely essential. There were gods of magic who refused to allow their spells to be cast, except through conduits of near perfect magical attunement. Such items were typically wands. There were also wands that stored spells in them. This usually meant the wand would also passively recharge their required mana from any mage holding it, reducing the initial mana cost of spells to near zero the first few casts. Another type of wand focused on amplifying the magic of specific gods of magic. Sometimes, wands were also a combination of all of these factors. Either way, wands weren’t usually necessary, but having one was preferable to not having one. Unless one is using my new magic, Rum considered, or could I figure out items that’ll attune to my magic? That thought-train didn’t go much further though, as Rum was rapidly drawn back in by the acuteness of the ongoing situation.

“SHOOT!” Alkiath shouted.

“SER-MOKWA!” the lead witch retorted, swinging her wand snappily up and right-direction. All but 1 of the elven arrows immediately changed course. Just a little, but it was enough that the arrows flew above the witch party, while the last arrow was gracefully side-stepped by their left-most younger.

“Ervilia” Rum thought out loud.

“What?” Alkiath’s mouth asked, while the elf’s eyes and hands worked to ready another shot.

“Ervilia, she’s the Goddess of Sanctuary. I recognize the spell. When not called by its magical name, that spell is called Mass Divert. If she can keep casting the spell, your chances of hitting her are slim. It’s advanced magic, but cost-efficient in terms of mana, at least for our few arrows. This witch won’t drain quickly.”

“What about: NEVER!?” the lead witch shouted over the distance, her voice, for all the cackling she’d been doing, seemed fairly normal. She held up her wand. “This is a Wand of Ervilia. The mana cost is trivial. Much more interesting wizard, is the question of how long you can keep bringing back your elven friends? The mana cost for that spell of yours must be atrocious.” The witch did not smile or gloat. Instead, as the second elf Rum had been treating began rising, she appeared genuinely curious about her own hypothesis. Her attitude, if anything, told Rum she was not entirely convinced Rum wasn’t a bottomless well of healing magic, even if he knew he wasn’t.

“Should we charge them with swords?” The recently arisen Arrovani asked, though bowstring strung and arrow aimed.

“If us charging them became a threat” Alkiath replied, “they would just jump back on their broomsticks and fly away.”

“What do we do then?” Arrovani pressed.

“I... don’t know. Great Mage?” Alkiath glanced stressed over at Rum. “You have any ideas?”

“Well.” Rum answered. ”Not really the moment to look up Algor’s book I think. So... not really no.”

“I’m open to everyone’s ideas!” Alkiath fished the group.

Meanwhile, on the side at the half-circle of witches, a parallell conversation had been going on. At the moment however, that short conversation was at its end. Slowly, the witches began raising their collective wands, pointing more directly at the elven party.

“An idea right about now would be great!” Alkiath hurriedly added, a rapid desperation entering his voice.

“Gar om taradin!” The chanting began on the witches’ side, loud enough to discern words.

“SHOOT!” Alkiath yelled. 6 arrows, the two healed elves having joined in, flew towards the spread out witches. “CHAAARGE!” Alkiath followed up. Putting his bow on his back and drawing his sword he jumped forward into a head-on sprint.

The head witch easily diverting the arrows. “Vram vram taradin!” the chant continued.

Seeing Alkiath charge forward with his sword, all the other elves quickly followed, the shield elves included.

“Vram vram sharadin!”

“Didn’t-we-just-agree-this-was-a-bad-idea?” Arrovani commented while sprinting along, sword being drawn in the act of charging.

“SHARADIN RAAA!”

Rum hadn’t run. He didn’t really see his role in the whole business of charging. He’d come here to knock out some skeletons, not skewer people. Standing back, he had a great angle of view however, as the 5 witches with their wands, cast streams of thick liquid magic, the color of dark blood. Each of the 5 streams burst forth towards their targets, invading the mouths of the first elves in their viscinity. The first among these were Alkiath of course. He’d charged the center lead witch, and quickly fell upon having his throat violently entered. He collapsed on the ground within a second, choking on the thick magic. The second to fall was Urvanom. Thanks to his strength and dexterity, Urvanom had sped past his other comrades and charged after Alkiath with a mad grin to his face, at least so Rum had imagined, having only been able to see his back and all. 5 streams cast, 5 elves fell. Alkiath, Urvanom, and Royath was among them. Of their key elven assets, only the shield elves were spared for being slow. They, and an elven warrior, followed the fall of their front comrades. Out of 8 elves, only 3 elves survived the charge and now engaged the witches, one by one, in close quarters combat. 5 witches, against 3 low level elven warriors.

“That’s not a good match-up” Rum said quietly looking at the battle, his body kneeling next to another elf he was currently healing back up. “Maybe I should try do something?” He pondered the situation while his low level friends were harassed by small bolts of lightning. Their attempted weapon cuts were easily diverted by the older witches’ wands, while the steps of their feet were also diverted, and the warriors stumbled and tripped over in pathetic helplessness.

“Heeee-he-he-he” the witches mocked their victims.

Cough! Cough! Behind where the 3 elves fought and struggled to provide meaningful resistance, the bodies of the 5 elves prior them stirred. Weak coughing and half-choking became the initial signs, then their low noise rose steadily, turning into a loud but alive coughing and half-choking. A noise that Rum’s ears thought to be somewhat sickening and obnoxious in how it all sounded. As the 3-elf-battle looked increasingly one-sided however, the 5 coughing elves began to show even more signs of life. They began to move, pushing themselves up, but... something’s wrong. Rum noticed it in their eyes, the eyes kept darting everywhere, but in a lazy, hazed fashion. Intoxication?

“Witches!” The lead witch shouted amidst battle. “It’s time! I’ll deal with the mage, you protect!”

Rum was looking straight at the lead witch, and yet, he wasn’t. Rum’s mind had began wandering around, and the mage didn’t even notice that his healed up elven friend had gotten up by himself and sprinted with his sword towards the fighting. He noticed much less that the witch he was looking at was pointing her wand at him.

But should I just grab them all and try Filter Body then? If it’s just like alcohol... Hmm. But can I connect with them all at the same time? We’d have to stand in a ring! And would they even be able to lift their own robes, or would they need help?

“SHARADIN RAAA!” Rum’s eyes suddenly became wide as his sight organs made him accutely aware of a stream of thick blood-red something, rapidly approaching his face.

Huh? Is the closest that language could ever mirror that brief moment of thought, before the liquid magic slammed against Rum’s lips with the force of a mighty torrent, opening them up by the sheer force of it, and filling him.

Through whatever instinct a person and a mage may ever have for such an utterly foreign experience, Rum quickly surrendered to the invasion of his body. Instead of bothering with the inevitable, Rum reached out, into the ethereal world of magic. The senses of his material world were besieged. And so he clang to his magical ones. In the double mirror world of magic, what Rum experienced was not a liquid, or really any substance at all, but the onset, the initial stage: of a curse. An unknown curse.

“WOOOAAAAAH-COUGH!” Rum gasped, and then began choking. His mind, initially stoic, was also being overrun. Something strange was happening with his thoughts, and with how he felt. Lying on the ground, coughing and choking, he glanced quarter-dead over at his rising friends, at Alkiath, Royath and Urvanom. They looked strange. Confused maybe? Rum looked some more. No. Feral, dangerous, evil!

“Yeah.” Urvanom said suddenly, to nobody in particular. Though Rum heard it, and focused on him. “That is strange.” The elf continued, like he was holding a conversation. With Rum’s own body continuing to cough, and his throat lightly choking, the mage still continued to observe Urvanom. The old elf was looking around completely weirded out by something. Or was it that the old elf was being weird? A part of Rum felt like Urvanom, too, was dangerous. Somehow.

“What!?” Urvanom burst out, and his eyes steered away from his nearby elven friends, looking at nothing, and then looking back at them, at Royath in particular. “NO!” He burst out again. “He’s a nice guy! But it is true. He has a weapon, and a mean look.”

Rum looked over at Royath. The elf man had indeed a mean look, a bad look, the look of evil. Eyes moving about, Rum barely managed to catch the witches flying off on their broomsticks. Rum felt relieved, because some part of him was feeling afraid. Or, was it angry? It was something though, something bad inside of him, explaining to him how bad everyone else were.

“Nooo, hahaha, nooo!” Urvanom laughed – LAUGHED! Was it an evil laughter? A menacing laughter? Rum wanted somehow to believe that. But Urvanom just shook his head to himself, as the other elves began circling each other, swords and shields held tight. Their faces speaking of terror, aggression, uncertainty.

WHY is he laughing!? Rum began to push the ground to get up. Beyond the half party of weird elves stood the slightly beaten up 4 elves, 3 plus the latest healed one, who’d fought the witches in close quarters. They REALLY look confused, Rum thought, and noticed they were constantly sending each other glances. One tried to speak to Alkiath, but Alkiath was rude, and just sneered in reply. Aggressive, dangerous. Alkiath is dangerous. Thus ran Rum’s thoughts.

“We should not risk the mage recovering!” Resting on one knee, not quite managing to get up, Rum heard the female voice from high above him.

“You’re probably right.” It was the sound of the lead witch. Rum knew that voice. It was the voice that had preceded him feeling this way, being this way.

“Rithir Tauthor Dyn!” Rum could not find with his eyes where the witch was. Instead, the mountain hallway FLASHED within his view, everywhere LIGHT, blue and white. And again, there was magic, invading his body. The sound came late: ZAP! His limbs jerked, violently, and before he could produce a single thought, he collapsed onto the ground, head this time hitting the hard mountain ground.

Between being confused, stunned and his head now beating with the sensations of a minor injury, Rum was pretty much mentally crippled. Just a little cold dagger to his throat, and that would be the guaranteed full end to his threat. And if Rum’s head hadn’t been such an utter mess at the moment from the various noises of bad and confusing sensations, he might’ve realized just how helpless he was. Luckily perhaps, he didn’t realize this, because now he got to trade that immense fear for a total state of shock and confusion.

Rum drooled on the ground. A small slow river ran from the side of his mouth. His eyes were glazed with deadness, and with that: Rum, The Great Mage, was reduced to Rum, The Catatonic.

It took a long time. It must’ve. When Rum’s thoughts began digging themselves out of the roaring chaos of noise that was his inner world, it felt like hours may have passed. Daring to open himself up to the outside world, Rum’s ears began once more making out the distinct sounds of an ordered, discernible world.

Cla-Cling! Clang! His eyes began to move, and they searched for focus, for the source of these familiar sounds. Clang! Clang! Bang! Again, those sounds. Sounds of metal? Rum weakly considered. Yeah, metal! That must be it – SWORDS! He jerked, a little tiny movement, with his shoulder. He was trying to move again. He jerked his muscles some more. He tried, with very faint results, to move his fingers. Many seconds past, and the mage heard just more sounds of swords and shields, but could not get his head to turn around, or his body to rotate so he may see.

For a small eternity, he strived, tiny little increments at a time, for resumed motor functions. Eventually, many small jerks let his head get into enough position to see. Alkiath? Royath? Are they fighting? Besides the duelers, Urvanom was deflecting and repeatedly, but easily, disarming Arrovani and another elf. Somehow, the two other elves had ganged up on Urvanom, and were trying to charge him together. When they did, Urvanom sprinted against the faster of them, quickly knocking the person’s blade to the side, before punching the unlucky elf in the mid-section. Gracefully, Urvanom would finish the same elf off by stepping around the heaving body, before slamming the target elf’s sword hand, causing the hands to open and the blade to fall to the ground. Urvanom kicked the blade to the side and was just in time to engage the other elf with heavy Clang!, fist punches, tactical kicks, and even flipping their legs.

To the other side, as Rum looked on, the fight between Royath and Alkiath however, began moving into dangerous territory. Royath’s expertise shone and he managed to slice across Alkiath’s cheek, a distraction great enough to follow up with a boot to the face. Alkiath now lay on the ground, sword held up high, and what Rum from this distance could only imagine to be a most terrified face. Royath’s face, on the other hand, was angry, full of rage, blood thirst, an expression Rum had never seen on a green-elf before. With a battle cry, Royath slammed forward with his blade, Alkiath barely getting his in position block it. But it was trick by Royath. The seasoned elf kicked at Alkiath’s blade hand and Alkiath was disarmed. As Rum looked on, a mix of horror inside him, but also relief... relief at Alkiath being killed? Why? Royath hesitated for a second. Alkiath did nothing, lying there, perhaps waiting to die. Then Royath appeared to find his resolve, and with another battle cry, he lunged forward, aiming to skewer Alkiath’s upper chest, skewer his heart, on an elven blade.

“NO!” One of the low level elves, a shield-less one, slammed into the body of Royath, tackling the warrior to the ground. Again, Rum had a mixed feeling. Relief, again, but an opposite one? And what is this other thing that I feel? Regret? No! Disappointment!? I’M WEIRD! THIS IS SO WEIRD! WHAT STRANGE THING IS GOING ON WITH MY HEAD!?

“Look. I can obviously best you both!” Urvanom shouted, attracting Rum’s attention again. “But I will not harm you. Will you not see? I know, something strange is going on. I feel it too. You are a threat to me, and yet, so obviously, you are not. I am confused. And so, that must be you too. Are you not confused?” Arrovani, the elf which Urvanom spoke to, visibly let his guard down for a moment, an expression of internal consideration overtaking his face. The other elf did not let down her guard however, and charged at Urvanom yet again, presumably exploiting the weakness of Urvanom holding a conversation. The old elf didn’t give the attack much attention though, and simply side-stepped it, letting the female elf warrior run past him like an idiot before halting and quickly turning around. The elf woman charged again.

Confusion... am I confused? Confused by what? By how? By the witches? Rum started to regain control of his fingers and hands. With trembling muscles, the mage grabbed at the mountain floor, and tried to push, to make his arms join in. His legs, they too were starting to respond. “Haaah”, Rum said. “Thiiii...” he tried. “Thhhriniiih...” He swallowed, breathed, and then tried again. “Thrinity ouuuf... Healing!” It was good enough. The spell triggered, and Rum felt and saw the green lightshow bath him. In short time, his senses became clearer, his muscles started to respond. With both hands now, he pushed against the mountain floor, sitting up on his feet. Then he managed to pull one leg up, and from a kneeling position, began to rise.

“I am... confused!” He spoke the words out loud, though to nobody else but himself really. Around him lay the bodies of Udevi and another elf warrior, 2 elves first struck by the initial lightning bolts. They were a few steps more awake and moving than he’d been before his spell, but they were still struggling to lift themselves up.

“I AM CONFUSED!” Rum shouted. Far off, Urvanom met his gaze.

“YOU ARE CONFUSED!” The old elf shouted back. “I AM ALSO CONFUSED!”

The bodies of Alkiath and Royath were on the ground, wrestling with the 4 low level elves. One of the shield elves was sitting on the legs of the downed Royath, another elf warrior sitting on Royath’s parallell outstretched arms. Nearby, another pair of shield elf plus elf warrior struggled to keep Royath from overpowering them. Still, they all glanced up at the snap shouting match.

“Yes” even whispered the downed Udevi near Rum, “you look very confused. But perhaps, you could fix that, and then help us?”

“Help you?” Rum met the eyes of Udevi and felt almost offended, but then also there was an urge inside of him; to reply “Yes! Right away!”, to run over and give her his magic.

“I’m too confused.” Rum said to himself, and perhaps also to the downed elves. “But... don’t I have a spell for that?” Rum searched his memory. “Of course!” Rum put a hand to his forehead. To the downed elves it must’ve looked like he was facepalming. “RESTORE MIND!” Light blue, pink and purple sparks of magic burst from his hand and cracked against Rum’s skull. “AAAAH!” Rum screamed. Not because of pain, but merely to signal to the whole world that his brain was currently feeling extremely weird. Inside Rum’s head, so many thousands of memories and thoughts and fantastic imaginations all happened at once, producing the most messy, colorful and choruslike performance of polyvocal meaning. Unlike the noise before, this was messy only because it was so many things. It lacked a singular narrative. Yet, each individual image or sound had its own clarity of meaning. Rum’s mind was not a spill of colors or a cacophony of sounds, but a festival of meanings, rapidly reaching a crescendo of intensity, and then... then nothing. Rum fell down onto his knees. He looked at his hands. His mind was pure now, crisp clear, though getting used to its own clarity. Quickly many things fell together. The witches... I think I was once told of this ability of theirs.

Rum looked up at the fighters. He rose to his feet, once more, and glanced over at the downed elves, still trying to push themselves up, but failing. “You’ll have to wait, I have to stop this first.” Then Rum sprinted forward. He arrived just in time for Arrovani to be yet again disarmed. Urvanom punched the elf in the face, and Arrovani fell to the ground, hands caressing a noseblood. Before the elf could do anything though, Rum jumped the cursed elf on the ground. With both arms, Rum forced Arrovanis hands down on either side, before hugging his body tight like a human rope. Arrovani yelped and shrieked, but Rum just spoke his spell: “Restore Mind.” Again, light blue, pink and purple sparks of magic burst from his hand. From there, the magic began a swift journey up Arrovani’s upper body, before leaping from his shoulders and arcing through the air and into Arrovani’s brain. “Aaaah!” The elf produced, perhaps terrified, or just feeling as weird as Rum had. Then, seconds passed, a magical auro surrounding the hugging couple, with arcs of light blue, pink and purple smacking against the nearby mountain floor. And then the muscles of the elf under Rum collapsed. Rum wasted no time checking on Arrovani, instead, he put his hands to the mountain floor and pushed himself up.

“Who’s most ready for a hug?” Rum shouted, as if issuing a challenge. The entire audience, besides the 4 elves who struggled to keep Alkiath and Royath grounded, all looked at him with horror. Urvanom only for a second though, then his facial expression changed. It looked skeptical, but there was some other determination there too.

Behind Rum, Arrovani began to rise. “That was some experience.” The elf paused to breath and collect himself. “What even was all that?” As the elf finally stood tall, Rum turned to face him.

“You were cursed.” Rum explained bluntly.

“Ah” Arrovani replied, “that makes sense, I suppose.”

Rum turned and met Urvanom’s hesitant expression. “Hug?”

“I-I... might. Yes. Yes, please, hug. Get these thoughts out of my head.” Rum and Urvanom stepped over to each other. Strictly speaking Rum didn’t need to hug Urvanom since the old elf was doing this voluntarily, but he didn’t feel like it was the time to explain. And so, Rum and Urvanom embraced each other, and Rum whispered his words: “Restore Mind.” Another tricolored lightshow entered and surrounded their embrace. At the time it ended, Urvanom collapsed in Rum’s arms, and Rum held onto him until a few seconds passed and he came to.

“Thank you, that was. So overwhelming.” The elf’s face began to contort, and what’s this new expression? Worry? “Oh, by the gods, we are here! In the dungeon! I came here, with you people. Oh no, I’m not prepared to be here. This is-oh the fighting I’ve been doing.”

“Ah” Rum said. “I see the problem here. I restored a little bit too much mind!” Rum disengaged Urvanom and then put a hand to the elf’s forehead. “Want some help with that anxiety?”

Urvanom stared Rum in the eyes. Blankly at first, but then he nodded. “Yes! That would be of great help!”

“Positive Mind.” The golden-yellow misty magic poured out onto Urvanom’s forehead. The magic didn’t go far before being absorbed into the elf’s head.

“Feeling better?” Rum lowered his hand.

A second passed, Urvanom having closed eyes his. But now, the eyes shut open. “YES!” Urvanom nearly shouted. A firm, confident tone revealed in his voice, and a raised posture making the elf go from a helpless slight hunch but a few seconds ago, to a new, brave stature.

Rum turned to his side and looked at the last elf of this trio. “Want a hug?”

“NO!” The elf woman shouted back aggressively, wide eyes and a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, you’re gonna get it anyways.”

The elf’s eyes widened even more, if that was even possible. Then she turned – and ran!

“Ah, oh no.” Rum looked down at his own legs. “Let’s get her boys.” He sighed, just a little, at the runner. “Self-Running Legs!”

The elf stood no chance. Rum was higher level of course, but more than that: NOTHING can outrun Self-Running Legs! Getting real close, Rum signalled his legs to jump, arms tackling the woman from behind. Half a minute later, and Rum had restored yet another mind. He ran back and up to the 2 elves being held by their fellow party members. Restoring Alkiath and Royath was much easier, after all, they couldn’t resist. It was just a bit of fancy lightshow, a sudden collapse of resistance, and then the thankful faces of elves coming to themselves.

Rum returned back to the duo of downed elves and began healing. When he was starting to pull up Udevi, the first elf more or less fully healed, he glimpsed familiar shapes in the darkness. 5 witches – returning on their broomsticks.

Oh. They must not be happy. The mage stared at them as they progressively flew closer, their outline and color becoming clearer by the centimeter. And we’ve survived them twice now. If they think they can beat us a third, then... what mayhem are they bringing with them?