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--The Story--


Fie upon me, already, for spreading falsehoods already. His name is not Mystic, instead, it being Kendworth. But, if you had a name like Kendworth, you yourself might change it to something more... brutish, or at least more mystical.

His tale starts in a forest. How droll.

Kendworth, as it were, was a man growing older. Nay, not old, but older. Now, I know what you are think - "An epic tale on a old man? How so, Giuseppi?" First, love the name Giuseppi - let's make that a thing, and second, just watch me work my magic.

Kendworth was running - like the Olympic kind, not the recreant kind. From what, you might subconsciously ask - yet again, patience. All will be told to those who wait.

As I said, Kendworth was running. From what, you ask. From tax-mongers, who Kendworth owed a considerable amount of money. Though it was quite one-sided, as the said tax-mongers were mounted, and poor Kendworth was on foot. And being an aging man, this was taking its toll on his body. But if you were running for your life - would you not run twice as fast?

Kendworth paused in a ravine, due mainly to the fact he collapsed. This gave his pursuers ample enough time to catch up, which, barring Kendworth's silver tongue, would've spelt certain death for the luckless drifter. The proverbial cat caught the proverbial mouse.

"Aye, get yor grubby han's offa me! I c'n stand on me own volition. So, often it wouldn't be too much trouble for yeh. UNHAND ME!"

"Now now, mister Kendworth, you make me not want to hear you out with that attitude. Act your age, man! You owe me a lot of money, Kendworth. A lot of it. You know what emotion that's making me feel a lot of..? Anger."

To save you the long and short of it, there was much tingu-flopping, and finger-wagging, in the custom of a precocious mother accosting her overly-flamboyant son. Much was laid against Kendworth, including many threats upon his life, and beloved goatee.

But with one statement, Kendworth shook the conversation to the core... "Good man, I would be more friendly to negotiate, if I was ALLOWED TO STAND ON ME OWN TWO LEGS! Tell your gorillas to stop holding me like a coat rack!"

With a long sigh, the man at the fore (the one doing the tongue-flopping and finger-wagging) gesticulated to the men holding Kendworth, to release him. But, the fleetingness of Kendworth proved to trump, causing him to start crawling away. The guards caught him without issue, and the Tongue-flopper sighed in a frustrated manner.

"You try my patience Kendworth. Give me my money!" Kendworth, smiling in a grating way, responded. "And what if I don't have it? Eh, what'd yeh do to me? Iffen yeh kill me, yeh won't be gettin' much money offa me." He smiled again, causing more frustration towards the Tongue-flopper. "So, I propose a little proposition for yeh. Give me a week, and I'll get the money to repay yeh. Keep yer goons and gorillas away from me, and I'll double yeh money."

The Tongue-flopper pretended to actually consider this, but when he did, he began to actually consider it. In one case, Kendworth might fly the coop, or in the other, he might bring back a bounty twice the amount he owed. "With one exception, I agree to your proposition. My men WILL follow you, to make sure you don't escape me. They will not impede your monetary gaining, and will only serve to keep you corralled in my reach. Do we have a deal, lawbreaker?"

Kendworth gave another toothy grin, causing his front tooth to wobble precariously. He shook the Tongue-flopper's hand, after spitting on it, to cause as much chagrin as he could. Taking his leave, Kendworth moved onto the road.

Remembering a town very close to his location, just a little deeper inside the same forest. He took off down the road, whistling. But he was remiss to not keep a weather eye out for the guards sent to tail him.

Not having a clue on how to make said money, and not trusting the human sympathy system, he decided to try and hoodwink the village into giving him their gold and valuables. Finding some mushrooms, and a discarded cape floating on a tree, he prepared. Soon finding the village, he lit the mushrooms on fire, causing them to spit and sputter, then to explode in a cloud of green smoke. Quickly throwing the blue cape around his shoulders, he began to chant.

The villagers soon flocked to where the explosion, and ensuing putrid smell, emanated from. Kendworth stepped through the smoke, in a mystical way, and ceased his chanting. Another mushroom exploded behind him, and he started to speak.

"Hear me, ye peasants, ye farmers! I am known as Mystic, and I am selling the power and might of the Stars themselves! Whether you seek a bountiful harvest, or the strength of ten men, I can give it to you! Bring your valuables to me - the Pawnbroker of the Stars!"

Now if you were a superstitious peasant, you might be so enthralled. So, it serves no surprise that he soon gathered enough loot to pay the Tax-mongers back three-fold. So, after giving many false promises as to when their "powers" would become evident, Kendworth slipped out, with the fortune he had made.

Wandering back the way he came, Kendworth sought out the men he was indebted to. As it turned out, they found him instead. After handing the Tongue-wagger the sack full of his bounty, and he checking the contents as to it's authenticity, Kendworth began to walk away. But, a call from said Tongue-wagger brought him back.

"I know how you came about this money, Kendworth. And if I were a more righteous man, I would throw you to them to be torn apart. But, I am repaid in plenty, and have no more beef with you. But if you ever become indebted to me again, your head will be your payment. Aye?"

Kendworth gulped, nodded, and promptly began to run. Towards what, you might ask. To nothing, as it turned out. He merely ran in a direction, hoping to come across something. And, as it again turned out, he found it. Another part of the forest to call his home, where he lived out the rest of his days in moral ambivality.

But, it turns out that the universe got the last laugh anyways. As it happened, following the next full moon, the village that Kendworth had duped woke up to the powers that he had promised. He was apparently related to an antiquated wizard, to which Kendworth knew nothing about.

The moral being thus: Do not steal, unless you are related to an ancient wizard, whose power still flows through your veins, and will give ample recompense to those who you steal from.