Space Wizards

1. Picnic

It was a sunny spring afternoon, wispy clouds drifted overhead, and busy bees buzzed around flowering weeds. Hardly the type of day to think much about death. Sister John Murphy leaned on the thick handle of her war hammer and surveyed the carnage at her feet. 

A dozen large men in heavy black battle armor lay about the grassy field of a long-forgotten graveyard. Their plate mail was embossed with cube-shaped dents that screamed internal hemorrhaging. Flattened arms, legs, and even helms looked like crushed tin cans. 

"The bigger they are..." said Murphy. 

She pulled a metal bucket of a helmet off her head, revealing youth and buzzcut short red hair. She was freckly with a scrunched-up nose, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. Her skinny frame hardly supported the pieces of armor she had strapped to various parts of her body. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with a studded leather glove. 

"...The harder they fall, or so it would seem," said a kindly voice. 

Murphy whipped around, kicked the bottom of her hammer, spun the chunky weapon like a baton, and held it overhead at the ready. An ancient-looking man in ascetic robes was sitting on a boulder near a crumbling mausoleum. Long topknotted white hair countered his spindly Fu Manchu.

"You have a compelling fighting style." 

His smile sent wrinkles all the way up to his calm eyes and bushy brows. 

"I am on a quest to defeat evil," said Murphy. 

 "You must be hungry."

The old man produced a red and white checkered cloth from his pack and proceeded to lay it out across a stone. The instant the table cloth settled, it was covered with a feast fit for a king; roasted boar, stuffed pheasant, a salad garnished in flowers, and two large goblets filled with what could only be chilled water. The meats steamed as though fresh from cooking and the goblets had sweat on their sides. 

Murphy smelled the food and her stomach spoke for her with a prolonged audible growl. She eyed the meal like a hungry animal as her tongue glided across the backs of teeth hidden behind her tightly pressed lips. 

"I could eat."

Murphy lowered her hammer and stepped out of a battle stance into the first position resting pose of an experienced dancer. She sized the old man up and though he was extremely out of place, he seemed decent enough, maybe good, possibly even trustworthy? 

"Please, join me," said the man as he ripped a small leg off a roasted bird, took a bite, and washed it down with a gulp from a goblet. "It's very good."

Murphy grabbed the rest of the bird he'd taken a leg from and began to savagely eat it. 

"Drink. You must be thirsty too. We'll need our strength up before we make our way into the tomb."

"Alright, old-timer, who are you? How did you make all this food? And what do you mean by we?" said Murphy with a full mouth.

She held her hammer out in a threatening manner. On the side of its large silver block of a head was carved Lord John in a spiraling text. The old man ran his hand down his long mustache and grinned. 

"I am Melock. I'm what you might call a conjurer. I was tasked by the great wizard Luculentus Dicax Sid to investigate this site and I can't help but wonder if he sent you here as well?"

"I don't know any Luculentus. I'm here in pursuit of an evil creature, one who also uses magics. These were his henchmen." She gestured to the bodies. "If it turns out your trickery is connected to him, you will be joining them." 

Melock eyed the bodies and plated them half the salad each in response. 

"This creature you're after, is it a bald man with black eyes and burnt hands?"

Her eyes widened and her grip tightened on her hammer. 

"Then Kulju is here," said Melock. 

Murphy dropped her hammer and dug into the food with both hands. 

"Kul-joo, you say? I believe I've killed him once before," she said between bites. "This time I'll finish the job. 

The food was delicious and the water was cool and clean as a fresh mountain spring after the first thaw of the winter's snow. 

"Kulju is a dabbler in dark powers and the tomb of the Varanasi Lich is no place for him to be messing around in. Under these burial grounds lies a timeless evil."

Murphy nodded, she could feel it. Melock saw that she did indeed. 

"I propose we work together to investigate the matter. I can appreciate your skill and I am not without abilities of my own. Do we have an accord?" asked Melock.

She looked down at the wiggling toes of his bare feet, popped a slice of pork in her mouth, and reached out with a greasy hand. 

"I'm Sister Murphy."