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Thorrin continues his journey after a small wardrobe improvement.
AI illustration for my Discworld fanfiction:
Necromancer 4: At ze BorderNecromancer at ze BorderThorrin was planning out his travel to Far Uberwald. First he got a map of the Sto Plains. Locating the village he was born in, he used that and Mrs. Bradshaw’s Handbook to make sure the rail did not HAVE to stop there. He made quite sure to memorize the train lines that went far around Stanleyvale. After that was decided, the rest of the trip was mostly sketched in. Sto-Lat, Sto-Plains, Ramtops, Upper Uberwald…He was gauging just how far the rail service currently went when Divan came into his room. “You’re approved to leave?” he asked.“Are you asking me or telling me?”“I just got your approved departure permission notification.” Divan seemed confused. “But I don’t have a copy of your manifesto?”“I don’t have a manifesto,” Thorrin explained.“Wining it? That’s dangerous. I mean, you have the ideas perfectly straight in your head, then everyone in the Hall looks at you, and you can’t remember your own name, much less the list of offenses perpetrated-”“No,” Thorrin said slowly. “I’m taking a sabbatical. That means,” he went on quickly, “coming back later. NOT leaving forever. NOT founding a dynasty. NOT looking to purchase a drafty castle on a desolate hill under a dark cloud.”“Oh. What about the adventurers?”“I don’t want them alerted to my departure, as I’m not going into the villain business.”“No one PLANS to go into the villain business,” Divan said with a wistful tone. “You get out there, doing good things to the community, stimulating the economy, some churn on the genetic makeup of the villagers, when someone with a talking sword explains the error of your ways. Usually at your eulogy.”“Divan, I’m going to go look for the wizard that attacked the city. Or his apprentice. See if there’s still a threat to us, here. Not stimulate any economy except by means of train tickets, carriage fees, and toll roads.”“And traveler’s inns,” Divan nodded, finally on board, or so he thought. Thorrin was quite delighted with Refuge and its enhancement on his travel budget. He said nothing, though. Divan looked around. One knapsack was packed and waiting. “Not much luggage.”“Don’t need much.” He swung the pack on his shoulder. “Be seeing you.”“Wait, where’s your hat? Where’s your STAFF!?!”“I wasn’t going to draw attention to myself on the road,” Thorrin admitted. Inside Ankh-Morpork, wizards had a certain clout with the locals. Not as much as they though they deserved, but enough to not be harassed whenever they left the Unseen University.Going through the towns and cities around the circle sea, though, one’s staff or pointy wizard hat drew a certain kind of attention. Every time you passed or entered a pub, tavern, inn, or other gathering of belligerent peasants you had someone in your face, making the same challenge every time: You’re a Wizard, aintcha? Do some magic, then.”The Brothers of the Silver Star and Hoodwinkers loved this. The Brothers would enchant a mug to hop to the bar and draw itself a pint. The farther you got from UU, the more impressed people would be. In some places you could repeat this trick four times before anyone noticed you weren’t paying for the beer. Hoodwinkers might turn everyone’s money invisible, then pay for their drinks with invisible disks they SAID were money.To the rest, it got old quickly. Venerable Seers would tell the man the way he was going to die. Then wink and ask, “Want to know when?” Only the extremely drunk ever said yes.The Other Order uniformly reacted to this challenge by blasting the aggressor at least ten feet. They didn’t really care if there wasn’t ten clear feet behind him, either.An Unbroken Circle Sage would summon every rat in the immediate area to perform a parade across the main room and up onto the bar. Then release them to scamper where they would. If asked to remove the rats he’d brought into the place, he’d reply, “The free portion of the demonstration has ended.” Negotiations would begin quite quickly.Sages of the Unknown Shadow would summon an imp. After that the evening’s direction depended on the wizard’s mood and the number of exits. The Lodgers had any number of options. The most poplar response this year was an honesty spell. Threaten to make a man unable to lie to his wife, his boss, and his confessor and he’d quickly accept your credentials. Midnighters could summon ghosts related to the challenger, but more than likely he wouldn’t see them. Anything substantial required a death, and most thought it was tacky to kill something for some jerks’ amusement.[1] A few traveled with a zombie for the express purpose of DE-animating it when called upon. It would appear that he’d made someone into a corpse with a wave of his hand. But this was hard on the zombie, especially collecting all the bits after ten to twenty patrons stampeded over it.“I’ll just claim to be a carpenter traveling to a job in Kythia,” Thorrin said.“Are there jobs in Kythia?”Therrin shrugged and affected the less polished accent of a Sto Plains village. “Don’t know, squire, Ah’s just give ten dollar go to Kythia wit’ the promise o’ th’ty more build chick’n coops for ad hawks.”“Ad hawk? Did you just make that up?” Divan suspicioned. Thorrin smiled, checked the train timetable in his pocket, and walked out. -----Travelling without even a subtle staff was a bit of a shock for Thorrin. He’d expected people not to point, stare, and challenge. But he hadn’t realized people wouldn’t get out of his way with the usual speed. He’d never experienced this. His very first trip, he’d been following his recruiter, Sammal Twinklestar. At 300 pounds, with a staff that resembled a spiked mace, everyone got out of their way. Every other time he’d traveled had been as a wizard, with the hat and staff, and a measurable radius of privacy.Now he was just another person who seemed to always be standing in some person’s way. Bumped and jostled, he eventually understood the platform system and found his train. Then he sought his compartment. He’d splurged on a semi-private, at least for the start of the journey. Inside his assigned space, there were two individuals, a noble couple. The looked up expectantly when he opened the door, then their expressions dashed through confused to condescending. “I believe you have the wrong compartment, the nobleman said, trying to say it gently. It came off as a command to vacate the car. Thorrin realized his mistake. He couldn’t present himself as a carpenter and spend as a member of the nobility. The gentry considered themselves horribly tolerant to share the same train as the riff raff. Sharing a sleeper would upset the entire feudal system. He showed the man his ticket while delaying for time. “Right compartment, if I read the numbers right.” He saw the Earl thinking quickly, too. He could pretend that this workman had made a mistake, but eventually a conductor would get involved and bring him right back here. Eventually he agreed the ticket was correct, and grudgingly introduced himself, Carter Baystock, Earl of Brazeneck in Pseudopolis, and his wife, Earlinda, Countess Rosewood. Thorrin shook hands and gallantly kissed the air over the Countess’ fingers. He introduced himself with his grandfather’s name, “Taker Carpenter.” Then he looked around the room quizzically, as if there was any place a fourth body could possibly be hiding.“Was… Was anyone else here?” he asked, allowing a little anxiety into his voice.“No,” the Earl said flatly, as if there could not be anyone that ‘you’ would know, sitting in our circle. One was quite enough.“Who might have been here?” the Countess asked. Her husband tried to shush her. He thought it was scandalous that a woman speak to a strange inferior. But she’d been quite impressed with the air kiss. He’d taken the appropriate hand, held it quite appropriately, and kissed at the exactly correct distance above her knuckles. This man wasn’t a carpenter. Or, at least, not ONLY a carpenter. “I’m to meet a colleague here,” Thorrin explained. “What would he look like?” Earlinda pressed.“I… I don’t know.”“Why don’t you know?” the Earl snapped. “It was to be-“ he caught himself just before saying, ‘a blind date.’ “Well the introductions were through two other parties.” He scratched his still-hairless chin. “Unless one of you…” he said softly.“Yes? Yes?” the countess leaned even farther forward. “Well…” He looked around again, seeing walls, and the window facing away from the platform. “Perhaps. If I said to you…’Shattered Garnet’?”“Who in Blue Heaven’s name is THAT?” the other man asked gruffly.“OH! It’s a recognition code!” Earlinda giggled. “Darling! He thinks we’re candidates for intrigue.” The Earl made a scoffing sound but his wife moved to sit beside Thorrin. “So! Your ‘contact.’ Is he a spy? Is she a thief? Are you getting something or giving something?”“I can’t really talk about it,” he demurred.“Oooooh,” she purred. “Can we help?”“No, no, I’ve said too much already. If you don’t have the counter-sign…”“What would that be?” Carter asked.“I messed up, but I’m not THAT stupid,” Thorrin said.“Oh, good show!” the countess cheered.The train lurched, then started to pull out of the station. A moment after the movement, the engineer sounded the whistle. Sitting on the floor where he’d been dumped by the lurch, Thorrin looked up at his two cabin-mates. “Isn’t the whistle supposed to warn of IMPENDING movement?”“Supposed to,” said the undisturbed nobleman. “They almost never get it right.”“It’s not always a human at the engine,” Earlinda said, helping Thorrin back into his seat. “It’s sometimes difficult for the other species to remember process the way humans do.”“And it’s hard to knock a troll or a dwarf on his ass, anyway,” Thorrin said with a small smile. “They may never quite understand the need.” Carter laughed, the most welcome noise he’d made since seeing Thorrin. They settled more comfortably and traded travel stories. Thorrin had been to a few places on University business and talked about servers and menu misunderstandings. “I ordered a three-egg omelet. Got a one-egg omelet, with three sunny-side-up stacked atop it.”The nobles had traveled further and told about translation problems and trying to get a decent cup of tea in a place that had no tradition of hot drinks. “Finally got in the habit of ordering a leaf soup,” Earlinda laughed.----Somewhere near the accepted border of Ankh-Morpork and Sto-Lat, the train slowed to a stop. Carter checked his watch. “Much too early for the water stop,” he said darkly.“Do we get off?” Thorrin asked, unsure about train travel etiquette. Before either could answer, the cabin door was opened and a bandit shouted, “Get off the train, your high and mightiness.” “That would be us, dear,” the countess said calmly. They stood. Thorrin was still unsure about what was required of him. The bandit waved at the wizard. “You, too.”“He’s not a noble!” Carter protested from the aisle.“He bought you two a big meal in the dining car,” the bandit growled. “He’s rich enough for our purposes.” Thorrin obeyed, nodding thanks for the attempted help. But the two nobles were looking at each other. Their escort’s career choice had clearly influenced his manner of dress. A bandolier of knives crossed his chest, a sword rode at his hip, and he punctuated his outburst by waving a loaded crossbow around. But he’d perhaps misunderstood the required uniform. The typical bandit bandana covered only his chin. His shirt was the many-pocketed blouse of a Howandaland slaver, and his pantaloons screamed Klatchian pirate. Thorrin found himself wondering where one purchased a bandit costume and why the salesman had not steered him to better coordination.Down on the ground, there were three other passengers from First Class compartments. They were surrounded by about a dozen other bandits, all dressed in mishmashes of iconic outfits. There seemed to be no one else being de-trained, the apparent leader started his speech as Thorrin’s group arrived. The nobility split up and Thorrin found himself between them.“Now,” a lanky man in the checked pants of a Northman raider, but a bare chest started. “You’re being kidnapped for the purpose of ransom. You’ll be well treated, and we can even give you glowing references from previous captives. Once your family or agent sends us sufficient funds, we’ll put you on the next train. We can-““How much?” Carter asked.The leader bristled at being interrupted, but answered. “Everyone in First Class pays a fair rate of twenty times the cost of their ticket.”“Oh.” Carter reached for his pocket. “If we have the money, can we go on this train?”“Well, sure, if we get the cash without having to buy food for you we can URRK!”There was the sound of a spring and the leader pitched backwards. Robert held a small lengthy of pipe that had fired a dart into and halfway through the lead bandit’s throat. He waved his pipe menacingly. “Anyone else want to be in charge?”Thorrin was dead certain that there couldn’t be a second dart in that pipe. Either the spring would need resetting or the second dart would have to fire through the first dart’s propelling mechanism. Still, the various thieves flinched when it was pointed at them. Thorrin reflected that he did have the advantage of not looking down the barrel of doom to think about mechanics. One bandit spat. “Betcha’ can’t do that again,” he challenged. Carter looked down at the pipe in his hands. Everyone looked at the pipe. There was a second THRUM! and that bandit fell over. Everyone looked at his body on the ground, with the dart sticking out of his ear. They looked up to see Earlinda had a dart-pipe. In fact she had two. Carter also had two. There was no telling which ones had been fired already. Thorrin felt confident that all four dart-pipes were loaded as the pair had thrust their discharged weapons into his hands as they drew more weapons. He tried to look like a member of the Other Order holding two wands, not a staffless-wizard with what he knew were two empty pipes. It was not easy. Luckily, none of the bandits had much attention for him. They were staring at Carter. “What, uh, what happens now?” one asked.“I only shoot armed men,” Carter said loudly. Swords hit the ground in a clangy chorus.“I,” the countess added, “only shoot men standing within a mile of this train.” They took off running down the rows of cabbages. “Quick learners,” she laughed.“Most men just appreciate knowing what’s expected of them,” Carter said. “To demonstrate: waiter?”“Go,” she said. He hopped back up into the train. The other passengers followed him. Earlinda nodded towards the engine. “Walk with me, Mr. Carpenter.” It was much more an order than a request. He handed her his two emptied weapons and walked as he was directed.“Waiter?” he asked.“The man who served us lunch,” she said.“The guy with the horribly fake Genua accent,” Thorrin nodded.“He was the only person who knew you paid. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” he sighed. “I missed that. So Carter went to apprehend him?”“Something like that,” she said. Up in front of the train, ten huge wooden logs were piled across the tracks. Thorrin regretted letting the bandits leave before cleaning up their mess. Earlinda tapped one log, assuring both of them it was not an illusion or otherwise fake. “I wonder how a wizard would remove this obstruction?” she asked.“Why are you asking me?” Thorrin responded. “You have no hair. That implies either a wizard or an alchemist. You know noble etiquette, which implies nobility or wizard. You are educated, which implies wealth, wizard or assassin.” She looked him in the eye. “And you’re not an assassin.” Since Thorrin hadn’t tried to kill anyone where she could see, he assumed her confident dismissal of that possibility meant she WAS an assassin. Carter too, more than likely. He didn’t bother to argue, she’d just go on listing all the mistakes he’d made trying to hide his identity. He shrugged.“If it wasn’t illegal, we might animate the dead to move the logs.[2] Two zombies wouldn’t take long to clear the track.”“Two?” she asked. “Wouldn’t three be even faster?”“Yes, but where will we get another body?”“We’re not arresting the waiter,” she said as if talking to the village idiot. “You’re not?” He felt confused.“We work for Lord Vetinari,” she said as if that explained everything. Thorrin realized that it did. About that time, they heard something flop into the dust by the tracks. Thorrin didn’t look. Not because he was afraid of bodies, but because he didn’t want to be afraid of his compartment-mates.[3] Instead he turned back to the logs. “I could try levitation, but I don’t have much in the way of spell components.”“What do you need?” she asked, gesturing for someone to come closer, he assumed Carter.“Oh, just for you to step back behind the cattle guard,” he said. Taking out his Dead Octopus notes, he selected the sigil he’d assigned to the Lodgers, and catch-all magic. With a very small piece of chalk, he drew that rune. Then he put one tiny dot on the end of every other log. He walked over to where the assassins waited. People were leaning out windows and off of the decks, trying to see what was going on. Thorrin glanced at the Hub and determined the direction to the Circle Sea. He’d aim for the that, not knowing for sure if the logs were going to make it that far or come down somewhere in the cabbages. Then he looked up.“What are you looking for?” Carter asked.“The Moon.”“Is the moon’s position an important portent?” the countess asked. There was a bit of a tease in her voice. She might be aware that most of the steps taken by wizards were to impress the audience. “No, it just isn’t the Moon’s turn, yet.” He activated the same spell every wizard used to animate their erasers. Every wizard could cast it, all that varied was the source of the magic. Thorrin had nothing handy except necro-thaum.There was a booming sound. The spell lifted the logs so fast it drew a vacuum. After a blink-and-you-miss-it launch, the logs sailed up and over the entire continent, the sea, the next continent, the sea beyond that, and the island of Krull. The last log clipped the top four feet off of the highest building on the island, slamming it over the Rim with the rest of them. At the boom that followed their passage, every horoscope reader on the island came out from under their beds and continued with their normal day. Normal plus a little anxious flinching from time to time.Back at the train, the implosion drew up a great cloud of dust, swirling it into chaos, scattering clods and pebbles over the train and about five miles of track. The cloud that descended was opaque, giving Thorrin a moment to order his expression and pretend that was just what he’d expected to happen. An old instructor had insisted, “Magic is to frighten the civilians. Never let them see how much it scares you.”When it cleared enough to see other people, he turned around to find Carter and Erlinda staring at him. Their hats were gone, never to be seen again. Their clothes disheveled, hair wild, and eyes wide. Thorrin shrugged. “You made it quite clear that I’m no good at subterfuge. Figured there was no need to be subtle.” He took their hands gently and led them back to the First-Class car.----- In Sto-Lat, he went shopping again. This time he wanted robes that shouted Wizard! Obviously wizardly. Let the drunks ask for a spell, and let the chips fall where they may. He glanced at the horizon at that thought and shuddered. Or, let the chips fall at least a day’s travel away, Libertina be praised. He released his tight grip on normal wizard interests. Where he normally dressed like a successful mortician, he went full magpie. Purple robe with pink lining and a copper sash, dark blue tunic, cumin-colored boots, white and magenta checkered socks, and a tall, pointy black hat. The workroom contained about 700 different colors of thread, he would embroider a lavender skeleton holding a silver knife dripping green blood on a beach-sand altar. And stars. People expect stars on your standard wizard hat.Four city thieves saw Thorrin go past and let him alone. Man dresses like that in public, you know he’s not afraid to die. Possibly because he was the meanest SOB on the Plain. Possibly not. But if he was, when Death came for you, he just might ask, “Didn’t you see the cumin boots, man?” And there you’d be, looking dead AND dumb.He also purchased a length of 4x4 to make a staff out of.Unfortunately, nothing left in Refuge that wasn’t original issue disappeared when it was folded down. He carried the staff everywhere, earning quite a few questioning looks. Shopping done, he returned to the station and bought a ticket for Chumsfanleigh. Capital of the Wold, the city was on the edge of The Chalk. Fathoms and fathoms of ancient chalk were all that remained of a few pre-pre-prehistoric seas. A very thin layer of grassland fought being scraped away by rough weather, over-farming, or an enthusiastic game of football.[4]The train reached the stop at a little after 11 at night. Thorrin found a likely spot, unwrapped the strings from Refuge and activated it. He’d slept on the train, so he had all night to work on the staff, shaping it and hollowing it out. He then had a nice breakfast, thanked Refuge, and traveled on.Forty three people saw Refuge that morning, for the hour and a half between sunrise and the wizard’s departure. So for the next sixty years, it was part of the local map. Like any small town in any universe, they couldn’t give directions across the courtyard without mentioning something that wasn’t there anymore. “Turn left at McKlindty’s store,” they’d say about a building that burned down three years before. “About a mile past the old Oak Tree,” referring to a tree that had been uprooted in a storm three kinds ago. And now, “When you get to the crossroads where the weird hut was that one day, take a left.”Didn’t really help anyone navigate, but it did prove that the person giving direction knew more about the place than you ever did.It was a pleasant day, so Thorrin got directions and walked to The White Horse. That was a sort of carving. A giant gouge had been dug out of the hillside, leaving a shape of uncovered chalk against the green grass of the sod. It was reminiscent of a horse is someone had told you it was called The White Horse. Other than that, the details were largely unhorsey. Thorrin stared at it for a long time, idly winding strings around Refuge and tapping the lumber. “What’s a wizard doing up here?” a voice asked. He turned to see a young woman walking towards him. She had sturdy boots, a practical dress, and absolutely no hat on. Still, Thorrin instantly identified her as a witch by her confident walk, her calm voice, and eyes that reminded him of times he’d been in trouble when very young.“Just admiring the Horse,” he said. “And just passing through your jurisdiction, miss.”“My jurisdiction?” she asked. “What do you mean?”“You’re the witch for these parts, I take it?”She looked surprised. “Not many people identify me as a witch, much less THE witch. How’d you do that?”“You remind me of Hattie Carpenter, my grandmother,” he name-dropped hopefully. The Chalk was just past the edge of the Sto Plains, but you could see them from here.“YOU are related to Mother Hattie?” she asked. She looked over his flamboyant ensemble. “Brave man. Tiffany Aching.”He ignored the dig and introduced himself. Then he turned to the hillside opposite them. “I have to say, it doesn’t look very much like a horse.”“I think of it more as an impression of the speed of a horse,” Tiffany said.“Of course,” he agreed. “The idea of speed as expressed in a representation of the fastest animal the carvers knew about… No. They knew faster. The fastest domesticated animal.”“An animal they could control,” Tiffany realized. “I’d wondered why.”“Why a horse?”“Why they dug it.”“I’m not sure they had a choice,” Thorrin said. He waved generally. “The magic marking this spot is very attached to the locale. They may not have been trying to create it, but to release it.”“You can see the magic?” Tiffany asked.“I can see the shape of it. I can sort of see where it is, not what it is. It’s not wizard magic.”“It’s not witchcraft, either,” Tiffany said softly.“No it’s…Wait. ACHING? You’re Granny Aching’s kin?” he accused.“Granddaughter,” she explained. “You know about Granny?”“There were three women on the planet I know Hattie respected as witches. One’s up in Lancre, Granny Aching was both of the other two.” She laughed at that, he smiled. Then he turned back to the chalk figure. “What are you going to do with this magic?” she asked. She tried to sound nonchalant.“Leave it by the hells alone,” he said instantly. “I don’t want you and Granny after me if I mess it up.”“Granny’s dead,” Tiffany pointed out.“Does that mean I should fear her LESS?” he asked.----Tiffany gave him directions to a chalk quarry. He’d been serious about not wanting to mess with the Horse, but he did want some chalk, the deepest he could get.He bought sixteen pounds of it in long ingots. Then he posted Refuge behind a boulder and slept until 9. He spent the night shaping the chalk to sticks that fit into his staff’s hollow. Then he finished shaping the staff and plugging the chalk-hole with wood. Finally, he hammered a steel plate into a ferrule. Wizards’ staves helped them collect and direct power. This one would also be a direct source. Having the staff would allow him to use regular thaum, the well-known magics, as well as the necro-thaum.Satisfied, he then caught the train to Hamburgherberg in Near Uberwald.----- Turned out there was no train to Hamburgherberg, or to any place in Uberwald. A late winter snow and avalanche had filled the mountain pass for trains and carriages. There was a walkable path, though. A few bridges too small for vehicles. The conductor told him they existed. He said nothing about their conditions.Thorrin, born on the flat Plains, and recently converted entirely to city dweller, set off to continue his journey.He stopped whenever he tired, since he didn’t need to seek out an inn. So, after four days in the snow, he was technically still traveling, but not exactly moving forward. The mountain trails were only slightly less steep than going straight up the mountainside, but the frozen surfaces more than made up for that benefit.He cast heat and fire spells, which only seemed to put a polish on the layer of ice hidden under the snow. And every time he thought he’d reached the summit, he cleared the mountain’s shoulder…to view the next shoulder way overhead.If it weren’t for always being about six feet away from a huge fire and a lot of hot toddies, he’d have been ridiculously depressed. As it was, he was wondering if he’d somehow ticked off the entire weather pattern of the Uberwald-Ramtop border. At least on the road. In Refuge, wrapped in a blanket and sipping at warm whiskey, he knew that was silly. “Just the exhaustion and cold talking,” he told himself.On the fifth day he got up early, got a big breakfast in, stepped out of Refuge to a bright, sunny day, and proceeded to slip on the road, slide over the edge, and slither down the mountain, across the snow, between the trees, and tumble to the bottom of a ravine. He lay there on an almost comfortable snow drift, looking back up the near-vertical slope.“Okay,” he muttered, “now I’m allowed to be depressed?” He told himself that this was not the situation to allow for depression, it might interfere with his survival. He fired back at himself to shut up, he was a big boy and in total control of his emotions, he was just a couple hundred feet from his bedroom, and wanted his mommy right now, that’s all.It was dark at the bottom of the ravine, the sun would only be high enough to shine that far down for about two hours a day. He stood up to take stock. “Oh, he’s gonna be madt,” he heard someone say. He turned around slowly, brushing himself off. A ghost leaned against a tree a few yards away. He continued turning. It wasn’t the best condition to meet an undead he knew nothing about.He considered what he’d seen. The ghost had been a young woman. A little shorter than Thorrin, wearing clothes he associated with Uberwald nobility: a red dress with a matching blouse, a pleated collar showing a slightly-unfashionable excess of cleavage, black and gold banded socks, and a turquoise turban. She had all her fingers, so the ghost was holding together rather well. Either she was freshly dead or strongly willed.He cast around for his staff, feeling it about halfway up the slope. A simple cantrip brought it flying down to his hand.“Ooooh, a magician, zo he ist!” the ghost cheered.“Wizard!” he snapped automatically.“A vizard that hears Inga?” she replied, clapping her hands. He automatically listened and gauged her presence by the soft sound of the claps. She stepped over, feet mostly touching the ground. She didn’t trip over any roots, but she didn’t float across the forest floor. “You can hear Inga, can’t zoo?”“Yes, Inga, I can hear you,” he admitted. He turned to the slope, looing in vain for a path back up.“Zat makes zoo ze dark vizard!” she hissed.“It makes me a necromancer,” he agreed, “but THAT doesn’t make me dark.”“Reeeeeally?” she drawled. “Inga is vrom Ubervald. She knows the dark vizards vhen she seez zem.”“Well, I am not from Uberwald!”“Ah. Zo maybe zoo deal vis zee dark artz for zee gigglez?” She seemed to be laughing at him. He walked along the trees, looking for anything that might be useful. “You’re a ghost,” he pointed out, not waiting to see if she’d known that fact. “If I was dark, I’d have eaten your soul for the power, or bound you to my staff as a servant.” “Lovezly!” Inga purred. “Anysing to get Inga out of zese damming trees!”This gave Thorrin an idea. “You’re attached to your body? It’s here? You’re haunting this place because of your body.”“Zis is the darkest lecture Inga haz ever gotten on ghost.”“No, no, I mean, we can use your body!” “Not zee first time Inga haz been hearing zis, either.” [1] If that jerk wasn’t a fellow Midnighter, at least. [2] This wasn’t entirely true. It was quite legal to raise zombies anywhere on the Sto Plains, as long as the right paperwork had been filed. Anyplace outside of UU, though, the paperwork took so long you weren’t raising zombies as much as animating skeletons. [3] Full disclosure, ‘more’ afraid. [4] On the Chalk, of course, it was played with a sphere made of cheese. But if you said, “Let’s have some cheeseball,” people went into the kitchen. And if you said footcheese… You didn’t say it twice, let’s just say.
The prompt was " Purple robe with pink lining and a copper sash, dark blue tunic, cumin-colored boots, white and magenta checkered socks, and a tall, pointy black hat." Some of which came through the AI...

Description
Thorrin continues his journey after a small wardrobe improvement.
AI illustration for my Discworld fanfiction:
Necromancer 4: At ze BorderNecromancer at ze BorderThorrin was planning out his travel to Far Uberwald. First he got a map of the Sto Plains. Locating the village he was born in, he used that and Mrs. Bradshaw’s Handbook to make sure the rail did not HAVE to stop there. He made quite sure to memorize the train lines that went far around Stanleyvale. After that was decided, the rest of the trip was mostly sketched in. Sto-Lat, Sto-Plains, Ramtops, Upper Uberwald…He was gauging just how far the rail service currently went when Divan came into his room. “You’re approved to leave?” he asked.“Are you asking me or telling me?”“I just got your approved departure permission notification.” Divan seemed confused. “But I don’t have a copy of your manifesto?”“I don’t have a manifesto,” Thorrin explained.“Wining it? That’s dangerous. I mean, you have the ideas perfectly straight in your head, then everyone in the Hall looks at you, and you can’t remember your own name, much less the list of offenses perpetrated-”“No,” Thorrin said slowly. “I’m taking a sabbatical. That means,” he went on quickly, “coming back later. NOT leaving forever. NOT founding a dynasty. NOT looking to purchase a drafty castle on a desolate hill under a dark cloud.”“Oh. What about the adventurers?”“I don’t want them alerted to my departure, as I’m not going into the villain business.”“No one PLANS to go into the villain business,” Divan said with a wistful tone. “You get out there, doing good things to the community, stimulating the economy, some churn on the genetic makeup of the villagers, when someone with a talking sword explains the error of your ways. Usually at your eulogy.”“Divan, I’m going to go look for the wizard that attacked the city. Or his apprentice. See if there’s still a threat to us, here. Not stimulate any economy except by means of train tickets, carriage fees, and toll roads.”“And traveler’s inns,” Divan nodded, finally on board, or so he thought. Thorrin was quite delighted with Refuge and its enhancement on his travel budget. He said nothing, though. Divan looked around. One knapsack was packed and waiting. “Not much luggage.”“Don’t need much.” He swung the pack on his shoulder. “Be seeing you.”“Wait, where’s your hat? Where’s your STAFF!?!”“I wasn’t going to draw attention to myself on the road,” Thorrin admitted. Inside Ankh-Morpork, wizards had a certain clout with the locals. Not as much as they though they deserved, but enough to not be harassed whenever they left the Unseen University.Going through the towns and cities around the circle sea, though, one’s staff or pointy wizard hat drew a certain kind of attention. Every time you passed or entered a pub, tavern, inn, or other gathering of belligerent peasants you had someone in your face, making the same challenge every time: You’re a Wizard, aintcha? Do some magic, then.”The Brothers of the Silver Star and Hoodwinkers loved this. The Brothers would enchant a mug to hop to the bar and draw itself a pint. The farther you got from UU, the more impressed people would be. In some places you could repeat this trick four times before anyone noticed you weren’t paying for the beer. Hoodwinkers might turn everyone’s money invisible, then pay for their drinks with invisible disks they SAID were money.To the rest, it got old quickly. Venerable Seers would tell the man the way he was going to die. Then wink and ask, “Want to know when?” Only the extremely drunk ever said yes.The Other Order uniformly reacted to this challenge by blasting the aggressor at least ten feet. They didn’t really care if there wasn’t ten clear feet behind him, either.An Unbroken Circle Sage would summon every rat in the immediate area to perform a parade across the main room and up onto the bar. Then release them to scamper where they would. If asked to remove the rats he’d brought into the place, he’d reply, “The free portion of the demonstration has ended.” Negotiations would begin quite quickly.Sages of the Unknown Shadow would summon an imp. After that the evening’s direction depended on the wizard’s mood and the number of exits. The Lodgers had any number of options. The most poplar response this year was an honesty spell. Threaten to make a man unable to lie to his wife, his boss, and his confessor and he’d quickly accept your credentials. Midnighters could summon ghosts related to the challenger, but more than likely he wouldn’t see them. Anything substantial required a death, and most thought it was tacky to kill something for some jerks’ amusement.[1] A few traveled with a zombie for the express purpose of DE-animating it when called upon. It would appear that he’d made someone into a corpse with a wave of his hand. But this was hard on the zombie, especially collecting all the bits after ten to twenty patrons stampeded over it.“I’ll just claim to be a carpenter traveling to a job in Kythia,” Thorrin said.“Are there jobs in Kythia?”Therrin shrugged and affected the less polished accent of a Sto Plains village. “Don’t know, squire, Ah’s just give ten dollar go to Kythia wit’ the promise o’ th’ty more build chick’n coops for ad hawks.”“Ad hawk? Did you just make that up?” Divan suspicioned. Thorrin smiled, checked the train timetable in his pocket, and walked out. -----Travelling without even a subtle staff was a bit of a shock for Thorrin. He’d expected people not to point, stare, and challenge. But he hadn’t realized people wouldn’t get out of his way with the usual speed. He’d never experienced this. His very first trip, he’d been following his recruiter, Sammal Twinklestar. At 300 pounds, with a staff that resembled a spiked mace, everyone got out of their way. Every other time he’d traveled had been as a wizard, with the hat and staff, and a measurable radius of privacy.Now he was just another person who seemed to always be standing in some person’s way. Bumped and jostled, he eventually understood the platform system and found his train. Then he sought his compartment. He’d splurged on a semi-private, at least for the start of the journey. Inside his assigned space, there were two individuals, a noble couple. The looked up expectantly when he opened the door, then their expressions dashed through confused to condescending. “I believe you have the wrong compartment, the nobleman said, trying to say it gently. It came off as a command to vacate the car. Thorrin realized his mistake. He couldn’t present himself as a carpenter and spend as a member of the nobility. The gentry considered themselves horribly tolerant to share the same train as the riff raff. Sharing a sleeper would upset the entire feudal system. He showed the man his ticket while delaying for time. “Right compartment, if I read the numbers right.” He saw the Earl thinking quickly, too. He could pretend that this workman had made a mistake, but eventually a conductor would get involved and bring him right back here. Eventually he agreed the ticket was correct, and grudgingly introduced himself, Carter Baystock, Earl of Brazeneck in Pseudopolis, and his wife, Earlinda, Countess Rosewood. Thorrin shook hands and gallantly kissed the air over the Countess’ fingers. He introduced himself with his grandfather’s name, “Taker Carpenter.” Then he looked around the room quizzically, as if there was any place a fourth body could possibly be hiding.“Was… Was anyone else here?” he asked, allowing a little anxiety into his voice.“No,” the Earl said flatly, as if there could not be anyone that ‘you’ would know, sitting in our circle. One was quite enough.“Who might have been here?” the Countess asked. Her husband tried to shush her. He thought it was scandalous that a woman speak to a strange inferior. But she’d been quite impressed with the air kiss. He’d taken the appropriate hand, held it quite appropriately, and kissed at the exactly correct distance above her knuckles. This man wasn’t a carpenter. Or, at least, not ONLY a carpenter. “I’m to meet a colleague here,” Thorrin explained. “What would he look like?” Earlinda pressed.“I… I don’t know.”“Why don’t you know?” the Earl snapped. “It was to be-“ he caught himself just before saying, ‘a blind date.’ “Well the introductions were through two other parties.” He scratched his still-hairless chin. “Unless one of you…” he said softly.“Yes? Yes?” the countess leaned even farther forward. “Well…” He looked around again, seeing walls, and the window facing away from the platform. “Perhaps. If I said to you…’Shattered Garnet’?”“Who in Blue Heaven’s name is THAT?” the other man asked gruffly.“OH! It’s a recognition code!” Earlinda giggled. “Darling! He thinks we’re candidates for intrigue.” The Earl made a scoffing sound but his wife moved to sit beside Thorrin. “So! Your ‘contact.’ Is he a spy? Is she a thief? Are you getting something or giving something?”“I can’t really talk about it,” he demurred.“Oooooh,” she purred. “Can we help?”“No, no, I’ve said too much already. If you don’t have the counter-sign…”“What would that be?” Carter asked.“I messed up, but I’m not THAT stupid,” Thorrin said.“Oh, good show!” the countess cheered.The train lurched, then started to pull out of the station. A moment after the movement, the engineer sounded the whistle. Sitting on the floor where he’d been dumped by the lurch, Thorrin looked up at his two cabin-mates. “Isn’t the whistle supposed to warn of IMPENDING movement?”“Supposed to,” said the undisturbed nobleman. “They almost never get it right.”“It’s not always a human at the engine,” Earlinda said, helping Thorrin back into his seat. “It’s sometimes difficult for the other species to remember process the way humans do.”“And it’s hard to knock a troll or a dwarf on his ass, anyway,” Thorrin said with a small smile. “They may never quite understand the need.” Carter laughed, the most welcome noise he’d made since seeing Thorrin. They settled more comfortably and traded travel stories. Thorrin had been to a few places on University business and talked about servers and menu misunderstandings. “I ordered a three-egg omelet. Got a one-egg omelet, with three sunny-side-up stacked atop it.”The nobles had traveled further and told about translation problems and trying to get a decent cup of tea in a place that had no tradition of hot drinks. “Finally got in the habit of ordering a leaf soup,” Earlinda laughed.----Somewhere near the accepted border of Ankh-Morpork and Sto-Lat, the train slowed to a stop. Carter checked his watch. “Much too early for the water stop,” he said darkly.“Do we get off?” Thorrin asked, unsure about train travel etiquette. Before either could answer, the cabin door was opened and a bandit shouted, “Get off the train, your high and mightiness.” “That would be us, dear,” the countess said calmly. They stood. Thorrin was still unsure about what was required of him. The bandit waved at the wizard. “You, too.”“He’s not a noble!” Carter protested from the aisle.“He bought you two a big meal in the dining car,” the bandit growled. “He’s rich enough for our purposes.” Thorrin obeyed, nodding thanks for the attempted help. But the two nobles were looking at each other. Their escort’s career choice had clearly influenced his manner of dress. A bandolier of knives crossed his chest, a sword rode at his hip, and he punctuated his outburst by waving a loaded crossbow around. But he’d perhaps misunderstood the required uniform. The typical bandit bandana covered only his chin. His shirt was the many-pocketed blouse of a Howandaland slaver, and his pantaloons screamed Klatchian pirate. Thorrin found himself wondering where one purchased a bandit costume and why the salesman had not steered him to better coordination.Down on the ground, there were three other passengers from First Class compartments. They were surrounded by about a dozen other bandits, all dressed in mishmashes of iconic outfits. There seemed to be no one else being de-trained, the apparent leader started his speech as Thorrin’s group arrived. The nobility split up and Thorrin found himself between them.“Now,” a lanky man in the checked pants of a Northman raider, but a bare chest started. “You’re being kidnapped for the purpose of ransom. You’ll be well treated, and we can even give you glowing references from previous captives. Once your family or agent sends us sufficient funds, we’ll put you on the next train. We can-““How much?” Carter asked.The leader bristled at being interrupted, but answered. “Everyone in First Class pays a fair rate of twenty times the cost of their ticket.”“Oh.” Carter reached for his pocket. “If we have the money, can we go on this train?”“Well, sure, if we get the cash without having to buy food for you we can URRK!”There was the sound of a spring and the leader pitched backwards. Robert held a small lengthy of pipe that had fired a dart into and halfway through the lead bandit’s throat. He waved his pipe menacingly. “Anyone else want to be in charge?”Thorrin was dead certain that there couldn’t be a second dart in that pipe. Either the spring would need resetting or the second dart would have to fire through the first dart’s propelling mechanism. Still, the various thieves flinched when it was pointed at them. Thorrin reflected that he did have the advantage of not looking down the barrel of doom to think about mechanics. One bandit spat. “Betcha’ can’t do that again,” he challenged. Carter looked down at the pipe in his hands. Everyone looked at the pipe. There was a second THRUM! and that bandit fell over. Everyone looked at his body on the ground, with the dart sticking out of his ear. They looked up to see Earlinda had a dart-pipe. In fact she had two. Carter also had two. There was no telling which ones had been fired already. Thorrin felt confident that all four dart-pipes were loaded as the pair had thrust their discharged weapons into his hands as they drew more weapons. He tried to look like a member of the Other Order holding two wands, not a staffless-wizard with what he knew were two empty pipes. It was not easy. Luckily, none of the bandits had much attention for him. They were staring at Carter. “What, uh, what happens now?” one asked.“I only shoot armed men,” Carter said loudly. Swords hit the ground in a clangy chorus.“I,” the countess added, “only shoot men standing within a mile of this train.” They took off running down the rows of cabbages. “Quick learners,” she laughed.“Most men just appreciate knowing what’s expected of them,” Carter said. “To demonstrate: waiter?”“Go,” she said. He hopped back up into the train. The other passengers followed him. Earlinda nodded towards the engine. “Walk with me, Mr. Carpenter.” It was much more an order than a request. He handed her his two emptied weapons and walked as he was directed.“Waiter?” he asked.“The man who served us lunch,” she said.“The guy with the horribly fake Genua accent,” Thorrin nodded.“He was the only person who knew you paid. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” he sighed. “I missed that. So Carter went to apprehend him?”“Something like that,” she said. Up in front of the train, ten huge wooden logs were piled across the tracks. Thorrin regretted letting the bandits leave before cleaning up their mess. Earlinda tapped one log, assuring both of them it was not an illusion or otherwise fake. “I wonder how a wizard would remove this obstruction?” she asked.“Why are you asking me?” Thorrin responded. “You have no hair. That implies either a wizard or an alchemist. You know noble etiquette, which implies nobility or wizard. You are educated, which implies wealth, wizard or assassin.” She looked him in the eye. “And you’re not an assassin.” Since Thorrin hadn’t tried to kill anyone where she could see, he assumed her confident dismissal of that possibility meant she WAS an assassin. Carter too, more than likely. He didn’t bother to argue, she’d just go on listing all the mistakes he’d made trying to hide his identity. He shrugged.“If it wasn’t illegal, we might animate the dead to move the logs.[2] Two zombies wouldn’t take long to clear the track.”“Two?” she asked. “Wouldn’t three be even faster?”“Yes, but where will we get another body?”“We’re not arresting the waiter,” she said as if talking to the village idiot. “You’re not?” He felt confused.“We work for Lord Vetinari,” she said as if that explained everything. Thorrin realized that it did. About that time, they heard something flop into the dust by the tracks. Thorrin didn’t look. Not because he was afraid of bodies, but because he didn’t want to be afraid of his compartment-mates.[3] Instead he turned back to the logs. “I could try levitation, but I don’t have much in the way of spell components.”“What do you need?” she asked, gesturing for someone to come closer, he assumed Carter.“Oh, just for you to step back behind the cattle guard,” he said. Taking out his Dead Octopus notes, he selected the sigil he’d assigned to the Lodgers, and catch-all magic. With a very small piece of chalk, he drew that rune. Then he put one tiny dot on the end of every other log. He walked over to where the assassins waited. People were leaning out windows and off of the decks, trying to see what was going on. Thorrin glanced at the Hub and determined the direction to the Circle Sea. He’d aim for the that, not knowing for sure if the logs were going to make it that far or come down somewhere in the cabbages. Then he looked up.“What are you looking for?” Carter asked.“The Moon.”“Is the moon’s position an important portent?” the countess asked. There was a bit of a tease in her voice. She might be aware that most of the steps taken by wizards were to impress the audience. “No, it just isn’t the Moon’s turn, yet.” He activated the same spell every wizard used to animate their erasers. Every wizard could cast it, all that varied was the source of the magic. Thorrin had nothing handy except necro-thaum.There was a booming sound. The spell lifted the logs so fast it drew a vacuum. After a blink-and-you-miss-it launch, the logs sailed up and over the entire continent, the sea, the next continent, the sea beyond that, and the island of Krull. The last log clipped the top four feet off of the highest building on the island, slamming it over the Rim with the rest of them. At the boom that followed their passage, every horoscope reader on the island came out from under their beds and continued with their normal day. Normal plus a little anxious flinching from time to time.Back at the train, the implosion drew up a great cloud of dust, swirling it into chaos, scattering clods and pebbles over the train and about five miles of track. The cloud that descended was opaque, giving Thorrin a moment to order his expression and pretend that was just what he’d expected to happen. An old instructor had insisted, “Magic is to frighten the civilians. Never let them see how much it scares you.”When it cleared enough to see other people, he turned around to find Carter and Erlinda staring at him. Their hats were gone, never to be seen again. Their clothes disheveled, hair wild, and eyes wide. Thorrin shrugged. “You made it quite clear that I’m no good at subterfuge. Figured there was no need to be subtle.” He took their hands gently and led them back to the First-Class car.----- In Sto-Lat, he went shopping again. This time he wanted robes that shouted Wizard! Obviously wizardly. Let the drunks ask for a spell, and let the chips fall where they may. He glanced at the horizon at that thought and shuddered. Or, let the chips fall at least a day’s travel away, Libertina be praised. He released his tight grip on normal wizard interests. Where he normally dressed like a successful mortician, he went full magpie. Purple robe with pink lining and a copper sash, dark blue tunic, cumin-colored boots, white and magenta checkered socks, and a tall, pointy black hat. The workroom contained about 700 different colors of thread, he would embroider a lavender skeleton holding a silver knife dripping green blood on a beach-sand altar. And stars. People expect stars on your standard wizard hat.Four city thieves saw Thorrin go past and let him alone. Man dresses like that in public, you know he’s not afraid to die. Possibly because he was the meanest SOB on the Plain. Possibly not. But if he was, when Death came for you, he just might ask, “Didn’t you see the cumin boots, man?” And there you’d be, looking dead AND dumb.He also purchased a length of 4x4 to make a staff out of.Unfortunately, nothing left in Refuge that wasn’t original issue disappeared when it was folded down. He carried the staff everywhere, earning quite a few questioning looks. Shopping done, he returned to the station and bought a ticket for Chumsfanleigh. Capital of the Wold, the city was on the edge of The Chalk. Fathoms and fathoms of ancient chalk were all that remained of a few pre-pre-prehistoric seas. A very thin layer of grassland fought being scraped away by rough weather, over-farming, or an enthusiastic game of football.[4]The train reached the stop at a little after 11 at night. Thorrin found a likely spot, unwrapped the strings from Refuge and activated it. He’d slept on the train, so he had all night to work on the staff, shaping it and hollowing it out. He then had a nice breakfast, thanked Refuge, and traveled on.Forty three people saw Refuge that morning, for the hour and a half between sunrise and the wizard’s departure. So for the next sixty years, it was part of the local map. Like any small town in any universe, they couldn’t give directions across the courtyard without mentioning something that wasn’t there anymore. “Turn left at McKlindty’s store,” they’d say about a building that burned down three years before. “About a mile past the old Oak Tree,” referring to a tree that had been uprooted in a storm three kinds ago. And now, “When you get to the crossroads where the weird hut was that one day, take a left.”Didn’t really help anyone navigate, but it did prove that the person giving direction knew more about the place than you ever did.It was a pleasant day, so Thorrin got directions and walked to The White Horse. That was a sort of carving. A giant gouge had been dug out of the hillside, leaving a shape of uncovered chalk against the green grass of the sod. It was reminiscent of a horse is someone had told you it was called The White Horse. Other than that, the details were largely unhorsey. Thorrin stared at it for a long time, idly winding strings around Refuge and tapping the lumber. “What’s a wizard doing up here?” a voice asked. He turned to see a young woman walking towards him. She had sturdy boots, a practical dress, and absolutely no hat on. Still, Thorrin instantly identified her as a witch by her confident walk, her calm voice, and eyes that reminded him of times he’d been in trouble when very young.“Just admiring the Horse,” he said. “And just passing through your jurisdiction, miss.”“My jurisdiction?” she asked. “What do you mean?”“You’re the witch for these parts, I take it?”She looked surprised. “Not many people identify me as a witch, much less THE witch. How’d you do that?”“You remind me of Hattie Carpenter, my grandmother,” he name-dropped hopefully. The Chalk was just past the edge of the Sto Plains, but you could see them from here.“YOU are related to Mother Hattie?” she asked. She looked over his flamboyant ensemble. “Brave man. Tiffany Aching.”He ignored the dig and introduced himself. Then he turned to the hillside opposite them. “I have to say, it doesn’t look very much like a horse.”“I think of it more as an impression of the speed of a horse,” Tiffany said.“Of course,” he agreed. “The idea of speed as expressed in a representation of the fastest animal the carvers knew about… No. They knew faster. The fastest domesticated animal.”“An animal they could control,” Tiffany realized. “I’d wondered why.”“Why a horse?”“Why they dug it.”“I’m not sure they had a choice,” Thorrin said. He waved generally. “The magic marking this spot is very attached to the locale. They may not have been trying to create it, but to release it.”“You can see the magic?” Tiffany asked.“I can see the shape of it. I can sort of see where it is, not what it is. It’s not wizard magic.”“It’s not witchcraft, either,” Tiffany said softly.“No it’s…Wait. ACHING? You’re Granny Aching’s kin?” he accused.“Granddaughter,” she explained. “You know about Granny?”“There were three women on the planet I know Hattie respected as witches. One’s up in Lancre, Granny Aching was both of the other two.” She laughed at that, he smiled. Then he turned back to the chalk figure. “What are you going to do with this magic?” she asked. She tried to sound nonchalant.“Leave it by the hells alone,” he said instantly. “I don’t want you and Granny after me if I mess it up.”“Granny’s dead,” Tiffany pointed out.“Does that mean I should fear her LESS?” he asked.----Tiffany gave him directions to a chalk quarry. He’d been serious about not wanting to mess with the Horse, but he did want some chalk, the deepest he could get.He bought sixteen pounds of it in long ingots. Then he posted Refuge behind a boulder and slept until 9. He spent the night shaping the chalk to sticks that fit into his staff’s hollow. Then he finished shaping the staff and plugging the chalk-hole with wood. Finally, he hammered a steel plate into a ferrule. Wizards’ staves helped them collect and direct power. This one would also be a direct source. Having the staff would allow him to use regular thaum, the well-known magics, as well as the necro-thaum.Satisfied, he then caught the train to Hamburgherberg in Near Uberwald.----- Turned out there was no train to Hamburgherberg, or to any place in Uberwald. A late winter snow and avalanche had filled the mountain pass for trains and carriages. There was a walkable path, though. A few bridges too small for vehicles. The conductor told him they existed. He said nothing about their conditions.Thorrin, born on the flat Plains, and recently converted entirely to city dweller, set off to continue his journey.He stopped whenever he tired, since he didn’t need to seek out an inn. So, after four days in the snow, he was technically still traveling, but not exactly moving forward. The mountain trails were only slightly less steep than going straight up the mountainside, but the frozen surfaces more than made up for that benefit.He cast heat and fire spells, which only seemed to put a polish on the layer of ice hidden under the snow. And every time he thought he’d reached the summit, he cleared the mountain’s shoulder…to view the next shoulder way overhead.If it weren’t for always being about six feet away from a huge fire and a lot of hot toddies, he’d have been ridiculously depressed. As it was, he was wondering if he’d somehow ticked off the entire weather pattern of the Uberwald-Ramtop border. At least on the road. In Refuge, wrapped in a blanket and sipping at warm whiskey, he knew that was silly. “Just the exhaustion and cold talking,” he told himself.On the fifth day he got up early, got a big breakfast in, stepped out of Refuge to a bright, sunny day, and proceeded to slip on the road, slide over the edge, and slither down the mountain, across the snow, between the trees, and tumble to the bottom of a ravine. He lay there on an almost comfortable snow drift, looking back up the near-vertical slope.“Okay,” he muttered, “now I’m allowed to be depressed?” He told himself that this was not the situation to allow for depression, it might interfere with his survival. He fired back at himself to shut up, he was a big boy and in total control of his emotions, he was just a couple hundred feet from his bedroom, and wanted his mommy right now, that’s all.It was dark at the bottom of the ravine, the sun would only be high enough to shine that far down for about two hours a day. He stood up to take stock. “Oh, he’s gonna be madt,” he heard someone say. He turned around slowly, brushing himself off. A ghost leaned against a tree a few yards away. He continued turning. It wasn’t the best condition to meet an undead he knew nothing about.He considered what he’d seen. The ghost had been a young woman. A little shorter than Thorrin, wearing clothes he associated with Uberwald nobility: a red dress with a matching blouse, a pleated collar showing a slightly-unfashionable excess of cleavage, black and gold banded socks, and a turquoise turban. She had all her fingers, so the ghost was holding together rather well. Either she was freshly dead or strongly willed.He cast around for his staff, feeling it about halfway up the slope. A simple cantrip brought it flying down to his hand.“Ooooh, a magician, zo he ist!” the ghost cheered.“Wizard!” he snapped automatically.“A vizard that hears Inga?” she replied, clapping her hands. He automatically listened and gauged her presence by the soft sound of the claps. She stepped over, feet mostly touching the ground. She didn’t trip over any roots, but she didn’t float across the forest floor. “You can hear Inga, can’t zoo?”“Yes, Inga, I can hear you,” he admitted. He turned to the slope, looing in vain for a path back up.“Zat makes zoo ze dark vizard!” she hissed.“It makes me a necromancer,” he agreed, “but THAT doesn’t make me dark.”“Reeeeeally?” she drawled. “Inga is vrom Ubervald. She knows the dark vizards vhen she seez zem.”“Well, I am not from Uberwald!”“Ah. Zo maybe zoo deal vis zee dark artz for zee gigglez?” She seemed to be laughing at him. He walked along the trees, looking for anything that might be useful. “You’re a ghost,” he pointed out, not waiting to see if she’d known that fact. “If I was dark, I’d have eaten your soul for the power, or bound you to my staff as a servant.” “Lovezly!” Inga purred. “Anysing to get Inga out of zese damming trees!”This gave Thorrin an idea. “You’re attached to your body? It’s here? You’re haunting this place because of your body.”“Zis is the darkest lecture Inga haz ever gotten on ghost.”“No, no, I mean, we can use your body!” “Not zee first time Inga haz been hearing zis, either.” [1] If that jerk wasn’t a fellow Midnighter, at least. [2] This wasn’t entirely true. It was quite legal to raise zombies anywhere on the Sto Plains, as long as the right paperwork had been filed. Anyplace outside of UU, though, the paperwork took so long you weren’t raising zombies as much as animating skeletons. [3] Full disclosure, ‘more’ afraid. [4] On the Chalk, of course, it was played with a sphere made of cheese. But if you said, “Let’s have some cheeseball,” people went into the kitchen. And if you said footcheese… You didn’t say it twice, let’s just say.
The prompt was " Purple robe with pink lining and a copper sash, dark blue tunic, cumin-colored boots, white and magenta checkered socks, and a tall, pointy black hat." Some of which came through the AI...