Memoirs

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it little friend?" Mystir Mystirious stood at the window of his study, casually stroking his well trimmed, jet black goatee. He took great care to make sure both it and his shoulder length straight hair remained free of the gray touches of age. Bushy beards and unkempt gray hair were for wizards who wanted to look old and wise and powerful. The truly old and wise and powerful saw great benefit in not being so obvious.

"Just a day like any other." The imp sat perched on the desk behind Mystir, crouched over an old leather bound tome. It rustled its leathery wings and turned its glowing red eyes up at the wizard. "Unless you are finally considering my offer?"

"Please, I have resisted that temptation for almost half a century, why would I give in now?" He turned from the window and strode purposefully to his desk. "Besides, I have work to do today. Can't exactly sell my soul and write my memoirs at the same time, now can I?" The old wooden chair creaked as he settled his small frame into it. It stood just a little taller then the chairs opposite the desk. Relative heights did play a role in personal interactions, however slight, and he saw no shame in making up for his shortcomings.

"Bah," The imp waved a clawed hand at the wizard. "Who wants to read your life's story? You killed some things with fire and got paid for it. Hardly a noble endeavor."

"Oh, quite you, or I will banish you and replace you with a cat!" Mystir scowled at his familiar. "Besides, I am not doing this out of vanity or pride. There is a very real market for this book, and the company could always use some extra income." He flicked his wrist and the necessary tools of scribing assembled themselves before him. As the quill settled in his hand, he sighed deeply. Memories were such a funny thing...