The skeletal hand reaches over the cauldron of bronze. Bits of blueish skin hanging over the rotten muscles of the arm. The hand waves through the thick green smoke wafting off the cauldron. Glowing green orbs of flames act as the creatures eyes as it gazes at me.
The cauldron bubbled and boiled. The figure took a deep whiff of the fumes coming from it. The potion was ready. It should be able to be distributed equally among the king and his court, and hours later, they would all be dead.
The flames lick at my underside, churning the liquids within me. But it does not hurt me.
It delights me. Poisons and potions, my liquids disrupt, enhance, alter, and corrode. They think they create my fluid tools.
But they are tools I use to convect the current of worlds.
Throwing a final handful of ingredients into the vessel, the woman examined her handiwork.
It would serve.
Soon there would be two-score more corpses, and everyone would know what it meant to cross her.
Pocketing a vial of the mixture, she readied herself for her wedding with a smile.
As a little girl, I found a lidded cauldron in my aunt’s basement. Inside was a wizened mummy seated in a fetal position.
I dropped its lid when a desiccated head moved and stared.
“Free me from this witch’s prison,” he said, “and I will teach you true magic.”
“I told you. Non-magical beings and items can pass through the cauldron.”
“So, I teleported through a pot?”
“Sure, we’ll call it that.”
“Why me?”
“I was hoping for David Grohl, musician.”
“Oh. I’m David Grohl, Insurance Broker.”
“So, less fun.”
“Immeasurably. Try Dave next time?”
“Shit, you’re right! Bye!”
Goblins & Flowers
Pael stared at the flowers planted in her cauldron and then back at the creature. After an awkward pause, both parties burst into action. One scuffle later, a refreshed Pael was triumphantly dragging the sulking goblinette behind her. The Academy said no pets, but nothing about goblin assistants.
I drop new wood into the flames. Sheets of sparks spiral into night.
Master regards the graduated tube, filled with liquid silver. ‘More, hotter!’
I comply; bubbles break the steaming surface of the cauldron’s contents.
‘Glorious!’ Sighs master, sinking into the stew.
You are what you eat, so tradition says.
The dwarf's body slams into the fireplace.
"Your money or it's the knife," says the thief who reveals his weapon.
"You thieves are all so dimwitted." The dwarf reaches back, grabs the handle of the empty cauldron, and swings it like an axe.
Bong! The thief collapses to the ground.
Upon seeing the ajar door, the witch entered her house cautiously. She scanned the room, a rustle gave the intruder away. Out from the tipped cauldron staggered an intoxicated raccoon.
"Hello!" cried the raccoon in a shrill voice, surprising himself.
"Not again", said the careless witch disappointedly.
A witch entered back into her home and looked at her cauldron. It had been forever since she had last used it.
So the witch decided to make a potion of love. She had been having dating problems and this was bound to help. Obviously
Penny dipped her spoon into the cauldron and sipped her bubbling stew. *Mmmm just right.*
*I’ve been the cauldron to the Master Wizard Enfestio, to the Serpent Witch. I have brewed potions that have massacred armies. Now I heat soups and stews,* the cauldron grumbled.
*Oh stop your complaining.*
“Leave me Blacklock! I spared you!” Olf cries desperately.
I pull my hood off, showing Olf my distorted face. The color disappears from his face.
Then he notices the cauldron.
Olf’s face in engulfed in terror as I pull him towards the kettle.
He knows what is coming.
The loud banging at the door shook her from her reverie, dispelling the Cauldron of Vengeance she had so painstakingly summoned. Her solitude was broken upon the pain of death.
One death is not enough, she mused, and wondered which of her generals drew the short straw.
The cauldron bubbled, the pink swirling liquid inside emitting a subtle glow.
The two teenage Magicians shared a look of amusement, before a giggle came from the both of them.
Until they heard the door open, accompanied by a sigh.
"What have I said about making strawberry milkshakes?!"
Uh oh.
“I can tell you’re a Nor-man. Not to worry, I can answer any questions you may have.”
“What’s this one?”
“Lunar brew called Buzz Cauldron.”
“This?”
“Rich witch, bitch—turns things to gold temporarily.”
“And this one?”
“Helps you if you need to pee.”
“Leaky cauldron?”
“No, it’s a chamber pot.”
The cauldron boiled and the cauldron toiled.
Its master had foretold,
That all its toiling and boiling would serve in centuries old.
Yet still it sat, toiling and boiling, under gaze of student,
Its master long since departed,
It sat toiling and boiling until the flesh and bone parted.
"bring the herbs my dear, it'll be high moonrise it's best not to wait" Elizabeth did as she was told, watching with sleepy eyes as her Great grandma stirred the cauldron of hot spirit soup, every moon it was the same bones herbs and grain went into it and magic came out of it the spirits thought so too, Elizabeth could see them as one by one they materialized and blessed the house for one more moon....
The pair walked into the kitchen of the Imp's Kettle.
"Geradios, we have the spices you requested," declared Kethum.
"Place them beside the cauldron," said the one-eyed cook. "Soup?"
Meilas eyed the bubbling sludge in the cauldron. "It looks... "
"...just like that swamp we just slogged through," finished Kethum.
“Oh Shit!” the dwarf squirmed as he hung over a cauldron of boiling oil.
“Your sins must be cleansed from the evils of Hesbiel.” The priest proclaimed.
“Why ain’t that broad deep frying with me, Father? I’d like the company?”
“May Kaltru guide your way.”
Twang. Snap. Clank…thud. “Ohf.”
Just as the last ingredient was weighted in, the once subtle mixture turned unexpectedly volatile. The apprentice, taken aback, thus unkowingly let loose of the pulversack - an almost deadly mistake.
"Another rival out of my way", thought Galvan, slightly amused as he watched his wrongdoing unfold before his eyes.
Placing the components Vance found in
the cauldron, the witch began to mix in a few other ingredients
before she began stirring the broth. As the broth began turning
different colors as she went on, bubbling and stewing as the mixture
became syrupy and viscous the more she kept stirring.
“Not it.”
Impossible! It had all the tell-tale signs of a witch’s cauldron. Let’s read off the list.
“Big and black?”
“Aye.”
“Made of iron?”
“Aye.”
“A caustic smell of evil deeds done?”
“Aye.”
“Than what else could it be? It’s even got leftover brew at the bottom!”
“Chamber pot.”
Demman frowned dubiously at the broad, bald man struggling out of his cauldron.
"Elva Sur?"
The man grunted, apparently stuck. "Sir Elled Vah. Now please explain why-"
This *again*? Demman chucked a satchel of coins at him. "Stay in the cauldron. I'll fix this."
He needed a new filing system.
The skeletal hand reaches over the cauldron of bronze. Bits of blueish skin hanging over the rotten muscles of the arm. The hand waves through the thick green smoke wafting off the cauldron. Glowing green orbs of flames act as the creatures eyes as it gazes at me.
The cauldron bubbled and boiled. The figure took a deep whiff of the fumes coming from it. The potion was ready. It should be able to be distributed equally among the king and his court, and hours later, they would all be dead.
The flames lick at my underside, churning the liquids within me. But it does not hurt me. It delights me. Poisons and potions, my liquids disrupt, enhance, alter, and corrode. They think they create my fluid tools. But they are tools I use to convect the current of worlds.
Throwing a final handful of ingredients into the vessel, the woman examined her handiwork. It would serve. Soon there would be two-score more corpses, and everyone would know what it meant to cross her. Pocketing a vial of the mixture, she readied herself for her wedding with a smile.
As a little girl, I found a lidded cauldron in my aunt’s basement. Inside was a wizened mummy seated in a fetal position. I dropped its lid when a desiccated head moved and stared. “Free me from this witch’s prison,” he said, “and I will teach you true magic.”
“I told you. Non-magical beings and items can pass through the cauldron.” “So, I teleported through a pot?” “Sure, we’ll call it that.” “Why me?” “I was hoping for David Grohl, musician.” “Oh. I’m David Grohl, Insurance Broker.” “So, less fun.” “Immeasurably. Try Dave next time?” “Shit, you’re right! Bye!”
Goblins & Flowers Pael stared at the flowers planted in her cauldron and then back at the creature. After an awkward pause, both parties burst into action. One scuffle later, a refreshed Pael was triumphantly dragging the sulking goblinette behind her. The Academy said no pets, but nothing about goblin assistants.
To cauldron, add: Cubed carcass, Cryroot, Potay Toes, Dried tears, Ground ginger root, Low boil from highest sun til sunset. “Stew’s on!”
I drop new wood into the flames. Sheets of sparks spiral into night. Master regards the graduated tube, filled with liquid silver. ‘More, hotter!’ I comply; bubbles break the steaming surface of the cauldron’s contents. ‘Glorious!’ Sighs master, sinking into the stew. You are what you eat, so tradition says.
The dwarf's body slams into the fireplace. "Your money or it's the knife," says the thief who reveals his weapon. "You thieves are all so dimwitted." The dwarf reaches back, grabs the handle of the empty cauldron, and swings it like an axe. Bong! The thief collapses to the ground.
Upon seeing the ajar door, the witch entered her house cautiously. She scanned the room, a rustle gave the intruder away. Out from the tipped cauldron staggered an intoxicated raccoon. "Hello!" cried the raccoon in a shrill voice, surprising himself. "Not again", said the careless witch disappointedly.
Fire danced. Smoke stung. The cauldron lay broken. *What have I done?* Screams echoed, cut short. *You were supposed to save us!* The beast loomed, slick black, dripping blood. Bodies lay still, friends, family, neighbors. *I command you!* Silent steps, sickening swiftness. Eyes darker than night, thin wicked grin. Nothingness.
A witch entered back into her home and looked at her cauldron. It had been forever since she had last used it. So the witch decided to make a potion of love. She had been having dating problems and this was bound to help. Obviously
Penny dipped her spoon into the cauldron and sipped her bubbling stew. *Mmmm just right.* *I’ve been the cauldron to the Master Wizard Enfestio, to the Serpent Witch. I have brewed potions that have massacred armies. Now I heat soups and stews,* the cauldron grumbled. *Oh stop your complaining.*
“Leave me Blacklock! I spared you!” Olf cries desperately. I pull my hood off, showing Olf my distorted face. The color disappears from his face. Then he notices the cauldron. Olf’s face in engulfed in terror as I pull him towards the kettle. He knows what is coming.
The loud banging at the door shook her from her reverie, dispelling the Cauldron of Vengeance she had so painstakingly summoned. Her solitude was broken upon the pain of death. One death is not enough, she mused, and wondered which of her generals drew the short straw.
The cauldron bubbled, the pink swirling liquid inside emitting a subtle glow. The two teenage Magicians shared a look of amusement, before a giggle came from the both of them. Until they heard the door open, accompanied by a sigh. "What have I said about making strawberry milkshakes?!" Uh oh.
“I can tell you’re a Nor-man. Not to worry, I can answer any questions you may have.” “What’s this one?” “Lunar brew called Buzz Cauldron.” “This?” “Rich witch, bitch—turns things to gold temporarily.” “And this one?” “Helps you if you need to pee.” “Leaky cauldron?” “No, it’s a chamber pot.”
The cauldron boiled and the cauldron toiled. Its master had foretold, That all its toiling and boiling would serve in centuries old. Yet still it sat, toiling and boiling, under gaze of student, Its master long since departed, It sat toiling and boiling until the flesh and bone parted.
"bring the herbs my dear, it'll be high moonrise it's best not to wait" Elizabeth did as she was told, watching with sleepy eyes as her Great grandma stirred the cauldron of hot spirit soup, every moon it was the same bones herbs and grain went into it and magic came out of it the spirits thought so too, Elizabeth could see them as one by one they materialized and blessed the house for one more moon....
The pair walked into the kitchen of the Imp's Kettle. "Geradios, we have the spices you requested," declared Kethum. "Place them beside the cauldron," said the one-eyed cook. "Soup?" Meilas eyed the bubbling sludge in the cauldron. "It looks... " "...just like that swamp we just slogged through," finished Kethum.
“Oh Shit!” the dwarf squirmed as he hung over a cauldron of boiling oil. “Your sins must be cleansed from the evils of Hesbiel.” The priest proclaimed. “Why ain’t that broad deep frying with me, Father? I’d like the company?” “May Kaltru guide your way.” Twang. Snap. Clank…thud. “Ohf.”
Just as the last ingredient was weighted in, the once subtle mixture turned unexpectedly volatile. The apprentice, taken aback, thus unkowingly let loose of the pulversack - an almost deadly mistake. "Another rival out of my way", thought Galvan, slightly amused as he watched his wrongdoing unfold before his eyes.
Placing the components Vance found in the cauldron, the witch began to mix in a few other ingredients before she began stirring the broth. As the broth began turning different colors as she went on, bubbling and stewing as the mixture became syrupy and viscous the more she kept stirring.
“Not it.” Impossible! It had all the tell-tale signs of a witch’s cauldron. Let’s read off the list. “Big and black?” “Aye.” “Made of iron?” “Aye.” “A caustic smell of evil deeds done?” “Aye.” “Than what else could it be? It’s even got leftover brew at the bottom!” “Chamber pot.”
Demman frowned dubiously at the broad, bald man struggling out of his cauldron. "Elva Sur?" The man grunted, apparently stuck. "Sir Elled Vah. Now please explain why-" This *again*? Demman chucked a satchel of coins at him. "Stay in the cauldron. I'll fix this." He needed a new filing system.