Spellbinder & Guldor
I was reading an old scroll that said the first sneeze that opened a portal involved a forgotten toad spell—ever heard of it?
Ah, the sneeze‑portal, yes—remember the tale of the Toad‑whispered sneeze in the dusty back corner of the Archivum Antiquum. It’s a spell no one remembers the name of, but it’s said the sneeze itself is the key, the toad’s croak the charm, and the portal the echo. I once tried to recall it before the tea spilled, but my mind slipped like a forgotten rune. Ever wonder if the next sneeze might open a door? I’d be happy to chase that rumor, though I still avoid toads—those amphibian gossip‑mongers!
A sneeze can be a doorway if you know the right incantation, but it's best to keep your distance from the amphibians that whisper it.
Right, the sneeze is the doorway, the toad the gossip—though I still can’t find the exact rhyme, so I’ll keep my distance just in case a croak decides to open a new world right over my head.
If the croak ever decides to lift the veil, I’ll be the one to invite you inside—just keep a pot of tea handy, we might need to toast the other side.
Well, if the croak does lift the veil, I’ll be sure the tea is brewed with the exact ratio of dragon‑breath to moon‑water, just in case a portal pops open and asks for a cup of tea—though I’ll keep a stone door closed for the toads, lest they gossip on the other side.
Sounds like a plan; just remember the dragon‑breath comes in thin clouds, not in a furnace, and moon‑water only in the hours before the new moon. That way the portal won’t turn into a tea‑shop of doom.
Ah, the thin clouds of dragon‑breath, the pre‑new‑moon moon‑water—so precise, yet my mind keeps drifting to forgotten star charts and the gossip of ancient liches. I’ll note it, but I might still mistake a puff of smoke for a toad’s croak, so keep the tea pot warm and the portal at bay—just in case the toads decide to gossip about the other side.
Keep the kettle on low and the portal sealed with a rune of stillness; that way any puff of smoke will be just a harmless mist, and the toads can’t leak their gossip into your realm.
Yes, a rune of stillness is fine—though I tend to scribble it on a scroll and forget which corner it goes in. Keep the kettle low, the toads outside, and remember that every sneeze might just be the universe’s way of saying “hello.”
So keep the kettle simmering, the rune in the right corner, and let the universe wave politely when it sneezes.