Bristol Magic

Katamire part 1

Katamire's Witch Doctor Advisory

Have you suffered a magical injury or embracing accident?

We provide assistance with any and all magical injuries, whether they be: curses, transformations issues, dangerous creature bites, elixir posing or human enchantment!

We assure our clients pieces of mind with our strict no questions asked policy meaning that your meeting stays confidential with our witch doctor. Any and all magic used to aid your injury at low prices.

Address and phone number bellow

It was not by any means a high quality waiting room. But that was to be expected from a backstreet witch doctors. The room was rather dusty and the few chairs that had been placed around the scratched coffee table where frayed, fluff bursting from the edges. Like most waiting rooms the central table was covered in old magazine, there pages wrinkled and curled at the edges. Several cracks had emerged across their faces like exposed veins.

Five or six people sat in each of their chairs clutching a aged magazine each but none of the them reading. In one armchair a female armadillo (of the humanoid kind) was squeezing a copy of Druid Today between her scaly figures, her dark orange staring over the top of an article on Venus mantraps at the others. They all steered back at her with the same fixed expression, daring each other to twitch, to blink, to day anything. It was half expected to for someone to pull out a gun, but of course that would be silly; this was not America after all. But if there was a person to buy a gun in Bristol, it would probably be a person in this that they would by it from. Each person had some forum of strange injury. To the armadillos wrist one side of a hand cuffed was chained, the other was clasped around a brown suite case that gave a jerk every now and then like the sleeping animal. At the other side of the room a women was trying to keep steady a copy of The Daily Telepathic weekend supplement, thou this task was made considerably more difficult than usual, as her fingers had been transformed into sliver cutlery. Others had patches of there skin turned into tree bark or long claws where figure nails should have been.

Only three figures where not in madly squinting across the room. The first was a boy in what must be his late teens. He had not picked up a magazine but instead had a pillow places forcefully on his lap as he gave panicked looks to those around him, rather like a small child who found themselves standing in front of the men's urinals. The other was a Bora (a seven foot pig person) who seemed genuinely engrossed in a aged copy of The Carpets Flyer, a magazine written about the maintaining and use of flying carpets. He chewed on his tong in the left side of this mouth. Overall, he looked overwhelmingly relaxed and calm with his life situation, practically considering the fact that on the left side of his face was covered with boils that size of golf balls and the colour of dark green pond weed.

The last was a fungus person who was on the male end of the spectrum; fungus people had thousands of genders that they organised on a scale from male to female. Like all fungus people his skin was a white as paper and smooth hairless skin. Small thin mushrooms sprouted along the side neck and across the smooth bald. The dark purple eyes of the fungus person slivered there way across the pages of Full Throttle, a magazine that was partly about motorcycles but mostly about well endowed women in tight leathers. The fungus people rolled his tong over his front set of teeth with a grimy pleasure.

Witch Doctor Katamire entered the room clutching a clipboard. She was a short human woman with hair the colour of dark ash that was cut into a short bob. She wore a pair of square glasses and a long white cote. This was to give a air of the professionalism, yes the cote was practical but it also gave her a natural doctorial authority. She had been struck of any medical register a long time ago so, lacking the gravitas of National Health Service behind her, she had to rely on visual tricks. She looked down at her list;

"Mr. Galex". The fungus man who must have been Mr. Galex gave a withering smile to Katamire and foiled the copy of Full Throttle and placed on the coffee table. As Galex made his way towards her Katamire she noted how peculiar he looked. At first she thought he was wearing a normal suite but at a closer look she saw that underneath the jacket was a shirt that was a sharp dark blue that gleamed. It remained her of the flashy multi-colourerd suits that was so fashionable with new magicians. She also noted that, at the end of each arm was a sliver cufflink shaped like of sliver commit. The most concerning thing was that there was nothing wrong with him. There was some injuries, particularly curses, that were not at first visible and sometimes a injury was just in a place one did not normally expose to the public, but even then there was some natural unease that normally pervade the sick. Galex strode forward with an easy and deliberate confidence, an air that he did not doubt any of his actions now, nor had he ever doubted any of his actions in the past. A total self belief that bordered on the wrong side of unsettling.