There's a saying in ol' North Warlocksburg: "Still water runs deep, and deep water runs wise, and wise water knows better than to answer questions it wasn't asked." Nobody can tell you what that means. Yet it gets recited at weddings, funerals, and most minor irrigation disputes. Usually with a solemn head nod for emphasis.
It's also, if you ask around, the reason our little town turns out so many wizards. Why a farmer's boy from North Warlocksburg is more likely to end up hurling fireballs than herding sheep. Why every child is taught how to dispel magic before they can take their first steps.
Now come sit down by the fire. Let me tell you a story. A story you may have heard before, and you may be right, but trust me when I say my version is the correct version. You see, I was there.
Long ago, long before anyone here was ever born, an evil wizard lived here. Some say his name was Balthazor the Cruel, others claim it was Galbatorixium the Flaccid. Neither are correct. It was Steve. Steve the Red.
One day, after a fruitful day of kicking dogs and cursing crops, the villagers had had enough and chased poor Steve through the square with pitchforks. Steve, you have to understand, while no one could kick a dog better than he, was truly awful sprinter. Especially when it came to hurdles. I never met a hurdle that Steve wouldn't just plow straight through and donk his head. You might have noticed those blue ribbons adorning my cabin walls, and you'd be correct. I did in fact steal them from the village's number 1 runner. He begged and begged and begged for me to give them back, but by then they were rightfully mine and no one was around to disprove him. So i just laughed and laughed in his stupid ugly good at running face. Got myself a lot of strange from those ribbons alone. You can have them when I pass. You look like you could use with the ribbon help. Now where was I? Steve? Right. Dogshit at running, tripped and fell straight into the town well. Never to be seen again. Neither was his hat, which personally I think was the real tragedy.
That night, so the story goes, his dark magic seed seeped into the water, all at once, forever and ever. Everyone who drank from that well was touched by it. As was their children and their children's children all the way down, right to this very day. That's why they call it Wiz Water. And that's why when we drink, we drink deep in ol' North Warlockburg. Now raise your glass and take a sip, to the wizard below and the wizard to come.
- Printed on every single bottle of Wiz Water sold by Warlockburg's Brewery
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