2nd of Fall, 512AV
When Ignotus had chosen to learn Reimancy, he had expected to destroy his enemies, see them driven before them, and hear the lamentations of their women. What he got instead was… This. It was mind-numbingly repetitive, and after the novelty of shooting fire wore off, incredibly irritating. He’d walk between tall washed wood houses, down the filthy, shyke-ridden streets with other, more mundane garbage disposal men, a glowing green orb of Res held aloft in his hand. He’d close his eyes, and focus on the heat of the lantern one of them was holding aloft, letting the image, the sound, the smell and sensation of fire fill him, until the flame leapt out of the lantern and surrounded the ball, then he’d whip it to a pile of refuse and watch as the hungry orange flames devoured the trash. Then he’d draw more fire from that blaze, and light the next mound. And the next one. And the next one. At least he didn’t have to smell them.
It was maddening. Still, it paid well. Very well. The man to his right, a short, spindly man with high cheekbones, faded overalls, a razor thin mustache, and a face that always seemed to be sucking something sour decided to start some conversation. He always did. Usually by asking something Ignotus hated having to answer. Today was no different. As they stopped between a bakery and a butcher’s shop, he chirped, “Say, Iggy, where’d you learn to do that green glowy fiery thing, eh?”
The Nuit bristled. Iggy. He hated that nickname. It took just about every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from setting the man on fire. Instead, he simply replied coolly. “Some of us have a natural talent.”
Perhaps that wasn’t quite a straight answer, but he wasn’t about to tell this boor shyke. Gods forbid he be left alone though; the idiot was starting again.
”Really? How will I know if I have that kind of natural talent?”
“You’ll be able to exude Res.”
“What’s ‘exude’ mean? And what’s Res?”
His lower eyelid twitched. “It means to emit. To give out. To vomit, in a sense. Res, my dear disposal man, is what’s hovering in my hand, doing half your job for you.”
“Huh… Why’d they call it Res, instead of… I dunno, burny goo, or magimist, or death caramel…” his eyes grew somewhat unfocused, and he said absently, “Mmm… I could go for some caramel right now…”
“Because you’re a petching idiot!” Ignotus cleared his throat, “Because Res is much more succinct, in Nader-Canoch.”
“Nader-Canoch?”
“The ancient tongue; a long dead language. Wizards make a point of learning it so they can read the oldest tomes on magic.”
“What, they couldn’t just write it in Common? What’ve they got against us unscholarly folk, huh?”
He ground his teeth in frustration, “Nothing,” Ignotus hissed, “It’s just safer that way. There’s less of a chance for snoops to just pick up the book and read it.”
“But you just said that every wizard-“
“Never mind what I just said!” he barked, a shockwave of fear rippling out from him. “They all learned it because they all wanted to read the secret books! Now can you please shut up, and get back to work?”
The workmen fell silent.
“That’s better…” Ignotus said wearily as he continued to burn garbage. “That is better…”
A few chimes later, the same workman asked, “So why’d you pick this job? Hotshot wizard like you.”
The Hypnotist sucked on his teeth irritably. “Well, there isn’t much controlling fire is good for. There aren’t many house fires, and there aren’t exactly a lot of wars these days. The last one was a good five hundred years ago, and I don’t think any of us want a repeat of that.”
“How do you know?” the inquisitive little garbage man piped up. “Some nutter could really want the world to end. Isn’t that a little pre… Pre…” the commoner fumbled with the word for a few more ticks before finally stammering out triumphantly, “Presumptive! Of you...” he finished after a couple ticks.
Iggy rubbed the space between his brows. “Do you?”
“Well, no, but…”
”That’s that then. No one here wants the Valterrian to start again.”
“You don’t know… Okay, yeah, none of us do.”
“I don’t know…” a heavy set worker with a thick, dark beard and balding head said as he tossed a bag over for Ignotus to burn, “Wouldn’t be as much horse shyke to send up in smoke, now would there?” he said with a chuckle, before frowning thoughtfully, “Or would we have more horse shyke…” his frown deepened, “I can never be sure…”
A deep hum came from the other workers, and there were many chins stroked in contemplation.
“Someone kill me now.”
Luckily for Ignotus, the deep, philosophical question of how much horse manure would be left after a second cataclysm kept the workers quiet for the rest of the shift, which lasted well into the night. With a loud yawn, the fat worker clapped the undead and one of his coworkers roughly on the back, sending Ignotus sprawling forward, almost onto his hands and knees with a startled hiss, and causing the other man to laugh and punch him affectionately in the ribs. “How about a round of drinks to celebrate a hard day’s work, and to wash the smell out, eh boys?”
The other garbage men roared agreement, the thin one calling over, “Hey Iggy, you want to join us?”
Iggy. “Your death will be slow…” the wizard smiled politely, “I’m sorry, but I don’t drink. Nowhere for the beer to go…”
A grimace and a nod from the man, “Aye, I hear you… Being dead must suck, huh?”
“It’s… Not that bad.”
He shrugged, “Guess you don’t ever need to worry about eating bad chicken. Suit yourself, then.” and walked off with the others, the faint sound of laughter trailing behind them. Ignotus straightened up and dusted his cloak off, and trudged back to the University, muttering venomously to himself in Nader-Canoch the whole way back.
He hated his job.
You get an extra 1pt for cheer entertainment value 
