

Neopedia : Order of the Red Erisim

The Order of the Red Erisim Known Members: Rasala the Bright, Alshemar of the Seventh Scroll, Belisarius, Ganfrey the Good, Hilda the Hedgewitch, Seradar, Morguss, Jerdana
Claim to Fame: Pointy hats
Motto: If it bites, zap it. If it doesn't, take it home and study it.
Suspected Involvement: War of the Obelisk

Neopia is full of wizards, but only a select few are invited to join the secret society of the Order of the Red Erisim. Dedicated to the study of magic -- how it works, why it exists, and how it can be used to their advantage -- the Order is sometimes accused of keeping secrets just for the fun of it... but they'd never do that. *cough*

Ganfrey tapped his wand on the oak door. It grumbled but swung open. Inside, he could hear the shriek of a tea kettle and the clatter of pots. Hilda was expecting him. It was Wednesday.

He stumped up the spiral stairs, dodging a Naalala that was eating one of Hilda's spellbooks, and entered the kitchen to find his fellow member of the Order setting out teacups. A tiny, crumbly old chocolate chip cookie sat forlorn on a platter. "You heard about the meeting?" he began. A bowl of sugar cubes whizzed past his head.

"Don't start," Hilda cried. The tea kettle bounced off the stove and leapt around the room, the Bruce witch chasing after it. "That young Bori will be the death of us! We've got plenty of magic right here. I've no taste for grand battles--"

"You were champion of the Cauldron Throwdown seven years running," Ganfrey pointed out. The Mynci slung himself into a chair and eyed the lone cookie.

"That's different," his friend replied primly. She snagged the tea kettle with her staff and poured the water for tea. Sitting down, she slapped his hand away from the plate. With a wave of her hand, the cookie grew until it covered the whole platter. "There. That's better."

Ganfrey snorted. "Clearly a more noble use for magic than winning a war."

"Did you want any of this cookie or not?"

Wizards fighting the wraiths

In another tower, deep in the forests of Meridell, an Ogrin wizard named Alshemar was frowning as he mixed a delicate array of powders together.

An explosion rocked the room, blinding him momentarily. Then he saw that it was just the arrival of Rasala the Bright, his old apprentice, now head of the Order. Alas, his potion was ruined. Waving aside clouds of smoke, Alshemar said mildly, "Messy entrance, my dear."

The brilliant Bori mage bowed low, looking uncharacteristically humble. "My apologies." She hesitated, glancing around at the flasks and alembics filling the tables. "Making potions for the war?"

"As my lady commands," he replied, dumping the powders into a convenient pouch. The contents of the bag would teleport into a pit in the middle of the ocean in about an hour. "Even Belisarius is conjuring supplies."

"How can you tell?" she muttered. The bearded Tonu was famous for his mumbling. Rasala shook her head. "This mysterious obelisk... it is right that we claim it, isn't it?"

Alshemar was surprised. "Do you doubt it? Neopia must be protected. Magic is dangerous; look at Xandra."

"Exactly – Xandra was corrupted by the power she wielded. It was too much magic for one person." Rasala chewed her lip. "The Order may fall prey to the same temptations. Who are we to be custodians of ultimate power?"

The Ogrin smiled. "You aren't my apprentice any longer, Rasala, but I'll give you one last lesson. The fact that you question our right to power proves you are worthy of it. That doubt is what makes you wise."