Grabbing greedily at one of the mushrooms, Storm tried to posit what was going on around the three of them. Lornius was an odd place, but rampant cats, burning floorboards and prattling heroes were never part of its lore. Worse, Josh had pilfered his pipe, and by the time he took his second hit from the cherrywood bowl, the wizard noticed his smoke was gone.

Might as well fill the belly. Need to balance out the empty burn from the smoke.

The mushrooms did NOT taste like "beautifulness", or whatever nonsense Josh had spoken of. They tasted like "mushrooms" with a little acidic twinge. Chewy after a mild crunch, milquetoast in flavor, with an aftertaste of something like orange juice. Not half bad, the mage assessed. As he rubbed at the beard which he did not have, Storm leaned back in his chair to ponder.

For a mage, you don't know jack shit about nature's goodies. Aside from the healing leaves and poison plants Karuka taught you about, all of the forest's offerings are somewhere between ass and elbow for you. Why not take the time to learn? If there's a chance to catch this type of buzz, what's the harm?

Smiling, the effects of the mushroom not yet taken hold, the lightning wielder leaned back as he listened to Cronen crone on. Reefer this, elf chick that, and an intonation that suggested Josh was speaking to either himself or an imaginary friend standing behind where both Storm and Shinsou sat.

"Radasanthian Reefer? I grew up around there, you sound like a schoolteacher. Kids just call it "ragleaf" there; it's a fun time but not like whatever gypsy bullshit this stuff is."

As if upset with the insult afforded the local brand, the window across from Storm sworled in the air. The teak edged panes twisted and spun as the grass melted into fractal crystalline segments, swirling and spinning upon itself, growing into a spectral form as it surged forward. The window apparition charged at Storm, causing him to lean back further and topple from his chair. The ghastly assaulter disappeared as quickly as it formed, spinning up through the cathedral ceiling of the wood-framed room.

Noooooooooooo!!!!

Storm was falling backwards, a fall of no less than five thousand feet. He fell freely, spinning his arms in counterclockwise circles as he attempted to regain balance, failing to square his body disposition with electromagnetism about his feet. He fell and fell and fell, some five thousand feet before smashing his body into the cobblestone road outside, shattering mortar and stone while obliterating flesh and bone alike.

Storm Veritas was dead.

About the corpse, Shinsou and Josh had witnessed the wizard's eyes pop open wide as he leaned back, before losing balance and falling from his seat to the floor, some two and a half feet below him. Groaning, the aging adventurer bemoaned his death, and the commensurate loss for humanity.

Tripping balls is bad for you.