They came together to burn down his cabin. They rowed the moonlit lake and snuck through the shushing cattails, up the bank, passed out batons with cloth ends dipped in gas. They didn't want a wizard on this island.
They had seen him, Osimo, the grey-headed one, fly in the form of a nighthawk from the chimney. They knew he was stalking the far-off forests, or communing with the evil ones in remotes, craven sabbots. The rumors of these awful, hedonistic festivals were the shameful gossip of the muddy, backwater towns of the country. Even malady and misfortune was blamed on Osimo. His mottled face and husky laugh. He would come into town for a woman, to scrape the mold from the ruined crops, the crops he ruined for the terrible, maddening mold. While they starved.
One started a fire with a flint and the torches came up to it. Fire passed from torch to torch. They advanced on his home, with it's damned managerie behind the black oak door.
In the bright night meadow, Osimo and the evil ones stood around, arms crossed, holding themselves, chewing moldy blades of grass, staring off.
From under his wide, musty hat, Osimo said to Awotli, the evil spirit of venereal diseases, “How goes it, fiend?”
Awotli, a short, pustular troll, growled “Well, trickster. My minions are eating them alive. It's like having a boiling swamp about your nether-bits. I'd avoid those trollops in town.”
Osimo said “All as well. I've started animating wives from lake mud.”
Awotli barked “You vile bastard!”
Osimo said “What's more, I found a conspiracy to burn my home out while infiltrating the muckmoor towns.”
The other evil ones looked his way. Borsmear, of the tangled wood, Rextragard, king of bloody coughs and the Swamp Hag.
“Once they get near my island cabin,” Osimo continued, “they will be beset by chattering bugs and a disemboweling wind. Then the griffon descends.”
A gentle breeze carried the shrieks of the party from Wizard Island to them. Their pupils were swirling and blooming out. They all cackled and the drumming and piping started. They started their terrible cavorting and tart spankings. As what was left of the raiding party drowned in the lake, the terrible ones were blowing one another.
