Predictability is a dangerous thing. Becoming lax in our daily efforts can result in harm, or even death. Case in point: I came back into Medievia after a short vacation, and immediately ran to the warroom, begging of Marious the location of the Catacombs, that lucrative yet fearful place of magic and mystery. He telepathically showed me said location, and off I flew. Upon landing, I patted my brass dragon on the head, examined my equipment, making sure to wear the proper attire, and within minutes, I was meandering through the tunnels and caverns. Weeds were charmed, octopuses were slaughtered, bears were bloodied, and I was feeling very confident with my 200 plus eggs.
Then it happened. I rounded a corner, and BAM. There was this little man. He looked very peaceful, not particularly well dressed, with his eyes half closed. Hmmm, I thought. I glanced at this genteel figure, and imagine my surprise when I was told the metamorph is in excellent health. I nearly fainted. I was on Level 3! How...what...whoa. This was not my first encounter with the metamorph; normally, however, he was trapped and I was healing a clannie or townie over and over again. I had never really stopped to look at him. I immediately consulted with my clan, all of whom phased me at the exact moment. Gleefully, we began luring it away, towards the wonderful mana-giving tunnels of ore. Many traps later, he appeared, phasing in and out of existence, surrounded by an eerie green glow. Lorton was designated as the primary pain bringer, the room was shielded and this little, unassuming man about Catacombs met his demise, releasing gold, a snowball, and the ever elusive coin so coveted by Medievians.
Today, as Chrystane, Ayana, Lukaze and I made quick work of Mr. Metamorph, I had to giggle to myself, remembering my first encounter with the new Wanderer of Medievia. It made me realise that nothing stays the same, and that, in this reporter's opinion is one of the many reasons we all love Medievia. Now, if I happen to bump into him, I know exactly what to do. Pat him on the head, tell my clan, and slaughter him in due course!