Narilon was not one to consider himself a good mage. In fact, he and many others would agree: Narilon was better as a librarian than a mage. No matter the kind of magic, nor its other attributes, if Narilon was within ten steps of it, it would fail. Spectacularly.

Knowing this, it was expected to assume that Narilon would never be assigned a task that involved even the smallest hint of the arcane. Unfortunately, not everyone had heard of his “unique” quality, which led to many enraged magi (and sometimes apprentices).

Narilon’s task for today was, of course, something to do with magic. He was loathe to even leave his house, knowing that only problems lay out there. However, he had a task and he was not the sort of elf to break his word. So, he left his home and emerged onto the crystalline streets of Crystalspire, the capital of the Crystal Elves and busiest city on the small island.

Narilon managed to pass through the crowds and get to the Crystal Palace, within which his task awaited. The Palace was a massive structure and a testament to the beauty of pure crystal, shining in the light of the sun. Its thirteen towers stretched high, one almost piercing the sun at certain times. Six guards stood by the main entrance and let Narilon pass without incident. A golem built from the white whispering wood of the Whispering Grove led him to his destination: the sixth tower, which was named Summoning.

Narilon approached the High Summoner and asked, “You requested me, High One?”

“Why yes, I did,” said the High Summoner, an elf whose clothing almost entirely covered her, leaving only her eyes visible. The raiment glowed with enchantment; it was most likely a protective spell as summoning was quite dangerous. “Narilon, is it. You have quite a strange reputation. Regardless, I am in need of your certain... talent, to interrupt the harmful ability of the poison-clawed wyvern. Come.”

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They went to one of the larger summoning rooms, in the center of which was a large magic circle. The High Summoner said, “Come close; once the wyvern is summoned, it will not hesitate to kill us. Your ability will be able to neutralize it.”

“That’s not how it—” Narilon stopped as she began the spell. An explosion of light, a shockwave of energy, and then... something went wrong.

The High Summoner was waiting anxiously for her wyvern, but Narilon saw it first: a... what by the sun was that? He had never seen such a creature before! It looked like an elf, but it was much shorter, much hairier, and clearly was not intelligent.

“What is this?” the High Summoner asked. “Narilon, what have you done? I told you that you must affect the wyvern only, not summon an entirely different creature!”

“I did attempt to mention that my flaw doesn’t work that way — I can’t control what happens, High Summoner,” Narilon said.

The strange creature looked at the two elves, then at themselves, and asked, “Where am I?”

Narilon shook his head. This was not supposed to happen! What even was that... that thing?

“Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to answer me?” the creature asked.

“You are in the Crystal Palace,” said the High Summoner. “I summoned you by mistake; Narilon causes all spells to malfunction. What, exactly, are you?”

“I’m a dwarf, and I’m not a what; I’m a who,” the creature said. “My name’s Azgrnchzel.”

“Az... what?” Narilon could not pronounce that.

“Az, grn, chzel,” the dwarf enunciated. “It’s dwarvish of course, and it means hardworking warrior blacksmith. My name says who I am.”

“You are going to be examined thoroughly by our mages,” the High Summoner said. “Once we learn what you are, we will find a way to return you to wherever you come from. Narilon, I have but one word for you: leave.”

Narilon left. He knew that what he had just done was a larger problem than anything in history: the first sentient, non-elven being had arrived in the Realm, and it was all his fault.

It was going to be a long rest of the day.