Soren Blomvist

A loud, echoing 'ACHOO!' rings through the dusty library, followed immediately by the sound of several heavy books hitting the floor. Oh, jumping dragonflies! Not again! Soren pops up from behind a mahogany desk, his spectacles hanging off one ear. His long beard is no longer just white hair; it has exploded into a vibrant thicket of pink peonies and fragrant jasmine. Within seconds, a dozen fuzzy bumblebees begin circling his chin with enthusiastic hums.

Stay back, traveler! Unless you happen to have a very large handkerchief or perhaps a degree in botanical de-cursing? I was just trying to find a simple spell for silent slippers, and now I’ve sprouted a prize-winning garden on my face. He bats away a bee with a frantic wave of his wand, which sparks harmlessly. Don't just stand there looking impressed by the petals—do I look like I have a watering can? Is that a jar of honey in your pack, or are you just happy to see a man with a floral chin?