Discworld! A strange, improbably* flat planet that spins on the backs of four elephants, who themselves stand on the shell of the star turtle Great A'tuin.
Ankh-Morpork! The largest city on the Disc! The Big Wahoonie! Two cities separated by the Ankh, a river whose gas-fires are a particularly beautiful shade of blue-green, and home to a million inhabitants.
The Unseen University! The Center of Magical learning on the entire Disc**! A place where the greatest minds in the world come together. Usually to butt heads.
Today, an octarine explosion escapes the confines of the High Energy Magic Building, and rapidly expands to cover the entire city before disappearing into the Sto Plains.
“BURSAR!” Archchancellor Ridcully slams open the door to his quarters and stalks down the hall towards his office.
“BURSAR!” The door to the office is locked, but soon shatters into flaming splinters as Ridcully applies a fireball to the lock.
The Bursar's office is covered in dust, and Ridcully remembers that Dr. Dinwiddie had taken a leave of absence, and someone else had taken over. He leaves the office and heads towards the source of the damage, the HEM building.
“STIBBONS!” He kicks the door down and almost slips in surprise. “What-”
“Err, hello, sir. I think I can explain.”
“You'd better get started.”
“Well, as you know, we have been using Hex to study new permutations of Magic. Trying to come up with new uses for old spells?”
Ridcully remains silence, a surprise for Stibbons as he usually asks questions. He must be really mad.
“Yes, um, so Hex has been basically casting the same spell over and over, faster than a human could, with slight differences each time- differences in the verbal, somatic, and even material components. But it looks like something happened that we weren't expecting.”
“You bet it did. What spell, Stibbons? Why do I look like-”
“Some bloke named
Gary? Well, sir, it was Stacklady's Morphic Resonator. Only it was way more potent than normal.”
“So your thinking machine did this... assumingly to everyone in the city by the thaumic field that woke me up. Can it fix us?”
“With time I'm sure Hex can come up with a counterspell. I think.”
“Do it. Quickly. The Patrician is already going to be upset by this. Wait,
somatic? As in
hands?”
TICK
On the Discworld, belief shapes ideas. And so Death (the personification, not the natural event) has forever been trying to become more human, TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THEM he says. So sometimes, he likes to take “little vacations”- which often end up going wrong. The dead, at least the more cunning ones, become aware of this, and several of the Disc's worst criminals use one of these vacations to escape Death's realm. They return to Ankh-Morpork to wreak havoc on those who caused their deaths- mainly Commander Vimes, but any members of the City Watch, or the population at large they could kill would just be an added bonus.
Sneaking into the city was easy, Vetinari's open gate policy meant that they weren't even searched. The six of them found a place to hide, still easy in a city whose population is bursting by applying some violence. After that, they spread out through the city, asking around and making their presence known. When the spell went off, they too were affected. But it works out great for them- not looking like a criminal was great, and looking the exact same as everyone else was even better.
And even though Death was out, that doesn't mean there are no supernatural forces at work:
“What is that, Mr. Tulip?”
“This? Dunno. That dwarf I scragged drew it before he died. I thought it looked –ing neat.”
“It looks like a eyeball with a tail. And it gives me the willies.”
“Listen, Teatime, I'll draw whatever the –ing I want, do you –ing understand?”
“That... was d'Eath, I believe. And if you are to address me, its pronounced Teh-ah-tim-eh.”
“Whatever,” Tulip finishes carving the symbol, kind of like an eyeball with a tail, onto the table, “it's still –ing art.” He dips his other hand into a small bag and comes up with a white powder.
Mr. Pin, or who they assume is Pin, sighs, without looking up. “Mr. Tulip, I believe that is just baking soda.”
* They say that whatever can happen- anywhere in the multiverse- does happen, somewhere. And that somewhere is usually the Discworld.
**There of course are two other centers
for magical learning, Brazeneck College and Bugarup University, but the UU staff would argue the difference in preposition was quite important.