And then his education ended. With each cycle of generations of Shamans stopping their education and moving onto the real life of a Shaman, the council had decided that certain positions had to be given up and the Shamans in power had to retire in favour of the young ones. This meant that the time of graduation was filled with political debate and conflict. Everyone wanted to try and position themselves in the best possible place to become the next famous Shaman of the Oasis. Gifts were given, received and traded to gain respect or leverage over others. And like that Wolfram received a headpiece. It was not an ordinary headpiece but the Cape of the Animist, containing magical powers to communicate with animals and hear the secrets of the world from them.
Wolfram didnt understand what was happening. Who gave this gift? And why did he receive a gift of immense value? But after a few days, it all became clear. At the official ceremony to appoint the new Shamans, Wolfram didnt receive an appointment. With each passing name, he felt himself become desperate, and he started wondering what would become of him if he didnt receive an appointment. But then, at the end of the ceremony, his name was called. Wolfram was to become the Shaman of the Oasis, the highest honour he could possibly receive. And now, he is seated at the head of the Council, wielding the Staff of the Shaman of the Oasis.


Troll the Dependable

# The Christmas Tale of Troll the Dependable

### No one ever trusted Troll the Dependable. Clearly its a scam, they would say. You cant fool me with that dependable nonsense, the blasted ponys name is Troll! And so for millennia, Troll was a riderless pony. He wandered the Elysian Fields for days on end, looking for someone to believe in him, to count on him. At night he would lie in the soft grass and dream of finding a rider that would recognize him for who he really was: a true and loyal steed.

### But one morning, Troll woke to find a strange path of snow that led out of the fields and into a nearby wood. He thought it odd and followed the path, curious to see where it would take him. Perhaps there is a rider in need, waiting for a good pony to come along, thought Troll. As he entered the wood, snow began to steadily fall, quickly filling in the hoofprints that Troll left along the ground.

### The snow grew deeper as the wood grew thicker, the entire forest caked in an endless white. In the distance, Troll could hear the sounds of bells and laughter, the clanking of mugs and the crackling of warm fire. He pushed through the deep snow, which was now up to his neck, determined to see what was on the other side of this white void.

### But he could go no further. Troll tried to lift his leg, but his muscles were frozen stiff. He suddenly realized that he was very cold, colder than the snow that he was now buried in. His vision began to blur and dim as more flakes gently fell. A darkness crept in around the edges of this wintry world as Trolls eyes grew heavy. Before he drifted off, he thought he saw a fat, round, bearded figure dressed in bright red robes and coal-black boots, standing before him on top of the snow


### A great heat poured across Trolls muzzle as he woke to find the snow melting around him. Before him now stood a motley group of wizards. Some were human, some were hybrids, and some were completely otherworldly. They were decked in robes of all different colors and carried all sorts of trinkets and propsstaffs, books, potions, feathersthere seemed to be no one wizard that looked exactly alike.

### You must be freezing! one wizard cried out.

### Lets warm you up! another wizard suggested.

### Dont move! a third wizard exclaimed.

### Red flames burst out from the hands of a wizard whose head was a flaming skull. The fire encircled Troll, quickly vaporizing the remaining snow without singeing a single hair on his body and vanishing without a trace of smoke. Troll tried lifting his leg and found that he was able to move again. He felt warm, and he felt good.

### Now, lets get you to the party!

### Its Christmas!

### Someone get this pony some ale!

### And so Troll joined the crew of wizards as they made their way down the path and across the treeline and into a wide and open clearing. There were hundreds of wizards here, maybe even thousands, playing games and opening presents and drinking ale beneath a massive Christmas tree. There were other ponies in the clearing too, eating and racing and watching cool movies in 3D.

### Whats your name by the way? a wizard asked Troll.

### Troll lifted his hoof and traced out his name in the snow, T-R-O-L-L.

### Troll! What a wonderful name! the wizard shouted.

### A magical name! another wizard chimed in.

### A name fit for a true and loyal steed! a third wizard stated as a matter of fact.


### And so Troll spent this magical day with wizards and ponies alike, celebrating his first Christmas with his new family in a new land that he would now call home.


Necromancer Scratch of the Gnostics

# The Call from Beyond the Veil

In the days approaching the last full moon of the harvest, a flame was born out of the ether. It appeared, sputtering and bursting into existence on a small farm in the middle of a turnip patch in front of a goat faced farm boy named Scratch.

He had never seen anything like it before, but didn't seem like it was going anywhere or dying out, so he went back inside to ponder what to do about it. A knock on the door came not long into his musings. A grinning yellow cleric with a flowing grey beard greeted Scratch and bowed low, introducing himself as Milton.

"Please let me handle this. I promise you'll be fairly compensated. Soon those that hear the call will come."

Over the next several hours the wizards came. At first slowly, then all at once. Every size, shape, color was represented in the masses. A legion of magical folk gathered on his family's rural land. Scratch resigned himself to the situation and to witness whatever strange ritual was occurring.

That evening the wizards were gathered around the flame and were enjoying socializing with their friends and acquaintances. When a sudden tense quiet fell over the gathering. A wizard past his years had stepped forward over the unseen threshold and into the circle of the flame.

Milton seeing this called the challenge out to the wizard, who seemed to be measuring his own resolve and strength in the moment.

"Wizard! Do you wish to burn in the sacred flame?"

"I DO" he answered back, finding his resolve.

"Dark magic is unpredictable. Do you understand that the results may be undesirable?"

"I UNDERSTAND" there was mania in the old man's eyes.

"It seems you can not be dissuaded. Do you submit yourself to the flame?"

"I SUBMIT" the wizard yelled as he burst forward with surprising speed towards his destiny.


"I SUBMIT" the wizard yelled as he burst forward with surprising speed towards his destiny.

Immediately the flame began to incinerate the clothes and flesh from his body. Stumbling forward, now crawling, reaching out with a burning skeletal hand, screaming in pain, the wizard touched the source of the flame. The heat became unbearable as the fire burned momentarily with an additional magnitude of intensity.

Then it was gone. Nothing remained but smouldering ash in a dark muddy field surrounded by a cohort of wizards who seemed to be in a state of mild disappointment. The magi slowly began to wander off, chatting quietly among themselves.

Milton stepped forward onto the smoldering field, where lay what remained of the one who burned. Bending down he sifted through the ash and pulled out a glowing yellow sphere.

Examining it a moment, the cleric looked over at Scratch who had watching from what was the edge of the circle. "Looks like this belongs to you now" the older wizard said as he tossed the orb into the air. Scratch moved to catch it, but the orb seemed to be floating. Momentarily illuminating his face, the orb fell softly into Scratches out stretched hands.

Milton jumped on the back of his pony. "Come see me when you want to learn what is beyond the veil of this world without the aid of self immolation" and burst into a long cackling laugh that echoed among the hills as he rode off into the night.


Sorcerer Apollo of the Astral Plane

*"Would you care to join us for a drink, I promise I wont bite"*

A cursed being from an astral plane, one is often left surprised by Apollos' impeccably charming nature. Ironically named by his scholarly companions due to his natural aversion to the sun, undead complexion and bat companion. He now lives among the sorcerers of the Red Wizard Capital offering guidance on any and all discussions regarding his rather unsavory realm.

Growing quite fond of his new name and his following success, Apollo now tries to move from his past life in the astral plane.

As such he has adopted his new life away from his past with open arms, finding respite in the many peculiarities of the capital and its fascinating collection of sorcerers. It's here he calls home.

Once a man vampirically cursed to live undying in the astral planes. Apollo now finds himself with much of life's splendor and beauty to catch up on. Devout on chasing the possibilities for more and caring little for those unwilling to dream, he has risen in popularity amongst his fellow sorcerers and often rides a fine line between arrogance and confidence.
It wasnt long before he became one of the leading researchers on planar travel, however unlike most Apollo has never understood the reasoning of his peers. He remains baffled at the people's wish to leave their beautiful world for the simple leisure of planar travel? To Apollo this notion is nothing but ridiculous.

*Why not protect this brilliant realm instead of wasting all this time and research to try and send the few to survive a plane of existence that's already dead?*


Even after his protest many of the sorcerers of the Red Wizard Capital continue on to their pursuit of planar travel. Apollo now guides their study reluctantly to ensure at the very least some half rate wizard doesn't cause a tear in reality itself.

Apollos infamous stubbornness has led to many a curious sorcerer and wizard alike to attempt to pry his secret knowledge of planar travel. After the odd attempt of threats and violence many now understand the futility of threatening an undying man. Apollo often tells of one determined sorcerer who tried a rather impressive 56 times using this rather futile method of persuasion.

Such stories of failure have now pushed most towards a more pleasant approach. Now each attempt to persuade Apollo starts with the same question, *Would you care to join us for a drink Apollo?* Never one to refuse such kind offers, he has been given the opportunity to drink at every eatery and tavern in the city. All who ask *How did you journey from the astral plane*? are met with the same disappointment: a smug dodging of questions, a failure to persuade the stubborn Apollo and a waste of a perfectly good evening.

*For you see, after I found myself wandering through the Thorn forests alone, I came across a wounded bat destined for a life of mystery. He really reminded me of myself. And seeing as I was in need of company during my new grand adventure in this realm, it would have been plain wrong to just leave the poor fellow. thus I deemed him my familiar and the adorable creature hasnt left my side since*


Those who fained interest leave by the time he claims his success was enabled by the discovery of a bat, his perfect familiar . Whether having asked or not most now know of the story, how Apollo chose to adopt his bat friend and helped nurse the bat back to health. Seeing the chance of comradery and an ally in a new world, Apollo sought to protect his new familiar while they wandered through the frog mashes & Kolbolt Crossroads. It wasnt until the once dying bat was restored to his flying self that they stumbled upon the gates of the Red Wizard Capital. Apollo saw this not as luck, but destiny and the 2 have been inseparable ever since.

Today Apollos favorite prank to pull with his familiar friend starts when he sends his familiar off to procure expensive wines from many of the capital's finest cellars replacing the bottles with forged notes of fellow sorcerers stating *Ill pay you back soon, regards.......*. A natural born hedonist this is not the end of Apollos fun, he has taken to the pleasures of this new realm developing a great fondness for the vast variations of wines and liqueurs served. To this day he remains starstruck by the many beautiful taverns and pubs of the capital.

Some it is true are put off by his undead eyes and sickly skin, but most find themselves succumbing to the natural charm of his merry heart. As such he is often seen sporting a charming smile in many of the busy taverns of the city. It is here he enjoys the pleasure of refined drinking & trading of stories with the wonderful common folk of the realm.


Apollos hedonistic ways have led him to earn quite the reputation; his refusal to confess the secrets of planar travel and his tendency for revelry has led him to find many envious rivals amongst the bustling city of The Red Wizard Capital. Some see him as nothing more than a selfish fool from another realm, while others condemn him as a lying charlatan, cursed just like the other vampiric undead of the realm. Such statements have resulted in quite the controversy around Apollo's many tales. However, most can admit theyre fascination in the man and Apollo adores the attention such scandals bring using it to capture the hearts and minds of his peers with his tales of adventure and escape from the astral plane. When the sun rises and the night ends Apollo may often be spotted conversing with his Bat companion on which tavern to travel to next.


Sorcerer Izible of the Bastion

Like many of the folk who live in the Blue Wizard Bastion, Izible is a brilliant sorcerer who spends most of his days with his nose in a book at the library.

Izible, however, does not have everything in common with his fellow Blue Wizards. Being an imp, most of the other wizards turn their nose up to Izibles kind for being so, um "twerk friendly."

Izible never minded being an outsider. Books will always be his best friend, and he never liked keeping boring conversations anyway.

Izible made his mark at the Bastion one unassuming afternoon walking home from (you guessed it) the library. There was some commotion in the town square, and a crowd of people swarming a girl covered in strange lesions. Town officials were trying to keep people from getting too close, Stay back! We dont know what this is!

Izible looked at the girls face, she was in pain.

He pushed through the crowd, and approached the girl.

Hey, you dont know what youre getting into, someone said. Looks like some powerful curse. Shell have to be quarantined.

She wont survive, Izible said. He studied the lesions - they moved unnaturally across her skin. Must be very painful.

Kid, no one has been able to help her, a nearby wizard said disheartened.

Izible squinted his eyes, studying the curse, lifted his hand over the girl, and dispelled it.

The girl immediately healed and began to cry. Thank you! I thought I was going to die!

Interesting, Izible said softly, didnt expect that to work, actually.  I'm not a healer.

Izible walked off, ignoring the townsfolks overpowering disbelief.


Cassiopeia of the Quantum Downs

It has been said that the world as we know it, isnt the only one out there. Mystics look up to the night sky, to an endless array of flickering lights above. Scholars however pose a different theory, the infinite worlds theory. They believe our world is just a mere reflection upon reflection of other worlds, and all these reflections together form an endless array of possibilities and choices, each diverging from the original path and creating its own reflection of the one true world. Ever since they posed the question, they have been in conflict about the answer. Are we the one True World or just a mere reflection? What the scholars didnt figure out is that all these reflections are bound together, moving away from each other on an axis in two directions, up and down, but never can they move away from each other left to right as they are bound on the axis. The World Axis keeps the One True World in the centre of all things but at the ends of the axis lay forces beyond anyone's imaginations. These points are the Astral Ups and the Quantum Downs, regions of pure and raw energy swallowing worlds that have moved too far away from the One True World.

These regions keep each other balanced, swallowing an equal amount of power and matter to keep the One True World in balance between them. But sometimes the balance shifts and one or the other absorbs too much power. These points in the continuum of time are known as Cataclysms. Ever since the beginning of recorded history, only three points have been defined as Cataclysms. Wars swept over the lands, Volcanoes erupted and tsunamis swallowed pieces of the Earth. They were era-changing events, shaping the world for decades or centuries to come. And now, once more the Quantum Downs have created a Cataclysm to achieve equilibrium.


This time, the world wasnt shocked by violence or disaster but in the hinterlands a girl was born, Cassiopeia. From a young age it was clear that she was destined for great things, violent but great things. Ever since she could walk and talk, she dominated her peers. But her real talent was hiding the fact that she was pulling the strings. Whenever food was stolen, animals were killed or other children were hurt, the blame was found with someone else or nowhere at all.

And so she developed and in her teen years, her town learned to fear her as she was quickly amassing mystical power and influencing and dominating all events in and around the town. She could let a full field of crops fail just by looking at it. Other times, in a benevolent mood, she could cure a child on the brink of death with a whisper. They all feared her, but no one dared interfere. It took her own father, a simple towns merchant , to act brave and solve the crisis in his hometown. In the death of night, he left town and ventured into the woods. There lay an abbey, where a coven of sisters lived. He knew they had access to arcane secrets and had swore to protect it.


When he returned, they wielded their powers and subdued Cassiopeia. They took her to the abbey, and there deep down in the dungeons she plotted her revenge. The first two years she was completely isolated, food was brought by magic and no communication with the sisters was allowed. Her only point of contact was a thick blue rat. She started experimenting on it, turning it into a vessel for her Quantum powers so she could always tap into them. With her powers accessible, she started silently whispering to some of the sisters who are a little bit more open to suggestion. She started to put visions into their minds, visions of their hopes and dreams fulfilled, visions of dead relatives being alive and well, visions of knowledge or power acquired.

One day, she took the reins. She asked her followers to overthrow the leaders of the coven and in a day or two, he became head of the coven. They quickly repurposed themselves into Dark Sisters, pursuing only the darkest and most powerful forms of knowledge. The Dark sisters were known throughout the world, their brown simple tunics feared as they were spotted around town.

Her own personal journey led Cassiopeia to strange places. At first, she was content with the power of the Quantum Downs at her disposal in the form of her trusty pet rat but soon, she felt the need to gather more. She discovered that the axis of the One True World was held in place by the Ups and Downs, but circling around it were the elemental planes of Air, Earth, Water and Fire. These powers were harnessed by different mages and sorcerers around the world and she followed their example. She chose the Rune of Air, making sure her powers could travel on the wind by a whim.


But one thing piqued her interest. It seemed that some artefact's possessed the power of the One True World, but existed on each and any world. They formed the fundamental bricks of arcane power. She knew she wanted one of them, but the artefact's were heavily hidden in obscure lore and secretive tales. But after doing research for five years, she left the coven and stayed away for five more years. Upon returning, she held in her hand the Eye of Gorgon. The Gorgon was a mythical beast, possessing the power of true foresight. She never told anyone how she retrieved this item but from that day forward, if anyone was plotting against her, she knew it even before they had a chance to tell anyone.


Cloud of Ectoplasm

Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff

Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name

Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant's rings make way for other toys
One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave
Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee


Cryptomancer Aleister of the Obelisk

## **State of Play**

I used to be part of a cult. It was pretty fun for a while. We would hang out and talk about how we were better than other cults, how wed help our cult, and what the future would look like for us as the best if not one of the better cults. It was loads of fun! Anyway, eventually we decided we should start a basketball team since a few of us were pretty decent ballers and I myself was pretty good. I personally found that opponents struggle to play when you light a fire under their ass.

Eventually, I got bored of the basketball. I didnt quit when they banned the use of magic on opposition players, that seemed pretty fair, I actually quit after a time in which the league got really competitive. At that point most teams had established frameworks for approaching the game of basketball. The introduction of new structures and rules taught us to play within those limits until everybody was kinda playing the same game, not only every team but every player had also figured out what to do, where to move and how to make the best use of the space. For a good time we were all playing this boring game in competition with each other, until some new dude joined the cult and started a lot of us on an entirely different direction.

I have no idea who this wizard was or how they even got into the cult. Sure, Id seen them around. I might even have seen them around before the basketball playing days, but regardless; this wizards name and face escape me even to this day.


This wizard had noticed that wizards appeared to execute at a higher level (at least in basketball) when they were more organised than a bunch of wizards passing the ball around a circle, shooting the shit. He decided that we should use our magic for good and if we just became more organised we would eventually work out how to fix all of the problems in our lives. Not only that, we would find true recognition as the best cult out there.

I wasnt sure how to feel about this proposition at first. I felt like we did pretty good. Anyway, by this point I had become friends with a few of the guys in the cult and I didnt think too much about helping them out to do some cool stuff, I thought maybe itd even be fun!

I remember a conversation I had with a wizard around this time;

> Pretty fun being in this cult huh! Its a pretty freaking good cult, haha!

> Yeh! haha, I guess it is. You know what would be even more fun?

> I dont know how we could have more fun! Sure, I want to know!

> We could make sure that everyone who joins the cult promises to have fun!

I didnt really know what he meant by that, I was having fun without anyone telling me to have fun. I didnt see why we might need to enforce fun on people. It was a nice thought at least. What could be wrong with more fun?

I remember thinking that if fun was a responsibility rather than a choice, it might slowly begin to feel like work, inauthentic, or something entirely different than fun had ever been in the first place. I tossed and turned over this but the decision was eventually made because some of the cult members had been doing volunteer work already anyway so we might as well help them out, for the cult.


It was a new dawn for the cult. The cult was no longer just about fun.

There had been a *shift*.

It was now about helping people too!

It was also probably a bit about being the best cult around and maybe also about some of the wizards being able to tell people that they werent just goofing around doing magic all the time. For me, it was FOR THE CULT! as we liked to shout after a few ales at Ye Olde Taverna, and to be honest I have never been sure about what will happen in the future, so what was I to do? Tell them it was a bad idea? How could I know?

Anyway, as the years went on the cult became more and more organised. We got really good at paperwork, we got really good at cold-approaches, we got really good at making deals, we even got really good at telling people how good of a cult we were. By all intensive purposes we were succeeding at our goals. At a certain point, although we were a cult i.e. organised differently than a traditional business, we were meeting targets, having board meetings, and reading bottom lines like a corporate multi-national.

It was sometimes fun but I think over that time we forgot magic for a little while. It seemed that there was less space for magic when we filled our wizard brains with ideas about what the people wanted from us, what we could do for people, and how to best represent the cult to the world.


Eventually I grew old and after a time of service for the cult it was time for me to take a step back. I looked back fondly on all the good work that the cult was able to do, I even made use of their services from time to time, but I found fun again in doing things without protocols, meeting notes, or god-awful start times. I had more freedom to do what I wanted with my own time. Sometimes, it was fun to do nothing. I did continue to attend some cult meetings and I even made some remarks at a few of them. Though truly, I found most of my fun in doing the thing I had been too preoccupied to do with all my energy focused on the goals of the cult:

## Magic.

Dont get me wrong, there were still some wizards doing magic in the cult, just not in the same way as it had been used before. We had harnessed the power of magic like a dog that was now held back from sniffing all the poops in the park even if it wanted to. Occasionally thered be something interesting happening but many places were left unexplored. There were places to go and people to see. We were busy wizzies.

In reflection, I think I began to take all that cult business a bit too seriously at times. What had started out as a few wizards sitting in a circle telling each other fun stories and musing on the twists and turns of life, holding space for each other when it was needed, and generally just sitting around doing nothing(or magic), had turned into a venture, a resource allocation, and an opportunity.

Now, after its all over (another story completely), i try my best to help wizards remember the runes that started us off on the whole magic cult thing, albeit with questionable success.


Sometimes I pull out the box of memorabilia from over that time, just for kicks. I think my favourite piece from that period is the joke plaque someone had given me after I lost 4,000,000 gold coins in a trade deal with a talking mirror that had told me I was ugly and that all I had to do was give its owner the coins to get a new set of eyebrows.

Even if there was less magic in the cult then we hadnt lost our sense of humour and I did get the new eyebrows:

I knew they were just playing.

> play; *verb* ; engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.


Clairvoyant Gully of the Hills

## *Excerpt from Griselde's "Compleat Naturalist," 4th ed.*

It would be reasonable for the naturalist to establish a division of the Anuran magic folk more or less into two groups: those whose skin is smooth and wet (what we might refer to as frogs), and those whose skin is rough and dry (what we might call toads). Members of the former group are likely to be found in the swamps and bogs of low elevation, requiring a moist environment in order to maintain their delicate membranes. The toads, in contrast, may avail themselves of a much wider range of habitats, their only requirement being a patch of mud in which to burrow through the cold winter months.

Due to their large stature (compared with other members of the class Amphibia), they have few natural predators, and are accustomed to a rather blithe and unhurried existence. It is possiblebut difficult to provethat some unique method of magical concentration (e.g. clairvoyance) is the primary cause of their slothful demeanor. In any case, the only credible threat to an Anurans safety is the odd witch or wizard who gets it into their head that the incorporation of an amphibian of such size into their cauldron must necessarily provide a strong augment to their draughts. (That they may in fact be correct in their reasoning should by no means be considered justification for the destruction of a fellow magical creature. See section III.iii for further remarks on wizardly ethics.)


One should not, however, make the mistake of assuming the Anuran easy prey. In response to such threats as these, they are observed adopting smaller creatures as their familiars, practicing warding spells, and even arming themselves on occasion (see *fig. 2, Clairvoyant Gully of the Hils,* armed with an Ether Staff). A potion-dealer in search of potent ingredients will think twice before attempting to overwhelm an Anuran armed with staff, spell, or devoted familiar at its side.


Runecaster Daria of the Garden

# No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

EXT. FARM - EARLY MORNING

Darias father is hard at work harvesting crops on the family farm. The morning sun beams on his face as he takes a deep breath. Daria comes running from the house.

DARIA - Father, did you see?! The town is giving away more ponies because the last contest winners didn't claim them in time! Olga has been such a great help to the farm. Let's go try to get you one for yourself! I guess there are some puzzles we need to try to solve.

DARIAS FATHER - No, hunny. I had no idea. Let me finish up here, and well head into town. I have to buy some more seed for the crops, anyways.

Daria and her father stroll into town. Daria is riding Olga, her pony. As they get into town, she ties Olga up and gives her a shiny green apple to hold her over until they get back.

They approach the middle of town and notice a large number of people frantically running all over the place, appearing to be searching for something. One man is running with a jelly donut up in the air. He has a giant smile across his face.

A small group of children are playing in the streets.

LITTLE GIRL
(yelling) -
Abracadabra! See, Im a wizard!

Daria smiles at the little girl. Daria and her father approach a large sign. It reads When did the elf find a pie under his couch?

DARIA -
This must be the clue for todays puzzle!

DARIAS FATHER
(nods) -
Alright, then. Lets try to solve it.


A couple of hours pass. Daria and her father haven't made much progress. However, they continue walking around town, searching for additional clues. Out of no-where, a brigade of mountain trolls storm into town on foot. A large, overweight troll leads the brigade.

TROLL LEADER
(out of breath) -
News of free steeds have made its way to the mountaintop. Your foolish human games are nothing but a waste of time.  Give us your ponies, or die!

TO BE CONTINUED...


Sage Bane of the Atheneum

# Clever Boy Bane aka Sage Bane of the Atheneum aka Banane

Very clever undead sage.
Born from piles of bones stored in a room somewhere inside the crypts of an ancient library, under the influence of Pluto in retrograde with and eclipse as primary catalyst.
Bane spent his formative years learning how to keep his aching and chalky body in one piece by sheer willpower.
When he could finally hold it together whilst also focusing his mind on other things he ventured outside his broom closet and found books upon books, scrolls upon scrolls.

Even the mice scattered when gazing upon his form in the moonlight. All but one, a peculiar little albino mouse.
The two became friends, as far as Bane knew what friendship was, and spent eacht coming day scouring trough the endless knowledge found in the library.

Most of the books and scrolls were destroyed, but the rare few that were still readable contained secret knowledge that was thought to be lost to time.
Out of this forgotten knowledge Bane forged the ultimate healing tool, his staff known in legends as "Caduceus".

His robe you ask? Taken from a dead body.

A good friend of his, @wizard9068, likes to tell a completely different origin story of reptilian people originating from a far away and tiny icey planet.


Battle Mage Homer of the Quantum Shadow

# The meeting

As Homer approached the two wizards, he was apprehensive due to the hysterical crying.

"How could you kill her, you murderer?!" cries the green hatted wizard

"I can fix her, I promise, just give me a second, I have done it before!" says the crone.

Homer then realizes this truly is just as it appears, two wizards.....very upset by the killing of a rabbit.  Homer has seen death, many times to many different types of creatures, this was but another death, but to these wizards, this was more?

"Are you two ok?", asked homer.

"Yes, I just didn't see her, it's going to be ok, it's going to be fine!".  As the Crone spirals into more and more hysteria, suddenly, the rabbit begins twitching, and appearing to....come back to life?!  "I knew it, I knew I could do it!", cheers the crone.

*Hello Homer, of the Quantum Shadow*.  The...the voice was in his head.  As soon as he hears this voice, he notices both wizards seem just as shocked as him.  Who is speaking to them?

"Did one of you just speak to me?", the Crone asks.  The Green wizard begins to sit on the stump, staring at the rabbit, "Was that you?, that wasn't your native tongue, how was that performed?".

"As your thaumaturge", the rabbit, once again speaks into all of our heads, this time, seemingly in unison.

"We are going to have to keep a level head, I have seen many odd events, but this is a new one.  Let's take a step back, I am @wizard2078, what are you three known as?"


"I am @wizard8551 and this killer is @wizard5673, I have no word of our friend", motioning towards the rabbit.

"I am Roger, but you need not know about me, my mission is to aid you".


Pyromancer Azar of Tartarus

# The Lore of Pyromancer Azar of Tartarus

Back in the days before Pyromancer Azar became known as such, he was simply the wizard Azar, a lonely, depressed soul with a perpetual death wish. Having grown weary of the miracle of life, one day he decided to end it all in one fell stroke. Azar went down to the local flea market, purchased a fancy gold goblet (because one must have style even in the hour of one's demise), bought a vial of basilisk venom, then went home, made himself a poison cocktail, and downed the whole thing in one gulp. In an ironic twist of fate, it turned out the cup he bought was actually a legendary Goblet of Immortality, and instead of dying, Azar became unkillable.

In the days that followed, Azar basically freaked out and tried every method under the sun to off himself: jumping off the highest tower in the Citadel, hiring thugs to stab him a million times with rusty shivs, stepping in front of an archmagus's Chain Lightning spell, eating some questionable pizza from Pyromancer Pete's Pizza Parlor, which is said to kill 1 out of every 2 customers. But nothing worked. In despair, the last thing he tried was to douse himself in oil and set himself on fire, but the only thing that accomplished was to imbue the flame with the Goblet's magic as well, so that it burned eternal. Now, instead of being an immortal human, Azar became an immortal flaming skeleton that's being burnt to a crisp over and over again...forever. Man, life sucks sometimes.


After a lot of counseling and therapy, Azar finally managed to come to terms with his suicide ideation and begin life anew with fresh perspective. He learned fire magic from Pyromancer Pete (and also the art of pizza making). He invested in a noncombustible cloak, boots, and gloves, because having every part of your body on fire is a bit inconvenient, plus being a flaming skull is much cooler than being a flaming entire skeleton. He even got himself a cat (for some reason cats love hanging out around him, probably for the warmth he emanates, the same reason they like to sleep by a blazing hearth). Plus, being immortal has its advantages: he was headhunted to be official food tester to the king, to work in the police bomb squad, as well as one enigmatic offer that he suspected came from a VERY hardcore BDSM brothel. For now, Azar is satisfied with his life being a pizza delivery man...he is good at his job, the tips are good, and pyromancy ensures the pizzas will never arrive cold!


Runecaster Soya of the Bastion

Everything flows.


Sorcerer Ali of the Obelisk

# Lore of the One Who Became Sorcerer Ali of the Obelisk and Druid Faiz of Arcadia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUIZIkP7YJE

During the first age of wizards, there lived a scholar who longed to know the secrets of space and time. He traveled the world over, visiting restricted libraries and seeking out sages and philosophers who might guide him to the answers he sought.

The years passed, and his wife and children grew older away from his presence, until his youngest forgot his face. But gradually, he felt he was getting closer to his goal. Once he had mastered the 3rd and 4th dimensions, he could re-do these years and nothing would be lost.

One day, as he returned from a long journey to the Obelisk, he saw smoke in the distance, in the direction of his familys home. He rushed back to confirm that the worst had happened, his family and home gone to flame and ashes, cause unknown.

In his sorrow, he determined to go to the place that had been deemed too risky while his family lived. The myths dispute the identity of this location - some say he pierced the Infinity Veil, while others claim he entered the Astral Plane. Still others claim that the Event Horizon or even the Quantum Shadow was the destination he sought. But regardless, he entered a place where the rules and walls of the Runiverse ran thin. And in that place, he transformed.


His body was lost, but his spirit gained long-sought powers over time and space. However, his soul was not ready to control both simultaneously, and rather than suffer outright destruction, it split. Two forms emerged back into the Runiverse; Sorcerer Ali, possessing mastery over dreams, past, present and future (albeit only those occurring in his physical location); and @wizard466, able to travel far and wide in an instant (however, only in the present). Each possessed a fraction of a soul, and a semi-corporeal existence in our plane of the Runiverse.

Ali eventually settled in the Obelisk, where his abilities could be harnessed effectively, while Faiz roamed far and wide, much as his whole self had done, although much more efficiently. Both sought to continue their investigations, hoping to regain what had been lost. But as the eons progressed, the two tethered beings began to accumulate their own experiences, and their views and aims diverged(to be continued)


Shadow Mage Flamos of the Morning Star

# Chapter 1: The Road


Sorcerer Hadrien of the Ether

# Hadrien's Second Chance

Hadriens parents were from before our time. They were as famous as they were infamous. When you border the line of good and evil, you are bound to manifest enemies along the way.

### To call Hadrien and Azahls childhood horrific would be understating it.

On a full moon 2 days after Hadriens second birthday, there was a strange whistle that overtook the silence shortly after the family sat down for dinner. Their familiar went to its peephole to investigate the noise. The albino rat shivered and recoiled to its hiding place, preparing for certain death.

Hadriens father was a good man, but he was also a man that had been known throughout the runiverse to stick his nose where it simply did not belong. A favor turned into an obligation, and it all soon turned into a nightmare. The men outside were drunk off Ale and Anger, and there was no changing their minds.

While Hadriens parents remained lifeless on the kitchen floor, a heated debate was ongoing. I need the Alchemist, You need a hole in the head before you need another Alchemist.  Hadrien and Azahl were eventually split apart and sold a few times over. Their parents were both such talented wizards, that these daughters were thought to surely excel in their crafts.

Luckily for Hadrien, the most powerful wizards arent always evil. When she was 8, TGFG rescued Hadrien, and slayed the revolting troll that had kept her captive. Unfortunately TGFG was not able to track down Azahl until she was 14. Azahl changed drastically in those years that she was imprisoned.


Sorcerer George of the Hills

# George.

Rumors abound of a secret meeting at the Tower, but why did the wizards not return? The mood was tense when a group of no less than 10 wizards got together to search for their fallen friends.  They all knew the consequences-- they would have to go to the Tower and voluntarily submit themselves to the Pyre, the Inferno of No Return.  Will they be able to find their disappeared brothers and sisters and bring them triumphantly back to the Runiverse, or will they join them in darkness and lose their souls...

Some wizards go for loyalty, some to seek riches rumored to await them.  Others go for the promise of immortality. Others go for power and the chance to become a God of Death.

George, he goes for breakfast.

I mean, yes, he did lose his friend @wizard7147 in the mystery meeting, but he has much bigger ambitions at hand.

George is an unremarkable wizard. Unremarkable name.  Unremarkable magic.  Unremarkable life.  But he IS a man of taste.  And has dedicated his life searching far and wide for the perfect breakfast sandwich.

Legend has it that the Pyre holds the key.  That, and an "Egg of the Unknown Beast" which he recently sold all of his worldly possessions to acquire.

He feels confident that his secret strategy of using a fishing rod to dangle the egg just far enough to get the perfect roast will keep him at a safe distance.  Seems like a solid plan...


Enchanter Thor of the Palms

Enchanter Thor of the Palms


Pyromancer Charlord

# The Lore of Pyromancer Charlord

Age: currently unknown.

Origin: currently unknown.

**Act 1: The Awakening.**

As sudden as a spark, Charlord came to. He was in mid-stride and while his sight was clouded with a rusty green haze, he was able to barely make out the reeds and sedges of a marsh ahead. A sensation pushed from behind him. Nothing gravitational or barometric but a force none the less. He spun around and, through the bare treelined thicket he now faced, felt a pulse of darkness that caused his body temperature to bottom out. He turned back and picked up his pace.

Charlord edged closer to the wetland and noticed a bright amber hue glistening across the calm water, a midday sunrise. He trudged through the pickerelweed and button bush until he came upon the waters edge. He took a knee, dragged his hand through the cordgrass and stared emptily at the surface of the marsh. The creeping chill still festered underneath his sweater. For the first time since his awakening, as this unrecognizable reflection glared back at him, Charlord realized he had no recollection at all.

He stood up and gazed around. His senses gradually sharpened focus. He heard a faint whistle from the winds blowing through the forest just north of him. A crackerjack crow flew overhead and soared down into an open carving in the trees at the far edge of the marsh. He could feel the chill running through his bones.

With no possible plan, he marched in the direction of warmth. His body acting as an internal thermal compass. Was it the warmth that pulled him, or was it the cold that pushed? Nevertheless, northwest seemed to do the trick. He noticed a red snake keeping pace just behind him. Cold blooded, he thought.


As he entered the forest path, his legs steadily moved faster, from a hurried walk to a run. The quicker he moved, the stronger the flames seemed to burn. Before he knew it, Charlord was in a full sprint, a madman heading into the wild. And then something happened. In the black void that filled his mind, a small crack of light broke through. It wasnt much and it provided no information of use. But it was something. And now, Charlord was left to ponder what exactly that light would illuminate? Did he even want to know? Perhaps the black void was something he sought out...


Voodoo Priest Edward of the Citadel

# The Lore of Voodoo Priest Edward of the Citadel


of the Wood

# The Lore of of the Wood


Sage Bolin of the Realm

# The Lore of Sage Bolin of the Realm

A wizard with a glass full of wisdom


Illusionist Diana of the Wold

## Birth in the Valley of the Void Disciple

Diana is the eldest daughter from the the House of Rose, one of four families sworn to protect the environment of the Valley of the Void Disciple. The Valley of the Void Disciple is a harsh arid climate that is also the sacred home and breeding grounds of the Triple Crowned Cockatrice.

## House of Rose

In the valley where water is scarce, the House of Rose managed to grow an oasis civilization centered on efficient energy usage. The capital city where Diana was born, is legendary for its breathtakingly beautiful gardens where you can see and smell a variety of Desert Roses. The beauty of the gardens speak to the city's efficient water infrastructure. Diana carries a rose with her to remember the beauty of these gardens.

## Rune of Air

From a young age, Diana was trained to wield Rose's special air magic. Those trained in this magic can cast a range of wind spells by manipulating air pressure. House Rose's mastery over the wind gives them a natural synergy with the Triple Crowned Cockatrice. Legend has it that warriors of Rose once rode the Cockatrice into battle.

## Combat

Diana is physically agile, thanks to her Huntress genetics, but prefers to subdue her opponents with air magic. As a strong proponent of peace, Diana's air spells are the perfect tool to defuse potentially dangerous situations without causing harm.

However, if she needs to attack she has strong options. Of course she can always sweep her opponents off their feet with a powerful gust of wind, but she has developed a unique spell that rapidly swirls the air around her opponent's head and sends them into a state of confusion. This attack on the head can induce illusions, leading to her title *Illusionist Diana*.

## Residence in the Wold


## Residence in the Wold

To enrich her studies of the air arts, Diana left the Valley when she was ten to study under a magician in the Wold. Diana still resides there today, though she plans to return to the Valley one day.

## Emerald Slime

On her travels from the Valley to the Wold, Diana encountered a strange emerald slime who grew attached to her and never left her side. The slime is a mysterious creature, perhaps it is drawn to the Diana's Desert Rose? Diana enjoys the slime's company, as it is very wise and has a good read on the integrity of strangers.


Adept Enigma of the Mist

# Adept Enigma of the Mist

She had no name but was bestowed many: Medusa, Serpentine Queen, Deaths Rattle. Her favoriteMother Mamba. With hair of emerald snakes and skin of scales, she was nature incarnate. She rhythmically dwelled within the forests and swamps preferring the verdant green backdrops teeming with life its many forms to the arid mountains and lifeless deserts. In these lush lands she derived her greatest powers in conjunction with lunar cycles. Always within reach was her oversized lupine companion Lockjaw whos bite one could not escape.

She was neither good nor bad. She was creator and defender of life. Both lover and fighter. These days have required more of the latter. Rumors of beasts and demons echo across the land. An even greater threat of warriors and their perverse technology looms in the horizon. Mother Mamba and Lockjaw prepare to meet might with magic. She cared not about the fate of humans, only the fate of nature. Most humans had proven to be short-sighted savages draining the world of life. Left unchecked their lust and greed would destroy all including themselves. Their political and tribal affiliations shifted with the wind. She only cared about their relationship with nature. If just and balanced, they were left in relative peace. The dark-hearted were met by the fierce and vicious attentions of the Mother.


Arch-Magician Alessar of Mu

Alessar wasnt always a white mage. In his younger years, when he first entered the academy the hat he wore was of a deep blue.

After years of working with wizard technology he needed new motivations. Something bigger than him. Moving at his own pace, he went back to the academy to obtain his white mage hat.

[Academy story...]

Alessar was getting closer to success, and finally after multiple failed quests it clicked. He understood the the white magic was timeless and pure, thats when his life changed for good.

The blue mage was, after slaying the beast, awarded his white hat. For his service to the academy and capital, he was also offered a white Peace staff so he could become one of the few full white wizard, but he respectfully declined the offering. The humble wizard decided it was best keep tribute to the blue wizards by wielding the sky colored Harmony Staff.


Charmer Beyna of the Forest

@wizard2390

@wizard590 sat next to the fire, watching the four sisters play - they were close enough in age they could play together, but what was striking was the differences in skill and in interests between the four. He wondered how this had happened - fire, water, wind, and earth. Was it pure randomness? Or was there something else at play?

This day would cause the family to be irrevocably changed forever - the thought that the four main elements may not have been randomly chosen could not be removed from Amir's mind. He was trapped in the vessel of his own mind, obsessing that his family might have been destined for more. He saw the girls playing hide and seek - Adrienne looking after the other three and he felt safe to take his eye off them to head to the meditation stone.

"It isn't that far" he kept telling himself as the girls disappeared out of sight. Amir, for what felt like ages, asked the powers that be at the meditation stone what he should do for his family. Time passed, and a small speck of terror began in his stomach. It grew larger and larger until he snapped out of the trance he was in and rushed back to where the girls were playing.

He saw Adrienne and the other two, but no Beyna. He called to Adrienne, the oldest, and she brushed him off as if he was crazy as they were just playing hide and seek. But as Amir continued to call for Beyna, the other three slowly joining in, the family began to get more and more worried as Beyna failed to respond.

Darkness was soon upon them, and the search lasted well into the night. They searched everywhere - and Beyna was nowhere to be found. A middle sister, Beyna was sometimes forgotten, as was her rune.


As the sun breached the horizon on the 3rd day of searching, the family splintered - Adrienne blamed Amir and left. Amir kept the other two sisters, who were the youngest, but things were never the same.

Beyna was still out there - attuned to the earth and anything green, she had found a stick during hide and seek. The stick was plain - it looked just like a dumb stick, however the pull was immense. Something was at play here as it drew her in a dream-like state farther and farther from her father and sisters until she reached the grotto.

@wizard591 greeted her and invited her in.


Wraith Devout Zubin of the Spike

# How to Make a Wraith: The Lore of Zubin of the Spike
## Zubin's Demise
Archmagician Zubin of the Fey was not a happy man.
Cursed with babyface at a very young age
by a Swamp Witch from Frog Master Marsh
he felt he was never able to command respect from his peers.
The perceived inadequacy of his prepubescent appearance drove him mad
.
When the Immortal Flames emerged
Zubin saw them as an opportunity
to seize the power he was denied in life,
and he threw himself into the inferno.
.
For what felt like days he tumbled through the raging fire
his body repeatedly being torn asunder and rearranged
until he no longer recognized himself.
He screamed in agony,
but no such sound emerged;
only the whispered cackles
of the souls with which his was now entwined -
echoing all around him like a cacophony of giddy hyenas.
.
And just as soon as Zubin began to regret his decision,
he lost consciousness
for the last time.
.
.
.

When he awoke he found himself standing alone in a wretched landscape
an endless abyss of swirling black fog -
it was sticky like tar and whispered incantations as it blew past.
.
The voices of the souls inside him were no longer tormenting sneers.
Instead they spoke to him
in hushed tones that pierced through the darkness
of the shadows that now adorned his shoulders.
.
> *You are one of us now*

> *Come, let us show you what true power feels like...*


> *Come, let us show you what true power feels like...*

.
He began to walk
stumbling through the inky hellscape
guided only by the whispers in his head
.
.
Through the fog a shape appeared.
.
A horned head atop a hunched figure...
.
Gangly limbs crackle with dark energy...
.
A set of wings unfurled...
.
.


Druid Venga of the Field

# PREFACE
---

Venga remembers his time with the Emerald Legion, before he learned the dark secrets. The same secrets which led to him taking the Purple Hood for the remainder of his days.

---

Sporadically, he will grasp his standard-issue staff or stare deeply into the gem nestled within its carved wood, and become overwhelmed by a flashing mosaic of *horrors* - those of war on a scale rarely ever seen in the Ruiniverse.

>*It is said "iron sharpens iron", it does, and the same can be said for magic...confronting magic that is your equal, or even greater, makes one's magic stronger...but there's a **price** to pay...sometimes a wizard must pay dearly...*

Wizards aren't usually given a familiar or a rune, they find their way to a magician; as things seem to do in an *enchanted* world. They are attracted to the practitioner through mystical magnetism - an unspoken power of fate known to create unbreakable bonds and which usually complement or amplify the powers of a wizard. Bonds come in varying degrees from an acknowledgement of relation, to familial, to that which is ingrained in one's soul.

---

It's dangerous to have something ingrained in your soul. It can be as important as the air filling your lungs or the water keeping you from withering away in barren lands...

---

As the sun sets on the day, Venga begins his. It's an unnatural schedule he keeps, but it's all hes known ever since he learned the ways. Being punctual, he moves with haste, taking only the essentials: boots, trousers, caped tunic, emerald staff & the bracelet made of blackened bones.

>There is knowledge that cannot be unlearned, secrets that cannot be untold and terror that cannot be unlived

This is Vengas Story.


Arcanist Woomba of the Temple

If there is one thing Imps are good at, it is being sneaky, mischievous, and sometimes evil.

This particular imp is all three - however not in the way you might imagine.

Woomba has great power, however prefers to keep his strength under wraps - he likes to be viewed as the smaller, less important type. He finds that it is easier to get an advantage on his competition this way.

When @wizard586 was visting the Red Wizard Citadel, Woomba snuck into his room (Imps are very strong lockpicks) and found a scroll. The insignia was something he did not recognize, but he read it anyway:

> Disturbance detected near Infinity Veil

> Reinforcements Requested

He left it, but he couldn't help feeling uneasy about the future.


Hedge Wizard Simon of the Event Horizon

a scrap from a monastic tome, previously thought destroyed

"Hedge Wizard Simon has not uttered a single word since his return from the Event Horizon.  Rooted by his Rune of Earth, this humble, powerful awakened Felis roams the land in solitude (excluding, of course, his small companion Doug). Simons only drive is to protect the secrets of the Event Horizon, at the expense of hiw own life, if necessary.  Simon protects the innocent at almost any cost.  What does he know?"


Chronomancer Hagar of the Canyon

# The Lore of Chronomancer Hagar of the Canyon

Party all night long


Rotten Revenant Aleister of the Gloom

# The Rotten Revenant of The Gloom

--

The Gloom was much like its name would lead you to believe. Dark, damp, and frighteningly still. It smelled of burnt hair and rotting flesh, and the wind was cold and biting. For these reasons and more, few dared to venture in search of The Gloom. However, all who do, meet the same fate.

For those, its often the tales of unspeakable treasures and wealth hidden deep within The Gloom that pull them toward it. Greed is a most unflattering trait.

Some came seeking something entirely different, however. You see, there have long been rumors of a red wizard who was powerful enough to turn mere mortals into magicians with the touch of his bone stave. He had used this power to turn himself into one of the most influential and prominent wizards the runiverse had seen.

And then, one day, he vanished.

Some believe his thirst for power got the best of him and one of his progeny turned on him. Others think he simply grew tired of having the world at his fingertips, and so he relinquished everything and began a life of meager solitude.

But some know the truth. For Aleister was greedy, and his desire to become stronger only grew with each passing day. And one day, when the opportunity presented itself, he gave himself to the Sacred Flame.

Aleister had hoped to emerge a god, immortal and with unmatched powers. The flame is not in the business of granting wishes, however, and on the other side, Aleister was spewed as a rotten, ghastly thing.

Forever angry about his unfortunate twist of fate, Aleister now trolls The Gloom, still hoarding the riches of his previous life even though they are no longer worth anything to him.


And doling out his vengeance on others who, like him, let their greed dictate their actions.


Augurer Ixar of Atlantis

# The Fall of Augurer Ixar of Atlantis

DEATH, THE HANGED MAN, THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, THE SUN and THE MAGICIAN (INVERTED).

A reoccurring combination of cardstoo frequent to be mere coincidence. That, plus the blood moon and the dark ravens and the menagerie of omens meant that Ixarthe illustrious Augurer of Atlantiscould ignore the Signs no more.

Something was trying to tell him something. (?)

But what?

For the past decade, Ixar had lived a life of a modest yet glorious life as a swashbuckling fortune-teller. Hed made many friends along the way; as you know. And yet he had always been haunted by the sense that somehow his fate and good fortune would turn. And, perhaps, not for the better.

An amused indifference to the whims of fate can only carry one so far. And besides, the omens, the cards, the _Signs_ were becoming impossible to ignore.

DEATHthe end of a cycle? A new change or a transformation of sorts?
THE HANGED MANsacrifice? Release?
THE WHEEL OF FORTUNEagain: change, and the inescapable pull of fate. Hmmm.

THE SUNjoy? Celebration? Warmth? Or quite simply just fire? A great burning fire?

THE MAGICIAN (INVERTED)illusions or trickery? What could this possibly foretell.

Like all who claim proficiency or expertise; Ixar was next to useless at heeding his own advice. Let alone interpreting how the Signs might translate to his unfurling story.

And sowith morbid curiosity and amused resignation (and perhaps, some guilt over The Event of a decade ago)he decided to follow the thread of fate, to see where they might lead him.


And so, in the deep dark of night, he found himself ascending the many stairs of The Secret Tower; eyes transfixed upon the light of a sacred fire


Sorcerer Solomon of the Quantum Downs

# Quantum Wisdom

Listen more. Speak less.


Scorch of Tartarus

an excerpt from a lost tome, author unknown

"Passing into Tartarus, be prepared to meet the Scorch. Accompanied by his ember frog, Persephone, he will ask for your journeys purpose. Give an insufficient answer, and suffer the fiery consequences.  Scorch fancies himself the King of Tartarus, and his "invisible prop" is actually a black hole.  Flee on sight."


Arcanist Eronin of the Sands

# New Lore Entry

_Delete below sample to write your own_

Arcanist Eronin of the Sands was the youngest of 5 from the family Estradis.  He was a late bloomer that started to speak at age 4, but had something magical about him from time of birth.  There was a hovering owl at his window wooing the whole night of his birth.  He goes on at age 18 to save the Sands from an invasion of marauding sand gnomes.

## Example of a medium heading
### Example of a smaller heading

# Images
You can add images via links, OR, upload from your computer using the toolbar.

### Image uploads

Use the toolbar image icon to upload an image to IPFS. Once uploaded (to IPFS) they also appear as a link, like so:

### External Image Links

To add image (or anything else) as a link, you can do it via the toolbar link icon, or just write the syntax below like so:

### Embedded videos

Oh yeah, if you just put in a YouTube link (no special syntax) on its own then it shows it embedded, see below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30b7_S0paCQ

# Getting new lines right

New lines can be a bit funny.... there are two options:

**First**

Press enter twice. I am typing here, and now pressing enter twice after three dotrs...

and now I am here (but you did get double spacing)

**Second**

Type two spaces *before* pressing enter. Here come two spaces after the three dots followed by enter...
and now I am here

# Tagging other characters

You can tag other wizards, souls etc in any normal text (so not a heading or a link). Here are some examples:


Best wizard of all is @wizard2140. His dreams of befriending @pony0 one day. Watch out for @soul1732!


Geomancer Jasper of the Wood

# The Lore of Geomancer Jasper of the Wood

Of the Wood by name, Of the Wood by nature.

Jasper was not the most magically talented but enough so that it allowed him to lead a simple life. As a novice Geomancer he spent his days wandering the forested parts of the world. Throwing sand and dirt at the ground as he walked, Jasper was able to read the markings as they fell to the floor without ever breaking stride. He would join with travelling parties and read their futures for them in exchange for some food and water or even a few coins or ales.

One day when walking through the forest, Jasper stumbled across a small wooden puppet in the middle of the path. Jasper was immediately cautious of the puppet. The very air around it felt different; an aura of powerful energy emitting from it. Unsure of how to proceed Jasper did what he knew best, he picked up some dirt and cast it at the ground... but the markings gave away no secrets... This was the first time Jasper had been unable to get even a slight glimpse of the future through his geomancy and this left him feeling uneasy. He decided to camp nearby the doll to allow him time to study it more.


Days went past without learning a thing, those turned into weeks. This part of the forest was a lot less travelled than it had been in years gone by so nobody came through while Jasper was camped. Until one day the faint sound of children laughing and playing slowly approached from the distance. Jasper decided it best not to startle the children and hid just off the path. He continued casting dirt and sand at the ground while he waited(this had become more frantic in the weeks as Jasper failed to get a single reading on the puppet). The children were now almost level with his small camp and all stopped when they noticed the puppet on the track. Initially they were all as cautious as Jasper's first approach, they could feel its presence even without any magical powers. Suddenly, the youngest of the children walked forward as curiosity had gotten the better of him. Jasper watched the small child inch closer and closer to the doll with an outstretched arm, it trembled more with every step closer he took. Just as he was about to lay his hand on the puppet Jasper burst from the bushes beside him and pushed him out the way, but in doing so he grazed the puppet with a bare foot. Instantly the world around him fell dark....

When Jasper finally woke it felt like years had passed, seasons had turned in the woods around him. Something immediately felt wrong; he felt different. A long wooden nose was visible between his eyes. He lifted his hands to see them, small wooden ones were what he gazed down at. He stood up, but the world felt huge around him. He ran and found a small puddle nearby and gazed at his reflection, the pieces finally clicked when he saw the puppet staring back at him. The dark magic had trapped him within it!


He no longer felt hunger or thirst, he need not sleep. Jasper wandered the woods desperate to find a single clue to help him undo this curse. He feared going in to civilisation. His magic was not strong enough to offer him protection from any malicious humans who took an interest in him. In the years he spent in the woods he learned to befriend the animals and live comfortably but deep down Jasper was grossly unhappy with this body. How had it come to this? All to protect a stranger. He secretly longed for an end.

Jasper continued to practice his Geomancy, it improved with time. His ability to read the future more accurately helped him keep sane but one theme kept appearing through his divinations; Flames and Fire.

He started to hear the murmurs from passers by of the forests, a great wizard sacrifice was going to take place... Could this give Jasper a noble way out of his puppet imprisoned life?

Geomancer Jasper, the forest dwelling chancer

Wandering through the wood, reading markings as he could

Telling futures through divination to any passers with inclination

Until upon a puppet he did chance, that gave no answers through Geomance

Perplexed and confused as his magic it refused

A future unable to be seen

He stayed by its side, not taking another stride

Perhaps he had become too keen?

Time marched on, his curiosity now gone

Replaced by a maddening intent

Was this Dark magic? Were things turning tragic?

Countless were the days now spent

Until one day, some children did play

Along the path by Jaspers conundrum

They stopped at the doll, it's magic caused their stall

Felt in an aura around thum

The youngest of the group, stepped ahead of the troop

He feared not what lay on the path

With an outstretched arm, unaware of the harm


He feared not what lay on the path

With an outstretched arm, unaware of the harm

Would he do what Jasper dared not hath?

From a bush lept Jasper, he'd never moved faster

He pushed the small boy to the side

Selfless and heroic, Jasper was stoic

But careless had he made his stride

For on the nose of the puppet, his big toe did he stub it

The world fell black around thee

When he awoke from his slumber, Jasper's mind was asunder

He felt like he was made from a tree

In a puddle lay his reflection, his new form at its conception

The small wooden puppet stared back

This dark magic, turned our tale now tragic

Would Jasper get his life back on track?

The years passed by and though Jasper did try

No reversal seemed possible at all

He was stuck made of wood, no solution deemed good

Until he started to hear a call...

His geomantic divinations all gave burning sensations

An arrival of flames and fire

Whispers of a great wizard burning sent his head a turning

Would he resist the call of the pyre?

His mind raced with wonder, thoughts booming like thunder

Ahead was the calling red flames

With no hope of a mend and alone at the end

"Jasper" joined the Forgotten Soul names


Arch-Magician Eizo of the Mist

I heard that writing my story attracts some warriors. Here it is.


Archmagus Pumlo of the Citadel

# New Lore Entry

_Delete below sample to write your own_

This is my lore... just give me airdrops -_-


Conjurer Kazem of the Sands

# Kazem and The Garden of Eden

_The story you've heard is wrong_

Kazem's antiquity knows no peers. Born as a waste product of Genesis, Kazem hid quietly on earth watching the paradise grow around them.

After 7 days Kazem witnessed the birth of man and woman and the covenant they made with their creator. Kazem conjured a snake to trick the humans into partaking in the fruit from the forbidden tree, thus imbuing them with shame and evil.

When the creator learned of this act he banished Kazem to the vastest desert on earth, where he lived for over a thousand years But that is another story.


Conjurer Allistair of the Veil

# Allistair

Boom


"The Somewhat Tragic Telling of the Forgotten Soul known as Malodorous Ghoul Cromwell of the Death Cloud That Ends Up OK.."

Cromwell was not always so hideous and creepy.  In fact, he was considered an okay-looking if not (not) repulsive chap, based on his sprite spell portraits.

However, Cromwell had no sense smell.  He was also painfully and almost ignominiously single.  No lady would fancy Cromwell, for he emitted such a heinous and putrid odor somehow even he was unaware of.  Perhaps it was due to the fact he had no sense of smell - however this is is dispute as some goblins previously known to have to sense of smell claimed to smell Cromwell a cavern away.

After many years obsessing over why folks would run at the very sight (turns out, smell) of him, he went mad. His poor dog, Anosmia, was the only creature that stood by him, likely because she had no choice.

Will choosing to pass through the sacred flame set Cromwell (and Anosmia) free?

So far, his stench actually seems to attract revenants and zombies like an aprodisiac!  New adventures await..


Sage Victoria of the Brambles

# Origin

In the beginning

Born to thorns

Brambles in shambles

Surrendered to magic

Under the moon

Wisdom comes soft-footed


Mina of the Brine

According to bar tales, Mina is about as epic as wizards get.

Always seeking out the most dangerous adventures and tavern quests available, Mina knows luck will always - ALWAYS - be on her side.  She carries with her the physical manifestation of luck itself and wields her magic under the loom of the mighty Jupiter himself!!  Talk about playing to your strengths!

Her rat fam, Kismet, is also uncommonly fearless, having aided Mina in battle and many grinding poker nights.  Luck can only give one much of an edge, right?

There must be something hidden deeper within..


Sage Drusilla of the Reach

If you dare to follow Drusilla into the Reach, she can decipher your very future for a pittance.  Ok ok, if you consider an ogre's eyeball a pittance, you're in luck.

Fortune.  Misery.  Apathy.  And, EVERYTHING in between.  You may be skeptical of palm readings and crystal balls, but one session with Drusilla and youll be dropping hallelujah's and singing a different tune entirely.  She calls upon her seer cat Meer for particularly difficult materializations.

When Drusilla is off the clock, you can find her cooking up strange but not overly tasty food combinations in her scullery.


Oracle Homer of the Arctic

**WANTED:** The self-proclaimed Oracle Homer of the Artic.
	**CRIME:** False advertisement.

Hear, ye!  Hear, ye!

I have for ye the best brew in the land... Aye, it'll get ya drunk..  It's not just a good drink - it's a tonic!  Ive somehow managed to cure DEATH itself!

Thats right! Me and the fam here are traveling far and wide to spread the word!

We want yeeall to be able to get yer chance to get some of this fine medicine!

For only a menial menial investment to cover R&D, materials, and a portion donated to taste testing (Clairvoyant Gary himself ain't cheap ya know eh?), yall find yaselves cured of all yer buggery!  Get yer pint 'o healing today, ya?

	**WANTED:** The self-proclaimed Oracle Homer of the Artic.
	**CRIME:** False advertisement.


Valen Battler of the Coliseum

# Valen Battler of The Coliseum *UNFINISHED ROUGH DRAFT*


Valen grew up in a small war clan village just north of the Sacred Pillars. This is not where he was born, but where he was found. Wandering through a nearby clearing, cold, hungry and alone he was found by a warrior scout. This warrior scout, normally, would have instantly killed the child, not being of his own clan. However, he could sense the strength within the child. Even as a small boy, he loved to fight. Not in anger, just because it was fun. However, Valen was constantly getting his ass handed to him. He understood the basics and he had an unstoppable chin. He was never getting knocked out, cut or even bruised. He would fight his hardest but still take a vicious beating more times than not. Usually, an opponent would, at some point, get too tired and frustrated at the fact that nothing could put him down, and just walk away exhausted. They would mock him. They would tease him and do anything to break the spirit of the boy they could not hurt physically. He was different. And he knew that being different in a war tribe is not a good thing.


It was at this point he would learn anger. He tried to swallow it at first, but his peers were relentless. Never missing a chance to embarrass him. The girls too would even join in. Being seen as his friend would only lead to your abuse as well. But as time went on, with every punch he took, with every fight that he lost, with every embarrassment and foul word he learned... and he grew smarter, stronger, he grew faster, and he grew larger. In fact, by the time he was 12, he was as large as any adult man in his village. It was at this point that no one his age would challenge him. He was too powerful. Only the adults would face him. And face him they did. They did not hold back and would fight him savagely. He loved it. He was honored that he was being treated as an equal by the men he grew up idolizing. It didn't take very long before they too were no


It didn't take very long before they too were no match for him. However, in secret, these same idols of his, were plotting against him. They, unlike the children, were wise enough not to insult him or let on their jealousy. However, they feared that their place in the war clan would soon be taken by Valen. They realized that at this point, Valen could defeat their champion and the boy was not even of age to claim a title. It wouldn't be long before the young man would come of age to challenge for War chief. They all understood that when he wanted it, it was his. Nobody could stop him. This was when they decided on a plot to poison him. One night they loaded his supper with enough Death Root to kill a small army and while Valen ate, they watched. To their dismay, it had no effect. They tried for weeks using every deadly poison in the realm but alas, Valen was immune. It wasnt long after,


Valen was immune. It wasnt long after, Valen could sense a change in the village. His peers were no longer teasing him. When he would make mistakes, nobody would snicker or attempt to embarrass him. In fact, warriors wouldn't even make eye contact with him anymore. Valen could sense that something was wrong. "What did I do? What did I say?" Valen thought. "I clearly fucked up... but how?" Valen would be tormented by these thoughts. He could not sleep. His every thought was of how he may have wronged his clan. It was driving him mad. He needed to know what he had done. One beautiful day, he drew up the courage to head to the chief's hall and address the issue. He was sure that he would be scolded and sent away but he needed closure of any kind. To his surprise, upon entering the great hall, he was greeted with smiles. "Welcome, young Valen!" said the high chief, now standing "Im glad you


said the high chief, now standing "Im glad you are here. We must speak on a serious matter. One that we have been mulling for a while now. Your passage into manhood. Though you are not yet of age, you have proven yourself worthy time and time again. What say you, Valen... do you feel that you are ready to take the oath of the warrior?"


Valen was stunned. Taking a knee and bowing his head he said "Yes. I've waited for this moment my entire life. It would be my honor and my life' goal to prove your decision a wise one." He said now throwing his clenched fist across his chest.
"Rise." said the chief. "On the morow you shall receive your purifications and so will begin your new life as a warrior." Valin rose, then bowed his head again. "Thank you Chief." Then turned and walked back out of the great hall closing the door behind himself. He stopped and stood for a moment. He was trembling with joy and excitement. He couldn't believe it. By this time tomorrow, He'd finally be a part of the warrior hoard. "They do respect me after all!" he thought "All of my sadness, fears and worry were unjustified! I now can see that clearly, nobody wanted to ruin the joy of my surprise!" Valin had never been happier in all his life. He would finally be a man. No more embarrassment, no more silence. Finally, be accepted within his clan. Thank the gods!
Back in the great hall, the smiles were gone the moment Valen left. "So, tomorrow is the day. We've planned for this for some time now. Every man, woman and child will be armed, as is custom, he will have no suspicion. When he takes the knee, we will strike him down."


Ghost Eater Jig of the Keep

Not everyone was born a Wizard, for that matter. Like.... you know, all of us. The seven-point- nine-five billion of us. Lets focus in on three, in their 20s. Ned, Pez, and JP, who played a little loose with the truth and ended up living in an immense mansion in the Hollywood Hills. But even the raging Influencer Party they threw last night (remnants everywhere and no cleaning crew is going to mop this one up) wont save their plummeting status as all-important Influencers, having spent the night locked in a bathroom (to much weed and whiskey) while their competitors (younger, sexier, more TikTokd) took all the credit.

~

In the cold light of morning  and in the ruins of their crime-scene-taped rental mansion  the realitys all too clear. Oh... they used to be the shit. Together, they rocked almost a million followers. Now, Ned has a few thousand, Pez a few hundred, and JP has one, one last follower that hes devoted his waking days not to lose. And so many bills. So much back rent. And a few (yknow, ridiculous) pending lawsuits. So theyre all just fucked every which way.

~

And their definitely no longer high, or are they, when out of this big ball of light steps a bald- headed, green-gowned, yellow-caped guy who called himself something like Nic the Romancer (@wizard1271)  and prostrates himself before them. I have come, he tells them, searching for men of Tremendous Influence. He humbly requests they exert their power and influence in his world (World? Are you in the music business?) and guarantees that if they say yes, they will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams.

~


~

He sets a huge bong-like vial filled with Cannabis Potion before them. I have brought you a gift I believe you covet. Think. Consider. And if you would join me, signify your assent by imbibing of this Sacred Vial and I will transport you to my world, where you will be honored and regaled. With that, Nic the Romancer vanishes like he came... although theres definitely an afterimage of luminous Emerald Slime with a smirking mouth, and a lot of tude.

~

Still reeling from last night, and from the immensity of Nics offer, Ned, Pez, and JP pull themselves together, stare at each other, come to the same realization: Dudes  we must drink! Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, they lunge for the Cannabis Vial.

~

However

Another visitor appears. Victoria (@wizard6563), head to toe in purple and hurling a horseshoe at the Vial. Through blind luck, or a distant memory of athleticism, Ned intercepts the horseshoe with his head, and though painful, hes saved the Vial and their promised future.

~

Victoria, suddenly pleading, begs them to come to their senses. Dont do it. Put the Vial down. Run. Hide for a long as you can. Unfortunately... they start snickering. You cant tell us what to do. Even if youre hot, or whatever. Were Influencers, and were all in! She tries to control her rising fury: Do you have any idea who that was? Yes we do, little lady. That was Nic the Romancer. Our close friend. You, you... morons! That was the Necromancer!!

~


~

Exploding, she rushes them, but too late  Ned, Pez, and JP scramble and guzzle the contents of the Vial. They grin stupidly at her until suddenly  and very painfully  they vanish.

~

Victoria shouts, and shed trash the place, but its already trashed. Her winged familiar, Bat, tries to lie low by hiding under a blanket  and re-emerges screaming. Victoria stares as the blanket groans, mutters, and slides off to reveal an older bearded dude with a big, crusty Bong under one arm, and an albino Rat curled in the other (@wizard8528). Who the F are you?? Victoria demands.

~

The old dude, Alessar, is too out of it to speak. His Rat is used to filling in the gaps: Go easy on him, please. Hes had a rough few decades... And so we discover that the Runiverse is in trouble. That many Wizards, that much magic, that many snarling Familiars. It was bound to go wrong. Some want peace. Some want partitioned existence (Border Control!). Some want power with hierarchy. And some, like the Necromancer, want Complete and Utter Domination.

~

Because the Wizards interface with our world is crude and new, the Necromancer isnt absolutely sure hes correctly evaluated the full power of our three misfits, but regardless, he still has high hopes for their ability to gain the influence of all the Wizards, and bend the Wizard population to his will.

~


~

Victoria, on the other hand, is a force of good, albeit a furious one. Since she failed to prevent Ned, Pez, and PJ from embarking on their journey into darkness, shes going to have to pursue them in the Runiverse, try to save them, and save the Runiverse. And yes, after and during disturbing/comical/magical/life-threatening and sometimes barely explainable Wizard attacks/seductions/spells/and I-wish-I-was-dead adventures, our three budding heroes, with Victorias help, will start to learn what real influence and power means.

~

Alessar and his Rat come into the Runiverse, too, spurred by Victoria, who needs help in understanding, well, people. And in Alessars intermittent journey towards sobriety, he wonders if he can make up for a lifetime of mistakes as he tries to help his young friends.

~

So, in the Runiverse, where Ned becomes @wizard9814 and gains a Psychic Rabbit (Stop constantly telling everyone what Im thinking!!), and Pez becomes @wizard8066 with a Dog whos always hunting the wrong thing, and JP becomes @wizard872 (weirdly with the same face as Pez, which is really annoying) and is trailed by a pompous Golden Toad with mysterious powers it feels too important to reveal, they really have nothing. Except totally transformed bodies. Simultaneously freaking out, empowered, lost, and venerated, like Connecticut Yankees in King Arthurs Court, our young trio has got a lot of scrambling to do, first just to stay alive, and then, ultimately, to rise to the heroes theyre going to have to become, with growing powers finally used for good.

~

It all starts with.... (More To Come...!)

~


Witch Rita of the Wood

# Witch Rita of the Wood

Her story remains to be told...


Clairvoyant Chanterelle of the Marsh

"..said awakened mycelium tasked with protecting the fauna and flora of the Marsh, Chanterelle is representing habitat incarnate.  Unhappy with the lack of imagination shown by the Druids who awakened him, Chanterelle is a relatively peaceful being, any external malice towards his plants and animals will incur the channeling of nature's wrath to exterminate it." - A Lost Druid's Journal


# Chapter 1: Seven hundred and seventy-seven souls
The Great Lord of the Void, Necromancer Voidoth of the Platonic Shadow, strode purposefully along the line of cages. The heavy mantle of the Quantum Shadow swallowed them up as he left them in his wake.

In the top corner of the digital visor that covered his hollow eye sockets, readings of the wizards heartbeats and the suppression of their magic flashed up, scrolling through the list of pathetic specimens who cowered as he passed them by.

Voidoth grinned a toothy grin as Crackerjack sidled up to join him.

You have done well, First Disciple, he said, approaching the nearest cage. The seven emaciated wizards were stripped naked, huddling against each other in their cramped confines. Their unkempt hair was matted and clogged with their own filth. The cages occupants recoiled beneath Voidoths skeletal gaze.

How many of them are Blue Wizards?

By my reckoning, one in every seven, Overlord, rasped the giant corvid.

Voidoths skull jerked spasmodically as the Necromantic spell he had devised sparked one of its regular override commands. This enabled him to maintain control over the cyborg sentience program installed by the wizards in the Bastions laboratories. They had thought to raise him from the dead as a subservient prototype when they fused a robotic body with his skeletal remains all those years ago. But instead, he had returned to life to find himself flooded with the power of a Necromancer, capable of controlling the spirits of the dead. The memory was a constant companion, coursing through his circuitry, reminding him of what they had done to him. Soon he would have his revenge.


One hundred and eleven Blue Wizards! Voidoth laughed  a metallic, grating noise that rattled up from the motherboard in his chest. This is a fine start indeed.

Yes Overlord, replied Crackerjack far too quickly. Voidoth turned on his subordinate, the exposed vertebrae of his neck clicking angrily against each other. He waited silently.
The other Necromancer wilted, shuffling his claws in the pale sand. We uh well the thing is we were unable to capture Scryer Apollo, Great Lord.

Voidoth impassively regarded Crackerjack as the crow-man squirmed, seeing himself mirrored in the Voidlords visor. Voidoths forever bat, Gorge, sensed its masters displeasure and began to dive-bomb the idiot Wesley, taunting the red and black snake with high-pitched trills of excitement. The stupid serpent tried in vain to bury himself in the sand to get away from Gorges attentions. Crackerjacks other fool familiar, the Mesozoic Cockatrice Ozymandias, was, as usual, nowhere to be seen.

I see, he said in a flat voice. And who was in charge of that mission?

Crackerjack pointed wordlessly at a pallid individual who was inching surreptitiously backwards through the throng of disciples that trailed along behind Voidoth and his First Disciple.


The Lord of the Void turned his cold gaze on the unfortunate individual. Electronic signals skittered across his visor. The disciple froze, arms pinned to his sides, eyes bulging. The visor darkened, clouding with the power of the cyborgs magic. Stiff-legged, his heels dragged twin paths through the sand as the disciple was pulled towards them, helpless to resist. A few of the others glanced anxiously around as though searching for an escape route, as Voidoth drew a yard-long lance from the depths of his purple robes.

The mists of the Quantum Shadow slid hungrily along its gleaming surface. As the victim entered its range, the lance split, the hard surface softening and unfurling as the vicious plant lashed out, its hinged lobes swelling in size and exposing a cavernous meaty interior.

The disciple was engulfed in the maw of the Venus Flytrap as it snapped shut. The wicked spines lining its mouth interlaced, sealing his fate. The plant pulsated as its digestive acid liquified its prey, the mans body reduced to mush. A trickle of pulpy juice dripped from the corner of the Flytraps mouth. In moments, it had coiled itself back into the lance, which resealed itself and solidified once more. He slipped it back into his robes.
Crackerjack gulped nervously and eyed his Lord with a beady black eye. In the background, Voidoth heard the wizards in the cage jabbering hysterically. Voidoth gave a satisfied sigh. It always calmed him when his pet was well-fed and content.


Fortunately for the rest of you, I am feeling generous today, he addressed his remaining disciples, ignoring the raving captives. And we have no time to waste. This will be the most epic spell the Runiverse has ever seen! He reached back inside his robes and withdrew the gleaming golden key in a dramatic flourish.

It cast a bright glow all around it, repelling the dark mists that skulked and swirled around them. Voidoth could not suppress his glee as he gazed upon the tool once more.

The key to the Seventh Realm! he yelled, thrusting it above his head. A couple of nervous cheers came from the gathering of disciples.

Voidoth glared at them and cleared his throat. Together, with this, we shall return the Runiverse to the Void! We will reshape existence in our own image, and we will reign supreme as the wizard factions are cast into dust! This time the cheers came in a stuttering wave.

No longer will that rainbow banded buffoon subjugate us and turn the world against us!
Emboldened, the disciples became a bit too exuberant in their celebrations. Voidoths icy glare cut off the noise as the crowd suddenly found their throats closing up. He swivelled on one black-booted heel, heading off once more down the row of packed cages. Crackerjack scurried to catch up.

Voidoth stroked the key reverently. He was so close now to gaining his vengeance. A shiver of elation rushed through his circuits at the thought.

You should have seen him Crackerjack! He was powerless to withstand me!

Sacred Key Master, my Lord?

Yes of course the Key Master, you dolt! And dont call him that, theres nothing sacred about that multi-coloured moron.


Yes, my Lord, my apologies, my Lord. Crackerjack cowered.

Voidoth eyed him for a moment, toying with one of the hydraulic pistons at his hip, then turned his attention back to the key.

It was soooooo easy, Crackerjack. I just had to lure that sphinx of his away with a couple of deranged souls I let loose from the Psychic Leap. Then a simple spirit conjuring of his long-lost buddy, that bumbling Bastion Bluemonger character, and they became so engrossed with each other that I was able to cast my veil of death over his stupid pointy head, snatch the key and vanish before he even knew what hit him!

Masterfully done, my Lord, nodded Crackerjack enthusiastically, relieved that the Great Lord of the Void had moved on from the slip of his corvid tongue.

They were now approaching the altar where Voidoth would perform the spell. The structure rose haphazardly out of the sand, stark bones protruding at all angles. The bones gleamed in the golden glow of the key to the Gate of the Seventh Realm.

Yes, yes, enough of your grovelling Crackerjack, lets get on with it.

The crow-man bowed and hastily beat a retreat, herding the lesser disciples past the altar and up against the dark stone of the valley wall, which had suddenly appeared out of the retreating mists.

## Chapter 2: Shadowkeys blasted through the Runiverse
Deathly silence hung over the valley as Voidoth set the key down atop the altar and began to chant his incantation. He traced the Rune of Sigma back and forth across its surface with one of his bony fingers, sensing the souls that writhed within. They would soon have company.


Seventy-seven and seven hundred souls, I give up to the Shadow, yours to enjoy.
Lend your powers to this key of old; vanquish the wizards, crush and destroy.
Bring them to their quantum state, squeeze out their essence, hold them in thrall,
Rupture the cosmos, shatter the gate, bring forth the darkness: OBLIVION FOR ALL!

 As Voidoth chanted, the Quantum Shadow rolled over the scene, the vapours growing in substance and hanging heavily on the floor of the valley. An oppressive weight stifled the air, clinging to the landscape. Thunder rolled through the dense clouds on the valley floor, and brilliant blue lightning jagged up from the ground, stabbing blinding forks into the rows upon rows of cages packed with the seven hundred and seventy-seven sacrifices.

The key began to hum and vibrate on the altar of bones and the clouds dissipated, revealing dozens of empty cages. No, not quite empty. On the floor of each one lay a cluster of tiny black prisms, radiating haloes of purple light. The vibrations reached a crescendo as three glowing sevens appeared in the metal and immediately prisms were drawn to it from all sides as it lifted off the altar to hover in the air. As the prisms arrived, they swung into different orbits around the magical object, building speed until they were nothing but a blur. Streams of purple light were sucked into the key from these blurry satellites and Voidoth bathed in the glory of the magic, arms outstretched, welcoming the souls to their new prison.

The key consumed the last prism and then clattered back to the altar. Voidoth cackled with glee and bounded forward, but before he could grab it the key began to pulse and swell.

 Black veins stood out along its surface, then sprouted stubby black tendrils that quested into the air.


Suddenly, it shrank down to the size of a pinprick. The walls of rock seemed to bend outwards, then snapped back into place with a deafening CRACK as the key exploded in a flash of blinding white light.

Voidoth hung suspended within the forcefield. Gorge clung to the hood of his robe with his tiny wing claws, chirping indignantly. The events outside seemed to be moving in slow motion  an effect of the forcefields magical warping of space and time. His digital visor encrypted everything that happened and produced an image that his cyborg brain was able to interpret  so despite the entire valley being one ball of brilliant white energy, he was able to look on in horror as a thousand shards of gold shot in all directions.

Voidoths silicon synapses raced, trying to decode what was happening. Shards were tearing through the very fabric of reality! He caught a glimpse of the Void beyond as a golden shard sliced through the air; in less than an instant the lips of the tear had drawn back together, sealing the world off from the Void once more. And then all was silent.

He released his forcefield and stepped over towards the altar. From nearby came a groan  he turned to see Crackerjack pushing himself up off the floor, with a couple of groggy-looking disciples stirring behind him. His First Disciple had managed to conjure some form of spell to protect himself, but most of the group had not been so lucky. All that remained of most of the wizards was a blackened shadow against the rockface. Voidoths sensors picked up the odour of cooked meat.


The blast had obliterated vast swathes of the Quantum Shadow, and the harsh sunlight beat down on the valley. Grimly, he bent to pick up the key to the Gate of the Seventh Realm from the sand. Lying next to it was an identical copy, save for the fact that dark shadows flowed across this ones surface. As he touched the shadowkey, he sensed the single wizards soul trapped inside. The darkness slowly faded.

In a fit of rage, Voidoth poured all his malevolence into the object. The wizard soul inside contorted itself in agony, but it brought the Necromancer no satisfaction. The spell had failed. Why had the Quantum Shadow rejected his sacrifice?

# Chapter 3: A key reclaimed
Crackerjacks terrified cry snapped him back to reality. The blue skies split, and a blur of colours burst forth. As the colours crashed to the valley floor, the ground shook and a booming voice bounced and rolled over the rocks: BEHOLD MY QUANTUM STYLE!
Sacred Key Master strode forward, one hefty finger pointed at Voidoth. That is mine, skeleton!

Voidoth hurled the shadowkey at his adversary, and turned to run, but found his legs couldnt move.

Thanks for getting rid of that ghastly Shadow so old Rainbow Cakes could get in here, Ive been just dying for some bones to chew on, purred Derek. Souls can be a bit insubstantial at times. The sphinx grinned, then sank his teeth into Voidoths leg, puncturing the femur down to the marrow.