The Lord of the Void howled, cursing the Blue Wizards for inserting pain receptors throughout his repurposed skeleton. Summoning all his strength, he conjured a death spell and passed into the Underworld. The membrane between worlds repelled the sphinx onto the sand of the valley floor. No living creature could pass into the Void. Derek was left licking his lips, tail lashing back and forth angrily as the membrane solidified behind Voidoth.

The last thing he saw was the Key Masters giant eye, set in that ridiculous pyramid head, sparkling in triumph as he grasped his key to his chest. Voidoth looked down at the one in his hand dumbfounded, staring in disbelief at the shadows coursing across its surface as the trapped soul within pleaded for mercy.

As the opening to the world of the living winked shut, the Great Lord of the Void screamed with rage, with only the dead to hear him.

----
## Story Arc Index:
Prologue: @wizard777

Part 1: @wizard4298

Part 2: @wizard292

Part 3: @wizard2261

Part 4: @wizard3911

Part 5: @wizard1177

Part 6: @wizard2876


Jaxson the Quirky

# The Fall and Rise of Jaxson the Quirky

Jaxson was known to be just a little bit absent minded. Ponies are meant to be focused on the task at hand, but whether he was tripping over rocks or on his own bandana, the only thing that was reliable about him was that he would be thinking about the next carrot and would bump into other ponies, or worse, wizards and warriors.

One day, the inevitable occurred. Jaxson took a fall straight off the side of a cliff. While no one was seriously hurt, Jaxson got up and felt...different. For one thing, his stride became very uneven. Sometimes he moves fast and other times he just can't make progress. Even moving in straight lines is now a challenge for any rider partnered with Jaxson.

But with the bad comes the good and these shortcomings came along with strange new powers that Jaxson did not possess prior to the fall. For one thing, he occasionally is able to pass straight through to the other side of a wall with his rider. For another, he sometimes can cross chasms that would normally not be passable by his peers.

These new abilities have made Jaxson a favorite among treasure hunters. Jaxson seems to know just where to go. Unfortunately, most do not have the patience for his quirkiness. Only the most discerning treasure hunters have been able to spot the treasure that Jaxson is, despite his unpolished surface. And it is these treasure hunters that have the best adventures.


Archmagus Oberon

Archmagus Oberon sipped his ale contentedly and wiggled his toes, jingling the bells on the end of his tailored boots. With eyes closed, he traced the galaxies of the cosmos as they moved through his mind, looking for patterns and meaning in the stars.

*Ah yes, the violet giant comes into ascendency in the Halls of Memory*

*Interference from the Psychic Leap continues to disturb the Purple Wizards. No doubt the Blues will be pushing their technology again despite the cyborg debacle*

*Indeed, observe the celestial sparks in the depths of Aurelias asteroid belt. And whats this? Planetary orbits stretching around a flaring red dwarf  conflict brewing between the Citadel and Red Wizard Capital? Something to keep an eye on during proceedings. Well, as long as nobody interferes with the plans for the Carnival of Desert Flowers before I get back to the Riviera, they can scheme away to their hearts content*

Footsteps in the corridor brought Oberon out of his reverie. Carl hiccupped loudly and Oberon frowned at his familiar. The dirt rabbit had been overindulging again while his wizard was away with the stars. Carl belched loudly and stared back at his master impassively, if slightly cross-eyed.

@wizard3917 pushed open the door and walked confidently into the Archmaguss chambers, not bothering to knock before entering. Oberon raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, choosing instead to drink from his mug and casually smooth the glistening fabric of his yellow elven cloak. He would not give Apollo the satisfaction of rising to the bait so blatantly cast in his direction.

Apollo walked over and sat down in the chair opposite Oberon, placing his elbows on his knees and looking at him over steepled fingers. Oberon took another sip, inspecting his fingernails.


Eventually, Apollo cleared his throat. Not even going to offer me a drink to soothe my parched throat, Oberon? I did not think the Haven had grown so miserly with their hospitality.

Oberon snorted. We are not in Yellow Wizard Haven, Scryer, in case you hadnt noticed. And I reserve my hospitality for those who merit it.

Apollo chuckled and withdrew his mug from his robes, then reached over and helped himself to Oberons pitcher on the table. I suspected you might say that, so I came prepared. He took a swig, swirling the mug and eyeing its contents studiously.

Oberon glared at him. Why are you here Apollo? I know this isn't a social visit.

Apollo considered the Yellow Wizard before speaking. I wonder if you've seen what's been happening outside of your precious Haven, Oberon. Even the Ducks grow restless and mutter, where they think we dont hear, about the evil of sorcery and spells. What have you divined in the stars?

I see many things, Scryer, as I'm sure you do, including the machinations of *Rudimentals*. Why don't you cut to the chase? I am not a dishcloth from which you can wring information like dirty water.

"Come now, said Apollo. You must have heard of the wizards abandoning their guilds to join some rogue magic-maker. True, they have put many of our most dangerous foes in the Weird House, but what of all the wizards vanishing, never to be seen or heard from again? Are they responsible for that too, or are there other forces at work? The Council must urgently consider this matter; it imperils us all."


The Scryer waited, expecting a response, but Oberon said nothing. Apollos face darkened as he continued passionately: "By the runes and the stars, Oberon, we cannot sit passively by while these... these... *upstarts* drain all of our talent! It makes the Council look like indecisive fools! For all we know they mean to overthrow the Council! With your backing, I can unite the guilds."

Oberon tapped a finger against the rim of his mug meditatively. When he spoke, he weighed the importance of every word. "I have seen these events, and more, Scryer. Which is how *I* know that *you* know exactly who is behind all of this."

Apollo opened his mouth, seemingly ready to argue, but then closed it again and frowned. "Then you know she must be stopped! I have thought to reason with her, but she is impossible to find. And besides

Oberon could see he was struggling over whether or not to go on. The Archmagus sat in silence, watching Apollo. The Scryer scrubbed angrily at his beard. She stopped listening to me a long time ago. She is totally out of control! He sighed. Alone, the Bastion is helpless to stop her. Who knows where this might end?

Apollo blinked as he realised he had revealed more than he had intended. He paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and spoke again. Ive seen visions. She has been at the Empress side for half a turning of the planets. How long do you think it will be before she is done with the Citadel and turns her attention to Chronomancers Riviera? I would say the Yellows are right in her path. So, can I count on your support tomorrow when I address the Council? And also... your discretion?"


Oberon laughed. Yes, it would do little for your credibility as head of the Blue guild if the Council were to find out that you cant even control one of your own. They do so terribly resent rogue wizards. And youve already got that psychotic cyborg out there to contend with."

Scryer Apollo's eyebrows almost flew off his face. "You... you know about that?" he stammered.

Oberon watched the Blue Wizard smugly. A hundred wizards or more snatched from each of the seven guilds, and you are surprised? I would be worried about how many *others* know of your little failed experiment. He tutted. Really, Apollo, trying to blame the actions of this skeletal monstrosity you created on *your own daughter*? From the rug, Carl twitched his ears and gave the Scryer a disdainful look.

That is not Apollo shouted, but then clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, taking a long, slow breath. When he opened them again, he spoke calmly. "Very well Oberon, tell me what you want."

Leaning back in his armchair, the Archmagus smiled and let out a long and satisfied sigh. "Ah, now theres the rub. He fixed the Scryer with eyes that were suddenly steely. What I want, Apollo, is access to the Blue Bastions knowledge, and custody of Bathsheba as soon as she is captured.

## Story Arc Index:
Prologue: @wizard3914

Part 1: @pony77

Part 2: @wizard2877

Part 3: @wizard1175

Part 4: @wizard3901

Part 5: @wizard4841

Part 6: @wizard2885

Part 7: @wizard3917

Part 8: @wizard6084


Geomancer Poppy of the Canyon

My dude a goat.


Archmagus Jerret of the Lake

# Jerret of the Lake

Jerret was born to a filthy man and a strong woman. Refugees of the Third War of the Wold, they'd lurched into the wilderness in hopes of safety, and found a protected cave on the edge of a smooth, dark lake. From here, they'd foraged roots and wild onions, killed and roasted rabbits and Thornian squirrels, and heard little of the goings on in the rest of the world.

Jerret's father had a great fear of the lake. It was a strange irony in Jerret's early years that he could throw a stone from the entrance of their cave and have it land in the dark waters, yet his father would not bathe or even dip his toes into it. As Jerret grew, his father's phobia increased to such a point that the man refused to leave the cave, and all the work finding food and gathering wood for fires was left to his mother and he.

It was on a drizzly autumn day that Jerret's mother sent him around the far side of the lake to gather hen of the wood mushrooms from their most abundant mushrooming patch. When Jerret arrived, he discovered a barren forest floor and animal tracks he did not recognize.

Jerret was no fool, and even with only a dozen cycles to his name he knew to keep safe from the unknown, but he also had great confidence with his pointed spear and strengthening arms. Worried their soup pot would be left wanting without any mushrooms, he ranged further afield in hopes of discovering a new, fruitful spot.

As if called upon by an unseen deity, a vast storm rose up in the sky and rained down upon him with late season hail and thick, bone chilling drops. He took shelter in a stand of pines, his bag but half full. He waited for the air to clear, which it ultimately did.


The sun had long since clipped past the horizon, and Jerret let his eyes adjust to the dimming light. Backtracking against his trail, Jerret had spotted gaps in the trees looking out on the lake when a vast shadow slouched in front of him. It unfurled, a stag rising to two legs, but the stag's flesh had melted from its bones. It was covered by a mere mantle, and the stags horns glowed an eerie wisteria.

When the stag spoke, it came like a slow and distant roll of thunder.

"I've seen you, boy. Seen you on the lake. Seen you as you harvest and hunt. I've seen you outgrow the patch of earth you call a home."

Though Jerret moved his lips, no words came. A small, skeleton frog leapt from the darkness behind the stag. It sat down in front of Jerret and regarded him with flat, dead eyes.

"In one human life, you will have few chances to make life-altering decisions. I will present you one on this eve."

In his fear, Jerret had not seen the lean staff the stag held in one raised hoof. The stag tapped his staff into the earth in a rhythmic pattern, and as if called from the darkness itself, a shimmering bulb of a flower grew from the top of the staff. It billowed, blood red in the dark, then opened. As quickly, the flower wilted and collapsed, only to be resurrected, the color of orange death, emitting the scent of some ancient world.


The stag plucked the blossom and held it to the fore. "This is the blossom of Rafflesia. In the center is one seed." He removed a small, red seed from the center of the blossom and dropped it to the ground. The frog flicked a tongue, forged of sinew and tendon, to snag the seed in its maw. With one hop, the frog was beside Jerret.

"If you take this seed," the stag intoned, "you will have a choice to make, which is as follows. You may return to your life, foraging food for your unworthy father, wondering what may lay beyond the edge of the wild. All I ask is that, if you make this decision, you hurl the seed into the lake, to return it to the depths where it may belong.

"Or, you shall take a long journey, to the edge of the Veil, where you will plant the seed. If you choose this path, know one thing: a Rafflesian Poppy grows but slow. You must tend to it every day while it grows, feeding it water and whispering to its roots. You will be away from your lake for quite some time.

"Lest you think this seed only takes but does not give, the act of caring for the poppy will impart upon you the gift of unnatural longevity. With this extra time, you may do as you choose."

Much of his poise returned, Jerret squatted to the ground and held his hand out to the frog. It coughed the seed into his palm. Without pause, Jerret stuffed it into his mushrooming sack.

Before Jerret could offer response, the Elk had gone. Jerret looked through the shimmer of darkness for a moment, but saw nothing.


Upon his return to the cave, Jerret helped pull the mushrooms apart for the stew, consoled his miserable father, told his mother he'd found new fungal hunting grounds, and threw the red seed as far into the lake as he could, knowing the prevailing wind would push it way, if it floated, and some dark creature would eat it, if it sank.

Feeling somehow invigorated, Jerret took the evening to tidy his corner of the cave and tell jokes with his parents. "What makes the blue wizard blue?" he said.

"Wild blueberries?" his mother responded.

"Knowing there are termites in the world!" They laughed, because everyone knew the Bastion's footings were of wood. His father grinned from the corner, in their fire's dying light.

"I'd never heard that one," he said.

When the carcass of a frog washed up at the edge of the lake the next morning, glowing like the dying sun, Jerret broke out in a deep sweat, and sliced it open with his knife, knowing what he would find. Not an hour later, he'd told his mother he was off to find wood for the fire, intending instead to march north. Arriving near the edge of the Veil, he built himself a small daub and wattle shelter near a trickling brook. He marked the days it had been since leaving the cave: twelve. With the water an eternal source, he planted the seed mere paces from his hut.

With time, the seed peaked from the ground. With more time, it gained a bit of height. Each day, Jerret watered the roots, and each day he spoke to them.


When Jerret returned to his cave on the lake, it had been eighty-one hundred cycles of the clock. He found nothing of his mother and a pile of his fathers bones in a deep corner. On the wall was a scratched note that had long since become unintelligible.

Jerret sat down in the mouth of the cave. He laid his Rafflesian-wood staff to his side, looked out upon the dark waters, and sobbed.


Shaman Milo of the Tower

# The Lore of Shaman Milo of the Tower

| PROLOGUE

When he was younger, she would take him up the Tower. They had to go through stairs and small corridors to get to the top. He always thought they were the only ones who knew how to get there, but later realized that was just his childish imagination. The Tower was old, he had no idea how old exactly. After the climb they would sit on the deck, slightly exhausted, and soak up the views. On clear days you could see as far as the tip of the Great Owl Obelisk, but you had to be lucky.

On top of the Tower, the wind was strong and unpredictable. He used to fear it. Mostly because of the hollow sounds it made gazing through the chambers. While they sat there, the wind used to blow through her hair and even though it was wild, her face was calm. As if the wind caressed her. For hours, they would gaze into the distance while holding their hands. It was peaceful. He learned to not fear the wind but make it his companion.

Years later, when his studies were well under way, he would still frequently visit the top of the Tower. Only now with a different purpose. Beforehand he would have spent hours and hours trying different kind of knots, strings and canvas. When he was not studying, he was building new prototypes for his kite. The secret of a good kite is in its flexibility. Especially up the Tower where the wind could reach extreme speeds. While some other students mocked his passion, he believed it made him a better wizard.  And besides that, he believed it was his only chance.


Holding the strings in his hands and letting it slip through his fingers, he could feel the waves of the wind. He learned how to read it and how to adjust speed and altitude. Same as with magic, it was flowing through his body. His diamond shaped kite floated in the wind and for him, it was like flying on top of the world. Every time he held his kite and saw it dance in the wind, he imagined she was there with him. They danced together, slowly, with her face calm as always. And every day he would fly higher and higher until he had no more string left. After weeks of trying, he realized, no string was long enough to reach far enough above the clouds.

That morning he bound a letter to his kite. There was no choice, he knew that when he reached a certain height, his kite would merely be a toy for the wind. With a determinate move he threw the kite in the air. He closed his eyes and let his intuition guide him. The string quickly slipped through his fingers and the kite rode the clouds. He felt the wind through the string as if it was telling him something. The wind told him it was time. After a deep breath and quick glance, he let go of the kite. The kite made a short swirl downwards, but it quickly gained traction. Far above the clouds, the diamond kite was lost from his sight. There he stood. The wind caressing him. A tear fell from his eye.

He could only hope, the letter would reach his mother.


Pyromancer Soya

"By day, a useful, humble wizard, Soya Boya as he is known by friends and enemies alike is often called to aid in whispering kind words of support to beached sea mammals, eradicating disease in crops that may or may not be afflicted, and replenishing villages drained of estrogen mana by overly patriarchal wizarding societies and cults." - Cosmic Arcanist Weekly


Enchanter Atlanta of the Brambles

@wizard7438 is one of the four Coven Sisters proficient in Earth Magic. Bearer of an Orb Staff, she holds the rare ability to open rifts, allowing her to shift between planes. Like many of her Sisters, she is not native of the Runiverse and originates from Earth, which in part is the reason why she happens to be such a virtuoso in this Rune.

By joining the Coven, she took on the mission to grow the Sisters ranks. Using charms and protection spells, she sends her Psychic Rabbit to explore parallel worlds and attract the new recruits to the Coven.

Ever dreamed of a white rabbit or noticed such an animal in an incongruous place ? That was likely a sign from Atlanta. While leaving most wandering, those who hear her call know what needs to be done in such an event : follow the white rabbit.


Bard Poppy of the Mount

# The Lore of Bard Poppy of the Mount

Poppy returned to the halls of the Blue Wizard Bastion in search of answers. He scoured every tomb and scroll in every library within the city searching for the name Hanataka. Just as Poppy was about to give up, he came across a scroll by the Tengu monks of the Fey. These monks guard the gate to Hue Masters Pass and meditate on transcending the Ininity Veil. The monastery patriarch and founder is named Hanataka, and has supposedly been in a deep meditation for over 100 years. Poppy knew he must go to him for answers.

The journey was not far, just south and a days journey east. Poppy traveled lightly to reach the temple as quickly as possible. Upon reaching the gate to the monastery Poppy struggled to communicate. The monks paid little attention and hurried about their daily tasks. No one would let Poppy in, and he was powerless to force his way in. One day, after seeing Poppy helplessly languishing outside a monk came to him and placed his palm on his head. The Tengu priest nodded and presented Poppy with an empty bowl. Somehow Poppy understood what was need from him to see Hanataka.

Poppy returned to The Wild and sat for days by the road begging for alms. He knew that only when his bowl was filled would the priest let him in. Day after day Poppy begged. Eventually a rat from the gutter became his only companion and source of comfort. At his last wits end he had managed to only accumulate a few copper pieces and a bit of wrapped dried meat. He gave the meat to his little furry friend and returned to the temple gate.


Upon his return, the gate master priest looked him up and down and noticed his pathetic looking state. He took the bowl from poppy and tossed the coins in the street but reached out his hand to the small rat at Poppys feet. The little rodent scurried up the priest arm and rested on his shoulder. You may enter the priest said.

Poppy reached the enter sanctum of the temple where the very old and wise priest Hatanaka sat in meditation. He sat there waiting wondering what would happen next when he heard a voice inside his head.

Bard Poppy of the Mount, I am Hanataka and I know why you are here

Poppy sat upright, eyes bulging and heart racing. Please help me he thought.

The voice continues, my dear daughter, your bride to be, has crossed the ininity veil, but is stuck in between this world and the next because of her love for you. She is in Cuckoo Land and you must plunge this flame crystal into her heart, burning her body so that she may rest in peace. Be warned, this magic is not without risk. Only you may perform this ritual, but you must let her go! Otherwise, the spell could go horribly wrong. Take these flame crystals and I pray that you are able to do what you must do.

but.. but why two? Poppy began to mutter, just as everything goes dark.

Poppy wakes to find himself in the Blue Wizard bastion crypt where his beloved was interred. Trembling, he makes his way to her sarcophagus. Pushing the stone aside, he is amazed that his love had not defiled in the least. She looked as if she were simply sleeping and could wake at any moment. Wiping tears away, Poppy produces the first crystal from his pouch. It erupts into a brilliant pillar of fire. Poppy is stunned.


I must set her free he tells himself.

Poppy a female voice whispers. Poppy

Poppy, join me in Cuckoo Land where we can be together forever the voice says.

SHIZU!?! Poppy yells. Poppys mind was racing. What is happening? Im supposed to burn your body!

Join me Poppy the voice repeats. SHIZU IS THAT YOU!? he yells. In a fit of mental confusion, Poppy raises a flame totem high above his head and screams. Then, in one motion, swiftly plunges it downward.

Just before the crystal meets its target another female voice rings out, NO!


Necromancer Crackerjack of the Platonic Shadow

# Chapter 1: My name is Ozymandias, king of wings; Look on my works, ye Wizards, and despair!"
The wizard was just a dark speck on the vast yellow battlements below. The flame of his torch flickered back and forth between the cold winds raging down from the mountains and the warm gusts of salty sea air blowing in over the desert from Asmodeuss Surf. Clearly agitated, the wizard was muttering to himself and waving his arms above his head in exasperation. He stopped, sighed expansively, then took a draught of ale.

From his vantage point high above, Ozymandias could see the multi-coloured lights dancing across the Riviera and sparkling on the river as it flowed towards Kelpies Brine. He flapped his frail, leathery wings furiously, a few vestigial feathers dancing manically in the buffeting winds as he struggled to maintain his position. He was pretty sure that a Cockatrice  even one with cretaceous genes  had no business being this high off the ground.

Despite the force of the winds, the sounds of revelry and the reverberations of Drum and Bass and Sorcery pulsated in his eardrums  a repetitive, dull vibration. He could feel the jagged distortions of power emanating from the Quantum Shadow, crackling across his shiny scaled back.


No doubt his master, waiting back in the Valley of the Void Disciple, would expect details. He always did. As the wizard stalked along the battlements, Ozymandias clucked quietly, then folded his wings to his sides and dropped like a stone out of the night sky.
He tore past the crest of the battlements in a blur, obscured (he was sure) by the darkness of moonless night and the inky blackness of the Quantum Shadow. Pulling sharply out of the nosedive, he flapped somewhat clumsily upwards (he was quite adept at rapid descents, but he was not what one might call an elegant soarer). Resisting the thrust of the icy wind at his back, he managed to manoeuvre himself in a wobbly approach towards the crenulations of the castle. Perhaps, he thought, he could get a closer look at what the wizard was up to.

Suddenly a flashing object spun outwards into the darkness. Ozymandias squawked with surprise as it loomed large in his vision, ducking his head just in the nick of time. The mug slapped against the leathery red comb atop his head but sailed onwards, falling away into obscurity in a lazy arc. Terror lent him speed as he dove for cover, wings beating frantically as he sought the safety of the towering castle wall.

Hes spotted me! He flattened himself against the wall, barely daring to breathe. Master cannot bring me back to life again if my body is lost

He clung to the wind-blasted brickwork, paralysed by a sudden and terrible dread. It could well be worse if his master did find him. Even familiars were not often spared punishment in the Valley of the Void Disciple. If Ozymandias had been warm-blooded, a chill would have rushed through his veins.


Slowly, a thought began to form in his reptilian brain.

But if the wizard knew I was there, would he not have used his magic? Do wizards often use mugs of ale as weapons?

He clucked softly to himself, puzzling over this rather confusing line of questioning. His eyes narrowed in concentration, yet try as he might, he could not figure it out. He lashed his long, whiplike tail in frustration. He might have been stuck there all night if the thought of his masters retribution had not suddenly popped back into his mind. With a fearful shudder, he wriggled his haunches and began the long climb to the top  he wasnt going to expose himself again by flying out in the open, not when mugs or who knows what kind of magic might come hurtling out of the darkness at him.

Peeking his head over the battlements, Ozymandiass eyes widened. Oh This is bad. This is VERY bad. The wizard was nowhere to be seen. He gasped for air, partly because his thinly-clawed forearms were not built for climbing and partly because he was starting to feel a mild panic coming on. Familiars had been made into accessories for less than this!

Master wouldnt do that. Not to his loyal Ozymandias. He tried hard to believe himself  not to think of what a jolly snakeskin lampshade Wesley had become. He knocked his head a couple of times against the wall, to see if it would dislodge any useful ideas. Once the pain subsided and his vision cleared, the door on the far side of the battlements came into focus. Of course! He cackled softly to himself and hopped off the wall, flapping his way heavily around the castle towards the main gate.


Wizards think far too much of themselves to use the servants exit, he thought smugly, congratulating himself on his brilliant deduction as he rounded the corner. A yellow hat bobbed along the path in the distance, illuminated by the flame of the wizards torch.

Ozymandias couldnt stop himself from chortling with glee at his upturn in fortunes as he set off after the wizard. Master had been right, Ofaris was definitely up to something.

What that something was, Ozymandias had not the faintest idea. But any somethings the Pyromancer was up to would be duly noted and relayed, and Ozymandias would be rewarded. If there was one thing Necromancer Crackerjack enjoyed, it was being right. And even more than that, he enjoyed being able to display that rightness to The Great Lord of the Void.

There might even be some nice juicy flesh in this for Ozymandias. With that incentive galvanising him, the creature focused his inconsiderable intellect on getting ready to observe and remember the events to come, so that he wouldnt overlook anything the Master thought important. If he was lucky, he would be on his way back to the Valley by sunrise.
Chapter 2: The Necromancer and the Dream Whisperer
Necromancer Crackerjack waited silently, drumming the tabletop with the feathered fingers of one hand as he slowly rotated the crystal skull in the other. The Rune of Neptune engraved in its forehead glowed faintly as he delved the skull. Misty spirals swirled across the crystalline features as the souls trapped within stirred under the touch of his mind.


He looked up, training a beady black eye on his captive. The wizard lay spreadeagled on his back atop the stone slab, his robe ripped open to expose his bony chest. Angry red welts overlaid the scars of previous lashings. He was whimpering quietly. The Archmagus had given up straining against the spell-bonds Crackerjack had set several days ago, when Voidoth, the Great Lord of the Void, had first handed him over to his head disciple. The Lord of the Void had not been gentle. Now it was just a matter of time in Crackerjacks care before the Dream Whisperer cracked beneath the pressure. Beads of sweat broke out on the captives brow. He gritted his teeth and arched his back as smoky tendrils snaked their way out of the skulls empty eye sockets and coiled themselves around his body, biting into the soft flesh.

Crackerjack grinned as the wizards howls of pain echoed in the stony chamber.

So tell me, Dream Whisperer, how did you find yourself wandering around in the dreams of the Lord of the Void? he asked when the mans screams had quietened to soft sobs. There was no reply.

You are surely not so much of a fool as to have stumbled in there by accident, and you cannot think me such a fool as to imagine I would ever believe such drivel. No, no, you were after something, and Lord Voidoth has tasked me to loosen your tongue. Not literally of course. Not yet anyway. He stared across the chamber at his captive and waited. Still no reply

He rushed across the floor in one lithe movement, grabbing the wizards grey beard in his hand and tugging sharply. I will ask you again. Who sent you? Was it the Key Master? What does he know of the Lord of the Voids plans?


The Archmaguss eyes widened, and he began to shake his head and babble incoherently, breaking free of Crackerjacks grip and leaving behind a tuft of grey hairs in his hand. The Necromancer dropped the hairs on the floor and wiped his hand on his robe disdainfully. He knew physical torture was hard for the wizard to bear, but it was the mental anguish that the Dreamer truly feared. It was always so much more effective on those with imagination. The old man knew what was coming next  and that he was powerless to stop it.

The wizards mangy rat familiar squealed from the smaller slab beside its master, as if it, too, knew what was in store. It struggled vainly against the bond that held it pressed to the stone, and the Dream Whisperers eyes rolled back in his head as the souls went to work on his mind. Crackerjack preened himself distractedly; he couldnt concentrate with that infernal squeaking. He bent, lashing out with his razor-sharp beak, and yanked out one of the tiny beasts whiskers at the root. The rat froze in shock, just the tip of his nose quivering uncontrollably.

Crackerjack stepped back and folded his arms. Thats better, little one. I will have use for you once this is all done. I would hate to have that ruined out of simple annoyance. The Lord of the Void is most welcoming of new disciples, even no especially a plague rat. There are many ways you can serve him. And me.


He gave the rat what he hoped was a piercing look, then turned back to the wizard. I am getting tired of repeating myself old man, he hissed. Although he knew it would not be long now before the souls overpowered the Dream Whisperer and took control of his mind, Crackerjack could not help starting to feel impatient. It was always so, when victory was this close.

Not for the first time that night, he wondered what was taking his scrawny familiar so long to get back from Yellow Wizard Haven with news of the Pyromancer. Ofaris was becoming a threat with his meddling, and it was vexing the Lord of the Void. And anything that vexed the Great Overlord was a complication in Crackerjacks life.

Serves me right for trusting a dinosaur chicken, he berated himself. The creatures brain couldnt be larger than an imps pimple. He wondered if Voidoth would allow him to replace the idiot creature with this plague rat once the Dream Whisperer had been broken. He glanced over at the snakeskin lampshade on the table and felt the familiar sense of satisfaction. Wesley had been even dumber than Ozymandias, but he was certainly decorative. With that thought cheering him slightly, Crackerjack turned back to his captive.

The Lord of the Void has taken a particular interest in your talents, Blue Wizard, he sneered, pouring the scorn it deserved into the title. He will use you to gain access to the others, you know. All of them. You are quite helpless to stop it. The wizard shuddered, sweat beading all over his exposed skin. Crackerjack softened his gaze and smiled down at the Archmagus. He stroked a feathery hand along the mans cheek, wiping away the tears, and cooed gently: It can be so easy, Soran, if you just tell me what you know.


The wizards face contorted as his mind struggled against the influence of the souls. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak in a barely audible, shuddering whine. Crackerjacks smile broadened and he leaned in to listen. The Dream Whisperer now belonged to the Lord of the Void.

----
## Story Arc Index:
Prologue: @wizard777

Part 1: @wizard4298

Part 2: @wizard292

Part 3: @wizard2261

Part 4: @wizard3911

Part 5: @wizard1177

Part 6: @wizard2876


Sorcerer Merlon of the Event Horizon

# New Lore Entry

_Delete below sample to write your own_

As King Brodamine grew old, his other wordly powers needed to live on. Of all the suiters, it was Merlon of the Event Horizon who was chosen as his apprentice. Through years of dedicated practice and service, Merlon slowly learned the ancient secrets of the natural world. He gained wisdom of the land, enabling him to create powerful potions and communicate with rodents. His power continued to grow until it was time for Brodamine to transition and pass his sacred chalice and eternal rat (Sir Squeak) onto Merlon.
With the chalice, Merlon uses his understanding of the land to create and serve powerful potions. With Sir Squeak, he communicates with the animal kingdom and can call on them when needed.
Merlon has now mastered these aspects of existence and continues to grow even more powerful with time.

> *by Sir Michael of America*


Channel 1 Poltergeist Atlas of the Glowing Box

"We can explain everything, sir.  It's not as bad as it looks!"

"We just borrowed the time glass,"  Atlas barely flinched as he beguiled even himself.

"Sort of got rather happy about it, and, uh..." the enchanted hourglass spoke aloud, not shocking Atlas in the slightest.

"um, we ran off in high spirits across dimensions, which are really just folded timespace metatarsels," Atlas retorted, cutting off the hourglass.

"Yeah, we did," said the Dimensional Hourglass.

"Who are you again?"

Atlas, seemingly accustomed to the question, said "we'll find out again soon.  I'm still working on a way back.."

With a mighty whir and a boosh, a wyrmhole opened above Atlas and the Hourglass...


# I follow

@wizard135, @wizard250, @pony361, @pony443, @soul5663. I see you


Davos of the Event Horizon

# The Lore of  Davos of the Event Horizon

I was living on a space ship with my wolf, then out of nowhere Sam Neill & Lawrence Fishbourne appear and ruin my life.


Shaman Ulysse of the Wood

# The Lore of Shaman Ulysse of the Wood

Delete this text and write your Lore here


Ghost Eater Trollin of the Fey

# The Lore of Ghost Eater Trollin of the Fey

Life had not always been so enjoyable for Trollin of the Fey, he still remembers the days he roamed the slums of Goblin Town. A place where a silver tongue would get you farther than any intelligence or intellect. Fighting for his life was a daily occurence, ultimately, he had come to terms with what would be a short lived life. Then one day he stumbled across, Jasper, dried up and dying in a cave on the outskirts of Goblin Town. From that moment, Trollin of the Fey's life would forever change.

Jasper, a celestia being exiled by his people to live a life on a distant planet. Cursed with knowledge that no one could understand; only a matter of time before insanity would creep in. That day Trollin of the Fey may have saved Jasper's life, but Jasper would be the reason Trollin of the Fey would live on and become one of the most powerful kobolds to ever live.

Ghost Eater Trollin of the Fey can now be found rolling around the forests of The Fey. He enjoys his isolated life surrounded by forest creatures and his blue ooze friend, who he had saved long ago.

Trollin of the Fey and Jasper are local heroes of The Fey, for they purged the land of The Great Darkness. Everyone has an iteration of their tale, you will find no tavern where their story isn't praised, but no one knows the truth or details.

Until now.

This is the tale of two friends, when alone were nothing, but together were LEGENDS.

To be continued...


Summoner Uur'lok of the Circle

I did not always have the hideous appearance of a monster.

I was once the most handsome young elf in the kingdom.

Might even say I had some mastery of magic, but it was my stunning good looks that truly made me special. I had everything I desired, whenever I desired it.

The only thing I didn't have was true love.  I looked high and low for it.  Yes, the cock of the wock was the loneliest of all elves..

Adrienne says I tricked her. Hmph.  I *never* said we were "exclusive," though I could tell she was into to..  Deeply into me.  She claims I cared too much about "looks." How could I not care a little bit, I mean, look at me!  Or, well, not anymore... Don't look at me!!!

Adrienne turned me into a KOBOLD.  HA! JOKES ON HER!  I wasn't happy as an elf.  Now, I'm an attractive Kobold, and with less options, a much happier fellow.

Adrienne was incensed when she realized her curse was actually a blessing, but that's just my good karma.  She even left this giant eyeball at my house and she laughed maniacally, thinking she had gotten me good.

Nope, it's badass, and now that I don't have to spend half my day grooming and strutting around, I can focus on my magic.  Turns out, even this eyeball was a blessing.  My powers of divination have been unlocked by it, somehow.

No matter what comes next, I have definitely learned to find the advantage in whatever happens to you..   It's always there if you truly look.


Celeste of the Mount

# The Lore of  Celeste of the Mount

## She is a traveling sorceress.

## She continues to travel the world with her partner, a rat _(a form of her friend that has been changed by magic)_.

## The goal of her journey is to find a way to restore her friend.


Houngan Necromancer Auguste of the Eternal Melancholy

Necromancer Auguste was once a Houngan Voodoo Wizard who could be hired  for powerful curses and spirit magic.  Since early in his youth, Auguste held a masterful hold on the spirit world and knew how to use it's powerful energy to his advantage.

One fated day, however - he was forced - or seduced - into Necromancy.

Auguste loved his stranglethorn cat, Zee, and could not bear the idea that one day soon Z would pass on without him.  A tormented Auguste thought a spell that could lengthen Z's lifespan to that of a human couldn't be that much of a strain to tease the dark arts with, and make it back.. but he was wrong.

Turning his beloved companion into a zombie cat, Auguste felt unbearable guilt. In trying to reverse this, the spirits turned on him and Auguste became a Forgotten Soul.

His powerful bag o gris followed him into the Abyss, and became and even more potent second undead familiar..

Stronger than ever, but now with an unsatiable hunger to animate new undead minions, Necromancer Auguste scavenges the land for new companions to "free" from mortal bondage..


# The Lore of Battle Mage Samuel of the Quantum Shadow

An enigmatic wizard working with the Quantum Shadow. Samuel grew up a prince in a nomadic tribe in the Expanse. The tribe has historically been guided by a family of polar shapeshifters. He and his twin brother, Daniel, faced twin crises. First, the expected struggle over who would next lead the tribe, traditionally decided by 1-on-1 combat. And second, how to best guide the tribe in the face of the ice caps melting in the land they had lived on for many generations.

Samuel wanted to use the power of the Quantum Shadow to figure out a way to reverse the damage, but Daniel disagreed and wanted to seek a different solution. However, before the day of their ritual combat, Samuel secretly met with a shadowy figure. He received arcane power in exchange for a promise to bind the tribe to the Shadow.

The next day, both brothers shifted into their giant polar forms. The combat was fearsome, but the fell power Samuel had obtained gave him an edge, and he ended up defeating Daniel and driving him away from the tribe.

After winning the duel and taking control of the tribe, Samuel fulfilled his end of the bargain with the Quantum Shadow, and announced to the tribe that they would be traveling to the Shadow as their new home. Within the day, they had packed up and headed south. Eventually, they reached the border of the Quantum Shadow; the cloudy wall prevented all from seeing what lay within. They crossed the border and were engulfed by it, and the tribe has not been seen again since that time.

Samuel himself has been seen from time to time outside of the Quantum Shadow. As a battle mage, he is often sent as an emissary of the Shadow, to serve as a messenger, courier, negotiator, and sometimes an enforcer. He typically handles the northern regions, where his powers are strongest.


His orb staff, which he obtained after joining the Quantum Shadow, allows him to channel the power of the stars, with assistance of the Rune of Uranus, and use it when needed. Energy is stored in the orb so that he can also use it during the day.

The albino rat is not actually his familiar; it is a denizen of the Quantum Shadow that accompanies Samuel to ensure that he stays loyal and obedient to what is asked of him. As for a solution to his homelands predicament, he has not yet discovered how to use his newfound powers to fix the situation, but he aspires to break into the upper ranks of his organization in hopes of finding answers there.


Mephistopheles

If I wasn't a devil myself I'd give me up to the Devil this very minute.


Enchanter Daphne of the Waste

# The Lore of Enchanter Daphne of the Waste

Kissed by the fire.

That is what people called me when I was born with a single lock of crimson red hair. It is a sign of luck, blessed by the powers beyond the veil. When I was three I set fire to my crib while I was asleep. A few days after I turned seven or oven exploded and destroyed half of our cottage. My parents still loved me with all their heart, cant really say the same about the rest of our village. They still tried to train me as an enchantress, as it is our families business and ties into our blood as my mother used to say. You have to admire her tenacity of training me, day in and day out, in the art of imbuing mundane things with a bit of magic, given that most of the things I touched turned to ash pretty fast.

When I was ten I started to see the flame in my dreams.

In the beginning is was more like a flickering light on the edge of my vision, fragile and fidgety, whispering words I did not quite hear. But over the years it grew stronger, pulling me, transcending the boundaries of my sleep. It was there when I created Calzipher, whispering the right invocations and guiding my magic while I was imbuing the little swamp frog I caught myself with the essence of fire. It was there when my parents upbraided me how I could misuse my magic like this, absorbing the heat and anger wailing up inside me. It was there when I passed the final trials of the council to become an official enchantress, dampening the flames that want to burst out of me whenever I reach for my magic. I have come to believe that it was there all the time and I just had to learn how to connect to it.


I has been a few days since I heard about the Forgotten Souls. Others, imbued by magic like many and also touched by the flame like few. The stories that pass the land are as gruesome as they are fascinating. Wizards turning into ash or ascending beyond the planes of our existence.

While I have spoken about this with a few people and laughed about this with others, deep within me I know that the decision has been made. The flame hears the call and I can feel the pull. Like the purest of desires my days are consumed by a fire of yearning. So I grabbed a few supplies, Calzipher and all of the bravery I can muster and made my way to the Tower.

When I arrive I will live up to my name: I will finally and truly be kissed by the fire.


Cloud of Ectoplasm

-4 damage, -1 constitution per round

-4 morale check every round, Lvl 18 Fear Spell effect

"I love the smell of ectoplasm in the morning." - The Most Hideous Revenant


Arcanist Angus of the Astral Plane

The voyage to Aldo's Isle

Throughout his life, Angus wanted to explore. As a child, his family would travel down to Zaros Oasis and Atlanta's Pool. Whenever he spends too much time with blue wizards, he sits longing for those places, dreaming about all the mysteries and secrets the runiverse has hiding in these areas.

Angus' last journey was to Aldo's Isle; he went alone, only with Scamps, his giant ladybug.

The waves appeared as tall as a tower and as powerful as a truck headed straight for them at full speed. A poor sailor, at the best of times, they were at the mercy of the waves. Angus slipped when trying to steer and collided with the mast.

When he awoke, him and Scamps were washed up on the rocks of Lilli Pilli, the bay at the northern tip of the island.

It seems he wasn't the first one to have gone through this, as the shoreline had two other shipwrecks, though both more substantial vessels from a time long ago.

Angus and Scamps ventured inside, and almost expectedly, due to Scamp's luck and fortune, the two found the first ship to be littered with chests. They are empty, besides a couple of journals, a map, and a golden tooth.

Angus didn't tell me much; it seemed a mixture of fear and privacy. There was one phrase I distinctly remember:

 Year 118.
 We set off to study the tribe in the early hours. The sun sparkled like gold over The Salt. Outside the bay, the waters raged. I'm scared.

Angus and Scamps were at home on the island; the pair felt more capable with sticks for tools than the modern equipment they left behind. Off they went to survey the island; if those ships had been looted, there must be other signs of people on that rock.


The north-western corner of Aldo's Isle is known for its hostility and remoteness; being on an island with no way back is one thing, but it's much worse when the island is trying to make you its prisoner.

They made it to the peak of Mt Coronet.

With this view, they saw something remarkable, something that very few creatures will ever come across. A massive shell Midden in a valley no more than 100m from the coast. Shells as far as the eye can see, though one's imagination lets you see much more. Angus could vividly see thousands of generations of the first inhabitants of the island sharing shellfish in their traditional feasting spot.
Angus was well aware of their history; he loved learning about the past, imaging how they went about their lives in a world so vastly different.

The shells making up the Middens showed other people what shellfish had recently been harvested, so any newcomers knew to look for a different food source to not over-harvest.

Agnus found old stone tools, grinding stones, and even bones. While holding the artifacts, he would close his eyes and envision whose tool it was, how long it took to forge, and what it was used for.

Whenever people would pass away in this community, they buried them under where their family ate at the Midden, so when they return each day to feast, it is as though they are sharing another meal with their ancestors.


Diabolist Khudalf of El Dorado

# The Diabolist of El Dorado

He who knows his fate forgets his pain. Khudalf rescinded his birth into the gold riches of fame with a vision to mold and sculpt societies. His beliefs are ancient as the city of El Dorado:

"The blind Force of the people is a Force that must be economized, and also managed, as the blind Force of steam, lifting the ponderous iron arms and turning the large wheels, is made to bore and rifle the cannon and to weave the most delicate lace. It must be regulated by Intellect. Intellect is to the people and the people's Force, what the slender needle of the compass is to the ship--its soul, always counselling the huge mass of wood and iron, and always pointing to the north. To attack the citadels built up on all sides against the human race by superstitions, despotisms, and prejudices, the Force must have a brain and a law. Then its deeds of daring produce permanent results, and there is real progress. Then there are sublime conquests. Thought is a force, and philosophy should be an energy, finding its aim and its effects in the amelioration of mankind."

Khudalf is depicted alongside his familiar, a common swamp bullfrog, to ever-remind himself of the entrancy into muddiness among the world outside his family's palissade walls. He carries virgin's blood, a ritual token of diabolism. His dress is formal, to remember his princely background.


Sorcerer Idris of the Hall

# Sorcerer Idris of the Hall #9575
#
Idris is a savant of liquid comprehension, manipulation, protection and consumption.

#
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He is known to have some of the greatest understanding of liquid and has a deep appreciation for in scientific definitions.

He is known to be able to use liquid as a tool for development or sorcery.

He is known to be a protector of existing sources of liquid like rivers, lakes and oceans and identifying environments of marine life ecosystems.

And he is known to be a master of mixology and identifying the best ingredients, with the help of his Blue Rat companion, for beverages.
#
#
---
#
#
Idris is most well known to spend time around bodies of water like beaches, rivers and lakes.
#
#
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It is rumored that his Astral Potion contains melted ice from the Frozen Planet Pluto.


Umberto Dicer of Liches

# Umberto Dicer of Liches and His battle Wasp

### *Chapter One*

A long long time ago in this realm or another, lived a brave lad - Umberto.

He was a son of a farmer, who loved three things in his life- his beloved wife, his son Umberto and The Harvest Festival.

Umberto's story started on the night of the Harvest Festival. After long day of hard work and beautiful festival dinner,

Umberto's parents were resting in their bad, only Umberto was up and reading. Reading and dreaming about one day to became a famous adventurer.

He read his new favourite book about ancient Runes Wizards Cult, which he bought from a strange looking dude at the harvest bazaar.

Suddenly, he heard some strange and unfamiliar noises on the back yard.

He was a young lad who was brave enough not to run to his parents, so he decided to check them out.

He came out of the back door quietly, so he could have an advantage against an ill thief.

*- WTF are those creatures?*  - he asked himself hiding behind the big barrels in disbelief that this kind of creatures are actually exists.

They were skeletons with a rotten meat on some parts of their bones, all of them were dressed like Wizards and it seemed that they were looking for something, something special.

The portals, which were making strange noises earlier were still open, patiently waiting for their masters to return.

From the his new book Umberto knew that these things were called Liches - powerful Wizards skilled in necromancy who seek eternal life.

Some moments later Umberto heard human screams, it was his parents, and someone was torturing them. Quietly as a mouse, he sneaked back in the house, crawling towards the master bedroom.


Through the open door hew saw a huge rotten corpse dressed in a golden robe with an enormous staff with a huge amber on the top of it, which radiated the amber light towards his parents.

It seemed this thing were pulling out their souls and the Lich were demanding the information on a location some manuscript.

Umberto and his parents had no idea what this creature were talking about. So, the Lich pulled the souls out, and parents fell on the floor.

Umberto slowly backed to his room, grabbed some warm clothes and his new book, hoping that this book will give him a chance to learn more about Liches and provide a solution how to kill them, and run.

### *Chapter Two*

Coming soon...


# The Lore of Alesssandra Annihilator of Nightmare Paradise

## Chapter 1

Never. Never should have a Black Lightning strike an Obsidian Portal.

Like the sound of a 1000 exploding Suns, the power of million of stomping Titans, ***Alesssandra***, ***Annihilator of Nightmare Paradise*** came to life.

What once was a populated and vibrant land.

Now, it's an empty *silent* valley.

Green, from the tall grass and the thick tree canopies.

Light purple, on the horizon.

There is no sun. A dense veil of clouds block the rays from irradiating the surface of the land, making the Violet Aura emitted by the Obsidian Portal, the only source of light powerful enough to illuminate the atmosphere.

***Everything was ALIVE, just... not a single sound was perceivable***.

Where was she?

For a fraction of a second, during the strike impact, a bright woman shape, holding a majestic Iron Hammer, appeared where the Portal was located. But now... She appears to be... Gone?

It appeared so.

What for humans would be considered a *blink of an eye*, for Obsidian based creature it's felt as 7 Eras.

Believe it or not, She was already walking across the Runiverse, looking for the Wizard who opened the box of Tempers in the 7th Realm.

That **BOX**. Where casually, even the Black Lightning was ONCE safely stored.

.

.

.

To be... !continued


Geomancer Pix of the Mountain

Pix is an elemental wizard who enjoys his life in the mountains.  He manipulates earth and stone and is also able to bend fire using his Rune.  Along with his Blue Rat named Remy, Pix uses his arcane abilities to protect The Gate to the Seventh Realm.   His familial line also possesses the ability to speak to plants and animals.


Maud Cutter of Mount Titan

@warrior11839 glimpsed his companions @warrior2558, @warrior11840 and @warrior335. The silence was intolerable. A second lasted an eternity - until...


Druid Eyolf of Arcadia

## Chapter One

Eyolf was on fire. His fur blazing filling the forest with a rancid stink, acrid smoke burning his lungs. Somehow, he had managed to come through the flames relatively unscathed, and above all else, still alive and breathing. Falling to the ground and rolling to snuff out the fires embrace, he came to a full stop up against a tree trunk with a jarring impact, rattling the teeth in his skull.

Fully unveiling his magic, he unleashed it in a glorious vortex of wild energy which spread out from his staff as he spun it around in intricate patterns, producing a swirling field of green. The ground rose to envelop his still-limp familiar, constructing a protective barrier around her, and the trees surrounding the clearing began extending their limbs in search for the hidden foes. Soon they had nearly enclosed the clearing, sealing them in.

Who _dares!?_ he shouted at the shadows dancing around to the ever-moving hungry flame. Show yourself, coward.

The response came as a high-pitched cackle, seeming to come from all around him, raising the fur on his neck. Oh little wolf, your mongrel kind will soon be extinct! And the land shall be free of your pestilence once again, as it was always intended.

Out from the shadows strode a figure, suddenly illuminated by the green spell spinning around her raised fist. Her hair, a wily mess that seemed to writhe with a will of its own, was bright green much like her wicked looking face. Dancing around her shoulders, puling at her hair and looking every bit as deranged as its master, was a monkey  its crazed eyes wide, mouth stuck in a perpetual grin.


Since my little plan to sacrificed you to the Sacred Flame seems to have failed  and oh how I had hoped to sentence you to an eternity of endless hunger as a ghoul or zombie - I shall have to finish the job myself. A dead half-breed is, after all, still a dead-half breed, the hateful Witch finished, punctuating with another wild cackle.

Stunned by this vehemence, Eyolf stared as the witch began an incantation, the words harsh to his sensitive ears, the wild monkey dancing an eager dance in ecstasy. With each sibilance the hissing and spitting green flame in her hands grew, expanding, green shadows dancing wildly on her face as she strode ever nearer.

_Enough of this_, Eyolf thought and pounded his staff to the earth, channeling magic, enhanced and strengthened through his aspect of Steel, sending a solid bar of green-white light into his foe. Astonishingly, as the glow and sound faded, the witch was mostly untouched, hair slightly singed with her demented grin still in place, chant growing ever stronger as she advanced.

Your pitiful magic cannot touch me, filth-blood. The Wild belongs to me and my kind! she screamed as she brought her hands together, shaping the spell in her hands, compressing it, almost complete.

As Eyolf backed away he could feel the warmth of the hungry flame behind him, and just a few steps away from stepping into the conflagration he sent the signal.

The Witch screamed, falling towards him, as his familiar - now healed and restored - had completely severed her Achilles tendon with her razor-sharp incisors. Quickly shuffling aside, spinning his staff in a mighty arc, he slammed the steel enforced length of wood into her back, sending her flying into the inferno.

This time it was the witch who did the howling, and this time nothing emerged on the other side.


Sorcerer Milo of the Hall

As a storm sorcerer, Cumulonimbus - or, Milo - is capable of deploying some of the most raw weather-based magic in the runiverse. On a whim he can summon mountain-splitting tornadoes, enough rain to flood The Citadel, or a heat wave to dry up Dream Master Lake. Hell, he can even make it rain fire.

But thats not Cumulonimbus. No. Milo spends his days contentedly bobbing up and down on a pillowy cloud of his own conjuring. Accompanied by his trusty rat buddy, he smokes a blunt that never seems to run out and wears the same outfit he did yesterday: a purple, silk set of pajamas and a gold chain, hanging from which is a diamond-studded medallion that changes to reflect the weather and time of day.

To be continued


Void Disciple Dr. Death of the River

# The Lore of One Who Shall be Burned

## My past no longer matters. Enchanter Orbus has shown me a _bright_ future. I trust his vision; I will serve him in this plane and the next.

#

#

#


Battle Mage Cassius of the Hall

Who's the green fighting cockatrice man

That's a love machine to all the chicks? (Cass)

You're daaaaammn right

Who is the wiz that would risk his neck for his brother, man? (Cass)

Can ya dig it?

Who's the cockatrice (tamer) that won't cop out when there's danger all about? (Cass)

Right oooon

You see this cockatrice (tamer) Cass is a bad mother (Shut your mouth)

But I'm talkin' about CASSSS (Then we can dig it)

He's a complicated wiz but no one understands him but his cockatrice


The Most Hideous Revenant

like wizard, eat wizard


Fido the Ruthless

# Fido the Ruthless

Heads of grass, truffles and donut slime

Monkey, Peacock, Shrew

Wandering without master

I do whatever I'll do


Shaded Spectre Axel of the XYZ

Despite being a maximum affinity powerful salt sizard, Axel was relieved to be dead.

"phew, I sure am glad to be done with the living aholes," a liberated Axel testified.

The XYZ...  Axel found himself in a strange place, but this time, that anxious feeling of the unknown excited him.  He could feel the Big XYZ energy vibrating through him.

"We just leveled up, Slimer!"

Slimer didn't nod, but Axel just knew that was what he would do if he had a neck or vertibrae.


Magus Impy of the Valley

# The Lore of Magus Impy of the Valley

All that needs to be conveyed about this hot-head is a rant he performed in the town square:

"What the fizzle did you just frickin' say about me, you Imp? I'll have you know I soloed the Wizard Tutorial, and I've been involved in a myriad amounts of puppeting cases in ranked PVP, and I have over 300 registered PVP wins. I am trained to be the best in my school and I'm the Warlord of this realm. You are nothing to me but just another Forgotten Soul. I will dispel your spells the fuck out of the realm with a number amount of fireworks that you dare not count, mark my magical words. You think you can get away with whispering "noob" after losing to me? Think again, novice. As we speak, I am contacting my Promethean Warlord friends and you are being hexed so you better prepare for the spells. The spells that drain out the pathetic thing with the pathetic number you call your life points. You're fucking screwed, kid. I can cast any spell, anytime, and I can kill you in one hit, and that's just with my pet. Not only am I extensively trained in gearless combat, but I have access to all the worlds in the realm which includes your house and I will use it to haunt you off this world, you little adept. If only you could have known what imminent punishment your little taunt was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have casted the proper shield or dispel. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you fizzling noob. I will dispel you all over and make you cry from the fizzle. You're going back to Wizard101."


[
 ](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wizard101/comments/975vhi/navy_seal_copypasta_wizard101_version/)


Remus of the Surf

## **REMUS OF THE SURF**

The greatest wizard in all times has comeback to this world after been hiding, no one saw him for decades and now is back the best purple hat wizard from all the times the world need to be prepared for this great wizard and his rabbit....


Grave Robbing Kobold Yookoo of Dread Tower

"Hey, it's that chocolate drink wizard!" exclaimed an excited young Kobold.

"MY NAME IS YOOKOO, not YOOHOO, aahhh NVM!"

Yookoo remembered almost growing accustomed to this type of greeting.

Since passing through the sacred flame, in his new life as a Grave Robbing Skeletobold, this type of nonsense would never trouble him again.  If anyone annoyed him, he would simply wait 80 years until their death and rob their grave.

"There is nothing more exciting than being part of a "great generational transfer of wealth"

TLDR - he's really really good at his job.


Witch Faiz of the Belfry

# The Lore of Witch Faiz of the Belfry

The great existential questions that have perplexed even the sharpest minds in Forgotten Runes history: what's up with dream masters? Where do they come from? Are they male or female? Are they even human? And the most mystifying query of all: what lies beneath the hood? The answer to that last one is, of course, another hood! Just kidding...unless...?

Witch Faiz identifies as female because others see her as a witch, and witches are women, therefore she must be female (the intricacies of gender identity escape her entirely). People see her as a witch because she uses magic and carries a broom around wherever she goes. Few are aware that she doesn't use the broom for flying, as witches are wont to do...actually, she uses it for its much more mundane intended purpose: sweeping. Witch Faiz is a neat freak of the highest order (a psychotherapist would diagnose her with obsessive compulsive disorder, except she's never been to one before). She doesn't like messes or messy things. Familiars are messy. Runes are messy. She would rather do without them, things are simpler that way.

Witch Faiz is also only capable of using cleansing magic. One would think that this handicap would make her rather useless in battle, but one would be dreadfully mistaken. You would be surprised what magically cleansing a person of their entire gut microbiome would do (hint: immediate bathroom run). Witch Faiz has actually brought down entire armies this way...it was truly a terrible sight to behold, and the stench was even worse. She is no joke in close quarters either, having demonstrated multiple times her ability to throttle heavily armed and armored opponents many times her size with nothing but her broom in hand.


No one knows exactly where Witch Faiz lives, only that she is frequently spotted in the grounds around Dream Master Lake. Anyone who dares litter within the vicinity of the lake would immediately feel her wrath. On the other hand, travelers who wish to gain her favor are encouraged to bring offerings such as cleaning supplies, bottled water, and hoodies (especially orange ones). Dream Master Lake is always pristine and immaculate all year round due to her efforts, and that's just the way she likes it. When it comes down to it, Witch Faiz is a simple wizard. Simple is clean. Clean is orderly. Order is good. That's the way the universe should be, and that's the way life should be.


Archmagus Baozhai of the Wold

For me, life has always been a fight. A struggle that only sheer determination, not luck, could get me through. No one handed me anything, save two instances (we will get into that later). Now, it is not to say I had a bad childhood, I love my parents. They loved me. We just, well, we were poor. More than poor. We had absolutely nothing.

  I knew I wanted to be a wizard at a young age. My very first memory is of a woman in glittering robes passing through our penniless town. She noticed me, barefooted and coated in grime. Then,whispering in my little ear, "There is a strong magic in you, young one," she slipped a green gem into my palm. As myeyes fell upon it, a small light flickered from within it. "See?"

  I kept that gem with me always, hoping to find my magic someday. But life was not easy, and time was a resource I could not afford. 18 years later, I hadn't harnessed any magical ability. The very day I had heard of an archmage with no apprentice, I knew it wasfinallytime.With bittersweet goodbyes from my parents, I set off.He was some sort of hermit or something, but I didn't care.I was becoming a wizard.

  It was a struggle to get him to open up (his front door amongst other things). For a while, I thought maybe he would reject teaching me. He tolerated the occasional lesson if I cleaned for him or ran his errands in town. Besides this, we hardly spoke.


After a fewweeks of sleeping in a nearby barn, the odor was... noticeable. One day, before my chores, he motioned for me to follow him intothe house. We came upon a closed door, he raised his hand directing me to enter. It was a small room that looked as if it were for someone else. It was cleaned out, bed made. I looked at my teacher confused. He mumbled solemnly, "You can sleep here."

  I inspected my new room, something I never had before. Leaning on the wall was amysticalwooden staff. "It was mine once, won't need it anymore," he explained as I picked it up gingerly. With a shaky hand and glassy eyes, I revealed the emerald I had received from another kind wizard. It gravitated to the end of the staff and began to glow.

In the green light, I knew I had made it home.


Beetle the Stupendous

Once upon a time, there was a pony named Beetle.  Bit of a strange name for a pony you might think, but these things aren't just random you know - there is a good reason why our friend Beetle has the name she does.

It all started back when Beetle was a tiny little foal, when she would spend her formative days tottering around a glade that her string called home. For some reason our little friend used to enjoy playing with dung.  Not the most wholesome of activities, but each to their own.  She would mould and kick, she would roll and chase.  The amount of fun the foal had with dung that she found in the glade was limitless.

Hence, the string collectively named her as Beetle.  It just made sense.

However, as little Beetle grew, so did her prowess with faecal sculpture.  So nimble were her hooves that she became adept in creating the most delicate and expressive dung-sculptures.  Her family and friends in the purple bandana string became more impressed with her skills, if somewhat slightly nauseated by it.

One day though, some of the more rambunctious young foals in the string decided that Beetle's little hobby wasn't for them.  The aptly named @pony101 and his friend @pony185 took it upon themselves to destroy Beetle's little dung sculptures while she was out one afternoon testing out her trot-to-gallop routine.  They smashed everything into a fine paste, ruining weeks of careful work.


Obviously, this just wasn't going to stand, so Beetle set about concocting a suitable lesson for the two bullies.  With her love of all things fire-based, as is the rune she was born with, Beetle set about creating a dung-based trap.  Firstly, gathering a decent amount of poo, Beetle was able to create what could only be described as a steaming pile of manure.  With this, she made sure to craft pockets of space within the pile using her well-honed sculpture skills.  Then, with a rune here, and a store of methane there, she was able to rig a small explosive trap.

Lo, the day came when Pylon and Barton decided to mess with Beetle's sculptures again - and this time it blew up in their long faces.  The explosion was heard far and wide in the Elysian Fields, although no pony was seriously harmed in the prank.

From that day forward, Beetle was known as Beetle the Stupendous.


Sorcerer Chooki of the Marsh

# New Lore Entry

Sorcerer Chooki was first seen crossing the Blanket bog in Scotland by a villager named Albany. Chooki was seen from afar moving his hands in a strange and terrifying way. ''e was dressed in long robes 'e was.' said Albany to the village barmen. 'moved 'is 'ands in great circles over 'is 'ead intermixed with giant 'w' here and there. if i didn't know any better and i'm sixty five years old mark you, i'd 'ave thought 'e was trying to summon the Will-o'-the-wisp.'

The Will-o'-the-wisp was best described as a white light humanoid figure spotted first a few decades ago by an eleven year old child. The child ran home and told his mother the story and by evening the whole village knew something evil and sinister was lurking in the bog. Occasionally people would come forward claiming that they too had seen the Will-o'-the-wisp and demanded that the marsh be roped off. They also claimed seeing things at night and hearing groaning sounds whenever they passed by the bog.

Chooki was being detained in an old stable by Achaius, Jaberinse, Kamron, Maolmuire and Gillivray, the five village leaders, for questioning.

Achaius: what were you doing there yer gowk? albany the villager saw you moving suspiciously

Chooki : i'm a sorcerer. My father's tribe first inherited these lands; they were sorcerers too. I know a spell called wllowsp which showed any magical blood in the area. i was chanting the spell while doing the appropriate actions required to locate magical blood when your villager Albert or whoever he is saw me performing the ritual and thought i was summoning some billowing wizz or something


Maolmuire : first off its Albany and secondly Will-o'-the-wisp---

Chooki : whatever grandpa. the point is i was not trying to summon any 'william-yu-wasps' i was trying to find any remaining family member of mine who might be staying in the area. unless you might be able to help me?

Gillivray : Seven years ago a witch was banished from here before we became village heads. the witch went to Leverburgh marshes 10 miles south from here. she was convicted by the five leaders for the murder of an old man even though she claimed that she was innocent. maybe she might know you, her name was 'Ailment' or 'Altita' or something like that.

Chooki: could be my great aunt Ailith though I was sure she was staying in Bucharest... ah well i'll look into it. thanks Gilligray

Maolmuire: where do I even begin? Gillivray, Will-o'-the-wisp---

Chooki: you get what i'm saying Moana!

The village leaders gave Chooki directions to Leverburgh and sent him on his way, relieved  to have him out of their hair.


Archmagus  of Limbo

Archmagus or not,
Nameless he is. With his cat,
In Limbo he lives.


Diabolist Woomba of the Tower

# The aristocrat's tower

On the heights of the capitol, the Aristocrat's rotary gather every month in **the High Tower**.

Full of secret rooms, pitfalls and dead-ends, only a member of the rotary knows how to navigate the 1000 meter high tower.

Diabolist Woomba and his snail Gary is effectively one of the earliest member of the secret society. From the heights of his office looking over a large portion of the educated world, he is on a mission to spread the influence of *Satan* over the Forgotten world ...


Lubalar Champion of Honor

# **The Orb of Agnor;**
# **A Warrior's Tale:**
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>  The first four parts consist of the background tales of @warrior10447, @warrior7626, @warrior15338 and @warrior12713. All parts there after consist of the story entitled: *The Orb of Agnor: A Warrior's Tale*

Special thanks to Prometheus21 on Discord for allowing for the use of @wizard3519 in this tale!

##  *The Cast:*

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@warrior10447:

A rugged, middle-aged man long past his glory days of old. When, once upon a time, the life of a warrior reclaimed his soul, Lubalar set forth with a company of many warriors. After losing his dear friend Dorian, Lubalar slays a fell Cockatrice and ventures out to discover a relic which can bring back Dorian. The Orb of Agnor.

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@warrior7626:

A cut, young man with many grand feats under his belt. One day when traveling in the Frog Masters Marsh he came across @wizard3519 who sent him on a quest to reclaim a shard of Hue Masters Pass in exchange for information on the Orb of Agnor. On his journey he learned of the powerful and destructive technologies produced in the South.

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@warrior15338:

A powerful young warrior capable of taking on an entire pack of goblins bare handed. Coming from The Sands, Liam is trained to survive harsh climates and use his logical nature to solve issues. On one of his excursions Liam came across an old pyramid containing an ancient scroll. The scroll sent Liam to Calistas Citadel where he learned of the Orb of Agnor.

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@warrior12713:


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@warrior12713:

An extremely skilled archer capable of great stealth. Sandra was raised by the Master Duck, a great duck capable of speech that lives in the Dream Masters Lake. One day the Duck Alliance is attacked by a group of wizards in search of the Master Egg. During the siege the Master Duck was killed off and the Master Egg was stolen. In response Sandra hunted down and killed the wizards. In one of their packs she found an emblem containing an image and description of the Orb of Agnor. In order to revive the Master Duck, Sandra sets out to claim the Orb of Arnor.

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##  *Side Cast:*

@wizard3519:

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### *Recommended Soundtrack:*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K69tbUo3vGs

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K69tbUo3vGs

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## *Part One: The Travels of Lubalar & The Slaying of a Great Cockatrice*
Lubalar lived in The Wild, at the border of The Fey. He was a large, strong, bold man, though his days of warriordom were long past him. In his retirement,he had constructed a small hut for himself, not too far from civilization, nor too close. He loved to tend to his gardens and make excursions to nearby villages when help was needed. Whether saving a cat from a tree, helping a villager move homes, or driving savage wolves off a farmer's herding land, Lubalar was always around to help. In his free time Lubalar tended to many creatures. His pet dog, Cerberus, was among his favorite. He had found Cerberus as a young pup on one of his olden quests. Lubalar allowed owls to nest in his roof, crows and rabbits to eat his crop and even snakes to burrow deep underneath his stead. At night Lubalar would sit on his porch, pipe in hand, reminiscing the olden days of his quests. For Lubalar longed to once again take up arms to battle, but most of all, Lubalar wanted to partake in an adventure. So, when one day a band of warriors showed up to his home, requesting aid on their journey to vanquish the Golden Cockatrice*, Lubalar did not hesitate to accept.

> The following recountment of Lubalar's Tale is vague and sewn from many legends and myths, to hear of his true quest one must find him themselves:


Bringing only his loyal Cerberus, a sword, and the armor on his back, Lubalar set forth with the company. They traveled many weeks through snowy mountain, scorching plains and thick wood, before arriving at The Blue Wizard Bastian, the most recent scene of the Cockatrices attacks. The wizards there had managed to expel the foul beast, but inflicted no serious damage. The band gathered what information they deemed useful and set off for The Gate to The Seventh Realm. During their travels Lubalar grew close to many of the other warriors, but to none he grew more closely to than Dorian, a young warrior from The Great Citadel.They talked of Lubalars old quest and of Dorians great feats. They hunted, sang and journeyed together. In a way, Lubalar become a father-like figure to Dorian. After many more weeks of travel the company arrived at the gate. It was a dark and gloomy place that none seemed to keen to


gloomy place that none seemed to keen to stay at for long. They set up camp and began to patrol the mystical area, in search of the great creature. On the seventh day two members of the company came running into camp. As they collapsed to the floor and were tended too they began to tell the rest of the band what they had witnessed.They had indeed seen the great beast. They intended to flee and arrive again with the rest of the company, however the five of them were forced into a head on encounter with the creature. In the battle that pursued they had managed to sever two of the cocktices claws and expose a scale on it's neck. Unfortunately, the trade-off was the lives of three great warriors. Among them was Dorian, whom had bought time for the two survivors to escape at the expense of his own life. Upon hearing this news, Lubalar was devastated and vowed to slay the beast himself. Against the advice of


slay the beast himself. Against the advice of his fellow warriors, Lubalar sneaked out of camp at nightfall. After hours of wandering, at the break of Dawn, Lubalar spotted The Golden Cockatrice. He charged at it, fully expecting his demise. However, as the cockatrice veered its head toward Lubalar, it felt a piercing blow to the side of its neck. It screeched as it fell limp to the ground. Lubalar had felled the beast. After that day Lubalar has patrolled the Runiverse in search of a holy relic that could bring Dorian back to life, The Orb of Agnor.


> *Of the Golden Cockatrice: The Golden Cockatrice was a great winged beast that plagued the Runiverse. When it could it would pick off farm animals (and sometimes their farmers) to feast on. When agitated the Golden Cockatrice was capable of taking out small villages and even a wizard or two. It's close relative the @beast3 still roams the Runiverse...

> The Triple Crowned Cockatrice is pictured above.

### A Map of Lubalar's Travels In Part One:

## *The End of Part One*

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## *Part Two: The Travels of Riggs & The Toadstools Massacre*

coming soon...

### A Map of Riggs' Travels In Part Two:

## *The End of Part Two*

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## *Part Three: The Travels of Liam & The Ancient Pyramid*

coming soon...

### A Map of Liam's Travels In Part Three:

## *The End of Part Three*

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## *Part Four: The Travels of Sandra & The Master Duck*

coming soon...

### A Map of Sandra's Travels In Part Four:

## *The End of Part Four*

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## *Part Five: The Beginning*

coming soon...


Cleric Lumos of the Marsh

SSKKKKKKRRRRRRRR

Shortie pulled up in a hoopty, you know the one with the 20 inch rims and spoiler. Exhaust poppin and going crazy.

Shortie hopped out with the Gucci belt blazzzzzzing. He looked at the opp and said "WUSSUP KILLA?"


Sebastian Dismantler of the Obelisk

# Under the Force of Courage

When warriors appeared in the runiverse tensions began to rise throughout the land, and when negotiations between wizard and warrior ended in a conflict, war broke out.

In this age where slavery is common, slaves became the most convenient resource of conscripts to fight against the wizards.

**There was one slave among them who was drafted because of his high physical ability.**

This is a story of a man who was forced to stand against spellcraft

Though victory he a was promised to be freed from slavery

Sent to the field he can never lose

At the mercy of time, he struggles against his fate

Not to protect his himself or his dignity

But to protect his family and loved ones

Now, he raises his sword

**Under the force of courage**


Throndilor Obliterator of the Alley

# *It was my 111th birthday...*

*...only a week ago, but my life has been quite different than that of the famous halfling from the shire,* Throndilor reminisced grimly in a nostalgic moment as he sat in front of the blazing fireplace in the big hall of his dwelling. Nearby a loud buzzing could be heard. It came from outside and it seemed to draw closer. On a plate on the table to the dwarfs left were some legumes, nuts and other vegetables leftover from his dinner. The wall to the right of him sported some melee weaponry used long ago. A battle axe, a couple of daggers, a javelin and his beloved long sword **Silvandril** that he still used once in a while when he really wanted to scare someone - or cut him to pieces. The wooden oak tiled floor was a dark brown maroon.

A scar adorned the right side of Throndilors face and for the rest - well, it was not pretty either. He was not bad looking, but he was no Prince Charming. The broken nose did not help in the looks department, either. But anyways, with so many Prince Charmings running around these days looking like a bit of an extraordinaire could not hurt.


It was a century ago when the big war of the Yellow Mountains went into its 6th year that Throndilors parents had been killed before his very eyes during the Battle of the Brimstone Valley. It was not even a proper and fair fight; it was cowardly and insidious. They were betrayed by friends. Throndilor does not remember much from that time long ago. The war had since ended and the wizards had won. The Yellow Mountains were now called **The Battle Mage Mountains** and all the dwarves that had lived there for centuries before had either been killed or driven away. And some of them, the younger ones that were not able to run away fast enough, such as Throndilor himself, were caught by a battle mage called @wizard9633 and sold into servitude, as was the custom in those days. He was sold to a bad tempered hooligan in the city of the **Blue Wizard Bastion** that called himself a guild leader.

Throndilor looked out of the window at the approaching animal that was heading for the tower and took a long gulp from his dwarf light draft beer mug. Disgusting. The beer used to be better too. But now was not the time for some fire whiskey.

Most of his life he had been on the run. First from bad wizards in the mountains and then from the corrupt orderlies in the city. Growing up in the darkest alleys of a large and multicultural city, running shady errands from an early age for his master and leader of the thieves' **Guild of the Slippery Dagger** will not make a saint out of a person. Especially when all you are surrounded by is greed, betrayal and crime - week in week out. The years had made Throndilor strong and enduring, but wary and suspicious. They also taught him one very important thing: always look out for yourself and never rely on anyone.


Too often had trust in the people around him landed Throndilor in trouble and misery. He had been killed twice in robberies he had been forced to participate in due to acts of treason by his so-called friends and he had been subsequently raised from the dead by powerful healers under excruciating pain. On one occasion during the revival he distinctly remembered hearing a bell ring and vaguely seeing a figure with a hood and a cloak. (of course it had been @wizard6287)

He never found out who his parents had been and now, all these years later , he probably never would. Since his childhood he had a strange tattoo of the rune of Saturn on his left shoulder which was about the only hint of his heritage. '*But who cares,*' he often thought, bitterly. In his view his parents had left him to a life of misery. Had they been more suspicious and vigilant - he would not have lived this life of sorrow. Damn them.

100 years is a long time during which skills advance and experiences make a dwarf stronger. And Throndilor had become a very strong one. So strong even, that after 20 years in servitude to his guild master, Charles the Slitter - to whom he had been sold - he slit Charless throat open from right to left and dismantled the guild in the following months. So rotten from the inside, the guild was, that it made no sense to take over and continue. Throndilor left the city and squandered many years in the service of various warlords or scoundrels as a sword-swinging mercenary.


Upon his 80th birthday, after years of battles and raids, Throndilor returned to the Blue Wizard Bastion with his friend and companion **Raptinora** to found the Guild of **The Saphire Saturn Syndicate**. And here we are now. One week after his 111th birthday, with his companion just arriving home and landing on the towering building, buzzing and clicking its mandibles.
Throndilor had saved Raptinora, a giant hornet, many years ago during a raid in the forest surrounding the Dream Master Lake while she was being attacked by a swarm of wasps. Herself being of gigantic proportions with a body length of almost 5 feet and a wingspan of 10 feet, she was a menacing sight to others, but to Throndilor she was the only being he would always trust and they understood each other well, even though she could not speak like some wizards weird familiars.

In general Throndilor was very skeptical towards wizards and magic and did not like the unnatural and sneaky behavior of that kind. They had killed his parents after all. But he accepted that sometimes there were benefits to using people with those skillsets.

He turned away from the window where Raptinora had just approached, went over to the table with his unfinished food, took another sip of beer, and looked at his watch that showed just past 8pm. He used it to turn on the large flat screen TV that hung behind him on the eastern wall.


The news. News of more war and **disaster**, **tragedy**, **crime**, **disease** and **distress**. What an ugly world it all had become in the last 100 years. Brilliant technical advantages caused more harm than good and exploited the trusting people of the Runiverse. But to Throndilor all the bad news was good news, as it would certainly create some advantage or opportunity for him and his guild. The trust of others led to gains in his own pockets.

Throndilor turned the TV off, grabbed the keys to his bike, put on his patched leather jacket and his blue **Dwarfen horned helmet** and stepped into the private elevator of his city apartment on the 45th floor.

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Additional lore and stories can be found at https://tabitha.wtf. Check it out.
Thanks to Tania Del Rio for your wonderful support!


Bernadette Vanquisher of Brigands

The beetle seemed an affable companion to the spetum master. Maybe they'd flip a brigand or two onto their backside.


Ari Attacker of the Cage

# Krampuses are strongest!

_my own lore is here, please be scary_

Krampus. A powerful devil that can spoil the mood of many warriors. He possesses the magic of the storm and is able to suck the blood from his enemies. Wears armor and armor, can wear a helmet. It looks like a Neanderthal, but a very smart and dangerous opponent. Poorly obeys dark magic and the forces of evil.


Enchanter Larissa of the Marsh

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## Im over this place!

Dear Diary,

Ever since the incident, Ive been feeling down. A strange fox named Ludwig started following me around. Theyre pretty grouchy but they seem smart and I could use the company to stay out of my head. Today, they casually mentioned that I sucked so much at magic that I should probably find a different path since theres no way the Marsh witch would even give me an apprentice associate assistant position. Blech! I recoiled at the thought of working where everyone in town is brown nosing to win the favor of the witch. My reaction made it clear: I have to get out of here. I dont know whats beyond the Marsh, but theres gotta be something more. Plus, everyone knows that I have no future in traditional witchcraft so what have I got to lose?

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## Magic in Carnival Pass

Dear Diary,

Ludwig can be a buzzkill, but they do have some helpful survival skills. We were foraging in Carnival Pass and found some mushrooms. They knew the brown ones were good to eat but I found this perfect red mushroom and I couldnt help but take a big bite. Almost instantly, I felt like I never have before. At first I felt panicked as Ludwig reprimanded me for eating it. I collected myself and noticed multicolored leaves grew from the trees, the smells of the flowers changed with each breeze, and the birds were singing songs Ive heard before in my dreams. It was magic. Not the kind I struggled with in school but a different kind of power... I wandered Carnival Pass in wonderment for hours. When I came to, I felt a change within me. I didnt fear or doubt anything for once. I just knew I was on the right path. I looked at the mushroom in my pack and noticed it had grown out where I had bit it. Strange, but Im not mad about it.


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## The Mysterious Dung Farmer

Dear Diary,

We walked for a few days and finally reached the Wild. Nature expressed itself in many different biomes here. There were wizards from all over the Runiverse traveling through it. I met a Druid named Mycho. He was a dung farmer and specialized in farming mushrooms but was also a mushroom himself! He said the wild mushroom I had was meant to show me what I already know. I didnt know what that meant. When we parted ways, our eyes locked for a moment and I felt a strange feeling. For a second it felt like I knew all the things he knew about mycology and felt his kindess. I could tell he felt something too but we broke our gaze and hugged to say goodbye. His encouragement and kindness gave me energy and purpose, even though I didn't know the destination. Ludwig said I shouldnt put any weight to the words of a dung farmer, but I somehow knew that his words were true.

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## The Intoxicating Wild

Dear Diary,


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## The Intoxicating Wild

Dear Diary,

Weve been in The Wild for some time and met all kinds of strange and interesting characters. It seems everyone is on an important quest. I plan on heading west just because Ive never seen the coast or the hustle and bustle of the great cities. I heard many wild stories of Sacred Flames, rallies for or against Big Potion, baby wizard orphanages, and so much more! It was intoxicating to meet so many wizards. (Though, it mightve been all the potions Ive been sampling.) Whenever I connected with a wizard and looked into their eyes, I could see from their perspective and feel their powers. In some, I could sense their darkness and feel their pain. I felt for the first time I was understanding the world around me and it understood me. I didnt fear anything. I only felt excitement. Ludwig said I was too eager and seemed naive but I paid them no mind.

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## Delilah and the darkness

Dear Diary,


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## Delilah and the darkness

Dear Diary,

I was at a tavern singing bar songs (before noon mind you) when a witch came in and the whole energy of the room changed. It was the first time I was drawn to a heavy, dark energy. I found myself searching for her hollow eyes and saw she had a good soul but was overcome with shame. I sensed she had deep knowledge of alchemy and used it to help many beings. Almost unknowingly, I dropped a bit of my mushroom into her potent marijuana concoction. I felt guilty but I wanted to help her. Once she felt the effects, her protective veil lifted and she bawled like a child. She said she was destined for death. She had committed a crime she must pay for. Knowing theres something unresolved in her fate, I brought over some wizards who spoke of a Sacred Flame. They rehashed that those who choose to give themselves to the Flame may become powerful Souls to complete their destiny or perish as an Undesirable. The other wizards encouraged her cautiously that if she must die, she might try to making things right by becoming a Soul. I urged her to give herself a chance to find renewed purpose. She looked into my eyes for a long time and collected herself. She admitted she is broken but wanted no one to suffer as she has and quietly walked out. She headed north towards the Secret Tower and I didnt see her again. I was exhausted. I acted out of intuition and I wasnt sure if what I did was right.

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## Power

Dear Diary,


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## Power

Dear Diary,

Every time I eat the mushroom, Im able to connect with others more deeply. I can now see darkness and pain in everyone. I try my best to focus on their light and power which drive me to help them. With stronger connections, Im able to harness their powers even when theyre no longer with me. I want to help everyone that I can but I wonder if its my place for me to read them so intimately and to change their course. Its also hard to choose who I should help and Ludwig always says things that make me wonder whether Ive actually helped them or not. I dont think most of the wizards know how my magic works but now I do. Sometimes I share my mushroom with them and they think thats it. Maybe its best to keep it to myself for now Ludwig agrees.

In other news, I keep hearing of Chronomancers Riviera from all my favorite wizards so far. I may change my plans and head there instead. They werent necessarily what youd call lawfully good wizards but they had the best stories. I heard its a place filled with celebrations with a palpable air of chaos. You never know what can transpire there. Now that sounds fun. Ludwig is worried. I don't care.


Alchemist Thor of the Keep

# Alchemist Thor of the Keep

Thor was nothing if not studious. From the early ages of childhood, Thor excelled heavily at academia, out-learning his
parents (the Duke and Duchess of Muliaran) and every single peer. Shortly after he turned 8, he was sent away to a boarding
school that specialized in alchemy and herbology.

This was done mostly to save the sanity of the parents who could barely keep the poor kid engaged, let alone happy and
fulfilled! In the long run, it was the best thing for Thor, as he was able to push much farther past the boundaries in terms
of education.

He spent the next 5 years living, studying and learning with some of the realm's top botanists and alchemists. He connected
heavily with the unusual flora and fauna that was used in the more creative potions (say, invisibility and love potions). He
learned everything they had to offer him and more.

What was usually an 8 year stay for most alchemists, Thor did in less than 6. Easily the top performer the entire
time, he garnered much good favor from his professors. After the school decided he had learned everything they could teach
They offered him a research grant and a role within the prestigious, Royal Alchemist's Guild.

He was assigned to be the Queen's royal alchemist, where he would serve a range of needs from mystical to mundane. Once in the
royal court, he was quickly adopted by the Court Wizard, Enullus. The two quickly became good friends and spent much time
together, devising new spells and potions, usually to fix some ridiculously ordinary problem.


Knowledge of the alchemist's abilities spread far and wide, garnering the attention of many royal families throughout the
realm, thus bringing many visitors to his kingdom seeking his help. From everyday injuries to supposed possessions, he never
turned down someone asking for help. He even rid a town of it's kobold problem through poison. (Not his finest moment, but
the kobolds were eating all the children, so...)

Due to the overwhelming requests for help, Thor founded a small operation called "Alchemist Allies" to help him address the
issues of the entire kingdom. He was able to quite swiftly find volunteers once he put the word out, and it was in no time
at all before he had a small contingent of quite powerful (but strangely friendly) wizards.

With a little assistance from the Queen, Thor was able to outfit the entire kingdom with resident Royal Alchemists, who
were to reside in each town's Church. The group has managed to keep things fairly tame in their small corner of the realm,
but with strange things on the horizon, it's just a matter of time...