Samuel couldnt take it any longer. His true love and his gardens both being ripped from him sent him into a rage. His next actions were as if possessed. With his hedge sheers in hand he went to work.

Minutes later, Sam was running from the gardens, hustling through the streets of the city. The enchanted pockets of his overalls were deeper than they looked: much deeper. He tried to keep his rage hidden as he headed through the streets of town and through the city gates out onto the highway. The capital guards barely looked at him twice. He looked like a lowly commoner after all.

It was only after the capital was a low bump on the horizon did Sam fall to his knees, weeping. Looking into his pockets he checked on his cuttings. There, in his coverall pockets, the rose bush cuttings wrapped in damp cloth were hidden. Another pouch held seed packets of so many of his treasured trees, herbs, shrubs and more.

He would start a new garden. A garden for the common folk of the land. And maybe one day, that garden would wake his true love and bring her back to him.

## The Eternal Roses

With all the construction in the capital gardens it was actually days before anyone noticed Samuel was gone. But it was a full week before the true gravity of Sams magic was understood. See, when Sam took his cuttings from the bushes, he not only cut the roses, but he also cut the magic from the briar as well.

That day marked the last day any roses would bloom in the capital gardens. Sam cut one and took it with him, but the others became the last roses the Eternal Garden would ever grow. But the magic of the roses lingered on as those remaining roses were also enchanted and became the Eternal Roses. Never to wilt, never to die, they stayed beautiful, always.


Battle Mage Samuel of the Canyon

When the magic of the roses was understood the oligarchs went mad with greed. Hacking roses from the bush, the people of the capital scrambled to cling to the memories of the gardens and the mystical powers these roses might have. Some fell into the hands of those who truly treasured them, while others sought them only in envy and greed. Today, they are scattered across the land, held by wizards of all sorts. Some understand there is a simple beauty with them, thorns and all, but others hold them clinging to their majesty and power.

## The Enchanted Garden

Wanting the magic of the gardens back in the capital, the oligarchs had Samuel hunted. Guards, bounty hunters and even devoted cultists of the roses alike searched for him and his new garden.

With a little help from some friends he met fleeing the capital, Samuel built a new garden. The magic of the garden grew its own defences to hide itself from those who sought after it for the wrong reasons, showing itself only to those worthy.

It became known as the Enchanted Garden.

To this day, on one knows exactly where the Enchanted Garden is. Some say theyve found it in hedge wizard wood, others the fey or the thorn or the pines by dream master lake. Some say the Enchanted Garden is exactly where you need it to be and will find you in your hour of need. Some say the Garden is but a myth.

What grows in the garden? Stories have been told that its a place where the hungry are fed, the injured are healed and the worried are soothed. Its a place where ideas can be planted and through the collective of those tending this garden, not just plants, but ideas, plans, dreams can grow! It is a truly magical place.


## The Order of the Eternal Rose
Just a few decades ago, a small band of Wizards set out to find the Eternal Roses and use their undying strength and power for good. Banding together they became what is now known as the Order of the Eternal Rose. Some say they know how to reach the Enchanted Garden, guarding its secrets with their life.

And every day now, with the Zombie King on the rise, the ancient beasts on the loose, and the ever growing darkness reaching further and further onto our lands, those who hold Eternal Roses are feeling a call - a stir to action! Rise up and join the Order of the Eternal Rose! Together we can band strong and use our !magic to push back these evil forces, heal the common folk and bring growth and prosperity to all good people of this land!

## Epilogue

And ol Sam? No one has seen him in centuries for certain.. Some say he died of sorrow when the Enchanted Garden didnt return sweet Thana to him. Some say he is still there, trimming, clipping and planting away. Others say he turned in his brown hat for a white one and spends his days in the centre of the garden, in quiet meditation.

Perhaps one day we will come to know the rest of his story. But not today.


Taurus Divider of the Savannah

# Taurus Divider of the Savannah

Taurus's Meka-Dog roams the Savannah.
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Once a vast place, now divided by Taurus's sword.
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For those that encounter the Meka-Dog, there is no escape.
```

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Many are doomed who roam the Savannah. Only one path to freedom remains.
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The key to re-uniting the Savannah lies in Taurus's shield, brandished with a heart.
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Taurus's shield is a story yet to be told.


Scryer Jaffer of the Ether

# The Tale of The Foam

Jaffer knows that his job is to find the big Truths, with the capital "T", by traversing the Ethereal Realm.  His frothy mug reminds him of the semipermeable nature of reality and his magical talent that lets him slip into the Ether.  Intangibility is the first lesson he mastered.  He takes a sip.  The second discipline he employs is derived from his Rune that reminds him of The War.  Prepared for battle, only then can he slip into the universe of scrying, leaving the material plane.  He takes a second sip.

As an apprentice he walked though walls.  Now he moves through a myriad of shadow planes, unhindered to find the real.  The truths he sees floating like prismatic bubbles, once he is free.  He is an amphibian swimming, now like his toad; a being of this world and The Other.  When he returns to the earth from the journey with knowledge he always pets his familiar, to remind himself where he came from.


Nadim Mangler of the Riverlands

# The Story of Nadim Mangler of the Riverlands

_"Revenge is a dish that is served cold and with corn"_

  Nadim was born in the Riverlands into a family of ordinary farmers. His father Kerim, raised his son as his successor and continuator of the family. His mother died in childbirth, under unknown mysterious circumstances. Kerim always avoided talking about the subject, though his son never gave up trying to find out what had happened to his mother.
	The father and son's farm was famous for having the best corn in the Riverlands. Word of this fine corn spread far beyond their lands. One day their corn was heard of in Goblin Town. The greedy goblins decided to take the lands and all the crops. Gorgoz the plunderer gathered a band of 5 bloodthirsty marauders and set out for the lands of Nadim and his father Kerim.
	Gorgoz and his henchmen, brutally massacred his father, burned their farm and took all the corn for themselves. Nadim miraculously managed to escape from them. From that day on he swore vengeance on Gorgoz and burned the Goblin Town to the ground.

	After killing his father, Nadim wandered for a long time through the forests and steppes. Thanks to some corn from home he was able to survive. One day in the woods he came across a baby crimson jaguar, just as lonely and abandoned as he was. Later Spotty would become his best friend and companion on his travels.


Soon the wandering Nadim was picked up along with Spotty by the Riverlands Warriors Guild. When Nadim was found, he was about 14 years old. From then on, Nadim was raised by glorious warriors. According to guild customs, his training continued until he reached adulthood, then he had to choose his own path.  It was a harsh upbringing, and in some places brutal, but through grueling training, Nadeem became hardened like steel. The unwavering hero is now ready to avenge the vile goblins for all the suffering they have caused him.


Enchanter Alaric of the Oasis

# Enchanter Alaric of the Oasis

Enchanter Aleric is one of two powerful wizards that are bound to the Oasis to protect it at all costs. Aleric is suspended above such terms as good or bad. He is one of the two Guardians of the Oasis, nothing more, nothing less. His job is to keep unauthorized intruders, magic, and missiles from penetrating the Oasis and harming its citizens. In return for the protection, the citizens grant Aleric and the other guardian, Pyromancer Flamos, complete control.

Aleric is beyond the average wizard in terms of power, passing from a living being to an undead, choosing the form of a vampire rather than dying and breaking the bond between himself and the Oasis. This vampire form grants Aleric protection against death  not being living, he cannot die. A vampire cannot be magical in its own right, but Aleric holds the Heart of Power, which grants its owner unlimited magic.

His cat, Scratch, has powers of her own to add to his: her eyes can pierce any barrier, which gives her the ability to see through anything: boulders, obstacles, closed doors, or even other wizards. Since her owner, Aleric, holds the Heart of Power, she is granted another power: telepathy. Scratch and Aleric form an unstoppable team to protect the Oasis against anything or anyone.


Sage Wolfram of the Tundra

# Warning

I am a Sage, not Santa.


Hilda of Devils

# New Lore Entry
Hilda of Devils

"Parry! Thrust! Dodge!"

Hilda's instructions rang out across the field, as dozens of children, all armed with large ham hocks, continued to mimic their trainer.

In unison, the 12 or so children thrust forward with their large hams, followed by a melodic parry. All in unison with each other.

These children were Hilda's pride and joy. She had rescued them from a Pit of Suffering outside Goblin Town (presumably put there by said goblins), and went on to raise them all as her own.

While she left behind a legacy of evil and hatred, she saw a chance at new beginings and would give everything she had to her lovely platoon of pork brandishing loved ones.

From training them early in the morning, to teaching them how to gather berries and hunt wildlife, the group was always found in each other's company, often giggling, sparring, and hugging.

"Thrust! DODGE! AMANDA!! I SAID DODGE!" Hilda yelled as she ripped a chunk of meat from her own hambone and tossed it at the unsuspecting child.

SPLAT! The meat slapped the girl right in the face!! After the shock had set in, Amanda shot an exasperated glare at her adopted mother, before getting back into the swing of training.

Little did the kids know, Hilda was training them for the most important battle of their life. Only Hilda knew Beast 0's true weakness...savory, cured pork, and Hilda knew there was only going to be one chance before the world was torn asunder...

Will the children learn what they need? Will they be able to defeat Beast 0 before it destroys the entirety of the Runiverse?

Stay tuned to find out!


Druid Ixar of the Psychic Leap

# The Lore of Druid Ixar of the Psychic Leap

Polishing the Beacon is the perfect task for Ixar. Not only can he shape-shift into any animal he chooses, he can also access the Psychic Leap, which is a gathering place for all wizards with psychic powers. It is not a material place, but a special channel in the mind which the wizards use to trade ideas and spells. The Beacon is a special light that wizards can use to enter the Psychic Leap. Ixar travels through the mazes of his mind to polish this Beacon  it is important for the light to be bright so wizards of the Psychic Leap find it easy to access.

Ixar isnt alone in his work; he has an unusual companion with an unusual ability. Long ago, Ixar discovered a powerful spell that, when cast on any living being, gives them psychic powers and the ability to access the Leap. Straightaway, Ixar tried it out on a plant named Bush. The spell worked, and now, Bush can assist with polishing the beacon. Two can keep the light brighter than one.


Pyromancer Flamos of the Oasis

# The Lore of Pyromancer Flamos of the Oasis

The Oasis has two Guardians - two wizards, bound to the Oasis to protect it forever. Enchanter Aleric is one of them. Pyromancer Flamos is the other. Flamos patrols the boundaries of the Oasis, checking the fire barriers that he created to protect the citizens. And in the rare case that an intruder manages to break through the barrier, his Destroyer Potion will take care of it  it is a dangerous substance vial that he is never without.

Reed, Flamos fire toad, is very helpful on the patrols, for Reed possesses a special ability to move through fire unharmed. Using this power, Reed can hop through the fire barrier and make sure that no one is trying to enter.

Flamos and Aleric have an agreement with the citizens of the Oasis: the citizens grant the Guardians complete control, and the Guardians protect the citizens. It is Flamos special task to deal with the citizens. Sometimes he has to use his Destroyer Potion to quiet a small rebellion, but mostly the citizens are compliant. Flamos tries very hard to keep the citizens happy, because if they become discontented they might rebel, and that will be the end of the Oasis forever.


Periwinkle the Precious

Though the lightning crashes through the storm
the scattered herd can see me as I run,
light glimpses wrapped around my pearly horn,
the fuschia of my coat. Or, in the sun
mares rally to the banner of my mane
as I lead through the marshes. Step by step
we crossed the border, hidden by the rain,
entered the realm of wizards. How they wept
with laughter, first beholding me. How cute,
how precious. Braided flowers in my tail
and stalled me with some pony. Resolute,
I flashed my teeth, but that ship had set sail
the children followed, calling out my name
my dignity will never be the same.


Mystic Zelroth of the Mountain

# New Lore Entry

_Delete below sample to write your own_

This wizard wanders around with his companion frog that has spell powers which are not revealed yet. Wizard's true power comes from being able to see future.

Here is some **bold** text
Here is some *italic* text

> Here is quoted text
> *by a lore writer*

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

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

### Image uploads

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

### External Image Links

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

### Embedded videos

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

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

# Getting new lines right

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

**First**

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

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

**Second**

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

# Tagging other characters

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

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


Geomancer Muntjac of the Hills

# The Lore of Geomancer Muntjac of the Hills

Hailing from the hills, Geomancer Muntjac comes from a long line of hunters. Together with his beloved crackerjack crow, his skills have made him a force to be reckoned with at local wizarding competitions. Indeed, his prized vest was awarded as recognition for his feats.

But the Runiverse is vast, the stakes are higher and Geomancer Muntjac knows that to prove himself he must contend with adversaries and powers he has never before encountered.

Nonetheless, he knows he must go. A world of mysterious energy lays ahead and the greatest failure would be to never experience it. And his rune of steel may yet leave a mark on the Runiverse.


Dryad the Stupendous

# The Companionship

"Is this how it ends?" The Nameless Pony said aloud. "The dead forest of all places."

The Thorn was a lifeless thicket bordered by The Quantum Shadow and The Fey. There were conflicting rumors about The Thorns' origination and development into its current state.

Wearing a red bandana and spectacles, The Pony was likely the most well-dressed living creature in The Thorn.

Laying in pain, The Pony looked back at the wound on his hind leg. His leg was hurting so much that he could not stand. However, the wound's bleeding has subsided and a he noticed a piercing glow was emitting in the shape of a circle with a connecting cross underneath.

"Could it be true?" The Pony said to himself. "One of the ancient Forgotten Runeson my body. What type of magic caused this?"

Pondering the possibility of the wound becoming a Forgotten Rune, The Pony suddenly became alert, hearing rustling in the forest. Using the enhanced vision of his spectacles he spotted what seemed to be a greenish figure with a pointed hat in the distance.

Hopefully this will not be a hostile encounter, The Pony thought to himself. As the figure got closer The Pony identified him as a Wicked Wizard, wearing brownish tundra wear. A bit warm out for that type of apparel but who was he to judge. The Pony had chosen to pretend to be asleep as the Wizard approached.

The Wizard noticed The Pony, who still couldn't bear to move, and had begun casting some sort of spell. The Pony abruptly awoke from his feigned sleep and realized that this Wizard had just completely healed the pain coming from his leg.

The Pony heard the Wicked Wizard muttering to himselfsomething about spectacles, Elysian Fields, and Dryads.


"Dryad the Stupendous, care to join me on a journey to Goblin Town?" the Wicked Wizard asked.

"Did he just name me?" The Pony whispered to himself as he moved to all fours pain-free.

"I thank you very much Wizard, this wound has kept me impaired for the past few days. I would be happy to join youanything to get out of this forsaken place."

Without missing a beat, The Wizard hopped on to the Pony he just named and said "The name is Druid Ofaris and I've just recently made it out of the Blizzard, it is a pleasure to meet you".

The newfound companions set off toward Goblin Town.


Mystic Milton of Atlantis

IV

## Of Things That Grow

A canopy of leaves hung closely above Milton as he made his way through the trackless undergrowth, his hat and cloak snagging constantly on vines and branches that seemed intent on hindering him as he trudged further into the woodland. The myriad weeds and plant-life appeared to rise up and tangle before him to block any path he might gain. With a frustrated huff Milton stopped and glared ahead.

*Hark you spirits of the Fey, delay me all you want but I will reach my aim*!

A soft tremor ran through the surrounding greenery carrying with it an almost imperceptible tone of mockery in the rustling leaves . Milton adjusted his hat and wiped at the sweat on his brow.

*Gah! If only for a wisp of breeze in this place, or better yet a few Kobolds to chew through this accursed shin-tangle*.


Milton continued on, muttering and swatting the brambles away with his staff. Sunlight fell scattered and jade-like through the leafy canopy. As he moved on slowly through that dappled light his thoughts began to wander and he found that his hand had come to rest upon the crystals stashed within his cloak. He could feel the gentle hum of their power even as preoccupied as he was. Six binding crystals had been filled with the essences of mystical beings that he had tracked throughout the realms. Some of these beings were beast-like and had challenged him with claw and dwimmercraft. Others yet were frail and timid things that yielded their essence willingly, seemingly content to be bound inside the crystal. Six he had and yet still one crystal remained empty, its surface a pristine clarity waiting for the colour and light of some captured beings vital spark. And when that seventh crystal was infused he would have the power needed to attempt the fulfillment of his great undertaking and perhaps to see again that which had been lost to him.

Emerging from his reverie Milton found that the undergrowth had become somewhat sparser and a little ways forward what looked like a rough path could be seen leading up to the crest of a slight hill, above which there was a break in the canopy where bright daylight streamed downwards. Kicking free of the last of the dense undergrowth he reached the path and followed it until he was at the top of the small grassy mound where he stood breathing the clearer air with his gaze following the path into the deepening forest before him. Small dark birds circled above the canopy-break and dipped into the uppermost branches of the trees as bright white clouds shifted slowly past the leaf edged opening. Milton took a deep breath and continued down the mound following the path that was leading him to the further regions of the forest.


The deep forest hummed with life. Milton moved through the dense towering trees as insects noisily circled the low growing, vividly coloured woodland flowers. Sprites dashed between clumps of leaves, their fine radiant bodies leaving glimmering trails against the dark foliage, that marked for keen eyes their secretive comings and goings. Thin melodies of birdcall echoed in the upper branches and farther off the deep tread of larger beasts could be heard as they lumbered the darker wildwood. Milton passed through the depths of the forest, becoming attuned to the pulse of life that filled the air and to the slow, rhythmic flow that seemed to emanate from the earth itself. Almost trance-like he continued on and the forest now offered no resistance to his passing, indeed from his increasingly mist shadowed vision it seemed a path was being cleared before him, brambles and copsewood creakily rolling and shifting to usher him step by mystified step into the heart of the Fey.

Bearing out from the dense forest under a will that was not completely his own Milton emerged into a wide, almost circular clearing within which stood an immense tree, its branches soaring against the sky in a multitude of softly hued leaves. The bright daylight that passed through the leaves was dimmed and split prismatically so that the surrounding ground was soaked in a deep chromatic radiance. Milton gazed at the great tree through air that danced with colour and as he watched it seemed to him that light wept from the lowest branches to fall rainbow-like upon the variegated earth. Gently impelled by some outside force Milton made his way across the clearing and stepped into that realm of soft dazzling colour beneath the reaching, encompassing boughs.


Potent imaginings began to take root in Miltons mind, a chasmic realm was opened before him of dark, rich soil leaden with the weight of countless beings and weaved with way-lines of life that spread and intersected in glimmering junctions against the boundless and lightless earth. Milton felt himself dispersed within that obscure realm and recipient to an endless resonance of lives long since past, still enduring and yet to be. A deep earth memory of being in all its fullness flooded through Milton as he settled diffusely, as if like scattered seeds, into the worm turned soil. Slowly these scattered motes of self were taken up by the thin root tips of the great tree and Miltons essence amassed within these intimate pathways following them upwards into the body of the great tree.


Miltons eyes blinked open and gradually his reckoning returned to him. He found he was seated under the hanging branches of the tree which now swayed with a gentle liveliness, slowly showering a prismatic light around him. A sharp glint caught his eye as he saw before him the last of his binding crystals resting on the ground, pulsing with an ever changing array of coloured light. Leaning forward Milton grasped the crystal, holding it for a moment in his palm before placing it with the others under the folds of his cloak. Wearily Milton raised to his feet and retrieved his staff from where it lay by his side. Gently he placed his palm against the smooth grey trunk of the great tree in a manner of thankfulness and deep understanding, he remained there a moment longer pondering the sense of deep time and expanse of life he had felt whilst under the influence of the great heart tree of the Fey. He then turned and passed from that lighted realm, walking slowly through the clearing amidst clouds of pale butterflies that airily dispersed and then rejoined after his passing, and on into the forested depths to be encompassed once again by the soft palpitations of the numberless things that grew there.


Necromancer Vossler of the Capital

# Lore of Necromancer Vossler of the Capital

Necromancers tend to get a lot of hate in modern Runiverse society. They're usually obsessed with dead stuff, which normal people find to be gross (nor do the normies enjoy constant reminders of their own mortality). Necromancers drive down home values whenever they move into a new neighborhood because their house always ends up smelling like corpse. Also, they have a tendency to be evil, though perhaps evil is in the eye of the beholder (one's moral perspective tends to get skewed when one doesn't subscribe to the belief that death is a Bad Thing that ought to be avoided at all costs). Not only a necromancer, but a Death Eater necromancer, Vossler has faced discrimination, fear, and hatred his whole life. That's why he is such a passionate advocate of necromancer rights, working tirelessly everyday to abolish the stigma associated with being a practitioner of death magic.


Necromancer Vossler is not your typical necromancer, who tends to be somewhat single-minded. Rather, he is the consummate renaissance man. He is well-practiced in many different schools of magic. He can play three instruments and speak five languages. He can sing and dance. He knows how to do multivariate calculus (without using his fingers!). His poached salmon with arugula and cayenne pepper is absolutely divine. He's a sharp dresser, wearing well-fitted clothes that he tailored himself rather than just throwing on Black Robe #12 and calling it a day like most necromancers. In short, he's sophisticated. He needs to be, in order to be taken seriously as a political operative and activist given his background...he's found that as a necromancer, accomplishing anything in the social arena is ten times as hard as for a typical person due to prejudice, whether implicit or explicit. So he works twenty times as hard to get ahead.

And the Capital is the toughest arena there is, where the powerful, wealthy, and highborn will chew you up and spit you out, all with an immaculate smile on their face. When he first moved there, Vossler wasn't sure if he'd make it, but his determination and myriad talents proved sufficient for the lion's den, and over the years, he's proven himself to be the real deal. He's currently first chair of the Necromancer Rights Society, toiling away on a daily basis for greater empowerment for all necromancers, not only in the Capital, but across the Forgotten Runes. It's slow work, but Necromancer Vossler has always believed in incremental progress, and that true change comes one day at a time. And if it doesn't work out in the end? Why, then he'll just kill them all.


Arch-Magician Judas of the Brambles

A bald headed monster and a lowly toad. A floating symbol too. It's not easy to say what the future holds for Judas. One thing was for certain: he'd always felt embarrassed about being named after the Arch-traitor of the Christian foundation story. Long since he'd set out to change the misconceptions attached to his name. Training to be a magician and using his magic for good. The funny looking toad helped to quell people's worries. Nonetheless, his evil-looking bald head and general look of scorn was a difficult barrier to overcome. He fought hard to be on the right side of people. Slowly slowly it seemed to work. But he couldn't help but think he should grow some hair...


Witch Rowena of the Citadel

It was an easy decision to make to write my Lore on green scroll. As a green-faced witch I try to do everything with green. My cup is full of a gloopy green liquid that I drink from from time to time. I'm setting out on a long journey soon. To spread the word and show the world that witches come in all shapes and sizesbut always with a green face.


Stella the Agreeable

Entry 1: My Birth

Help help,
I am stuck!
My position is wrong,
and I cant get out.
Momma is trying,
But she is tiring.
Its been hours
she has been pushing.
Momma and I
are getting scared.
Momma is crying,
Farmer is calming,
Healer is coming,
Help is on the way!

New voice arrives,
Farmer sounds relieved.
A few gentle words,
A sudden tingling,
and Momma calms down.
The new voice,
Strangely soothing.

Woah! Something new!
A pair of hands,
Pulling and prodding,
Turning me around.
Feeling much better!
A few words again,
From the new voice,
Momma finds new strength!
Farmer is urging,
New voice is coaxing,
New hands are pulling,
and I am moving!

A sudden swish,
Dazzling lights,
World is swirling,
In the arms of the new voice.
I shout my cry of arrival,
Neigh! I have arrived!
Before my eyes,
A strange looking man,
With a yellow hat,
A fluffy beard,
Yellow eyes.

Farmer calls him Soran,
@wizard9263,
The new voice he is,
A face I will remember,
Eternally grateful I am.


Magus Danny of the Wild

# Magus Danny of the Wild

Everyone knows that when you come across a magus, you better hold onto your possessions. These tricksters are quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke, to catch you off balance and to steal any valuables that they can get their hands on. And while wizards with the most elementary powers can fend off the antics of most magi, it takes an eagle-eyed wizard with much experience to ward off a magus from The Wild.

When the trees begin to bud anew, these vagabonds leave their wilderness homes and journey to the Blue Wizard Bastion, Alessars Keep, Red Wizard Capital and Calistas Citadel to steal anything they can lay their sticky fingers on.

Such was the case of Magus Danny of the Wild, a strongman with a temper that only matched his quick fingers and silver tongue. It was at the Red Wizard Capital where he used his wit, sleight of hand and a well-timed entrance of Bruno, his pet albino rat, to lift an egg from a red hat who had just left an antiquarian store of renown.

Danny had never seen an egg of this kind before, and he had seen quite a few exotic eggs in The Wild. The blue spots shimmered with an iridescent hue that reminded him of the waters off the Western coast of Aldos Isle. Danny realized he had just lifted the biggest haul of his life, and he decided it was time to return home and sell his spoil.
[2:07 PM]
Everything was going fine, until he hit the Omega Oxbow and Bruno began stirring. The rat darted out of Dannys pocket and perched on his should, making a loud hissing sound in the direction of the egg in his satchel. The magus knew something was wronghis mind immediately went to the egg.


When he picked it up, the spots were luminescent, radiating a huge amount of light that was blinding to the eye. And if that wasnt enough, the egg began to shake. No amount of experience in The Wild could prepare him for what was about to happen.

What have I done? thought Danny, fear overcoming his face.


Pyromancer Artis of the Rock

# Pyromancer Artis of the Rock

## *A Brief History*

# Some Time, Somewhere

***
###### *Steer clear of the river when the current is rushing, Artis*
***

Let me give you a little background on my situation.

Im always tired. Not in like a silly quirky way, this is serious business. I can barely sleep more than a few winks at a time. My tired nature stemmed from a total mishap when I was a child that resulted in a curse. Some would say Im being dramatic calling it a curse since its what quite literally saved my life, but being in an inescapable slumberous state is sincerely not fun.

My branch of those belonging to Of The Rock was a very peaceful bunch, as opposed to other Rocks you may have heard of. This isnt about them, however. Before I left, we were a very close-knit community and spent most of our days in the Honor Mountains. My grandmother used to say that my family came from somewhere between Red Wizard Capital and the foothills of Skylord Rookery. Long ago a small bunch left the only home they had ever known in pursuit of more peaceful land, and thats how we ended up on Honor Mountain.

When I was barely seven years into my training, I liked to practice using my fire powers on small things like crunchy leaves and on the calm river water. The water was my favorite in particular, as my water rune gave me some control over how the water reacted. When I would send a spark flying into the bright and sparkling river, I was able to create a sudden burst of steam. The gentle tsssss sound of the reaction was my favorite part. The more I practiced, the longer and stronger I found myself being able to make the steam. Pretty soon, I was conjuring fire, water, and steam shows - much to the delight of my family.


While I was practicing one day, the river current was faster than normal. I had been told plenty of times to stay away from the river when it was moving at such speedbut I neglected to listen. I was being a bit ambitious with my fire, and a rouge flame got twisted around my ankle. Before I knew what was happening, I was thrown off of my feet into the rushing river.

I was knocked unconscious, and when I finally awoke I was incredibly far from home. Nothing about my surroundings was familiar. The colors, the sounds, even the smells, nothing was the same. I was surrounded by towering trees and dappled sunlight on a bright green, grassy ground. I had never left the comfort of our home in the mountains before, so this was all strange and unfamiliar to me. What I did know, was I was soaking wet and curled up in the back of a wagon of sorts. I could hear the clip-clops of a pony pulling me along, and as I looked up to see who was driving I caught of glimpse of a hooded witch. The sight of her frightened me so much that I promptly passed back out. Keep in mind I was only in my seventh year at this point, so I was quite the sensitive young wizard.


The next time that I was awake, I found myself in front of a warm crackling fire, wrapped tightly in the softest scarves I had ever felt. Cautiously, I took in the rest of my surroundings. Slowly, I stood up and peeked around the dark room that was only partially illuminated by the hearth. There was nothing of much significance, but it was extremely dark so I thought maybe there was more than met the eye. I carefully moved the heavy curtain away from the window to let some light in, only to find that it was the dead of night. The thick trees barely let any moonlight through to the forest floor. I found a stray piece of wood next to the fireplace and quickly lit a torch. I draped the scarves over my shoulders and moved further into the dark room. Thankfully, I found a table with a chunk of fresh bread with a note. I stuffed the bread into my mouth and read over the note.

---
### This was for your own good. I promise it was the only way to save your life. Enjoy the bread, get some rest, and I will explain in the morning.  - C

---

In hindsight, I probably should have stuck around to find out what in the Runiverse had happened to me, but instead, I left. I was young, alone, and scared. A scary witch was the last person that I wanted to talk with. I gathered what was left of the bread and readjusted the scarves. With my new torch in hand, I unlocked the creaky window and went on my way.

Turns out, that witch thought the only way to save my life was to bestow a curse of life-long exhaustion. I never got an explanation, and that is something I will always regret not knowing.


Throughout the next few years, I wandered wherever the various winding rivers led me. I never made it back home to the Honor Mountains, however. That was something that always struck me as strange. No matter what river I traveled along, none was ever the one that took me away from my home.


As I grew older and wiser, my pyromancy powers grew as well, but due to my tired nature, the wizard I grew up to be turned out the be fairly clumsy and not-so-graceful. One day, while I was trying to put out a spell that potentially could have burned down the entirety of Hedge Wizard Wood, an ember escaped my grasp. This ember was unlike any I had seen before - this one didnt immediately disappear. Instead, it wisped and floated through the air. I stared in wonderment at this glowing tangible bit of magic that I had created. As it ever so slowly made its way to the ground, I grew strangely sad to see something I made begin to disappear. The ember landed softly on a toadstool next to me on the forest floor. To my surprise, the ember began to glow brighter and brighter and brighterit was then that I realized that maybe needed to back away. But before I could even finish that thought BOOM the ember and toadstool combusted into a puff of smoke. I slowly bent down to inspect what had happened. The smoke swirled and changed from a red to a bright purple, and out hopped the cutest little frog I had ever seen. I squealed with utter happiness and delight. Born from ember and toadstool, the little creature was the most perfect familiar I could have ever asked for. The little red frog hopped into my hands and he immediately climbed onto my hat where he would stay forever. Naming this little creature was quite the task, I had never had to name anything before. After much consideration, I decided on the name of Monsieur Croque.

---
*I would never admit it, but I named him after my favorite human food and the funny sounds that my new familiar made when he was happy*

---


---

Unfortunately, this was not the end of my curse - although the new company was quite nice. Croque and I made our way all over the map, but our favorite place that we always came back to was right off the coast of The Salt in a small village near Red Wizard Capital and Skylord Rookery. I think deep down this was because I knew it was where my ancestors came from, and it felt like I was truly home.

After some years of traveling, we decided to settle into our favorite area since it had everything we were looking for. One of the best parts was the small bakery in the village. Every morning everyone was awoken by the friendly baker and the smells of the freshly made bread. It was custom that we would all gather in the early morning to break bread together. It has always been the perfect way to start all of our days. This was something that has always brought me so much joy. I may have drifted off a few times during these morning gatherings, but to see so many people together in one place, to simply enjoy each others company, was one of the most magical experiences.

In the small village, time seemed to move slowly. It always felt like I had plenty of time and space to practice my pyromancy. Much like most skills, I improved greatly with patience and practice. My sleepiness, on the other hand, persisted. I had grown weary, even more than usual. I made the decision that it was finally time to seek out the witch that had bestowed this blessing unto me.


I spoke with many villagers, many of whom possessed some kind of magic, however, none had heard of this witch before and were unsure of how to help. It made sense, this witch was far from where I had ended up. I knew this meant I had to leave my comfy new home. Somewhat reluctantly, I gathered my old torch, my favorite red hat, and my perfectly worn scarves. Before I left for an unknown amount of time, I decided to sit in the shade of a tree to take in my surroundings one final time. I let the dappled sunlight hit my skin, the breeze flow through my hair, and the sounds of the rushing river hit my ears. Croque knew that I would soon fall asleep for a few precious moments. He took his position on my hat, to keep guard over me. I had only been asleep for a mere moment before suddenly I felt something fall on my head. Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes and found myself holding whatever had hit me on the head, in my now on-fire hands. I sighed exasperatedly, shook my hands to put out the flames, and opened my clenched fists to see what I was holding. To my surprise, it wasa bean - a measly bean, that was now extra toasty. Curious, I took a sniff and to my shock, it smelled incredible, however, when I took a bite it was awfully bitter. The kind of bean that this was, was an utter mystery to me, I had never seen this species of plant in all of my travels. This was especially strange to me since I had traveled through this particular area many times. I craned her neck upward to get a better look at the tree that I was sitting under.


This tree was massive, and this was the only of its kind from what I could see. I sent Croque climbing to do some investigations. I watched through the dappled sunlight as he hopped around from branch to branch inspecting every inch of this discovery. After a few moments, he leaped back down, and to my delight, he brought a small bundle of beans back down. I took a closer look and the beans looked nothing like the bitter one I had just consumed. Confused, I took the beans in my hands, held them tightly, and set my hands ablaze. After a few fiery moments, the beans were a nice toasty brown and smelled amazing once again. I tried eating a few more, in hopes that these would taste better, but alas, I was very wrong. The bitterness crept over my tongue and I just about spat them all out. However, I had a nagging feeling that this was something important and felt that something drew me to this tree. I decided to abandon my mission to find the witch, and with Croques help, we gathered as many of these mysterious beans as we could carry back to our home.


Once we arrived back at our cottage, Croque and I dumped our haul onto the counter and considered the possibilities. The rest of our day was spent experimenting with what these beans could possibly be used for. I felt like I was home again, experimenting and having fun with my powers. I felt deep in my soul that I was on the brink of something great. As I went through many trials and errors, I continued to eat the beans after roasting them. The more I ate, the more I felt alive, happy, and AWAKE. This stopped me in my tracksI felt awake. There was newfound energy coming from deep within me. I felt as though I was buzzing and was moving faster than ever before. It was at this moment that I realized I had found a cure to my curse. My happiness was bursting at every seam and I couldnt contain it - I quite literally ran laps outside around our cottage. I kept experimenting with ways to use my newfound cure, and my favorite way by far was a liquid creation that I called coffee.

---

###### *I originally meant to name it cofe but the beans made me a bit jittery, so I doubled a couple of letters by accident and never corrected it in my growing recipe book*
---


I started to grow groves of the coffee bean trees all around the cottage. Once they were nice and ripe, Croque would pick the beans using his extra sticky toes. I used all of the fire and water skills that I learned in my youth to create this wonderful blend. The best part about my newfound cure was that it didnt just work for me, but everyone in the small village felt revitalized after consuming my concoction. Each morning as the villagers gathered at the bakery, I would bring them a giant batch of my coffee. Oftentimes, many of the villagers would visit my cottage to get another cup throughout the day. As time went on, word of this miracle spread, and wizards came from far and wide to try my new brew. I taught each traveler how to make it so they could recreate it as they traveled. When they were ready to continue on with their journeys, I sent them on their way with a bag of their own coffee beans. I quickly ran out of space in my small cottage. I needed more space to better serve everyone in town as well as the travelers. I decided it was time to plant firm roots in my new home. With that decision, I opened up a shop that would serve my delicious drinks. I named it: The Dragons Roast.

## Some Time, Much Later, at The Dragons Roast

---
*Is thisa journal? Where did this come from*

---


---
*Is thisa journal? Where did this come from*

---

This morning was like any other. I woke up, opened The Dragons Roast, and started making coffees for some of my favorite regulars. Suddenly, I could hear a strange noise in the distance. It sounded like a chime of some sort, and it was making me feel calmer and calmer as it drew closer. It was then as the chime tolled incredibly close that I realized this wasnt a legend after all. This had to be real and it had to be Magus Wazir. I had never believed that Wazir was real before now. He was a wizard of ancient legend and stories, nothing more than that. No one was sure of his actual existence, yet somehow I just knew it had to be him.

I leaped over the counter and ran outside with hopes of catching even a glimpse of the elusive bellringer. I left in such a hurry that my new trainee was left stunned and confused. It was his first day on the job, and poor Bargo turned and looked at the line of customers that seemed to have suddenly grown by 10, as I ran out the door.

By the time I made it outsideWazir was nowhere to be seen, that is if it truly had been him at all. I frantically looked around knowing he had to have been close by when I suddenly tripped and fell face first onto the dusty road. I sat up, dusted myself off, and looked back to see what had led me to the ground. It was a book of some sort. I went over and picked up the old, tattered leather-bound book. I looked around to see if someone had dropped it, but no one was around. I blew the dust off of the worn cover and cracked the book open carefully to the most recent page.


---
**Mid-Spring*

*Its been years since we last saw Artis. Our precious little girl. We know she has to be out therebut I fear our search is coming to an end. We left the Honor Mountains so long ago, and many have been lost in this search. This is not a decision that comes easy or lightly. I feel it is for the best if we start the long journey back to our home in the mountains. Are they even our home anymore? Should we return to our roots in the foothills of Skylord Rookery? Would we be safer with other Red Wizards in the Capital? Perhaps it is time to move on to someplace new and unknown. I hate to move on without Artisbut it may be time.*

---

Curious, I flipped through the rest of the book, and unbelievably, I knew this handwriting. Without a doubt, this was my mothers journal. I stood in the middle of the dirt road in disbelief that my family had been looking for me this whole time, all these years. The more I looked, the more questions formed. I couldnt understand why this journal suddenly appeared outside of my shop - and where was my family now if my mothers journal was here?

I wondered if it was possible Magus Wazir had left this behind for me. It was said that he was a guide to the lostbut I did not feel lost. This had been the most found I had ever felt in my life. It was right then that I realized maybe I wasnt the one who was lost, but possibly my family was. I needed to know if Wazir left this for me, and if he did, what did it all mean?

Now that were all caught upwhere do I go from here?

## To Be Continued...


Mbali Champion of the Capital

# Mbali Champion of the Capital


Battle Mage Hothor of the Mist

# Battle Mage Hothor of the Mist

The legend of his daring was told across the Runiverse  well, in a few corners at least.
Few knew it first-hand.
An enigma.
Disappearing into the night, into the fog.

Thor of the Mist.
Mystery.
Where would he go, for so many moons? What called him? Where could he be found?
The sages didn't know. Nobody knew.
Unless.

Unless he was at the inn.
Ay, if he was near, he was at the inn  imbibing with his magic mug. Its said to be bottomless.
Lucky travelers treated to battle tales.
Fables. Myths.

The headdress of the northern bear casts a shadow over all. It is never spoken of.
How far north had he gone?
The things he saw.
Deep in Cuckoo Land and the Psychic Leap.
He traversed The Wild.

Over the endless pints he shared, all the stories he told. He studied his passing companions.
He still had so much to learn.
He fought different battles these days.
A new frontier.

--


Shadow Mage Baird of the Fey

# Lore of Shadow Mage Baird of the Fey

Shadow Mage Baird has been a whiz kid and an alpha nerd his whole life. Making straight As throughout his academic career since kindergarten, graduating from the most prestigious university in the Runiverse with a perfect GPA, then graduating summa cum laude from the best medical school in all the lands, Baird was on track for an impressive career as one of the top physicians in the Forgotten Runes. But the young mage made a decision which would alter the course of his life forever: rather than becoming a medical practitioner, he instead chose the path of the researcher. He went straight from his PhD to a high-paying lab position at Big Potion Megacorp, and that's when things started going downhill.

Baird didn't realize at first that Big Potion was actually an evil corporate behemoth helmed by Forgotten Souls hellbent on world domination...it actually took awhile to figure that out. For the first few years, he had his head buried in the sand, completely dedicated to his work of chemical analysis for new potion formulae. Then he started noticing things in the data...reports of adverse and unusual reactions, but instead of potions being adjusted to reduce these side effects, they seemed to be purposely formulated to amplify them. Thinking there must be some kind of error, he took his findings to his supervisors, but was just told to go back to work and had the office door slammed in his face. Curious by nature, Baird decided to investigate the issue himself, and was rewarded with a surprise late night visit by a hit squad that would've ended in his own death had he not been an accomplished combat mage. He handed in his two weeks notice (more like two seconds notice in his case) the next day and bailed on Big Potion, leaving his cushy job, his fat salary, his unvested stock options, and his luxurious penthouse apartment behind.


Baird decided to start his own health and mana potion company to compete against Big Potion, but despite his vast industry knowledge and copious research experience, it was a much more difficult endeavor than it first seemed. For one, Big Potion apparently has an ironclad patent on the flask design as applied to potion container solutions, which meant he had to package his potions in vials. Unfortunately, aesthetics mattered quite a bit in this case, Runiverse adventurers had already become accustomed to potions in flasks and a potion in a vial apparently seemed much less impressive to would-be customers. Despite superior curative properties, Shadow Mage Baird's potions haven't exactly been flying off the shelves, and to date, his company is barely eking out enough profit to keep the lights on. However, Baird is a determined mage and a hard worker, and he struggles everyday to keep his nose to the grindstone, hoping one day to end Big Potion Megacorp's stranglehold on the curatives industry, and expose their rotten core to all the world to boot.


Runecaster Soya of the Bastion

Where are your maxims of philosophy?

Take charge.

Live immediately.

Say something memorable on your own account.


Jarek Champion of Giants

# The Tale of Jarek Champion of Giants

There are many who fear the giants and to seek to rid them from the RuniverseSmasher, Dispatcher, Amputator, some of their epithets read. But there are also others, such as Jarek, who became a Champion of Giants, coming to their aid in times of danger.

He owed it to them.

When Jarek was just a baby, his village on the edge of the equatorial jungle was raided by a band of bugbears led by the Chieftain himself. Jarek, the only survivor, was carried away to safety by his companion, Ara the scarlet macaw. Soaring above the treetops, Ara carried Jarek higher and higher as they ascended up the sheer cliff face of an ancient plateau that was nestled within the jungle and overlooked the burning village below.
With her last ounce of strength, Ara cleared the edge of the plateau. She gently dropped Jarek on the ground, which was thick with moss and mist. The boy and his bird found themselves before yet another jungle, suspended thousands of feet in the air. Out of energy and without food or water, Ara feared the worst.
Then the jungle began to shake.

The trees parted and out walked a giant woman, who moved through the jungle as if it were a field of tall grass. Ara, too exhausted to fly, flapped her wings and screeched menacingly at the giant, who was headed right for them. The giant carefully squatted down and scooped up Jarek and Ara along with some mossy earth as they came to rest within in her palm. She covered them with her other hand as she headed back into the jungle, shielding them from the vines and limbs that whipped and swayed around her massive body as she ventured deeper.


Traversing several miles in just a matter of minutes, the giant came to a clearing and uncovered Jarek and Ara. Peering over the edges of the giants fingertips, they saw a massive stone staircase that cascaded down into the heart of the plateau. The giant reassuringly rumbled something to them in her foreign tongue before she began descending the stone stairs that were themselves as tall as houses.

Jarek and Ara bounced around within the giants cupped palm as she took each step, going lower and lower into the plateau. A bright fire at the bottom of the staircase cast a faint light that filtered up through the darkness. As they drew closer, the light revealed stone carvings on the walls of the stairwell that told stories from ages long forgotten in glyphs and runes never seen by any human. When they reached the base of the stairs, the fire blazed intensely, illuminating a cavernous chamber full of stone dwellings. They were widely spaced and arranged in circles, each with a raging red bonfire at their center. At the back of the chamber rose a colossal inverted pyramid, which stretched up into chambers heights and vanished in pitch black darkness.


It was in this place that Jarek grew into a man, and along with Ara, became a warrior and Champion of Giants. From the Giant Wizard Razogruk, who dwelt within the inverted pyramid, Jarek was gifted the Rune of Jupiter, which even as a baby allowed him to grow ten times in size. This made it much easier for his adopted mother, Gatuderu, to care for him as a child, until he was old enough to explore the jungle above and, eventually, brave the secret passageways that led into the jungle below. As the forces of the Bugbear Chieftain grew, the Giants of the Jungle Plateau knew that they would not be able to remain in hiding forever. They would need Jareks help if they were to survive the evils of this age, some of which were new and unknown, but others old and unforgotten.


Alchemist Uday of the Dunes

The Levanter whips across the Dunes...

with it the faint hint of the fortunes rising in the East...

blue and gold blind the eyes, but alas, purple flashes across the sky...

Alchemist Uday cometh.


Dando Hacker of the Flame

Airdrop Lore


Evoker Moloch of the Keep

Raised in a humble village of magic-wielding healers, Moloch was taught healing magic from a young age. He knew, however, there was magicka out there that could do more than just heal a wound or clear up a cough.

But Moloch never dreamed hed leave his home.

On a normal morning, Moloch went foraging for berries on the outskirts of his village. He heard a shuffling noise in a runeberry bush. It was a crow that got stuck in the thorns!

After helping the crow, he discovered a letter tied it's leg. The crow seemed to be turned around, but the letter seemed to be a continuation of a conversation between two mages.

*Weve discovered a rune enchantment that could potentially be used for interstellar travel. Let us know any findings you may have acquired on the rune.*

Moloch was ignited by the idea, but....he couldnt leave!

Go on, crow, Moloch raised his arm the bird rested on above his head. Deliver your very important message.

The crow did not budge. "He must have lost too many feathers tangled up in that bush," Moloch observed.

Moloch did not know where he was going, but he set off to help the crow find the recipient of this very important message.


Incubus the Incredible

Remarkable pony. Dont mess with Incubus. He may be blind, but he uses his rune of Air to reach his senses beyond the air around him.


Medium Dutorn of the Realm

# Fortune's Favors

Fate has been uncharacteristically kind to Dutorn. Any other man would be deranged, dismembered, and dead by now, but Dutorn has thrived despite the realms dangers. When he was attacked by a polar bear on his travels in the North, Dutorn walked away with a new coat. When he was outcast by society, he became a Medium able to speak to spirits in the woods. When he must sleep, a deceptively cute cat watches over him. This is his story.

Dutorns parents took every superstitious precaution to gift Dutorn with an easy life. Even his conception was planned, and his mother had to resist birth for a few days to ensure her son was born just after midnight on New Years. None of this mattered or affected Dutorns luck in the slightest; if anything, his high-strung family disadvantaged his prospects. He would often go into the woods to enjoy the peace.

One day, something inexplicable happened. Dutorn was in the woods, deep in thought, when he heard a terrible cry from a strange beast. Initially cautious, Dutorn heard it once more and realized it was a cry for help. He rushed towards the sound as fast as he could. The commotion grew louder as he got closer until he could see a horse buckling in pain. It was being attacked by a much larger beast, part man, part lion.


Dutorn had read about these creatures before, Sphinxes supposedly, though they were certainly not native to this area. They hailed from the deserts, what were they doing in the forest? As Dutorn considered this, the sphinx leapt for its final attack but instead got its rear paw caught in a tree root and tumbled face-first into the ground. Dutorn quickly seized the opportunity and placed a seal on the stunned creature, containing it for later research. Dutorn went to tend to the steed.

The wounds were deep and needed immediate attention. Dutorn was quite proficient in the regenerative arts, but had never performed on a steed before- or anyone but himself for that matter. This horse also seemed to have an otherworldly feel to it.  Regardless, one chance was all he had and the window to take it was closing. Dutorn spent many hours and much aura bringing the horse back to health. This continues to be the greatest thing he has ever done.

Dutorn learned the steeds name was Lento and that he was imbued with a special magic; Lento was the arbiter of luck. As thanks, Lento granted Dutorn the same powers he had, the boon of great fortune and the ability to grant it to whomever he wanted. Dutorn gave his gratitude and found himself the luckiest man in the world.

He did not think long about who he would share his fortune with. No-one. If everyone has good fortune, no-one does. Dutorn decided there must be winners and losers in this world, and he would secure his position as one of the winners. After all, Dutorn had only sealed the sphinx because it was a rare species that was incapacitated. He wasnt trying to be a hero.


Ever since, Dutorn has travelled the realm and taken for himself all that hes wanted. He need only want something and the world will bend over backwards to hand it to him. His appetite grows larger everyday, increasingly harder to satisfy. He speaks to the spirits to learn secrets and hidden knowledge, quelling his thirst slightly with ancient magic. He is doomed to yearn for more and is now known to the world as Medium Dutorn of the Realm.


Artificer Gallo of the Bastion

# Lore of Artificer Gallo of the Bastion

He is known to be one of the most stealth wizard. Everything related to him has either been destroyed or lost.

Wizards are still on the quest to learn of him.


Archmagus Brutus of the Riviera

# How Brutus Met Krysa

Brutus once lived by himself in a cabin by the mighty River Rone. While he did not dislike people, he found life was simpler for a healer if one did not spend too much time in the city. For a healer is always in high demand, and while he found the work rewarding, it was also exhausting. Knowing he could retreat to his cabin helped Brutus get through the long days in town. That isolation ended, however, the day he met Krysa the River Rat.

It began as a day like many others. As he often did, Brutus woke early before the sunrise to drink his tea and read for an hour before heading out to begin his day. When the sun was just above the horizon, it shone through the window creating playful rainbow shapes on the floor. That rainbow let Brutus know it was time to go catch the days fish and then head to town to carry out his duties as a healer.
It was an unusually pleasant warm morning, so Brutus decided to leave his coat, take only his fishing tackle, and make straight for the dock as he had thousands of times before. The River Rone was deep and wide and was rumored to hold some truly frightening beasts in its depths. Brutus never gave those legends much thought, though, as the biggest fish hed ever caught in that river was scarcely bigger than a house cat  and that one had fed him for days. He preferred to spend his time casting along the banks where smaller, more foolish fish swam.


He decided to try his luck for a bigger fish this morning, though. He laid his staff up against a post, tied on his favorite lure, and cast far out into the channel of the river, working the lure slowly back and forth to imitate the movements of a small fish. He thought he felt a hit, but no luck. Again and again he cast out into the deep water, but returned no quarry. Well, its getting late. Id better cast along the bank for a quick catch, and then hurry to town he thought. Brutus turned and tossed the lure out parallel with the shore, slowly trolling it in while skillfully mimicking the movements of the small minnows that played among the reeds. Splash. A hit! And a big one! Brutus exclaimed to no one in particular. He set the hook and turned the crank on his fishing rod. As the mighty fish struggled against him, Brutus saw the tail of what could only have been a gargantuan spearfish  a terrifying ancient toothed fish that was not particularly good for eating but could certainly ruin a fishermans day. This monster must have been the size of a horse, and it would certainly take all Brutus skill and a good bit of luck to land the behemoth.


He struggled against the fish but it was clear he was losing the battle. The rod and the crank strained against the fishs powerful tail as it pulled the line further and further, striving for the depths of the Rone. In all the excitement, Brutus did not notice that the rod had lodged in his belt, and the fish gave a mighty tug, pulling Brutus off the dock and into the water. Brutus was no fool and knew that he could not win now that he was in the river. He let go of the rod. And to his dismay, he found himself being dragged down by the rod lodged in his belt. This is it, then Brutus thought. I shall drown in the river and no one will know what happened. He felt oddly calm. And wished only he were back by his fire reading with the playful rainbow prisms dancing on the floor from the morning sun.


Suddenly he felt a small creature at his side. He looked down through the clear water and could barely make out a small blue river rat gnawing at the belt that now held him under the cold water. The rats sharp teeth made quick work of the belt, and Brutus found himself free! He swam to the surface, the seconds had felt like hours but he found his breath returned quickly. He swam for shore with his new companion in tow. He sprawled out on the shore panting. Thank you my blue friend he said to the rat. The rat nodded and chirped, acknowledging Brutus thanks. I owe you my life. Would you come back to my cabin and I can thank you with a hardy seed cake? Again the rat nodded and chirped. Brutus grabbed his staff from the dock and they made their way back to his cabin.
Once home, Brutus stoked the fire and gave his new friend a towel. Wait here and warm up by the fire while I change and fetch us some seed cakes. Ill be back in a moment he said. He half expected the rat to be gone when he returned but indeed the creature was still there. I shall have to give you a name, my little friend, you seem like an excellent and stalwart companion! I have never taken a familiar, would you work with me? The rat again squeaked in excited agreement. He set the cake down in front of the rat and said I think Krysa is a good name for you, dont you? And the rat agreed. In truth it was a lazy name, for Krysa was simply rat in his grandmonthers tongue. But it had a nice ring to it, and Krysa seemed to appreciate her new name. The two sat by the fire enjoying its warmth as they ate their seed cakes.


Would you care to accompany me into town this afternoon? It would seem I need to buy a new fishing rod, Brutus chuckled as he said it. Krysa chirped her approval. Good, Brutus said smiling Im glad I have made a new friend.


Sage Bayard of the Surf

The midday sun bears down mercilessly upon the beach. A lone wizened figure treads gingerly through the shifting sands.

The sands of the shore and the sands of time

Though enervated, he knows he must press on. As he seeks out shelter, the fleeting images of the past again cross in the mid-distance like passing galleons.

Old friends and rivals. Loyal crewmen under his command. The grand ports that dot the cerulean seas of the Runiverse. Vittles, ales and dance during times of peace. Cannons, sabres and death during those of war.

He struggles: he can barely conjure his son's visage now. The one lost to the pagans who worship their Sacred Flame. He is out there somewhere, cursed to eternally wander the lands as @soul3563.

From behind a dune the band of rogues descends upon him. No doubt, to them, the old man is easy plunder. They reckon his tattered rags hold little in the way of loot, but at worst he will sate their half-bored thirst for some bloodshed.

The swashbuckler halts and turns to size up his foes. He does not stand a chance in a contest of steel. They are close now. With his staff held aloft, he begins the ancestral chant. 'Tis not true that this Rune is completely forgotten.

They freeze in their tracks mouths agape as the tide recedes with incredible speed. There is no time to flee as the first wave crashes upon them. They suffer what is every seafarer's nightmare; the relentless torrent of saline brine is all they taste and hear as their flames are extinguished in the unknown depths.


John Lopper of Unicorns

# John Lopper of Unicorns

There are many tales of how John, Lopper of Unicorns carried out his craft. The Lopper's main room is filled with the horns of Unicorns slayed over the years.

Onyx Panther at side and Cyber Axe at hand, one would think a Unicorn would not stand a chance. However it is quite the opposite, Unicorn's are smart and savvy creatures. And John has had his fair share of brutal show downs.

Stories of Unicorns slayed, stories of Unicorns escaped. John's Lore starts here.


Solar Mage Akron of the Desert

I heard from my friend that writing attracts some warriors these days.


Battle Mage Angus of the Gnostics

Summoned as one of the last wizards, his destiny was to become one of the greatest battle mages out there. Always on the lookout for those in need. In quiet times he can also be found in the tavern, talking about his adventures and upcoming quests.


Crow Master Claire Sliver

# New Lore Entry

Little Claire was not well loved. Left at the gates of the village as a baby, she never cried, unnerving residents who, but for the barest shred of pity, would have kept them closed.

At 5 she arranged bones from the fish-market floor into trinkets, gifts for villagers that recoiled in disgust. Misfortune turned distaste to fear, and she was blamed when crops failed, when plague arrived. The whispers of her parentage--and her strange, piercing eyes--soon turned to angry shouting, and at 9 she was exiled to the wild woods to die.

But little Claire didn't die. She found a home in a cliff-side sea cave, and all her needs were met there. When she was cold, she simply asked the wind to change direction--and it did. When she was hungry, she asked the fish to swim ashore--and they did. And when, one day, the loneliness overtook her, and she thought to throw herself into the churning sea, she asked the crows to speak--and they whispered all the secrets of the earth into her ears.

They were her family, now.

On her 16th birthday, she called to the crows, and for the first time, they did not answer. She followed the scent of fire to the very gates she was driven from all those years before. There was a celebration. A feast. Servants of evil had been captured, conquered--and roasted.

She asked the sea to come. And it did.


# Lore of Hedge Wizard Xiuying of the Astral Plane

Hedge Wizard Xiuying hails from a distant, exotic land on the other side of the Brine, a kingdom of silk, jade, and gunpowder. But the most valuable export of her country was a substance called dragonweave, a type of enchanted thread derived from a rare plant that did not grow anywhere else in the world. Clothes fashioned from dragonweave have a few particularly desirable properties. Though light and thin as silk, they provide insulation against the elements equal to a heavy parka, defense against blunt and bladed weaponry equal to a suit of plate mail, and imbues the wearer with just the slightest trace of glamor magic that makes them appear exactly 5% more good-looking than their natural state (citations available from studies conducted by top market research firms). As one might imagine, dragonweave thread is highly coveted by the noble class across the lands. It's sought out by those on the bleeding edge of high fashion, to thwart assassination attempts at black-tie events where donning armor would be considered dreadfully tactless, and by those who just want to flaunt their wealth by decking out from head-to-toe in material exceeding 1,000 gold sovereigns per skein.


Xiuying's ancestors co-founded one of the largest clothing retailers to produce dragonweave apparel, and she was sent to the Forgotten Runes mainland to act as a liaison and overseer for her family's business interests in the region. Quick-witted, elegant, and culturally sophisticated, with razor sharp magical talent to boot, she was good at her job, and enjoyed her life amongst the foreigners, or "lao wai." Sure, she felt homesick sometimes, but there were always new adventures to be found in the Runes to keep herself occupied. Her work was more than enough to provide a daily dose of excitement, having to troubleshoot problems such as rooting out agents of corporate espionage (how to tailor a material that's impervious to blades is a closely guarded family secret) and placating angry customers filing a complaint because their spouse/friend/business partner was wearing dragonweave and somehow still got assassinated ("sorry ma'am, donning a dragonweave speedo would not protect him against a dagger to the gut").

But then disaster struck. The heavenly emperor was overthrown by a usurper without warning one night, and the new ruler inexplicably decided to pursue an isolationist policy, shuttering her homeland's borders to outsiders...indefinitely. Nationals were given one week to return, but due to a series of unfortunate mishaps, Xiuying missed her ship and found herself stranded on the mainland. That was months ago, and after the requisite mourning period where she lamented her fate, cursed the gods, and ate mint chocolate chip ice cream for basically every meal, Xiuying finally changed out of her pajamas, put on her makeup, threw away all the frozen dairy desserts, and stepped out to face the world again. She still longed to return to the empire one day, but for now, she will make the most out of a bad situation and forge a life for herself in her new home.


Battle Mage Otto of the Dunes

Otto has a rather peculiar history. He grew up in a small village in the deserts of Graka. An only child whom at first seemed pretty normal. But once Otto turned 13 he started noticing strange things happening around him. The first was on his birthday an owl appeared outside his house to greet him as he left to do his chores. He didnt think anything of it until the owl started following him around hour by hour until he went home for dinner. The next morning when he got up the owl was there once again. After about a week of this he started expecting the owl to be waiting each morning for him. He began to feel a strange connection with the owl. One he could not fully explain.
As the days passed he started noticing other strange occurrences. He started to hear a voice. At first it was faint but grew a bit louder as the weeks went on. One night there was a large storm with thunder, lighting, wind, and rain. The voice in his head grew louder and was becoming unbearable. It got to the point he could no longer handle it and he went off in a fit of rage. He woke up the next morning to a part of his village being destroyed by what looked like lighting. He had blacked out and could not remember a thing. His parents, with fear on their faces, sat Otto down. They told him that in his fit of rage power arcs and lighting started emanating from his body. He was uncontrollable and destroyed part of his village. They told him he had been found out on the dunes as a baby many years ago along with 3 books and a note stating to protect you at all costs and not tell you your history until your 13th birthday. They explained he was the last of his kind, the last of his bloodline.


They handed him the first book. It was one on the history of his family. It explained that his father Targan was a great mage that won many battles against the evil that lurked in the world. He was renowned for his magic spells and abilities. In the book he explained how a very powerful demon had been secretly building a dark army. Before anyone knew about his plan he sent his brutish army to pillage and destroy all that they could. His birth mother being killed in the great battle left Ottos father Targan no choice but to cast a powerful teleportation spell that sent young Otto to a land far enough away the demon army would take a life time to reach.

The second book explained that Apix the Owl was also sent with the boy as his protector. But this was no ordinary owl. Targan bound Otto with the owl. With enough training not only can Otto speak and understand Apix but he can also see what he sees. The book taught him how to train the owl, strengthen their bond and use the owl to increase his magic powers.


The Third book was the biggest and came with an item wrapped in cloth. Uncovering it he discovered a golden bell. When examining the bell he noticed there was something holding the clapper secure so that it would not ring. Reading through the text he discovered this bell was one of his Father's greatest tools. By ringing the bell he could slow time for everyone else but him. It stated how dangerous this could be in the wrong hands and outlined rules one must abide when using the bell. This book was his families generational work on magic spells and incantations. It showed him how to harness energy all around him and use that to his advantage. Since this discovery of his past Otto has devoted his life to mastering the lessons and instructions of each of the 3 books while improving and improvising his own special kind of magic. Each day growing stronger, more powerful and more angry in hopes of one day hunting down and destroying the demon that wiped out his bloodline.


Oracle Amir of the Forest

# In the Dark of The Thorn

On only the brightest dawns of summer mornings, the suns rays are able to pierce through the small cracks in the labyrinthine weave of the tree canopy of The Thorn and down to the far reaches of the forest.  They pierce deep, deep into the dark forest with almost a sentient air of intent, or as some say, with an unusual weight that allows them to do so.

On a summer morning like this, you can see signs of a path leading deeper into the forest through an unremarkable patch of thorny saplings stemming off the main road that leads to the Vampire Mists. What looks on first glance to be a game trail, tells a different story to those who know what to look for.


Small shrubs and saplings line the path of an unbelievably dense dirt floor. The dirt here has an almost stonelike quality about it. While the path looks wide enough for only a single person to walk, it appears to have stood the test of time in the wake of traveling caravans or a parade of elephants or something else that was far far too heavy to be living in The Thorn. No dirt this compact could have become so overnight, nor in a week or a month under even the weight of something like high traffic on a trade road.

 The plants up to about a meter tall surrounding the path look to be more or less untouched. Past that point, on the left side of the path, small twigs appear to be snapped off or hang bent, while on the right, a completely different story. A space about the size of a large round watermelon has been carved out of the entire right section abreast of whatever or whoever was walking down the path. The thick branch stubs not singed in the aftermath of a fireball, nor cut by an axe or other sharp edge, but instead looking well worn, dull and rounded, like the bottom of a walking stick or wizard staff that is past its due.

The path continues deep into The Thorn with thick sticks lodged vertically into the ground every 50 meters or so to mark the pathway, as if its timeworn characteristic wasnt noticeable enough to follow.

After 10 minutes or so of walking, one comes upon some black stone steps leading up to the door of a black stone tower. On a normal day the tower blends in unassumingly with the darkness of The Thorn, and people often first notice its steps before looking up to see the towers imposing presence looming tall amongst the trees. It stands 4 stories tall so the top just peaks out over the tree canopy above.


On a summer morning like this, the varying sizes and types of minerals and stones making up the tower can be made out from one another. Some pale and cracked, and others with an unusual depth and gravity that looks as though it bleeds from the stone itself. Bleeding as if its form is collapsing underneath its own weight. As if it was too heavy to be put there by anyone in the first place.

On a summer morning like this, a raucous cacophony can be heard from inside the tower. The clashing sound of Iron on Iron, the smashing sound of Iron on stone, and the crashing of something far far too heavy to be in The Thorn.


Pyromancer Dutorn of the Quantum Downs

Behold Pyromancer Dutorn of the Quantum Downs, a traveling architect of mischief.

Though his origins are unknown, legend has it that "Pyro" was raised by a family of traveling entertainers from The Carnival Pass before being abandoned at the age of 13.
 He was found next to a fire by Red Mamba, his soon to be best friend and side kick, who took him in and guided him through his formative years.

To earn his keep, Pyro travels from region to region presenting a spectacle of a fire show to wizards across the Runiverse.  Though he is an inspiring and kind wizard, do not mistake his kindness for weakness... or you might get burned.


Holt Wounder of Machines

It is often enough to simply wound a machine to bring things to Holt.


Vince Fencer of the Jungle

# Vince Fencer of the Jungle


Alchemist Jadis of the Forest

# Alchemist Jadis of the Forest and Pasquin the Spirit Rat

The legendary Supreme Wizard Orin of the Dark Forest fell deeply in love with at first sight with Saline: Enchantress of Troy. For hundreds of years, the two kept their forbidden love hidden.

On a rainy day, after the second moon of the Red Autumn, Saline discovered she was with child. She immediately sought to meet Orion secretly in the shadows of the Dark Forest. For the safety of the child, Saline bid farewell to Orion and both swore to never love again.

Saline sailed across the Oceans of Candor to a distant island where she raised Jadis alone. Jadis had extraordinary powers unlike had ever been seen. She was trained in Alchemy until she reached her 15th year of age when she was sent on a boat to become the woman she was destined to be. Her only friend, Pasquin the Spirit Rat, who swore to protect, inform and defend Jadis at all costs.


Hydromancer Ivy of the Moors

One Life Live It :)


Light Mage Vatar of the Ice

# Light Mage Vatar of the Ice

## Prologue

> _Out in the far and frozen reaches of the Tundra, well beyond where any wizard hale of mind would ever venture - lest they would be divested of all their exteremities and likely their sanity - there is said to lay a land made entirely of Ice._
>
>_An entire city, in fact, is rumored to lay nestled there in the permanently frozen landscape - its crystalline domes and spires reflecting and refracting the light into scintillating rainbows, cold as the Void yet bright enough to blind. And what's more, if that were not enough hyperbole, due to a geographic phenomenon unknown to me, the sun is said never to set - bathing the permanent ice in brilliant permanence._
>
> _I am not unwilling to admit that such fantsatical readings, despite their incredulous nature, move me to fantasy - to wonder and reflect. Should one make it thus far, and bein posession of the right tools or appropriate aptitudes, just what sorcery would be possible? What accomplishments may be within grasp for anyone able to undertake this seemingly impossible task of harnessing such endless light, this limitless source of refracted power?_
>
>

The outermost layer on the seemingly flat and crystalline landscape was deceptively thin, in some pleces thin as hair, in others thicer than a hand. The trick he had learned, the way to avoid plunging down to unknown icy depths of darkness, was knowing precisely were to put your foot next. The damned process was painstaking, the difference between a not-so-swift death and a solid step indistiguishable until you applied your full weight.


Thank the light Vatar was not beyond such things as having his familiar burrow deep below in search of the firmer ground, and Flop was certainly capable. The chalk white rabbit would be near indistinguishable to the snow, save for a pair of inquisitive eyes and a moist snout. On occasion he had crawled forward on his belly, inch by inch  as if he were some ancient stranded sea-beast clawing for purchase. of course, to get his bearings instantly he could always open his eye, though the situation was nowhere to near dire enough to brave such perils. Out here in this flux such an act would be unpredictable at best, at worst burning him to a cinder in a heartbeat - a mile wide crater his final mark on the Runiverse.

Idly flipping a card out from his sleeve he ran his thumb along the edge, ace of spades thank the Runes, only to have it disappear just as swiftly. Standing completely still, he focused on his breathing while taking measure of the ambient hues he could sense dancing accross the barren landscape. _Yes... this will do,_ he mused as his fingers started an intricate dance at his sides - Flop's ears perking up as he too froze. Allowing himself to grasp for just a trickle of his magic, he carefully opened himself up to his aligment with Brimstone, the smell of sulphur suddenly all around him - warming the air.

Preparing himself to unleash the spell he had prepared, practiced and honed for months intended for this precise time and place, he suddenly felt a tremor below followed by a sharp _crack!_.

"_Oh dear_," he managed before the ice gave way beneath him, opening up like the maw of a giant fiend, swallowing familiar and wizard both.


Sliding, tumbling and then falling, Vatar desperately reached for purchase only to slam face first into unrelenting ice, flipping onto his back and sliding off - and falling once again. Eye still closed, throwing caution to the wind he threw everything he had into manifesting a sphere of fire around him and Flop, immediately giving him some peace from the constant bombardment of shards of ice. Shoving his familiar into the soft protection of his coat was all he managed before he once again collided with ice, this time halting their wild and uncontrolled descent.

_Ouch,_ he thought groggily, feeling his consciousness slip, _...that hurt._


Hedge Wizard Rita of the Plains

# The Lore of Hedge Wizard Rita of the Plains

Those who underestimate Hedge Wizard Rita of the Plains do so at their peril. When she casts her gaze upon you, it is best not to stare in her eyes too long lest you lose yourself in the depths of her soul, which are as vast as the plains upon which she roams. Rita will only reflect back what you sense in yourself. Be warned...it will be one thousand times magnified. It may shock you to your core or expand your consciousness to the infinite. Only those seeking the truth will live to tell their tale; the others will be frozen across all dimensions in time.

What resides in her hip pouch? Is it just a pouch or is it a portal? Many cast a suspicious eye, yet many more will never know how Rita manages to cure all of those who seek her help.

Atir, her shapeshifting foxy sister, is a great judge of character and magically presents forest flowers, herbs and other medicines when Rita needs them.

Tulip, the Rose, is ten thousand years old and whispers ancient riddles of which only Rita can understand.

Rita is here to help guide and heal you...if you let her, but there is always a cost.


Enchanter Daria of the Circle

# Enchanter Daria of the Circle

Daria is the only child of the Eastern Kingdom. Born with a Noble Title, Daria was loved and admired by all citizens of the Eastern Kingdom.

*At the age of 5, She had memorized all the types of potions written on all books in the Royal Library.*

Not only that, all potions that are crafted by Daria is enchanted by the Witchcraft she learn from her teacher at the Kingdom.

*At the age of 12, Her teacher was caught studying a Dark Magic Spell that are taboo in the Kingdom and was imprison.*

After a couple years Daria finally decided to give up her peerage and leave the kingdom to pursue further Witchcraft at the Hedge Wizard Wood. When Daria first arrived at the entrance of the woods, Daria found a dying hummingbird and helped cure its wound.
After being healed by Daria, this hummingbird decide to go on an adventure with Daria into the Deep Wood of the Hedge Wizard.

**Who know how Daria is doing right now. She could be one of the best or not famous wizard out there or she finally realized the harsh truth of this cruel world.**

*But if you met Daria in your journey to the Hedge Wizard Wood. Don't forget to say Hello!*


Druid Rainman

# New Lore Entry for Druid Rainman

> *Portrait by Luca Celano. Commissioned by Baron Von Fancy. Summer of 2022*


Hedge Wizard Hadrien of the Platonic Shadow

###### Note from author: This is a fun little story that I am writing in parts, I cannot complete it all at once as I do not have much time. I hope you all enjoy, I have never done anything like this and have had a lot of fun creating this.

# PROLOGUE

As the sun sets, our hero rests on the ground. In immense pain, he looks up to the sky and asks himself.

Is this it the end of my time?

A question that he has asked himself many times, but this time he fears might be true.
How did our hero end up in such a state?
Well, for that answer, we have to start from the beginning.

Our story starts many moons ago, during a time of conflict and uncertainty. War plagued the lands, leaving most of it to ashes and rubble. What was this war about? No one really knows, all they know is it nearly destroyed the world.

# CHAPTER 1: A MOTHER AND HER CHILD

In a small village of farmers, a mother and her child are caught in the midst of battle. Not knowing what to do, they run into nearby woods to try and escape. They run for five hundred steps, then come to a sudden stop. In front of them lies a regiment of soldiers.

Startled, the mother tells the child one word:

> Run!


Startled, the mother tells the child one word:

> Run!

The boy takes off, not looking back in fear of who might be behind him. After many steps, in exhaustion, he stops and hides to see if anyone is following him. To his surprise, there was no one, not even his mother. Worried she might have been captured, he goes back to the soldiers, quietly to not make himself known. As he approaches, he notices dead soldiers on the ground. Then he sees his mother, her gown drenched with blood, she was tied up in the arms of soldiers. He can hear them speaking faintly, but does not try to get closer in fear of being captured himself.

Confused, the boy keeps watching, not knowing what to do. He notices that his mother is talking to a single person. The armor on this man is different from the rest, it has fur and a gold crest. With this information, the boy comes to the conclusion that he is the commander of the regiment.

Suddenly, the trees start to shake as he hears his mother start singing a song. Then he hears the commander yells out:

> CUT HER HEAD!

Then the trees stop shaking..

He sees his mothers head on the ground, and starts crying. The soldiers start to hear a strange noise. The commander says:

> She had a child, that is probably him, find him and bring him to me!

Then the boy takes off running, never looking back, from this day on he was all alone. A boy turned man in a mere instant...


Evoker Amir of the Glacier

~ self portrait ~


Oread the Mirthful

# Bedtime tale

As the sun started to set, the men and women working on a wheat field hurried their children inside the homes, the village they lived in was right at the side of the Hedge Wizard Wood. In one specific housing, a traditional tale for good nights sleep was being told by one old woman for all the girls and boys.

Hello, grandma, what tale will you tell the children today? says one of the men who returned with his child from work outside.

Ah, it is a legend of old, from times long passed. About a magical horse.
Magical horse! the kids proclaim in awe.

Well then, grandma continues, sit here with me around the fire everyone. Very well. This tale starts in this very village. One of the residents used to work in the nearby forest every day. For as long as I can remember, he left with the sunrise and returned just before the sunset.

One day, he encountered some poachers, as it is a very populated forest. There were always rabbits, deer or wild boars running around, the forest is their home. Of course our friend wouldnt let them just hunt the animals. He followed them around, disarming all traps they set up. What he didnt know was that they were there once or twice already and managed to secure traps for bigger animals. As they approached a small clearing in the forest, there was a sound of a hurt animal.

Was it a deer? one child asks.


Was it a deer? one child asks.

No, it wasnt. It was a talking horse. The villager didnt know it was talking though, not yet. It was after he managed to scare away those poachers and help the hurt animal get out of the trap. The horse thanked him for the rescue and offered something in exchange for his life. You can talk?! What the Oh, and dont worry about it, the villager said, I didnt help you to only for some reward. The horse didnt look surprised at all. Oh well, okay then. Goodbye. The horse starts to lift up from the ground to walk away but his injury disables that. Oof, I didnt think it would be this bad, heh, the horse laughs. Villager, surprised by the horses ability to actually laugh and talk, offers that he can take care of the horse until he is well enough to leave. And I will make sure you have no troubles for the rest of your life, even if you dont want any rewards, the horse responded settling on a compromise, grandma stopped for a moment, looked over the children sitting near the fireplace anxiously waiting for her to continue and so she talked again, finishing the story.

The villager asked for the horse's name, if it even had one. If he is to take care of the horse, it would be wise to know its name. Well of course, my name is Oread. Some also call me the Mirthful, but for you its Oread, said the horse with dark mane and tail, the rune on his back glistening. Sorry to ask, but why do they call you mirthful? Some of the wizards I know think Im funny if I had to guess, no idea really, the horse responds seriously.


And so the villager called for help to transport the hurt horse, who, according to him, could talk. The other villagers didnt hear the horse utter a single word, only sounds any horse would make. After Oread healed, he still lingered around the village, helping the man with anything he asked. Other people always heard the man laugh and talk, but no response ever came. Some even thought he has gone mad after this incident, that the poachers did something to him. But nonetheless the man and the talking horse remained acquaintances, maybe even friends at some point.

Thats the end of the tale of a magical horse who could talk and made a friend. Now its time to sleep. But do come next time, I have a tale prepared already, grandma smiled and waved goodbye to all the children and their parents who came to listen as they left her house.

That was a good story, a voice through a window says. You could have said the whole truth, though.

No, I couldnt. They would be all over you in an instant, grandma chuckles. I think some of them may try talking to you anyway.

What is the story for tomorrow? Will you tell them about @pony149? The voice asks.

Yes, Oread. I think I will.

> *Tale by: Tins*


Magus Shizu of the Grotto

# Pretty Rabbit

Pretty Rabbit is cute!


> A depiction of Ectoplasmic Spectre Amir of the Death Cloud wandering the earthly plane.


Andrea Dispatcher of the Range

# Andrea Dispatcher of the Range

Andrea and her Field Hound Brute roam Goblin Town.
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Bow and Arrow in hand, Andrea works as a skilled sharp shooter, an assassin known to take out the fiercest goblins.
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With Brute by her side together they reek havoc on Goblin Town.
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This is Andrea and Brute's Lore, unending tales of Goblin's killed begins here.


Archmagus Adium of the Desert

The early beginnings of Archmagus Adium of the Desert #6115


Crusader the Outstanding

## **Story of Crusader the Outstanding**

This town is really nice, nicer than the ones Ive been in before, he thought as he walked through the town square, around him Gothic-style buildings. Other cities he also enjoyed because of the food or drinks or hospitality of the people or simply because he was in a good mood. He stopped in the middle of the square and under a few trees, there was a spacious sitting area and near that a luxurious bookstore. He wasnt a big fan of reading, but he enjoyed all forms of art. Thats why he sat there for a moment, absorbing the heat of the afternoon sun, thinking about all the people around the world lucky enough to live in a beautiful city, just like this one. He, the great @wizard9856, never had a real home. Not that he needed it, but he often thought it would be nice to have some kind of a refuge. After the sun started to set, its shine growing colder, he stood up and in a blink of an eye he was gone.

This is just stupid, the horse whispered to himself.
What did you say? One of the men he was traveling with asked.
Nothing, answered the horse, irritated. They were walking for hours now, without a single stop.
I would advise you so, Crusader, the man said with a threat in his voice. The horse was carrying almost all of their belongings. The circus traveled all over the world with only one wagon, but that didnt mean that it wasnt exhausting, especially if there was only one horse dragging it along. Finally, the day was slowly turning into night and with the dark always came bandits hidden around the main roads.


They stopped at the entry gate to a town. Even though this town was smaller, it could definitely compete with the bigger ones in architecture. The men jumped out of the wagon, untied the horse and headed to the nearest pub in hope of getting a place to sleep for tonight and some food and ale. They didnt worry about their belongings or the horse running away as the gate to the town was always guarded. If anything happened the guards would handle it.

The horse, as he is used to, stayed behind, also guarding the wagon and munching on some grass in the meantime. *I dont want to do this any more, he thought to himself*. One thing was traveling across the world, another thing was carrying a whole living for somebody else. Maybe thats selfish, but isnt it also wrong to use this horse as they please? Not only hitching him to a wagon but also using him for the circus performances. His purple nose and hooves and a shining rune on his back have always brought out a lot of people and more people meant more money. But there was never enough of that. They lived in poor conditions, especially all the animals. The men never really cared as long as there were people coming to watch the show. And the people only barely noticed how the animals are treated. And even if some of them noticed, they didnt care just like the circus group that owned them. All of the money usually went to alcohol.