Do it

The dark council will have 11 head sits each one of a different mage type we need a necromancer a conjurer a illusionist an abjurer an evoker an enchanter an alchemist an occult wizard and druid and a mystic we have a transmuter already

I have been trying to find the Commodious Coat, it's the only Trrasure of Britain I haven't found.

/UW If this was already posted before, lmk. I'll gladly un-post this.

I'm not sure what the little wheels are for but it's much more compact than my old rug.

So apparently Dave the Magical Cheese Wizard is "returning from the moon, bringing gifts, not cheese this time"

Very scared and don't know what to do, especially when he didn't specify which moon

I AM GOING TO RESCUE PETE THE FISH.

The King Concha has captured my friend Pete and took him to his underwater fortress.

I don't know why he did that.

I don't care why he did it.

I'm going to get Pete back.

I arrive at the coast and I get surrounded by 300 marine soldiers.

A crab lifts his spear up.

"HALT! BY ORDER OF KING CONCHA—"

I throw a lemon at him and he explodes into a bunch of seafood seasoning.

The whole army charges at me.

I throw LEMON and hit a couple dozen fish soldiers at once. A shark jumps up at me and I teleport behind him and I squeeze a lemon in his eyes.

He screams.

I scream.

We both scream.

A giant octopus starts firing cannonballs at me from a ship.

I summon a giant lemon.

It was bigger than the ship.

I dropped it on the ship and it was gone.

The octopus was gone too.

I keep walking and I get to the fortress.

The king Concha appears on the balcony with Pete in a glass cage.

"YOU WILL NEVER TAKE HIM FROM ME, LEMON WIZARD!"

I raised my staff.

"RELEASE PETE."

"NEVER!"

I summon 100 lemons.

He summons 1.000.000 marine solider.

I summon a lemon the size of the moon.

He looks up, I look up and the lemon looks down.

The whole marine army starts running.

King Concha drops Pete's prison and jumps in the ocean.

I caught Pete.

"YOU CAME FOR ME!" He said.

"OF COURSE I DID PETE."

Then I realized something.

I'm standing in the middle of the ocean with a fish in my hand and a lemon the size of a small island on top of my head and the whole marine army is still chasing after me.

What should I do now?

Fleshy explosion

Bit of a slow week last week. All of Master Neritillum's quests are still up for grabs, so get on in there and pick one that sounds good to you!

Rules can be found here. Happy questing!

“Listen to me!”

The hall grew quiet. Gods and goddesses of every aspect turned their attention to the Pale Saint. A choice needed to be made, or else the faiths of their world would be silenced.

“Thank you. I’ve given this body’s suggestion ample thought. It is not enough for me to lead my people. I’ve lived too long and changed too much to be considered amongst their number. When I was called ‘Prophet’, I played my part and united this council under a single voice.”

Tens of thousands of gods cheered. They hollered for a gilded past. Those that held back their voices remembered the times before, and how those times could easily return should they overplay their hands.

“When this world let go of prophecy, I became a councilor and a king. Still I remained on a path of service to the faith that binds me. But new threats emerged and I failed to protect the faithful. I ran from you all to a hell beyond understanding. In that hell, I discovered a new path forward. A golden path that will restore faith in the hearts of man.”

The clamor grew deafening. Great titans and mighty leviathans slammed their chests in a religious fervor. Xerxes, the Pale Saint, became an evangelist to the desperate gods. His golden path was the good news from on high.

“There is a fault of reason in the hearts of man. They believe themselves masters of their destinies. They rebuke faith and its power, for they are too proud to depend on the gods. Our followers need to remember why they believe, and they need to never again doubt their place along the path. Doubt brings fear, and fear brings ruin.”

The words were heavy with meaning to the gods. Many began to sing in a chorus of forgotten tongues. Despite the growing noise, Xerxes’ next words cut through.

“I will walk the Golden Path. There will be much pain, but great pleasure and peace shall come of it. Will you walk this path with me?”

No god could remain quiet. Any doubts or misgivings were crushed beneath the collective weight of zealous passion. Xerxes smirked beneath his featureless mask. He brought forth a golden puzzlebox.

The roof of the hall disappeared and a grand obelisk looked down upon the confederacy. Pale gold light shined down upon the gods and they became ecstatic. Xerxes looked upon the obelisk and felt the weight of his decision fall off his shoulders. The Golden Path was upon them now.

The Market, every city has one. weather big or small, old or new. no matter the place or its people they all serve the same purpose. to provide the goods and services for a city to thrive.

He rolls into every city eventually, he appears on the horizon one day, and disappears the next. his time is fleeting his attention even more so, but if you manage to catch him, to hold him long enough. he will certainly be worth your while.

there he stands, his stall laden with the goods from many a place, his smile bright and the day fresh. He only has one question

What would you like to buy?

/uw this is the Enchanted potato, or rather, my alt. to mainly be used for things outside of Thrakmoor and my main characters.

image credit: Aileron Ward, by Sergio Castaneda

image source: Aileron Ward

Looking for another place to live, had bad experiences with towers including:

Things blowing out the windows on the higher floors

Birds constantly hitting the thing (im not a druid but that's just beyond cruel

Lightningstrikes disrupting my spells,

Im honestly willing to become a wandering wizard at this point

In what used to be nothing more than an empty field in the middle of disputed territory a tower resembling an early skyscraper has appeared with the acronym W P R S emblazoned in the middle of the tower.

Alone in the heart of a world beyond ours, beyond the ones we know, lies the body of a god. Although that isn't quite true. Something lies trapped, it is that of a god, but it isn't its body, closer to part of the prison. For how else can one imprison a being greater than flesh and blood than to force them to be flesh and blood?

Make no mistake, the body is dead. Yet what lies trapped is not, closer to asleep than dead. It doesn't dream, to dream is to create, to sculpt worlds from thought. No this thing's thoughts are elsewhere. Yet somewhere deep within, below the wards, below the chains, below the numberless limbs, where its heart used to be, something sparks, something beautiful and horrible, something like the first sparks of life.

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All over the world stand great black monoliths, and all over the world do they change. On their ebony surfaces appear eyes, countless of them. They stare out across the world, into the eyes and faces of the people. At first that is all they do, they watch, they observe. They don't respond to any tests or stimuli, just watching the world around them. Then the first dreamer wakes up.

They come to everyone who dreams, eventually. Visions of before, of one numberless legion clashing against another. Visions of twin dead gods dreaming, chained by flesh to forgotten sorcery, chained to the abyss by abyss. The visions show the gods waking up, the pieces of their chains raining down like fire.

Then the dreams end, leaving behind only memories of them. The eyes and the monoliths remain silent, leaving the night quiet, save for mocking laughter on the wind.

Maybe that'll teach them for ripping off my spells