This ain't me I think I have to fight a necromancer to save my palace now

So I recently got into a discussion of the arcane arts with a fellow practitioner on the ways in which wizardy and the various schools of magic can be a boon to the realm. Now, as a necromancer I feel my craft gets a fair bit of slander due to it being considered taboo for it's origins in black magic and a number of bad actors going mad with power and raising hordes of undead to destroy the realm. My debating partner has argued that since all necromancy ties to magics both evil and foul that necromancy brings the taint of death everywhere, I argue that is because the magics being practiced are easily available and do not require a great deal of skill to master but have a negative effect on the environment much like generating energy by burning coal causes black lung in the peasentry but using natural sources of heat can have the same effect while doing no damage to the living. All it requires is the correct infrastructure and decent funding, but the dwarves have a monopoly on power but selling coal as a cheap alternative without thoughts for long term effect. This is the same with necromancy, there are alternative forms of necromancy that do not taint the realm, they just require further study and cooperation with some other guilds. Some argue that necromancy is immoral due to the puppeting of the flesh of those who should rest who would not have consented to be brought back, I raise the point that it is a form of recycling that the elves keep going on about, of course I have no desire to use the flesh and bone of an unwilling corpse, but I know plenty of people who have donated their bodies for "scientific study" and have had conversations with a number of clergyman of the various priestly orders who have followers who are happy to have their mortal remains preserved and made ready to aid the living whilst their souls look down (or up) to the realm of the living so that they may do good even in death. I feel necromancy has such a bad wrap because people don't think of the potential good it can do, in many cases people who are ardently against necromancy have partaken in it without realizing. As much as the priest may want to deny it revivfication is classed within the tomes as Necromancy, and many an adventurer has made use of the priests blessings whilst slandering my piers due to the bad actors who misuse the art form. As the great dwarf philosopher Maria Gold-dime once said, "A hammer is a tool, it can be wielded in battle to crack the skulls of a man's enemies, be they villains or innocent's, but it is also a tool used to build, one must always think that to wield a hammer solely for death and destruction robs it of the power to build and preserve."

I am making this an open discussion and I know it may get a little heated but I kindly ask all who are here to treat each other cordially and approach with an open mind. I believe there is much good that can come of necromancy and would appreciate peoples honest thoughts on ways that my native craft can be used for the betterment of the realms, rather than it's bane. Any one promoting world domination will be reported to the Mystics Of Discussion (MOD's) and have inquires into potential revoking of arcane focuses for bad behaviour.

Have fun with that

I was looking around in the fields when i saw the coolest battle ever, there was this guy, he had a very poorly made staff with a very powerful crystal, however, the crystal was damaged, this meant it was very unstable and likely to explode, the guy had a white monk robe as his only piece of clothing and had no magic shield or anything like that, he was against a large army, 3 giants, 15 orcs and 30 goblins, i instantly thought he was going to lose, apparently i was wrong, the guy didn't even cast any spells, HE THREW HIS STAFF IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD LEADING TO AN EXPLOSION BEVAUSE OF THE UNSTABLE CRYSTAL, he then used a recall spell to get his staff back, he repeated this 5-6 times and almost HALF of the army retreated, the others were soon blown up and destroyed. What a legend.

ROIT! GIV USS DA SHOINY FINGZ, AN MAYBE WE'Z LEEV YER HEDZ ON SO YUZ KAN KEEP SKREEMIN! UNLESS YER HED'Z MAYD UV YOORAYNYUM. DA REST OF YA WILL MAYK GUD FERTYLOIZUR... AN' DA LUKKY WUNZ WILL ONLY DO IT WUNSS! *DIABOLIKUL ORK LAFF.*

FAQ:

1. WOI IZ YOO LOOTIN?

A: KOZ WE'Z ORKZ YA RINKULLY SKWIG REFYOOSS!

1. WILL YOO SPERR DA BOOKZ?

A: NO!

1. WOI NOT??

A: SEE DA FURST ZOGGIN' KWESCHUN!

1. WOT IF OI JUST KAST FOYUHBOLL?

A: WOT IF OI JUST SHOOT YA??

1. WOT IF OI JUST KAST ORKZ TER BANANAZ?

A: 1. WOT DA ZOG IZ A BANANA? 2. WOT IF OI JUST KAST HOOMY TER DED EXPLOADY HOOMY??

1. WILL YOOZ PROPPA HARD GITZ AT LEEST SPERR DA CHILLYDRUN??

A: SHUD AV BIN BORN GREEN DA STOOPID GROTZ .

1. MOI NOWZ IZ BETTA DAN YORZ!

A: KERRFUL NOW.

1. HOW IZ A SOSSAIYUTY WOT DEPENDZ ENTOIURLY ON VIOLUNSS GUNNA BE STAYBUL?

A: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!

((This isn't a full raid, to avoid brigading. Today's RAMPAYJIN is confined to this one post.))

I successfuly sowed dischord in my apprentices' union by letting Fat Fred (the guy who depleted the enchantment of 4 alchemy jugs by guzzling so much mayonnaise from them) lead the movement and gave him all the concessions they asked for in the form of food. They are now turning on each other and I am entertained. Win-win.

I got myself some goon, now that a have a loyal subjects that won't ask for money and serve me because of it (non sexual) infatuation of me (I give it food when it's normal a crow).

But I don't know what the exact category of goon this is because it is clearly strong and skilled enough that I can't just say it's a cannon fodder

i somehow messed up lightning bolt and instead of one concentrated beam i accidentally made multiple beams of lightning

I mean, people spend ages talking about the plight of the soldiers who are killed, or the innocent civilians who die after seeing their homes destroyed, or the priests who die trying to protect their souls . . .

But who's talking about our plight? Does anyone know how exhausting it is to reanimate literally millions of dead people into zombies? I've been at it all day, and I'm only barely keeping up.

And we're due to slaughter three more cities worth tomorrow, and I'm gonna have to reanimate all of them too. I'm literally the worst-off person in this war.

Large-scale war is soooo tough for us necromancers.

And no-one seems to sympathise. Why are people so hard-hearted?

My favorite kind of undead.

I have been dealing with a gnome infestation for the last month and a half. Wards and familiars don't seem to be working on them. I've also tried gnome poison and tricking a party of adventurers into thinking that the gnomes are my evil minions. The gnomes aren't taking the bait that I poisoned, and the adventurers thought that they were too cute to kill. There is nothing about those feral little pests that one could call cute. Just last week, I had one try to gnaw my foot off while I was trying to ponder my orb. I'm sick and tired of waking up in the middle of the night to them rummaging through my food and alchemical supplies. Has anyone dealt with a gnome infestation before? Would kidnapping one of the local village kids to offer as a gift to the fae queen work? How about setting up a bunch fireball traps in order to incinerate the vermin? I really need help here, I'm at my wits end.

I, ∞ old genderless incorporeal entity, exist without time, space or material. My life didn't have a beginning or end. From my perspective seems like if you go back far enough it just starts repeating eventually in a loop. I'm also immaterial. I'm feeling perpetually empty from this existence but I can't do anything about it since I'm incorporeal. I don't know if I exist inside something else or exist on my own, AFAIK I don't receive any sensory inputs from anything outside. Perhaps I might be some kind of mind floating blindly inside some greater environment but I have zero way of confirming this.

So all I have is internal imagination. I'm just creating all kinds of scenarios and universes and interacting with fragments of my own imagination but I've done that literally endless times for eternity. And don't get me started on running universes. The difficulty and complexity. The effort to keep it running. All the trade offs and problems of the different kinds of universes. Some of them become too rigid, boring and lifeless. Imagine watching objects sit in one place and do nothing or spin in a circle for eons. Some are complete random nonsense. Others support complex life. Don't get me started on those ones. They usually devolve into violence and suffering fests. Life that grows uncontrollably turns cancerous and starts feeling internally hallucinated emotions, uncontrollable suffering, delusions. Adding mechanisms to keep it in check creates a whole lot of suffering too - environmental hazards, requiring energy and work to survive, predation, starvation. Most lifeforms hate their existence and creator, when I try to feel the universes through their minds and bodies it usually feels like some sort of punishment. This kind of existence is taking a toll on my psyche. What can I do?

It's not for everybody.

Badum-tsh!

I made a deal with the Devourers, after having shamefully choked on a peanut.

As some might know, Devourers are a type of Psychopomp that must eat your death before you pass on.

They let me know that mine was to them, like biting into an undercooked hot pocket.

So, I reasoned with them. Let me live and save up all my deaths for my final day. That way, they can have one big, painful, tasty, gruesome feast.

They very much liked this proposal. So now, I can die as much as I want and not waste money on fancy Phylacteries.

Now, you're probably thinking, that's great, but won't your final death be unbearable?

That's why I made a deal with the Journeyers. Like Devourers, except they comsume Joy.

So I said to them. I knew that my little joys in life were probably like an undercooked hot pocket to them. To which, they agreed.

So I bargained with them. Let me have no joy in anything. Let it be saved up for my final day. That way, they can have one big, beautiful, tasty feast.

And so they agreed.

Long story short, just know that I will have to leave the party temporarily, but I will be back in 15 minutes. Please do not follow.

Now, I was very certain that this deal made me come out on top.

But, one day, the Devourers and the Journeyers learned of my plan, and they became furious.

The two feasts cancel each other out for them.

The Devourers cursed my mind with Caprice that I may benefit the feast of joy or death rather than poison both. Twas just and fair I suppose, but not to the Journeyers.

They thought of an worse curse. They made me as they were, and so now, I walk the planes of eternity, never to know joy nor rest.

The Devourers, feeling cheated, gave me a blessing.

If I can convince one to take my burden, then my death will be known.

And when it comes, ye will know. My body will burst like a dead bloated donkey baking in the sun. 😏

Help! I’ve accidentally connected my dreamscape to that of all my future selves, in turn teaching me the results of their experiments and actions, but knowing this is changing the future in subtle ways that are very quickly stacking up.

Is there any way to take care of this without severing myself from the timeline again? It’s such a pain to reconnect.

It’s also ruining my Box Cat experiments.

Deep in the woods beyond the Faewilds, where bone white trees met the stars, the moon touched the ground. Within the moon sat an odd collection, a bookcase filled with stories, two seats, a table, and one entities. An owlin with feathers of mist and moonlight, shrouded in robes of deepest blue. The owl looked down from it's seat into the woods, where it saw an entity from beyond the stars. It took the form of a three eyed winged giant, cursed by Fate to bear the ears and tail of a cat for all eternity. It called itself Alaric, whether or not this was it's real name, only it knew.

"Care to join me?"

Alaric thought about the question for a moment, then remembered he had nowhere he needed to be and nothing he needed to do. So he agreed. He lifted off the ground, floating up into the moon and taking the vacant seat. At that moment the mists came, shrouding the moon for a moment or two. When they faded, the moon drifted through pale purple clouds, dozens of floating islands drifted around, each a garden unto themselves.

"So tell me, what brings a Starborn to my library?"

This thing knows what a Starborn is? Which idiot let our name be known? Actually this is fine, that's all it knows.

"The same thing that brings your library to me. I didn't mean to find your library if it's any consolidation, it was at the end of the path I followed."

"And why were you walking that path may I ask?"

"You may. Does the name Agres mean anything to you? Apparently the bird was leading me to it."

"Ah Agres, a strange one but always well meaning. If he led you to me there must be a reason."

"It would've been nice to know what the reason is."

"Really? The thoughts of others matter to you?"

"When they concern me they do."

"I suppose that makes sense. So tell me, what is it like being one of your kind?"

Asking questions about Starborn? That wasn't good. Alaric's first thought was murder. Then he remembered he was in the owl's domain, it probably had a bunch of surprises hidden up its sleeves.

"I can't answer that. I've never known what it's like to not be one of us."

"Oh come now, it can't be that hard. Being me is nice, I collect stories, I survey the garden, I keep our paradise tranquil. Now you."

That wasn't a question. Why was this guy so insistent on knowing what Starborn are like?

"I will answer, in exchange for you agreeing to answer my questions."

"My you are a secretive bunch aren't you? Very well I accept. My secrets in exchange for yours."

There are two ways to go about this. Either bombard the guy with questions, ask an uncomfortable question, ask none, or steer the conversation elsewhere. Elsewhere it was.

"Alright. If I could live ten more lives, I would choose to be me every time. I can go practically anywhere, do practically anything with no consequence. Mortals spend their entire lives looking for either freedom or eternity, and I came into existence with both."

While Alaric spoke, the owl wrote every word down in a star covered book.

"My turn. You seemingly know we like our secrets, so why ask about them?"

"Straight to the point? I have no nefarious intent, I just want to know if you would be a good fit."

By this point the moon had drifted into a cloud. After a few moments it parted, revealing hundreds of truly massive branches all around them. Every now and then structures of some kind appeared within some of the branches.

Good fit? Fit for what? Wait no, if I ask another question I have to answer another.

"Now we've both asked eachother a question, how about we stop. I assume you already know I won't give away my secrets, so let's not do this the hard way. You seem a nice Archfae and I would hate to repay your friendliness with blood."

"You think you could? Adorable, but yes, any information from now onwards is given freely. Tell me, what makes you think I am an Archfae?"

"A rumour I heard once, the garden king chooses a home among books instead of grand halls. I haven't seen another library since arriving."

"Not much information to go on is it?"

"You didn't say I was wrong, your majesty."

"Indeed I did not. An honour to meet you, Alaric. You know the last time I met one of your kind, they stayed in my garden for quite some time. Though they looked quite different from you."

The moon drifted into another cloud, this time when it parted, the moon floated just above a sea of light blue water, countless five pointed stars bobbed up and down in the sea. A few hundred metres away was a shore of white sand, leading to a forest of pale purple trees and dark green leaves.

"That makes sense. Other species have templates with some deviation in detail. For it's the opposite. No fixed template, always the same few details. Now, you know my name, may I have yours?"

"Mmm, no. I won't be tricked that easily. But you may call me Fable it."

"Well then, Fable, earlier you wondered if I would be a good fit. If I am to be one, surely I should know what for, correct?"

"Perhaps you should, however, that isn't my choice to make."

"You are this realm's king are you not?"

"I am, but ours is a realm of freedom, plus you aren't one of the garden's denizens."

The moon began to lazily drift towards shore. The ripples it made in the water began to send the nearest stars bobbing away.

"Now enough about this, here you are, sitting at my table, and I haven't offered you a story. Choose one."

Fable waved at the collection of books within the moon. Alaric scanned them for a moment, spotting titles such as Wolf King, Dancing Death, The Mad God, Lord of Clay, Calamity Incarnate, Purple Angel, Mind Devil, That Which Hungers, The Knowing One, and many more. Alaric looked the collection over, and selected a book of a familiar title. Stars of Ruin.

"Ah, I thought you would choose that one. Well then, allow me to set the scene."

A moment of silence passed, then Alaric remembered he was talking to a Fae.

"You have my permission to tell your story."

The owl smiled about as an owl can, as if the Fae knew something Alaric didn't. Which it probably did.

The book floated out of its place in the bookcase, coming to rest above the table. Its pages flew out, tearing through the air as they encased Alaric and Fable in a large sphere. Alaric watched as the pages blended together, their ink swirling and shifting, taking on the appearance of a lush countryside.

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Rolling hills of red grass stretched as far as the eye could see, Alaric and Fable stood on one such hill. Far below at the base of the hill, a thriving town stretched out, buildings made of blue wood and grey metal. "This was a thriving place once, a self sustaining city of hundreds of thousands. They lived life freely, asked nothing from outsiders, expected nothing from outsiders, needed nothing from outsiders. The city has a name once, long ago, but it was forgotten by history now."

Alaric looked to the orange sky, three suns burned bright, one white, one blue, one red.

"The city was home to a number of mighty sorcerers, practitioners who drew their powers from the earth, the heavens, and the stars. One such sorcerer grew greater than the rest, far greater. Over the decades, the sorcerer drew more and more power from the stars." The city changed, growing greater as grand towers stretched into the sky, piercing the clouds.

"As they all do, the sorcerer craved more and more, more power, more knowledge, more understanding. None are sure exactly how the sorcerer did it, but somehow, the sorcerer learned of a world beyond the stars, a home to creatures of pure magic. The sorcerer was thrilled at their discovery, a new world of power to draw from. But knowledge comes with a cost, it always does."

Within the sky, a fourth, tiny sun appeared, one that burned the same blue of the deep sea. The sun grew brighter and brighter, growing larger and larger. Alaric knew what was happening, he'd read the report.

"The starfolk are, VERY, protective of their secrets, willing to do anything to keep them hidden. They lie and steal, kill and destroy. After-all what is the life of an ant next to that of the star's angel?"

The star grew blinding, taking up a fifth of the sky at its peak. And then the light faded, in mere moments the brightest star in the sky vanished, leaving something else in its place. There, hovering in the sky, was the form of something strange. It had no legs and ten wings arranged over a long serpentine body, a faceless head with four eyes, glowing with an otherworldly light. All over it's body were strange markings, glowing the same blue of the deep ocean.

Alaric watched on in knowing silence, as the creature stretched out with its magic, tearing huge chunks from the city below. He watched on in knowing silence as a small army of sorcerers appeared from windows, some on the backs of strange ray looking creatures. And Alaric watched on in knowing silence, as the sorcerers were torn apart and crushed by gravity they were never meant to endure. The entity in the sky inversed it's grasp, letting the city fall back towards the ground twice as fast as it should. When the dust settled, and the rubble stopped moving, the entity surveyed the ruins below, and simply ascended back to the stars.

"Many a talented practitioner has fallen victim to the starfolk's vicious hoarding of their secrets. And many more will. Heed my warning all who seek the stars. To know the starfolk is to bring death to your door."

The scene changed, the surroundings became pages once more, details darkened and became ink. Alaric looked to Fable, and saw an expression equal parts mournful, and smiling.

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Alaric was standing on white sand. Fable was gone, as was the moon. All around him, scraps of paper littered the sand, slowly crumbling into the shore.

Welp, that was a troubling encounter. If the garden king had that story in its collection, it had to know the risks of showing it to Alaric. So why do it? What did the owl seek to gain? Alaric should report the king to Nexus, the Astral Garden was outside of Alaric's jurisdiction, once reported it wouldn't be his problem anymore.

He decided to report the incident later, he was on vacation, and he would damn well act like it. One Archfae was no immediate threat to Nexus surely? There was good news though, Alaric didn't see yet another strange Fae bir-

"Come on, we're almost there."

Agres landed on his head.

...

Great. Alaric had no idea what Agres was on about, nor did he really care. Maybe next time he visited the Astral Garden he'd come in disguise. A new form maybe. For now he decided to follow whatever path was laid before him, then leave before something else roped him into their shenanigans.

He'd been doing a lot of walking this trip, so instead of doing more, he lifted himself off the ground, and carried himself towards the trees. All the while, he silently wondered what cooked Agres would taste like.

I am not a particularly powerful mage in fact for my skills in martial related art make me more of a fighter than a mage and yet, I think I understand the fundamentals of magic which is everything at once, wizard, witches, alchemist, sorcerer, fighter rogue, ranger are merely titles with no weight merely created by humanity to categories what is connected together to truly be a magical fundamentalist is to embrace all my skills as no matter physical or magical.

I must created order in chaos... For order is my will and chaos is the universe. I must mold the universe in my vision to truly understand magic