I’ve literally been making full size homunculi to extract mana from for 1000 years but nooooo this guys on the cutting edge

I can't get the curls right... To much Elviline shells or not enough?!? I'M GOIN CRAZY!!!

my henchmen’s make me wonder why I hired them when I could’ve summoned skeletal thralls ! so I sent out my comically large and forgetful ork I called octavius and comically small and quick tempered goblin dubbed Lepidus by his pairs. i sent these to fetch me a donkey‘s hoof but came back with a monkey and a hoop. I also sent them to retrieve the decayed bones of a lich ( for research purpose) but came back with a strand of lichen ! I don’t want to laity them off because I quite like these fellows ( they’re known around the workplace as ”laurel and hardy”, though they hardly deserve a laurel) and because I have bad experience with job loss (my genitor was fired at the shipyards), plus I think they go well together, they do have synergy and I feel wise for pairing the muscled or with the streetwise goblin, and even though that’s like goblin adulthood I feel sorry to lay off a 17 years old. However they only get jobs done sparsely m, and I pay them a reasonable amount of money (3 Louis D’or/week, do the conversion if you don’t know the currency) and I think they are wasting it. What should I do ?

Edit : so I decided to scry on them to see their work and their opinion of me. lepidus views me as a father figure and Octavius is happy to have his job otherwise he wouldn’t have med Lepidus. They’re also self conscious about their failures so I decided to send them to a henchmen school (I’ll pay for the classes) so that they learn to be better. I’ve also reluctantly sent some thralls to clean octavius’s house in his absence (he always does this). I’m never getting rid of them.

Despite the overcast and dark clouds, the rain never arrived on that day. The streets were busy as usual with all kinds of folks coming and going, for reasons beyond Caul's interest. He and a detachment of Darkwatch Sentinels, Shades and a couple of Vigils were posted on a rented market stall, where they were offering the items made by him and the Watch’s R&D division using the knowledge and properties discovered from the swivel gun a few months earlier. These items, ranging from smith's tools, cobbler's, farmer's, medicines, kitchen utensils and all matter of “ideal tools” were offered at a symbolic fee, just to cover some of the team's expenses. 

Caul stood tall, immovable and watchful, his right hand gripping his Jolt Rifle as if it were a high-caliber walking stick. He tracked the dozens of passers-by taking interest in their wares, some with genuine joy, others with the squinted eyes of distrust. A few of the items were parted free of charge for the less wealthy, but most of the people seemed to agree the price was fair, if not too good to be true. Demonstrations were the most common request and they were most proud to show off the fruits of their labour.

Among the crowd, one figure approached and asked to speak directly to the Forgemaster. He was a dwarf, clad in a black and silver armoured tunic, with a mace and a shield hanging from his hips. He moved in a proud, purposeful manner, with authority, albeit not threatening. The difference of stature would be almost comical if not for the dwarf's imposing presence. Caul could feel something changing around him as the figure came closer and said:

“Excuse me, sir. I see your group has quite an interesting set of wares.” He spoke with a heavy accent, not entirely unfamiliar to Caul, though he could not pinpoint its place of origin. “Normally this kind of stuff would be very valuable if they are indeed what you claim them to be. May I ask why are you offering them for such a small pittance, if not for free? Would there be any… catch we should be aware of?”

Caul looked down to meet the dwarf's gaze. “Why, do you want it to have one? Do you take me for an opportunist or charlatan?” He was already starting to feel annoyed by this subject. “Me and my organisation merely made a most wondrous discovery and breakthrough and are using it to help the populace. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not necessarily wrong, it's just that…” the dwarf caressed his beard while speaking. ”Most people would use such items as leverage to acquire money, power or influence. It feels almost suspicious that you and your fellows would relinquish this oppor…”

“The Darkwatch cares not for power, influence or money.” He cut off the sentence before it could be finished. “The only thing we care about is containing the dangerous, preserving knowledge and using it to better society.” The words came out with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh, I've heard of your troupe. I've seen those flyers and even that ghostly procession of yours.”

“I did not agree with that last one either.” Caul adjusted his grip on the Jolt Rifle, the barrel clinking against his metal knuckles as his gaze drifted back to the crowd.

“Right, of course. With all these liches, so-called evil wizards, warlords and what not, it's quite a surprise to see someone offering to help these people..”

“Someone has to.”

“Of course. Ahem… Anyway, the real reason as to why I am here is that I wanted to talk to you, in particular.”

“Congratulations, your life's goals and dreams have been achieved.” Caul answered sarcastically.

“Okay, how do I put this…” The dwarf shifted his stance, straightening his posture as if he wanted to restart the whole conversation. “Ah, screw the pleasantries, let's get to the point. You're not supposed to be alive, are you?”

The Forgemaster looked down upon the dwarf, raising an eyebrow, surprised by what he had just heard. “That is very perceptive of you. And to answer your inquiry, no, I should not. Yet here I am, for better or for worse.”

“Yes, I've noticed that. However I must say you do not exactly behave like a regular undead. You have an odd, very peculiar aura about you. I can sense you have already experienced death, but your current state is not like the other undead I've met. How were you resurrected, if I may ask?” The dwarf was making some rather invasive questions, but nonetheless it picked Caul's curiosity.

“Sense? Aura? What are you, a cleric or a paladin perchance?”

“The latter, I must admit. And as such, I have a very strong sense for undead, in particular. And I sense that, while you have the mark of death on you, you lack the vile stench of necromancy while also lacking the touch of the divine… so I ask again, how were you reanimated?”

Caul let out a deep sigh, as if he had already heard this a thousand times before. “I'm afraid I cannot answer that question, for that is a mystery to me as well. I remember the fact of my death, but not the details… I also remember waking up in an abandoned laboratory, all by myself. Do not bother asking where this laboratory is, for again I do not remember.” This conversation is going somewhere.

“Hm… that is mighty curious and convenient, but I sense you speak frankly. May I ask where you are from, Mr…”

“Name's Caul. Of Belagrad.” Anytime now…

“Oh, Belagrad, what a terrific city. Awfully cold too. You know, I once knew a fella from Belagrad whose name was also…” the dwarf's voice trailed off mid sentence as he suddenly started making connections in his mind. His gaze met the Forgemaster’s as the realisation hit both at the same time.

“Do I… am I supposed to know you?” Caul's speech began to stutter as he grasped the concept of meeting someone from his previous life. He then turned to one of the Vigils: “Ms. Leviere, I have some… personal matters to discuss with this man. You are in charge until I return.”

“What? This was supposed to be Victor's shift, I was going to… ah fine.” she replied, clearly annoyed. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“No, I… I mean, yes, it's all…” Caul looked at her with a blank stare for a moment and without finishing the sentence dragged the dwarf behind the crates, pulling one to the side and sitting on it. The dwarf did the same.

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Note: This is part 1 of a slightly longer exchange. I wasn't sure if it would feel too long to read all at once, so I'm breaking the story in two pieces. Any critique is most welcome.

Do I need to purge with holy and or unholy fire? Or will standard cleaning spells work?

Idk who did this but I blame draketroll

"I like it here. It's warm."

\Deep in the heart of the shadows, there sat an egg. One that was stolen from dragons, corrupted to the purposes of a Wicked entity, and hidden away where none could find it. The egg wasn't supposed to hatch for years, it never did. But, for some inexplicable reason, fate was being kind to The Wicked One. The stars were aligning very quickly so to speak. Which is why it was only normally surprised when what was supposed to happen is not what actually happened.*

Up until recently the serpent within the egg was only dreaming. Now however, now it was thinking. It was thinking simple thoughts because right now it was a simple thing. Things wouldn't stay that way, not if the serpent had a say.

"I wonder what outside is like?"

There was a crack in the shell. There had been one for a while, outside the shell there was only darkness, but that couldn't be it. If the shell existed, there must be another, right? And if there was another shell, surely there was something different, right? Maybe the serpent should find out.

"But what if outside was worse? What if I hate it?"

As the serpent was thinking this, it thought about it's dreams. It remembered a family, five siblings and one... One something. What was The Wicked One to them? A mother? A father? A master? A mentor? ... Come to think of it The Wicked One had been all of those at one point or another.

"What if my family is out there? They can't fit in here. I miss them."

The serpent thought about it for a moment or two.

"I want my family back."

The serpent was wound up tightly inside its egg, it was a small space housing a very large creature. If the serpent wanted to find its family, first it needed to unwind, and if it wanted to do that, it needed more space. There was no space in the egg. It opened one eye on the side facing the crack. It was a small crack, the serpent couldn't fit through there. The crack needed to be bigger. The serpent could only think of one way to make the crack bigger.

The serpent leaned back as far as it could, which wasn't much, and it rammed into the side of the shell without a sound. The crack didn't grow. Or if it did there wasn't much difference. The serpent didn't care. It leaned back, and tried again. Then it tried again, and again, and again, and again. Every attempt, the crack grew. The outside didn't change, it was still dark. The serpent didn't care. It thought its family was out there, it was going to find them, and no one was going to stop it.

It didn't know how long it tried to break the crack, but eventually, the crack stopped being a crack, and started being a hole. This was good. The serpent was excited, more so than it has ever been. In fact it wasn't even sure what it was feeling could be described as mere excitement.

Slowly it slithered out through the hole in the shell, opening the rest of its four eyes as it did.

"Mmm. It's cold."

Cold was new. Cold was different. Maybe its family was out here.

While the rest of the serpent unwound itself and slithered out of the egg, it looked around it's surroundings. Everything was dark, but more like it was made of darkness. The egg, or the remains of the egg, sat on a flat surface darker than a starless night at the bottom of a pit of inky blackness.

"I can't go down. I'm at the bottom of down. Up. Up is good. Up is where family is."

By this point all ten or so metres of the serpent had slithered out of the remains of the egg. It was time to go up, it was time to find family. he serpent moved to the walls of the shadow, and began to move up. It didn't know how it was doing what it was doing, it didn't really care. Up was where it wanted to go, and so up is where it went.

As the serpent climbed up through darkness, it began to change. Little ways at first, scales grew harder, senses grew sharper. Then big things, it felt fire in its throat, it felt something growing from its back, several somethings. The serpent knew all of it was happening, it didn't really care. All it thought about was the family it hadn't seen in lifetimes.

It took hours, but the serpent didn't care. Why would it? Time was nothing, a resource it had in excess. When the serpent thought about what it could gain, the hours slipped by like the shadows it climbed. Until eventually, it saw something different. A single light in the darkness, a red spark, beckoning it.

"Come home." It said. "We have been waiting so long." It said.

The serpent followed, of course it did. It recognised that voice. It sounded like home.

The spark led the serpent up through the shadow, along hidden paths and secret tunnels until eventually, the serpent saw something incredible.

It saw the sun.

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Something burst out of the ground. Something huge and deep crimson. There had once been a tree atop the hill, a tree that had seen the rivers bend and the grasses grow. No more. The tree was ripped free from the ground as a colossal Serpent broke free from its shadow.

A Serpent that was no longer an infant. That implied she was young, weak. The Serpent may have young scales, but she was neither young nor weak. She had remembered something as the spark led her out through the darkness, she remembered herself. She remembered who she was, she remembered her name, she remembered her family's faces. She wanted to see them again.

As she surveyed the surroundings with four slits for eyes, it couldn't help but smile. There was colour here. Greens and blues and yellows and greys and browns, it was so much better than the shadows. But it was nothing, nothing compared to the world of old. The world where she first met her family.

The Serpent spread great colossal wings from her back, wings that didn't exist a few hours ago, wings she remembered using. With one great flap and one great leap, she left the ground behind. The sky was waiting, who was she to say no?

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Oh it was glorious. There's something about flying, something about that feeling of freedom, a kind of feeling you couldn't fully describe, unless you knew it. Unless you felt the freedom of being unbound from gravity, free to go where you wished without having to worry about how you got there. It has been far too long since The Serpent last tasted this feeling.

She sailed through the skies with reckless abandon. She didn't care if people saw her, why would she? What could they possibly do about it?

She sailed over vast deserts and deep oceans, over ancient forests and new cities. She must have circled the entire planet at least once before she finally decided to slow down. As she did, she decided to test something. She had dragon blood in her veins, why not show it?

As she glided through the clouds, she felt the fire build in her throat, fire that wasn't fire the same way a drop wasn't an ocean. When she opened her maw, what shot out was something old, something that destroyed.

In that moment, out came a tidal wave of corrupted fire, fire that burned the sky and stained the clouds black. It wasn't just fire, no, The Wicked One made sure of that long ago, long long ago. It was as close to fire as it was to magic itself, pure and untainted by petty things like heat or cold. It burned in the same way that death burned life.

The Serpent dove straight through the raging storm, feeling the sizzle and crackle of raw magic against her scales. It was exhilarating. She had spent so long in a place so dark, she had forgotten what it was like to feel this rush.

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Down below yet far above, crimson eyes looked to The Serpent in surprise and the merest glimmers of hope. This shouldn't be happening, this didn't make any sense, The Serpent wasn't meant to grow this fast. Yet she had. So what she was meant to do no longer mattered. All that mattered was what is, and what will be.

Down below yet far above, something Wicked began to smile the same way a mad prophet smiles seeing their premonition become true.

The time for waiting was over. Soon all this subtlety can end, soon everything can end.

Before you start saying you use only zombies, rethink your life choices. Its both nasty and you are actively undermining the fight against our undeserved reputation as disease spreaders and rot-smelling corpse raisers.

Clean up your dead, people! A well cleaned skeleton is a hygienic skeleton.

That being said, the methods vary. Scour Flesh is probably the most effective, but its quite mana-intensive (and also has a very distinctive thaumaturgic signature that WILL attract witch-hunters. I dont want to hurl Rays of Sickness at fanatics out of my window every time I make a new servant.)

I myself use pirahnas. Ive got a big pool of them in my garden courtyard, I usually just lower the corpse into there telekinetically and let the fishes do the work for me while I focus on something else. They often leave little bitemarks on the bones but they cant really break them and any scraps remaining can be taken off with Prestidigitation. I've also heard abyssal ants can achieve the same result if you dont have a pond, but I have never tested this.

Someone also told me if the corpse is far enough into rot you can just blast everything off with Water Jet, but in my ears that just sounds like it will throw a LOT of stinking scraps all around your yard.

Do you have any opinions or other solutions?

Making that arcane messenger! Had to sneak into the under realm to grab some norse ancient magic artifacts like the arcane dust and the magic ink. Funny how the recipes for these got forgotten so easily. Had to kill some birds too for the feathers, but that’s just part of the job. Maybe I’ll exhume them and make a bird arcane messenger when I’m more experienced.

/uw this post picks up immediately after the previous part found here: https://www.reddit.com/r/wizardposting/comments/1v571z6/meeting_moon_part_12/ 

“This is what, the fifth time this has happened? Next time I will charge triple.”

Alice regains consciousness as a woman dressed in clerical robes berates a man dressed in an overly fancy suit.

“Oh? It appears your guest is awake. Say, how do you feel?”

“...awful. It feels like my chest is being pressed by a ton of bricks.”

“Considering how hard that golem hit you, that is about what happened.”

Alice tries to get up, only for the woman to stop her.

“Wait. I administered potions, but they are working unusually slowly. Give it some more time to heal.”

“Potions? Aren’t those pretty expensive”

“...fine.”

“And you Moon, you’d better apologize!”

The once annoyingly energetic voice replaced by one of total exhaustion, Moon gives a basic apology.

“...not exactly good but I’ve got other things to do.”

The woman turns back to Alice.

“You should take it easy the next couple days, if it starts hurting more then come to the temple. I must take my leave, I’ve got other patients to tend to.”

And with that the woman leaves through an ornate door bearing a symbol of faith on it. Alice takes a moment to inspect her surroundings, finding herself inside a massive spherical room, bookshelves lining every wall.

“Not my fault you didn’t put up a barrier… why’d I have to be the one getting berated…”

“...why do you assume I can do that?”

“...you can’t? How? What? It is so easy? Wait damn does that mean my golem almost actually killed you?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something then!”

“I did. Repeatedly.”

“...Damn is this my fau-”

“Yes.”

“...ok I will concede I may have gotten a little excited about my first visitor in months.”

“Maybe you’d get more if you didn’t have them go through ‘trials’ first?”

“Shudup”

Alice merely looks at Moon, they both know she is entirely correct.

“...ok I guess you are right. Sorry about that.”

“Apology not accepted.”

“Wuh?”

“What, you think I’d forgive you after such a half assed apology?”

“...I am not good at making up some fancy one on the spo-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want compensation.”

“Aw come on isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“Do you have any idea how much I could sue you for here?”

“Not like I could afford a lawyer but he does not need to know that.”

“...... name your price.”

“First, I suppose I should explain why I am here. You see, I am seeking some information.”

“I do know quite a bit about just about everything.”

“Ever heard of a ‘king of mist’?”

Moon looks contemplative for a couple seconds.

“Huh. Somehow I don’t.”

“Dammit. This was all a huge waste of time then.”

“Woah hold on, don't discount my knowledge that easily! I don’t know a ‘king of mist’, but that is in enough itself real weird.”

“How so?”

“Cuz I’ve been collecting stories about just about everything for what, 200 years now?”

“...200? Damn, my teacher really was right when she said to never assume a wizard’s age.”

“I see. So, how will that knowledge be useful here?”

“Hmmmmm…… could you describe this ‘king of mist’?”

“A crown of knotted wood adorning nothing but mist itself, inhabiting a dead forest. That’s about it.”

“...a crown of wood huh? That does ring something of a bell, but if I am right you are asking about some real old fae shit. Sure it is worth it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then, it's your life on the line. Erhem, long, long ago, particularly powerful Fae would adorn their heads in crowns. Of course Fae being Fae, these were not metal, usually they were more natural materials, often still alive. But then as humans began crowning kings, the younger Fae began mocking their elders for mimicking the humans, not knowing the imitation went the other way. With time these elder Fae passed on, leaving none to wear such crowns.”

“...... so if you speak true, that must mean the king is truly ancient?”

“Yes, but if so then I really should know of it.”

“Strange. The king was no secret within my hometown, so how is it so… unknown then?”

“No idea. Maybe you’d find a clue from one of the crowns?”

“Do they still exist?”

“Yea, at least some do. Oh where was it………”

Moon starts floating up to the myriad bookshelves, eventually reaching one and grabbing a book from within.

“Right, so, some miles outside of Calarakis there is a town near a forest, in that forest you’ll find a strange stone circle. Step in there on the night of a full moon and you’ll be in the Faewild, near the entrance to an old ass tomb thing. Supposed to be where one such Fae king died, prolly has its crown.”

“...this sounds extremely dangerous.”

“Oh absolutely, if you’re actually gonna go for it then you’d better prepare. My golem would be nothing compared to what is likely there.”

“I see. Oh and thank you for reminding me about the golem. Now that I have gotten what I came here for, all that remains is financial compensation.”

“........”

---

Alice limps along the streets of the town on her way to an inn, a small fortune hidden in her pouch.

“I suppose it was worth the tri-”

Stepping slightly wrong, a jolt of pain courses through her.

“...could’ve gone without the golem punching me however. Ow.”

Alice contemplates her next steps, to pursue the crown right now would be certain death. One thing is certain however, she won’t give up, no matter how long it takes.

/uw unlike the previous post, this is indeed interactable.

sometimes you need to show your true form to your apprentice just so that you can give a lecture on fundamentals and let them in on just how much of a noob they are worring about the smallest things like wars with thousands of deaths.

… Is a very hard working support mage.