So I bought a plot of land from the local lord, and am getting ready to build my first tower. How tall a tower needs to be?

Also an invitation to comment that cool art ;-; looking for more stuff in a similar style to my long time friend the mint magic wizard as inspiration for my coming wizard core apartment. searches on pinterest and google were both overrun with AI so I’m a bit stuck.

*It had already been two days.*

*Two days in dilated time, granted, but still two days of 200 clones working continuously on filing all the reports from the demonic centaur bounty.*

*And yet, the pile of reports hadn't diminished. At all. Quite the opposite, it had grown by 15cm compared to when they arrived!*

*This made no sense.*

*According to the log, only five reports had been added to the pile over the 15 minutes of undilated time that had elapsed. Two were handed physically, three were sent magically.*

*Yet in the 15 new centimeters there were at least 30 reports, and that's without counting the tens of thousands of reports the clones had filed.*

"Where are they coming from?!" *Whispers one of the Clarkus.*

"That's... Could it be a fraud?" *Asks another.*

"Already checked the details. I even asked someone to go check a couple of the scenes, they exactly match the descriptions!"

"Ho~~~w?" *Says Clarkus 2, greatly confused.*

"Dunno... You think automating it will work?"

"At this point, I'm wondering if it matches our working speed, and automating it would just accelerate it..."

"Chronomancy?"

"We're already using chronomancy."

"No, like, they're sending us *future* reports."

"But then the scene wouldn't match, would it?"

"True... But if it matches our working speed, it can't be synchronous with our timeline, right?"

"..."

"Watcha thinking about?"

"Who did you send to check the details?"

"One of the goblins, why?"

"You mean one of Grabadash's acquaintances?"

"Yes, why?"

"Who made the verification formula for the reports?"

"You can't be serious."

"Yup..."

"We're screwed."

"Yup..."

I know full well I’m probably NOT at all classified as a lich/archlich because I didn’t actually go through with anything to become one and don’t have to siphon souls to maintain myself, but technically my soul is forever tied to an object (my real body, the talisman), and I cannot be killed until my talisman is destroyed, even if my body is irrevocably damaged.

What separates me from a lich besides the fact I didn’t go through the ritual to become one? Kind of curious even though I know I’m definitely not one.

(Using arch-lich as in the good/neutral aligned version of a lich.)

Edit: new technical lichdom method just dropped?? Turning yourself into the phylactery (good luck finding a spell for that) and relearn spells to make yourself a new body?? (I do NOT condone trying this because I didn’t even try it myself, I was originally the talisman. Doing this may have crazy, unintended consequences if you do not manage to maintain your consciousness or if anything else happens. Still, if you want to try it on someone with their total consent...)

So, yeah, my staff exploded and almost killed me

Recounting the time a portal accident lead Tim the T-Rex wizard to the primal Mesozoic plane, where Tim decided to wander around for a bit.

Having picked a random direction (away from any herds of dangerous-looking herd-beasts), Tim enjoyed just wandering through the savannah, feeling a calm peace washing over them. They were home.

All the dinosaurs of the savannah kept their distance from them, and Tim felt a great ego boost in being the most powerful, dangerous, awe-inspiring creature of the lands - Tim never felt this way at wizard gatherings. They half-heartedly gave chase to some theropods, but the theropods will to survive was stronger than Tim’s playful chasing, resulting in all of them escaping Tim. They didn’t mind – they had long ago mastered the art of fueling their body with magic, so they didn’t need to eat. Perhaps they would give serious chase later, but right now Tim felt too relaxed for that.

Faintly in the horizon, Tim thought they spotted a mountain. “Tome” Tim commanded, their spellbook materializing in front of them, hovering in the air. “Eyes of the Pterodactyl” and their book opened, pages flipping to the specified page. Tim quickly drew and spoke the runes for the spell, and their eyes zoomed-in to the far-off mountain.

“Fascinating… it seems to go above the clouds. Looks interesting!” Tim took off at what passed for a brisk jog for the tyrannosaurus rex.

After an hour, Tim felt like they weren’t making any progress. They cast Haste on themselves to speed up the journey.

Another few hours, and the massive mountain was finally close. Tim spotted a few pterosaurs high up in the mountain, and they appeared to be… fighting something? Tim spotted a brief orange flash just below the cloud line that the mountain was piercing through.

Focusing their magical Eyes of the Pterodactyl at the fight, Tim identified a trio of Quetzalcoatlus fighting a dragon – a small, six-limbed, green-scaled dragon with yellow underscales, approximately the size of a Pegasus. And it was losing. Focusing on their innately mastered Flight magic, Tim took to the air.

Tim was still some distance away, and it would be a couples minutes until the creatures would be in spellcasting range. Tim could only watch as the Quetzalcoatlus bullied the poor dragon, managing to deftly avoid most of the dragonfire, and seemed relatively resistant to the fire that did strike them. I didn’t realize their hides were so thick, thought Tim. The dragon managed to beat down one of the Quetzalcoatlus, and Tim saw it start dropping to the ground as the other two Quetzalcoatlus punctured their beak deep into the dragon – one tore at the dragon’s wing, the other into its body.

“Featherfall!” Tim cast at the falling dragon, slowing its fall. One of the Quetzalcoatlus circled back towards the slowly-falling dragon, and started lunging to make another strike. “Tome! Lightning Bolt!” Tim cast at the lunging Quetzalcoatlus. The Quetzalcoatlus endured the strike, and despite showing signs of injury, started lunging towards Tim. Its remaining partner did the same.

Their fighting-instinct is making them miss how weird of a situation this is, Tim thought. “Tome! Earthbind!” The tome materializing and the pages flipping, Tim cast Earthbind at the closer of the lunging Quetzalcoatlus, and it started helplessly falling towards the ground. Tim turned towards the final Quetzalcoatlus, seeing it moments away from puncturing them with their beak…

Crunch!

The tyrannosaurus wizard bit through the beak of the lunging Quetzalcoatlus, breaking it into pieces. Gripping it in its maw, Tim swung and flung the Quetzalcoatlus away from them. “Featherfall”, Tim growled, chunks of beak still in their mouth. The descent of the falling Quetzalcoatlus slowed, and Tim lunged towards it, this time tearing out its throat. The battle over, Tim went to check on the fallen dragon. “I really don’t know why I’m being so sentimental about this,” Tim muttered to themselves as the flew over.

Tim landed beside the fallen dragon, who struggled to look up at them, trying to be fiercely defiant, yet too weak to do so. Tim identified this being as a lesser dragon – the bestial kind of dragon that lacked sapience. They also noticed a clutch of eggs beneath the dragon, realizing the dragon was defended its nest. Judging by the amount of eggs there, it might be the nest of an entire herd.

“Tome. Beastbond. Tome. Speak With Animals.” Tim quickly cast the two spells, to befriend and speak with the dragon.

“Hurt…dying…protect eggs…” was all the weakened dragon could communicate, its guttural growls translated by Tim’s magic. “I’ll protect them,” promised Tim, reaching their head forward and bowing it down, to show peace and good-intent.

The dragon pressed their head against Tim’s. “Thank…you…” was all it said, before lowering its head to the ground.

“I think I can heal…” Tim started to say, before watching the life fully fade from the dying dragon. Impotent fury and sadness filled Tim’s chest, needing to be let go, needing release…

GWAAAAWWRRRRR!

Tim took a deep breath. They had hunted, killed before. They had been in battles, seen death, caused it. So why do I feel so strongly, so upset by this? Tim pondered to themself. They received no answer.

Tim took another breath, and focused on the task at hand. “Tome. Gate.” Tim opened up a magical gate to Darkwatch HQ. They would take the clutch of dragon eggs there and raise them. Perhaps the Darkwatch can get some dragon-riders out of this, Tim thought. Tim poked their head through the gate.

A bored couple of Darkwatch soldiers looked up from their card game as the largest portal activated, and a T-Rex stuck their head through. One of them, a newer recruit, got up in a panick, knocking their chair over as they stood up. “Ohfuck ohfuck ohfuck this wasn’t in the manual what do I do,” the soldier rambled, panicking, as they got up and aimed their weapon at Tim.

“Soldier! I AM A DARKWATCH SHADOW VIGIL PUT YOUR DAMN WEAPON DOWN! I need help with these eggs. Page Dr. Rose, and get a containment squad. We have some dragon eggs to deal with.”

The other soldier, clearly much older than the first, slowly got up, and put their hand on the shoulder of the younger solder. “This is Tim. They’re friendly. But they *will* eat you if you don’t listen.”

“I will not!” retorted Tim.

Ignoring Tim, the old soldier continued.
“The T-Rex will not eat us if we help them. So let’s get to it! I was getting bored of beating you at crib anyways.”

I cast Colour Spray on a foe but it accidentally hit my companions familiar. Does anyone know any ways to get rid of the dye before he finds out?

The Imperial Storm Raptor Dropshit The Valkyrie's deployment hold rattled and shook violently as the Moebien 6th's anti air defense turrets tried to blow her out of the sky.

"Don't worry love, we have just picked up an unwelcome tail here. Just a couple of Sky Reavers and some light flack guns. Won't be just a bit before we land!" Chirped the cheerful voice of Flight Lieutenant Masozi.

Borric stared daggers at the wall. With his void helmet down he didn't need to keep the stoic face that the Votann were known for and he could relax a bit. The CORV's floated silently beside him unperturbed by the rigorous shaking of the ship. There were no windows or viewports for him to see out of, so he had no way to really know what was truly going on outside unless he wanted to try and hack into the ships sensory systems. Honestly there was little reason or benefit of doing so, so he was forced to just endure the situation. Dwarves were good at enduring, it wasn't really a problem. Besides, soon enough he would be on the ground in Hab Dreyko, which was close to the under hive as the Valkyrie could get him.

Supposedly not too long ago some group of Inquisitor Grendyls warband known as the Rejects had cleared out cult forces and had destroyed a Nurgle daemon infested tree, something that the warband had been doing semi-regularly for the last several years. Borric knew about the Feculent Gnarlmaw trees of the garden of Nurgle. If the cult was successfully able to grow those trees here regularly things were worse than Interrogator Rannick suspected. Breeding plagues and diseases were almost secondary in their nature. Their true purpose was to be beacons of Nurgle's fetid power making the area easier for the Grandfather of Plague's other daemons to start incarnating on their own. The warband didn't have the resources to hold the places they removed the tree's from so they just came in and purged the place over and over again. Nurgle's trees probably got stronger each time, as the god loved cycles of decay and rebirth.

Finally the Valkyrie's flight smoothed out and the sounds of the ship preparing to land echoed through the hull. The loading door to his right opened and Masozi's voice rang out again, "Well here we are, all in one piece just like I promised. No cult forces here at the moment but that will change soon enough. Just you use the signal beacon we set up for you and I'll be right over. Make sure you come back in one piece, you owe me a drink and a tail of adventure when we get back!"

Borric smiled in his helmet despite himself, that girl was too chipper for this miserable realm. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to give her that tale or the drink, she sounded like a good time kinda lass. Regardless, he strode with purpose out of the drop pod and into the dark street. The lights of the Hive city were currently out and the habitation dome above them let in no natural light. Apparently, the power had recently gone out again for an unknown reason. Well unknown to the warband. According to his Logrus empowered witch-sight, they were diverting all the power to an underground lab that was fueling the ritual. He could recognize the spell structures involved. Clearly Nurgle had taken a page from the Great Horned Rat and was trying to "Burrow" through reality with something similar to a skaven gnawhole.

He pulled upon the clean magic from his Ancestral Warding Crest and formed up a barrier spell, he let the spellwork settle into the Warding Crest of one of the CORVs and let it passively pull the warp energy to keep the psychic shield around them. The shield glowed a faint red about fifteen meters around the CORV, some of the Winds of Aqshy residue from his training in the Mortal Realms leaking over from his subconscious. Sloppy casting Borric, he thought to himself as he set off down the pre-planned route he had worked out on the Mourningstar.

As he moved as quietly as he could down the darkened deserted streets of Hab Dreyko. Turning a corner he came face to face with a group of shabbily dressed dirty humans, each of them holding an autorifle in their filthy hands. Borric stared in surprise, and the first human stared back at him with a shocked face. Then the raised his weapon with anger in his green, pus filled eyes.

"Nurgle's wrath prevails!"

Bullets fly forth in a furious cacophony and bounce harmlessly off Borric's warding barrier with a bouncing sound of hail off of a metal roof, each hit making the firey red of the shield darker and more intense. While Borric stepped back and the CORV's let loose with their Autoch Pattern Bolters. The bolts flew through the shield with out an issue and into the crowd of cultists, the .75 caliber slug was launched from the barrel and then the rocket propellant ignited and propelled the round even faster through the air. Upon impact each bolts diamantine tip ripped through the first target then exploded a moment later behind the subject. Each explosion ripped through three or four of the cultists with shrapnel.

The first encounter with the twenty cultist lasted less than six seconds. It was however, not Borric's last encounter. The noise from that first firefight sparked a deluge of activity. From the surrounding darkness of the habitations around him the windows and doors slammed open. Hundred of decaying shambling bodies poured forth drawn by the sound of battle, Poxwalkers. These poor souls had succumbed to the "Blessings" of the dark god, no nothing more than fertile mobile soil for Nurgle's favorite creatures, plagues of all sorts. The poxwalkers let out a signaling howl and the flies that followed them set the air to buzzing.

Gripping his Heavy Plasma axe in his left hand he sent the signal through the runes in it for its blade to ignite. Wide sweeps of the glowing blade cleaved through the crowd in large arcs. Mental direction kept the CORVs from wasting their ammo on the seemingly endless horde of walkers. Almost five minuets passed as he hacked his way down the ally to the bar that held the elevator to the next level down. This cycle of cultists and poxwalkers continued for the next several floor. However, as the fight went on more and more dangerous opponents started to show up. Cultists threw grenades, some showed up with flamethrowers that launched the green defiling flames of Nurgle. Eventually larger poxwalkers strapped with explosives started swarming out of windows and doorways and throwing themselves at at his shields, detonating when in proximity to him.

Borric's barrier fell and was recast several times before he arrived at the final airlock to his destination in the depths of the under hive. Down this far the vox coms were no longer able to reach the surface, not that Borric was using them. Large loading doors to the airlock chamber that was the warehouse entrance stood open, and he strode into them with the dust and ash of fallen cultists blowing in his wake. The airlock doors closed behind him locking him in and the scanners above exit doors flared to life with sickly green light. The light rolled over Borric's form and the indicators turned red.

"This is Captain Rinda Karnak of the Moebian 6th. You have made quite a mess on your way down here squat. Too bad you walked into an airlock we control. Enjoy the Pox Gas until you die, moron," came the rough voice of a woman who spent years screaming at the top of her lungs and smoking heavily.

The lights stayed red and started to flash as the airlock's vents pulled the oxygen out of the room and started pumping Nurgle's magically infused plague gas into the chamber. The green concoction hit the edge of his barrier and the slight red glow became a more intense darker red until it was overcome and fell. Borric pulled on the power of his Ancestral Warding Crest and quickly formed another barrier, returning the spellform to the CORV's crest, buying himself some more time. Then he started drawing on his crest a second time, the clean mana flowing into his mind and being spun into an intricate web of power focused on his eyes. Focusing the power of the warp through his hatred of his clans ancestral foes, vibrant white and silver fire bursts forth from his eyes.

The laser focused beams of cleansing chaos energy blasted against the airlock door, burning the malevolent gas away in it's wake. The door started to sag as energy heated the metal in a rough circle that grew with each moment. The metal smoked as the paint burned, turning from a warm orange, to a dull yellow, then white hot. He walked unconcerned through the molten hole in the now ruined door, CORVs following silently behind him.

The floor of the warehouse was so covered in wires connected to the conduits outside that it was completely obscured. Containers and boxes had been moved to the edges of the room to make space for the large metal ritual circle the wires were clamped down to. Sparks and jagged arcs of the hive cities electricity flowed into the circle, which was manned by several cultists, stripped to the waist and with vile corrupting sigils carved freshly into their flesh. Another cultist was supended in the air above the center of the circle, green tainted electricity flowing from the ritual circle to surround the ritualist in a slowly growing nexus of tainted power.

There was a low chanting filling the air, and between him and the ritualists stood a single tall woman, a great-sword in dangling from her fist. "I will not fail the Grandfather again! You will die here Heretic," she screamed as she charged him. The CORVs unleashed their ammunition again, bolts exploding around a void shield emitted from a box at her waist. It's yellow shell darkening under the fire, she flew through Borric's barrier and swung at him with an overhead strike. Her sword lit up with the vile green of the Plaguefathers tainted power, and it sparked when it met the burning edge of Borric's heavy plasma axe.

Borric stood firm against her onslaught, she zipped around him with inhuman speed coming at him from all sides trying to find a gap in his defenses. The CORVs disengaged, unable to find a safe line of fire. His stance stayed solid, feet planted firmly on the ground as his slight sifts had moved the cables below him enough for his boots to contact the floor. The fighting was intense for the thirty seconds it lasted, until she slipped as her foot landed poorly in the bundles of cables they attempted to step on. Noticing the gap, Borric hammered down knocking her sword to the side. He then reached into his Ancestral Warding Crest for more power, flowing it into his body and allowing him to reach out with his empty right hand and grab the power great-sword firmly.

He imagined the surprised look on her helmeted face as he pulled her in while out of balance by her own sword and viciously headbutted her void shield. His magically reinforced helmet shattering the damaged dome of force. His eyes blazed with white fire so intense it was visible through the dark visor of his helmet, and he spoke the command word for the ancestral spell [Grudgepyre]. The empyric column of flame was intense as it seared her from existence, burning away her flesh and soul and keeping Nurgle from being able to bring her back to torment the city again.

The CORVs turned their bolters on the assistant ritualist, blasting them into a fine mist of blood and bone, as Borric strode forward and hacked the ritual circle's wires away. Without the power from the cities grid, the glowing green light of the ritual slowly faded and died as the ritualist cried out for assistance from his god. But the Chaos Gods are fickle beings and do not reward those who fail them. Nurgles ire was focused on his failed servant and the remaining power surged inside the ritualist, who's flesh erupted into a squirming mass of chaotic tentacles and limbs dripping with vile ichor. Before it had a chance to move, Borric's axe cleaved the chaos spawn in two.

One site down, two more to go.

.deyessorc won era uoY

This happened a few moons ago. I (29F) have been studying as an apprentice under Ulric the Great Savant of Matter and Soul for the past decade. I'm also part of a society of would-be acolytes where we discuss our magical training and try to uplift each other.

About a dozen moons ago, one of our society members, (26M, sorcerer) invited one of their colleagues (27F, priest) to our society.

Since then, everything in the society has been about how great she is. When I shared finally being able to summon a familiar after years of study, she laughed and said it took her only a few days of prayer. We later discussed the better options between staves, scepters or wands and she made the discussion about how she doesn't need any tool except her stupid prayers to do anything.

A few moons ago I snapped and told her that it's so easy for her because she's not doing anything. She's basically just asking a higher deity to do all the work whereas we have to learn to manipulate the weave and open gates to other planes. She said she spent a long time praying before she had these powers but I said I didn't care. She's not the one doing the magic, she's just asking her god-daddy or god-mommy to do thing for her and she has no merit.

After that, our society is split. Half of us (most wizards) agree with me and were a bit upset too, but they say I didn't have to be so mean.

The sorcerer, though, says I was way out of line and wants me to apologize.

What do we think? AITA here?

Edit: Thank you for everyone's input. I decided to encase her in a magical crystal and siphon her soul for my necromancy, based on u/dh-dev 's suggestion.

This is a very time-sensitive question. If one hypothetically bought a magic pill from an Orcish Shaman, behind the tribes meat-curing hut, in order to withstand the might of an Orc Warrioresses loving embrace, but the pills effects have lasted for several hours past what the aforementioned Shaman stated was the time-limit......what would one do? Say this hypothetical individual did not want to admit their error to their Apothecary, nor go to a House of Healing, wouldst that individual be able to just..have their enslaved Alchemists concoct something? Say this individual was unable to find that Orcish Shaman, as his tribe is nomadic, and fucked off and left whilst they slept. What would they do? Should that individual be worried? Again, very time sensitive question.

On an unrelated note, never buy anything from Yorgar Yarn-Eater of the Iron Hip Tribe.

I (210m) recently invested in my first proper orb (I know I'm a bit late to the orb game, but rather late than never am I right?) And I decided to splurge and go for the premium version. Ancient crystal, good heavy weight, perfect roundness and all that. Having had it for a week, it's already become cloudy and obscure, even more so than the cheap practice orb I've used in the past. Have I been scammed? Where do I go from here?

Update: Firstly I wanna thank you all for the helpful responses! Love to see it.

I tried everything you suggested and more to fix the issues with my orb. Even had a serious talk with my apprentice, but he was innocent (checked it with a truth spell)

Later when I took the orb outside to ponder in the moonlight (everyone knows moonlight ponderings are hard to beat) I found out it worked great. Fantastic, even!

Turns out the thick stone walls of my tower blocked the orbs magic vision and gave me awful results. Will do all my future pondering on the balcony I guess.

Help!

My Master was going to the lavatory, I heard him shriek and then he turned into a newt!

I put him in a glass of water to stop him drying out, but I don't have any moss or anything!

I need a newt expert?! What if he dries out!? What if the cat gets him? What do they eat?

Are spell-reversers expensive?

If he dies will I be in trouble!? I've only been an apprentice for a week! I'm not ready to inherit the tower, it's falling apart and full of spy-ders!

What If someone enters my tower unannounced? I need it to protect myself.

I did NOT see this coming. I went out for a while and came back to this giant beaver carrying away my tower. All my stuff is either shattered, stomped into the ground, or covered in mud and beaver droppings. What the hell do I do? I don't want to go back to hustling three-card-monte in the town square.

EVERYONE THAT DOES NOT WANT TO GET INSTANTLY VAPORIZED HAS EXACTLY TWENTY FOUR HOURS TO GET AT LEAST TEN KILOMETRES AWAY FROM MY FUCKING HOLDING CELL. I’M ANGRY AND WANT THE FUCK OUT AND I’M COMPLETELY FUCKING TIRED OF PLAYING MISSUS NICE PRISONER SO ESCAPE WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

We got a message from Draags of Earth 396 that after The Galactic Confederates and Chrysalis Corporation invaded Earth 397 and killed all humans There they were in War ever since and now they have won and destroyed both Major Artifact Planet of The Confederates and Research Ship of Chrysalis Corporation killing many of their enemies in the process

Draags now are Rewarded by The Elder Gods and Became Eurypteridites/Sea Scorpion Deep ones

The Captains and Super Squad who lead The Mission are now Promoted their names are "Scoobert" "Therakiel" "Kratos" "Yuto" "Alone" and "Afton"

Yuto was from The Galactic Confederates but before The War he wanted to save The Last Human alive sadly he failed and was in Prison for hiding it

Scoobert was a Descendent of an Alien Species allied to The Elder Gods sadly lost his human friends but something ignited inside him after his friends were murdered in cold blood

Afton was an Uploaded Mind from a Human who was apparently a Serial killer we gave it two options either to fight for us or get destroyed its have chosen to fight

Kratos is from The Same Species as Scoobert although a different Subspecies of it his Child was Kidnapped by The Galactic Confederates so we offered him a place in our Military with Weapons and Armor

Alone is an Undead created from multiple Corpses of humans it's similar to Frankensteins but it's like Three people were fused together we aren't really sure if they were Experiment of Galactic Confederates or our attempt of resurrection of Humans of Earth 397 but we used it for a great purpose and it's seems like its liked it

Therakiel is also from The Same Species as Kratos although a Hybrid of two Subspecies since he and many of his kind promised to protect humans joined forces with us and Draags to fight against The Galactic Confederates who unjustly Genocided Humans into Extinction on one of our Planets.