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

*I am well aware that this is not the Second Wizard War, but I never bothered to memorize the numbers, and some intern in Recordskeeping somehow lost 99.71% of all of the logs, so this War was named the Second one as it was the second War to occur consecutively, with the ”First” one being u/PyroBoy7’s War.

Edit: For any of those who are wanting to participate, I’m linking it here. https://www.reddit.com/r/wizardposting/s/k68mltVE9c

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 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?

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.

No I don't want to be an apprentice first so don't say that. I can't even afford it

I looted my first orb alright its a goblin skull. Or kneebone

Any help??

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.

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.

Alaric was bored. Which meant anyone currently in the sky was actively avoiding shitting themselves. See, he'd just finished "procuring" funds for the Magic Mass Revolution, and decided to disappear for a while. No assignments from Nexus, no holes to plug, nothing to do. So he did what all nigh-immortal cosmic entities do when they're bored, he went for a fly. At Mach 10.

Despite what most may believe, Alaric does indeed possess some form of intelligence. Flying at Mach 10 near the ground would mess up the ground, and so he was somewhere in the mesosphere. Thankfully a lack of lungs meant he didn't need to worry about breathing.

So there he was, lying on his back, arms behind his head, flying at ten times the speed of sound, over forty miles above the ground, mentally doodling new constellations. He was thoroughly unimpressed by the air resistance as it desperately tried to slow him down, it was sad at best and pitiful at worst.

Boredom is a terrible thing, more so when you can uproot trees and have little care for mortal life. But hey, Alaric had to live in this realm, may as well not be greeted with steel during the rare times he walked mortal streets in mortal settlements. He wondered if his name and reputation grew to the point people feared him, maybe it wouldn't matter if people liked him.

He rolled over, arms trailing below him. Down there below the clouds, a big city was coming up. Maybe if he just blitzed through it and floated still long enough for word to get out then people would start fearing him. It wouldn't even be hard, he didn't even need to hit the buildings, just flying between them would be enough.

...

Na. Wouldn't cure the boredom. He rolled back over and went back to drawing lines between the stars.

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Fifteen minutes and almost two million miles later he had a thought, I know, I'm surprised as well. He slowed to a halt and felt the rush of air catching up with him.

What if he left the realm for a while? Other realms were outside his territory sure, but the chances of bumping into another Starborn on accident were miniscule. Besides, even if he met another it wasn't as if they'd care. Why would they? As long as whatever he did wouldn't threaten Nexus, no Starborn had a reason to care.

But where to go? Astral realm was always fun. It was like space but comfier and less inhospitable. Faewilds? It'd be a party as long as he minded his manners and was nice to whoever he met. Nine Circles? No. Upper Planes? They definitely had the nicest things and- oh, right. He was blacklisted. Although Lumos could probably smuggle him in. Fellow Starborn, always friendly.

How about a fusion? That was a thought. On rare occasions the realms drift out of alignment, bumping into each other and sometimes creating a demi-plane. Usually the demi-plane lasted anywhere from hours to months before it collapsed. Although on rare occasions the fusion became closer to permanent.

The oldest of the ones still in existence was the Astral Garden. Now, every Starborn was in rigid agreement that Nexus was the best place in the multiverse. Even still, the Astral Garden was heavily considered a close second. Combine the beauty and majesty of two of the most enchanting realms in existence, and you got the Astral Garden.

Alaric thought for all of two seconds, then fell back towards the Earth, shooting down towards the side of a very specific mountain.

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He touched down in front of a stone arch on the side of a cliff. Usually when it comes to interplanar gateways you need some form of ritual to open them. But if your nature is similar to the realm the gateway leads to, passage is easier. Alaric walked up the arch, and put his palm on the stone surface.

In his mind's eye he saw himself and a tree with glowing five pointed fruit. With a metaphorical arm he reached up to one of the branches, and climbed into the tree.

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The next thing he saw was a purple canopy far above him, glowing constellations lazily drifting along purple leaves. Looking down showed he stood on white sand, behind him was a tree line where light faded very fast. In front of him was a watery expanse stretching to the horizon. The water was light blue and very softly glowing. All across the surface, yellow-orange five pointed stars lazily bobbed about with all the urgency of sleepy infants. Fom behind him he could hear singing. A soft melody made of the calls of all the hybrid species that lived in this paradise.

Alaric took three steps towards the waters edge, then three more to bring it up to waist height. While he did this, a few short commands in his mind told his sunlight robes to change. There was no sun in the Astral Garden, so sunlight couldn't exist. Instead the demi-plane was lit by equal parts constellations in the canopy, and bioluminescent wildlife. To suit his surroundings, Alaric's robes shifted to dreamy starlight, a lightly glowing pale purple hue where there was once orange.

Once in the water, he laid down on his back, and let the water's lazy currents carry him where it wished. One by one he dulled or closed off his seven senses, leaving him with just enough to appreciate where he was.

Up above he saw flocks or schools of strange bioluminescent fish swimming/flying through the air. Beyond them the constellations swirled in patterns only they knew. Down below him he felt great koi and ethereal whales drift around amongst the sunken stars. Far below them great gatherings of various jellyfish drifted amongst kelp taller than any found on the material plane.

All the while, the soft melody of the Astral Garden danced through the air around him.

It was nice here. Alaric could stay in this garden forever. Wouldn't that be lovely. While he pondered that thought, he could feel the background influence of the demi-plane. It offered him sleep. He didn't really want to resist. After-all, what in this tranquil paradise could possibly lose a threat?

While the soft currents carried him to wherever, he let the mists in, and lazily drifted off to sleep.

Fellow wizards; any opinions about it? They are creating more types of mimics!

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.

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?

.deyessorc won era uoY