The Wizard of Chaos | soahC fo draziW ehT

The golden frog glares intently at the Archmagus. *"Ah, pooh, it isn't because you're a frog, Winnie. They scream because you're a slimy, jumpy lump of poison!"

Winnie sulks. A muffled sound escapes the rucksack. "Would you kindly shut up, Christopher? It'll be over soon enough. And Winnie! How bothersome that you would forget to recast silence! Do it now or it's back to the Slime Pits for you!"

Winnie invokes a chantless spell and the room is quiet again. How many times have they done this in the Weird House? Uvlius has stopped keeping track. There will be more, so there is no need to remember. Do you keep track of how many ants you step on?

Archmagus Uvlius was not always so....immoral, but something tainted his soul during a mission in the Dread Tower. Once, he was actually quite squeamish at the sounds and the smells. It started with unintelligible whispers, like a broken wind. Soon enough, he could hear the golden frog, Winnie, clear as the his own mind's voice. No one really knows whether the Wicked twisted him or simply released his true self. His heart filled with madness and his eyes flooded with chaos. It told him to collect their souls.

"Whose?" Silence. "WHOSE?" a-a-a-all of th-th-em. all. of. them. all of them all of them all of them all of them. ALL OF THEM ALL OF THEM!

"As you command." It was simple. He was an Archmagus of the order of the Hall. By light, he was charming and dutiful. In the nights, however, he started small. Rabbits, owls and pigs sizzled in the green glow of his Hobgoblin's Flame. His eyes lingered, staring them in their eyes as they became ash and bone. Donkeys, tigers, imps, goblins and so many others. It was not enough. It was not what needed to be done. Yes, the souls were sent to the otherworld, but we need them in this world. We need them in the Runiverse.

Uvlius kicks the sack of meat called Christopher. It took some effort, drugged alcohol and a spell or two. Even though Winnie's face remains unchanging, you can see the sinister smile flicker in the sacred flame. The Archmagus Uvlius holds the flame and in a lifeless voice says, "No hard feelings, yeah? You will be reborn. You will serve."

As the flame flashes wildly, the skin melts away. The screams are silent. It does not turn to ashes. It becomes something else, a creature staring back with endless, hollow eyes. "I am the Wicked. You are the Wicked."

"We are the Wicked."

Entered by: 0xCa4C…c182 and preserved on chain (see transaction)