The Mathars of Algebron

The Mathars of Algebron, as you all know, are a strangely clandestine group despite being consistently in the public, great and all seeing, eye. Their exploits among the kingdoms of Geometril are well documented, but not much is known about their day to day lives. Years ago I was given the opportunity to ride along with the Mathars on one of their Ignoremi; a crusade against the peoples of the Southern Realms.

Upon arriving at the Mathar encampment — which they refer to as an encompfrence — I was greeted by Cir Lonj, a beknighted of Algebron. The ceremonial Mathar greeting involves bowing at an exact seventy-three degree angle; this feat doubles as the first of thirty-three initiation tests of the sect. Cir Lonj introduced me to the other Mathars who would be accompanying us on our Ignoremi: Cir Mathias, Cir Radium and Cir Varriabel, all apointed directly my King Pythagoras. Just as introductions had concluded three short blasts from a horn drew the attention of the warriors.

“To arms, brothers!”, Cir Lonj rang out the call.

As part of each Mathars training they befriend a winged Duocorn. These beasts begin life as common Unicorn but through the close bonds they form with their Mathar partner grow a second horn and that represents friendship and solidarity. The second horn of a Duocorn is used for some powerful multiplicative invocations and are sought after by some darker wizards in their pursuit of the True-Mirror spell. Wings complete the transformation of the Unicorn into Duocorn through a ritual where feathers from the crowns of Hippocon, large birds of prey from the Cumfrence Mountains. Duocorn are modest beasts considering their pedigree.

The call rang out and the knights mounted. I followed along, using a simple flight spell, as I am not a Mathar and do not possess a Duocorn. Our target was the a small town just inside the influence of the Southern Realms. The Southern Realms are well known for their resistance to the Algebron empire, some observers have said the Southern Realms would be well served to accept Algebron dominance, others are not so sure. The simple fact at the moment was that our Ignoremi had begun and I was watching with wide eyes.

Each book fell with a solid thud and created a square crater where it landed. Some of the huts the Realmers called homes were hit by the tomes and straw and clay exploded upward into the paths of the swooping troopers. Citizenry went running and screaming through the dirt roads of the town; a few of them stopped and looked down at the books laying in the craters, flipping open their covers and leafing through the pages as if none of the surrounding chaos was present.

As the last tome fell, the din calmed. The villagers who had taken up looking at the books began to pick them up and try to show them to their fellow Realmers. Many ignored them, some scowled or belittled them. Whatever the outcome of these events, the Mathars did not tarry to discover it. The Ignoremi was complete, the Mathars had delivered their payload of precisely eighty-six Books of Algebron. As they set course for their Kingdom they waved me off, as the post Ignoremi rituals are not for oursiders eyes.

The appearance of the Mathars is proud and noble, but are their methods sound? Does the battle between the Southern Realms and Algebron need such specialized forces of math destruction? This wizard makes no such judgment, but he does appreciate a good pie.


The Dangers of Brainstorming

In light of recent events I feel it necessary to remind all of my dearly enrobed of the inherent dangers in one of our most beloved activities: brainstorming.

One may think, but what could the dangers be? One has already committed one’s first folly! You see, brainstorming has the unfortunate side effect of cranial whirlwinds and cerebral lightning, both potentially fatal if not of the cerebrometeomancer caste.

An aside: if you do hail from the cerebrometeomancer caste, please refrain from sending a neurobolt my way, it will be met with a swift and decisive trap spell. Activating it will cause severe and permanent yugitis. During the last El Nina I found your attempts at sabotaging my library quaint at best and I now know better.

Brainstorming was once thought to be a harmless, even fruitful, pastime. Recent studies have shown that extended, serial brainstorming can lead to runic nerve damage, a leading factor in magi dementia. If you do plan to brainstorm, use protection. Wandellas and cortex galoshes are available and any Planned Planning and Plotting facility should you require ways to safely wade into the waters of occipital precipitation. Under no circumstances should an inexperienced wizard attempt to harness an internal gorenado.

As a personal appeal, I will tell you of the time I brainstormed my way straight to the gates of Vortress Thinkolossus. You may know this name from such fictional literature as The Lion, the Wardrobe and the Jellymancer. I assure you it is not fictional. Thinkolossus is very real in your mind and its walls tower high above your thoughts, just out of reach of cognition. Upon its steps my mind moiled and splintered against the unknowable cloisters. Sweeping winds of unthinkable things burst through each plate of my skull and arcs of electricity sprung between my ideas scorching the memories in the folds of my grey matter permanently. Then I forgot everything. I forgot this, and I forgot what I was going to say and I forgot what brought me to the place where I didn’t know where I was.

When I came to from the Vortress I remembered that I’d forgotten to let the cat back in which is what I had been brainstorming about to begin with. However, I had also forgotten my name.

Remember, only you can prevent nerve damage, wear your safety hat and don’t leave your glasses on when using laser vision.

Witch one is Which? Or, Wizarding Discrimination

Why does this tome use exclusively the descriptor of wizard for all magic wielding individuals? Why not the noun associated more closely with females, witch? Because they are entirely different things.

Witches can conjure magics of assorted variety — lemon lime, grapple and strawberry, of note — however, their expertise and training is nothing compared to that of a true wizard. In the wild, a witch is just a nasty old crone who hates kids so much her hatred manifests as arcane power. This, in turn, makes her officially a transitive wizard, but a layman may classify her as any number of spells casting fiend including: warlock, mage, magician, witch, wizwife or pinchomancer. These are all outdated terms used exclusively by the illiterati.

Indeed many prominent female wizards have made their mark on history and are easily included under the umbrella of wizardom. Famous illusionist Amelia Earhart is well-known for her feats of pastriomancy, including her most infamous spell over the Bermuda Triangle which involved no less than fifteen mold spells cast simultaneously. Trust me when I say the fungus was enormous.

The oft-referenced geomancer Harriet Tubman carved the Underground Railroad herself, without the aid of modern spell foci.

Even the Wretched Harmony would be considered a wizard by all modern standards, and not a witch as some slanderous individuals may have you believe.

No, this tome does not discriminate when using the term “wizard”, and only those shortsighted enough (like long-sighted visiomancers or blind chatterhordes) would believe otherwise.

Join me next time when I delve into the secrets of the jellymancer!

Wizard Attrition

There are many advocate groups who take on the important task of repairing the mortals who lives are directly affect, usually adversely, by wizard duels. Errant spells and reflected fireballs have taken many a life from innocent bystanders who are unlucky enough to be within casting distance of a wizard duel. Wizard duels can spring up out of the blue, even when there are seemingly no wizards about, you and I know that’s because wizards can go invisible, but pedestrians on the roadway of ice slicks and flame walls aren’t as aware. The support groups are there for the individuals who have lost love ones or homes to wizard collateral damage. Although wizards are not, and should not be, held accountable for their wizarding ways, some think they should be. Anti-wizard lobbies work as we speak to regulate the wizard arsenal, looking to ban such spells as perma-polymorph, freezey pop ray, lightningstorm hellfire, insides-out and even fireball.

Although it’s unfortunate that some mortals get caught up in the crossfire (and subsequently lose their sweet leather jacket in the void), this is not the fault of the wizards themselves or their spells. Thusly, I say, fuck ’em.

Wizard is as wizard does, son.

The Three Magi

In a small town in the Middle East somewhere near where Disney’s Alladin took place there was a manger; a manger is like a barn but it also has camels. Remember that because it’s foreshadowing.

A long time ago there was this chick named Mary. She was kind of a hussy but finally found a dude who would get with her and stay with her, his name was Joseph. So, Mary and Joseph were getting along ok, convincing everyone they were celibate. Just then, Mary got pregers.

Joe and Mary were freaking out, but then Joe got his head about him and came up with a plan

“You’re a virgin,” Joseph said.

“Wat,” Mary replied. Thus began the journey of the Three Magi.

Joseph knew they had to act fast because Mary starting showing her baby bump and all of the villagers got suspicious. He began spreading rumors around town that Mary had been visited by an angel and touched by some all powerful guy up in space. The villagers were having none of it. They said Mary was a harlot and had always been a harlot. Joseph had to go big.

He called up a mage he knew from college. A real bad dude who specialized in powerful enchantments. One time, Joseph had seen him create an illusion at a kegger so convincing that it knocked all the football players on their asses and cleared a path straight to the tap. Since Joe knew this mage had a bachelor of sciences in conjuration and a minor in women’s studies he’d be the right guy for the job. His name was Melchior.

“Melchior, it’s Joseph, I have a problem.”

“What’s up Joe!? Long time no talk.”

“I wish we had time to catch up, but my wife and I have a problem. Can you cast a hypnosis spell over a whole village?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to need some bros.”

Melchior had his job cut out for him. He’d need to wrangle up some of the baddest bros he knew, bros versed in some of the most arcane of magics. With this being a large-scale con he’d need a master of alchemical transmutation and a magician specializing in stealth.

Balthazar and Caspar were weeding in their yard when the call came in from Melchior. The two immediately jumped into action. Caspar grabbed his cloak and dagger from the credenza while Balthazar loaded his satchel with reagents he thought would be useful. The two embraced before jumped onto their camel and waving a short goodbye to their cottage.

On the East Side the three magi met up to discuss their plans. It was decided that a Forgetall Dazzler spell would be used to convince the townsfolk that Mary was actually a real standup lady, but the timing would have to be impeccable. At the very moment of birth, they would need to transmute three specific ingredients into a magic dust to blow over the citizens, causing them to forget their suspicions and be overtaken in rapturous mirth over the newborns arrival.

“The Forgetall Dazzler isn’t easy to make,” Balthazar reminded the two. He dug through his tattered pouch and produced a weed and a yellowy rock. “These are frankincense and myrrh, fairly common, but the last ingredient isn’t.”

“That’s where you come in Caspar,” Melchior chimed in. Caspar nodded.

“When you’re surrounded by shit and people wearing rags it’s hard to find even a trace of real gold,” Caspar agreed. “But if anyone can do it, it’s me.” The three departed on their journey from the east.

About this time the worlds most accomplished ice wizard of the time, Kris Kringle, was relaxing in his ice recliner. Kris was a wise old mage who had cast many illusions in his day, but was now content with residing in his ice castle at the top of the world. In his old age he spent his hours tracking the movements of a horrible monster that stalked the children of the world, the Krampus. The Krampus had mostly stayed hidden away on the opposite side of the planet, but the detection spell he’d cast on it began to hum. The Krampus was on the move, and it was on a collision course for the magi.

Upon reaching the town where Joseph and Mary resided the three magi split up to complete their tasks. Melchior went to greet Joseph and Mary, Balthazar to find a place to cast their ritual and Caspar to find some gold.

Balthazar tried find lodging near a high point in the area so the dust would scatter evenly across the village. He finally stumbled across a farmer at the top of a hill. He asked if he knew the highest point in the area and the farmer pointed to his barn on the hilltop. Balthazar had scored hard. It didn’t look very cool like the place he had back in the East, but all they had to do was deliver a kid, conjure a spell and convince a whole town this chick had never banged. No biggie. The manger had room just enough room to spare for a few travelers, a pregnant woman, and her husband. It would have been quaint if it hadn’t of smelled like lamb poops.

Caspar’s luck was not as good. After scouring the town from the local bell tower he headed toward what looked like the swankiest digs in the province, a three bedroom, two bath with an attached horseport. He cast muffle on himself and got to work. Inside the home was not very promising at first; Caspar noted the most expensive item was an ivory pipe that sat on the mantle.

“I’m never going to find any gold in this slum,” Caspar whispered to himself.

He had just started to carve “Czpar wuz hur” with a little arrow pointing to the floor when an older man appeared from another room. Caspar stood still and thought about how much he probably looked like a coat, or maybe a lamp, especially to an old man with bad eyesight. The man plucked the pipe from above the fireplace and crammed it into a hole in the brick work. He twisted it to the left which caused the whole mantle to swing around taking the old man with it.

“A secret room?,” Caspar exasperated, “These small town creepers are always hiding some kind of sex den or forbidden library.” He sprung over to the fireplace, shoved his finger in the mantle in the same spot the old man had used the pipe, and held on. The other side of the room was small, but clearly had a pathway leading down into a catacomb which was probably full of spiders. Caspar looked around and found what he’d been looking for. A pair of bespoke elephant decorations flanked the entrance to the sex den/forbidden library, they looked like something your mom would buy from Pier One. He snapped a golden tusk off of the left one and heard the faint noises of someone making vroom-vroom sounds echoing up from the catacombs.

Dusk was settling in as the five met up at the manger. Mary was doing that annoying prego breathing which made everyone uncomfortable, so they got right to work. The hay was the only place for Mary to lay down and deliver, nobody had even brought a bucket of warm water or whatever people need for when nasty little kids are born. Joseph held her hand and the magi gathered around a trough while nudging away the ambient fauna. A cow farted.

Huge yellow eyes peered out from a bush, a trail of drool led away from it. The Krampus hungered for children, and on this night it would not be denied.

Kris Kringle sped along the snowy landscape of the north on the way to a small town in the Middle East. He hoped his sleigh would be fast enough to reach the town before the Krampus.

Mary had really started to wheeze now and it was bugging the hell out of the magi. Balthazar dumped the contents of his satchel into the trough while Caspar daintily dropped the golden tusk into the mix.

“Great job, friend,” Balthazar said and smiled at Caspar. Caspar beamed back at  him.

Melchior rubbed his hands together over the mess of ingredients. “This is going to be a big one,” he announced.

Mary’s breathing got frantic and she squeezed Joe’s hand so hard he he wondered why she didn’t have that kind of grip at home. “The baby’s coming!,” she howled at the crowd of people animals and regular animals.

The three magi began to chant the ritual. All of the ingredients began to glow and shake. The entire manger shook and all of the animals let out all of their Old McDonald noises in a nursery rhyme cacophony.

Through the window sprang the Krampus. He moved like the Ring Girl in a zig zag toward Mary’s crowning child. A shower of ice bolts flew through the straw ceiling and formed a cage around the Krampus inches away from where Mary lay. Down through the hole in the ceiling bounded Kris Kringle, the ice wizard. Everyone practically broke their necks they looked so fast to see what was going on. The Krampus shattered the ice barrier and grabbed the head of Mary’s baby mid-birth. Kris drove ice swords through the legs of the Krampus while Joseph tried to pull Mary away.

The magi were pros though, they knew if they could finish their spell fast enough, they could help in what looked to be the premier wizard battle of the month. Their ingredients floated and shook, their chants rose above the cries of the creatures around them. With a flash of really cool colored light the trough exploded open and a magic dust billowed from the dissolved ingredients. Melchior blew with all of his magical might on the airborne mixture which knocked the doors to the manger wide open. He huffed and he puffed and the glittering air wooshed out to the village on currents of magic. Caspar held Balthazar’s hand close to his side.

With a “POP!” Mary’s baby popped out of her with a little blood spray and the Krampus fumbled with it for a second before getting a firm grasp. Mary fell back into Joseph’s arms and Kris conjured a maul from ice particles to swing at the Krampus. The Krampus clutched the neophyte in one arm and flung a wretched claw at Kringle, smashing through his weapon and connecting with his face, sending him tumbling into the magi whose spells were all on cooldown. The Krampus opened wide to sink its falciform teeth into the kids big, dumb, crying face but stopped. It’s wicked mouth formed a wicked shriek and it dropped the child. A malnourished camel had done to the Krampus’ ass what the Krampus had intended to do to the baby’s ass. The Krampus is not usually weak to Dark type attacks, but it was a ciritcal hit and it was a really high level camel. Joseph did one of those diving catches for the baby like in sports or something.

Now off cooldown, the combined powers of the four wizards easily contained the beast within a stasis field. The Krampus was flattened and tapped in a two dimensional crystal which the magi launched into space to wander the Void forever.

By now, the ruckus has woken up the whole village and most of the surrounding villages which the magi hadn’t anticipated. A half asleep mob came to the manger on the top of the hill to see what the hell was up. They discovered a virgin birth, its mother, a mess of wizards and a husband, turned father, turned back to husband. At first the outside villagers were skeptical of the story of the virgin Mary, but the villagers whose memory had been erased by the Forgetall Dazzler spell told such a convincing story that everybody eventually agreed it must be the truth.

“What will you name the child?,” asked Kris Kringle.

“Christchild,” replied Mary.

“Jesus, that’s tacky,” Joseph said.

“Fine, Jesus then,” Mary concluded.

“This is a magical day,” Kris declared, and everyone agreed because he’s a fucking ice wizard and didn’t want to get blasted with a frostbite spell. “We’ve gathered, en masse, to celebrate this glorious occurrence of the birth of Christchild-”

“Jesus,” Joseph corrected.

Kris bellowed, “Merry time to all, and to all a happy merry!”

That is why, on every July the Fourth, we celebrate our independence.

Wizard Secrets

Nice try.

Wizard Lairs

Wizards are renown for many spectacles, including their lairs. Lairs take many forms but are mostly of the volcanic island variety which produces both red and blue mana, ideal for standard wizarding. The following will outline several of the lesser known lair types and their uses.

Cake Lair: Usually lemon, or cherry, preferred by witches because those are the only people who will get anywhere near that stuff.

Secret Lair: Not much is known about these lairs other than not much is known about them.

Liar Lair: The hiding place of many dyslexic wizards. This information could be incorrect.

Flair Lair: Often found in pre-Katrina New Orleans, these lairs have a minimum number of buttons; some of which feature such words as, “Fire!” “DO NOT PRESS” and “Dead Kennedys”.

Dungeon Lair: Medieval in origin, dungeon lairs can be found by tapping pentagrams into stone walls in and around holding cells. Just yesterday my best mage friend was being held in the drunk tank, just tapping pentagrams away willy-nilly, only to find that he was leaning against the front door of a wicked old warlocks lair, you can imagine his embarrassment.

Tree House: Mostly harmless.

Inter-crater Lair: Made in the craters of meteorite strikes, these crusty lairs serve as both observation stations and powerful foci for dark magics. The extinction of the dinosaurs was not a result of the impact of space materials, but actually the result of a prehistoric wizard whom took up residence in the largest crater in the world. He practiced jurassimancy, very poorly, and let loose a shock wave that killed anything with the last name Saur. The mammals wept.

Other types of lairs are too forbidden for outsiders to know of; the knowledge of their mere existence would crush non-wizard braincells into ooze. You don’t want an oozy brain, trust.

Types of Wizards

As everyone knows there are standard magi, warlocks, witches, sorcerers and jellymancers. Here is a comprehensive list of the lesser known types of wizards, also known as minumagium.

Narcomancer: They are who put you to sleep at night.

Fragromancer: They control all bad smells and good smells.

Trousomancer: Responsible for adolescent transgressions.

Wizards of the Coast: They make magical games, such as Hopscotch and Backgammon.

Pregomancer: They sneak into your slutty girlfriend’s room at night and coerce her into starring on MTV.

Hemomancer: Strictly nurses who can actually take blood samples properly.

Automancer: Wizards with self-control.

Technomancer: See also, Basshunter.

Buttermancer: Closely related to jellymancers.

Breadomancer: On the outskirts of buttermancy and jellymancy.

Maniomancer: Responsible for implanting false hopes into the minds of fangirls/boys.

Chortlemancer: They control comedy and comedic… timing.

Tortlemancer: Two main responsibilities, pasta and helping Squirtles evolve.

Thaumaturgist: They control when the Coke flavor ICEE machine is working at Sam’s Club.

Tonitrumancer: They drive really loud cars and often drive by your window at night. Archnemsis to Narcomancers.

Zephyromancer: Control the audibility of flatulence.

Those are all of the ones I can think of right now.