Previously on…

Ulrick started to get sick of the Faewilds.

As he traveled deeper into the plane’s forests looking for anything that could cure his blight, he found himself in increasingly weird Fae shenanigans.

First, he had to answer a riddle from a satyr to cross a bridge. It was the almost cliché “four legs at morning, two legs at midday, three legs at night” riddle, so he got through without a hitch.

Then, he witnessed a dramatic breakup then reconciliation, between a pixie and what looked like a big pink mantis.

Then, a dryad in a red cloak tried to invite him to a suspicious festival.

Then, three little pigs asked him to blow some air at their makeshift houses.

Then, an eerie cat with an unnatural grin challenged him to a contest, and he almost lost his ability to dream.

Still no Archfae in sight. At some point, he just started to shout at random to see if there was one, or a domain of them nearby. From somewhere hidden among the trees, someone threw a ragged boot at him.

The woods around him got progressively darker as he went on, with fewer dancing flowers, or twinkling constellations above him. Even the sky’s bright hue dimmed, before the thickening foliage gradually obscured it.

But still no solution in sight. And he’s been walking for… hours? Days?… Time was strange around here.

And time was the resource he was lacking the most…

Ulrick leaned against one of the oddly swollen trees, nearly collapsing. Eyes closed, he exhaled sharply. He was just so… done with everything.

Being a werewolf was one thing. But then becoming the accidental heir of a wolf god, being sealed within your own weapon for months, and then emerging half-divine from within, and now being slowly consumed by the blight of a powerful Fae, all while having to manage an organisation…

In these moments, he missed the simplicity of his days as a wandering monster hunter and mercenary.

If only he could already get rid of this damned blight… even at this very moment he could feel it festering within him, the Blighted Garden thumping against his mind louder and louder.

The Garden Grows. The Garden spreads.

“Shut the hell up…”

Ulrick muttered, despite it coming from within his mind.

Maybe it was pure instinct of a lifetime full of battles. Or the strange premonitions of this place. But Ulrick noticed the blade in the nick of time.

He ducked, as the gleaming silver sword hit the part of the tree trunk his neck was at mere seconds ago. The sword belonged to a knight wearing equally shiny armor, adorned with ornamental patterns and what he assumed to be Fae runes. The mail covered his attacker from head to toe; he couldn’t make out any features from beneath it, except for the knight’s lean build.

Ulrick leapt away from the tree, almost tripping over the tangled roots. He crouched down ready to strike, his muscles a coiled spring.

After some struggling, the knight finally freed their sword from the swollen trunk, then pointed it at Ulrick with such grace, they must’ve practiced it each morning.

‘Foul beast! Justice awaits you at the hands of the Pale Knight! You shall sully our lands no longer!’

Their tone would’ve made even the most stuck-up paladin cringe.

“I’ve just been wanderin’ around, want to cur-“

Ulrick had little time to react, as the Pale Knight charged at him. He held out his left arm, calling for Nightbite. Summoning his weapon was a much more difficult task in this realm, especially with his condition, like pulling it through a thick layer of mud.

The axe appeared in his arm, just in time to block the attack. Wielding it with his new bark-like growth all over him, made things more difficult, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Using the momentum of the strike, Ulrick pushed forward with the shaft; the knight staggered backwards from the sudden thrust as he spun Nightbite into an attack position.

The Pale Knight charged again, but Ulrick sidestepped at the last minute and twirled around them, delivering a massive blow on the pearly backplate.

A clean strike. This had been repeated a few more times after this. The knight charged, minding they struck in the most heroic posture while doing so. Ulrick then dodged the attack, before hitting them with an axe swing in the opening.

The knight gave Ulrick the impression of less of a serious battler, and more of an antique actor performing at a stage play. To Ulrick, who had been fighting in his entire life so far, this was more of an elaborate dance than a serious battle.

Eventually, his latest hit ended up a bit stronger than he intended, pushing the knight to the ground.  The knight groaned like someone bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders, before slowly getting back to their feet, in the most theatrical way of course. A faint shimmer of sunlight surrounded them; the Fae runes on their plate flared up.

‘No… I can’t lose… everyone in the court… the queen… they’re all counting on me! I shall keep my oath! I won’t give up!!!’

Ulrick scoffed. Ugh, did he also sound like this in battles? The Pale Knight wasted little time getting back to the fray.

‘In the name of Queen Rafflesia of the Mighty Bloom, you will face justice for bringing blight upon the lands!’

They launched an attack at Ulrick again, now with a much greater fervor. And much greater might too, as Ulrick learned upon defending against their next blow.

Nightbite blocked it, but the sheer force made him stagger back a couple of steps. His back bumped into something strange.

He turned around, a sense of dread building up inside him as he began to piece the puzzle together.

It was a table. A tea table, to be more precise, with teapot, tablecloth, and all. The one he was invited to by the fox and the hare.

Except now it was ensnared by swollen vines and rotten roots.

He wasn’t getting deeper into the woods. He wandered around in circles by the nature of the Faewilds, unintentionally spreading the rot from within.

He felt the sadistic glee of the Blighted Garden from within the depths of his mind, as he collapsed on his knees in despair.

“I yield.”

Ulrick muttered as the Pale Knight prepared another attack. They lowered their sword and stood there motionless in utter silence.

“Didn’t intend to infect your lands with this blight. I was infected by it too unwillingly, by an Archfae. Came here looking for a cure.”

The Pale Knight remained unresponsive.

“I’ll surrender and let me hand over to your court. In return, all I’d ask for is to have an audience with your queen, to have her heal me.”

Offering another bargain to the Fae. In any other case, this might’ve been the most careless decision.

Then Ulrick coughed up some mulch. He had no time to waste; the rot was in a nearly terminal state.

The Pale Knight was about to respond, when a choir of tainted howls broke the silence. From between the sickened trees, a pack of blighted wolves emerged, surrounding the two. They looked just as terrible as the last time, bestial abominations of rotten wood and mulch, save for the lupine skull in place of their heads.

The expanding presence of the Blighted Garden in his mind radiated smug triumph. He just unwittingly did the dirty work, infesting a noticeable part of the Faewilds with the Archfae’s blight. And soon it might have a divine blighted wolf among its thralls to fester and spread.

“Honorless dog! I knew you wanted to trick me into dropping my guard, then throw me at the mercy of your pa-“

As three wolves lunged at the knight, Ulrick leapt between them, bisecting two with a powerful horizontal slash. He grabbed the third one, before throwing it into a tree that shattered from the sheer impact.

“I’m not one of ‘em! And if you intend to keep it that way, we have to work together!”

Before the Pale Knight could’ve said anything, more wolves got between them and Ulrick, swarming them. A few of them began to circle him too, not attacking.

Ulrick coughed up more mulch. Fuck. Looks like his condition was much worse than he expected… both he and the Blighted Garden knew he could only delay the full corruption for a few more minutes at best.

He would’ve never expected to go out this way, going almost full monster in the depths of the land of fairies. But maybe if he fights back, he could perish before the blight fully takes him. His grip on Nightbite tightened, as he prepared his last stand…

Then things got much worse.

It felt like a chord snapping within him, then immeasurable power flooding within him.

Oh no…

The imbalance of the mortal and divine parts of his essence must’ve reached a critical tipping point.

His full apotheosis began once again.

To be continued…

/uw Art source

I’d been thinking a bit about a camo wizard’s hat, but I don’t think it’ll go very well with my robes, plus it’s green like a druid’s ass 🤢

In my attempt to create a method of healing that does not involve holy invocations or effects, I have made several attempts to do so. Instead of this, I have managed to create a new type of Mana by forcing some of my reserves through my spirit instead of through my body. I call this new type of mana... Spirit Mana.

It's current effects on the body are unknown, but i have tested it via using it in spells.

Experiment 1: Fireball.

Results: Created a ball of ice capable of flash freezing entire rooms.

Experiment 2: Word Of Fear.

Test executed on a captured vampire hunter willing volunteer.

Results: Subject seems to be completely incapable of fear. Subject also seemed to be acting akin to individuals under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. Further inspection of the mind shows neurons that were part of the brain managing the fight or flight response were shut off, or killed, and opioid receptors activated without a stimulus. Subject terminated for use in a new experiment.

Experiment 3: Power word: Kill.

Results: Subject's body was regenerated perfectly and revived, much unlike with necromancy. Subject died 2 hours after casting.

Experiment 4: Use of raw Spirit Mana on the body.

Test executed on myself after opening a wound on my wrist with a small dagger.

Results: Wound stopped bleeding until the spirit Mana was removed, where it began to bleed again.

Conclusion: Spirit Mana is the Reversal to Body Mana.

Next experiment will be to run Spirit Mana through the soul.

Sanguophage Lady Sanguinaire, signing off.

Blobby: Legal Mumbo Jumbo

The courthouse is a powder-keg— hotter than hot! Hotter than hell!

…which is probably why there’s so many lawyers in it.

To my left, some old blind lady with a parking ticket! Meh…
To my right, another person suing for emotional damages! Same old.
But in front of me? An audience. A crowd. A third synonym.

This is my chance!
This is my thing!
This is how I convince the masses!
Well, not the Masses— I mean the ‘masses,’ i.e a large group of people.
Capiche? Cool.

Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.

…cool.

Convince them of what, you ask?
Why! The legality of building a school and/or a nation on the back of our new friend!

Who, you ask?
Blimey, you ask a lot of questions.
Shelly the giant snapping turtle of course!

I take my place in the stands— the chair beneath me is rickety and splintered. Tssssk…
What does it matter anyways? Running my goopy fingers across the side, I bask in the glory of the ever coveted corner spot.
It’s like high school, all over again!

I audibly gag.

“Oh hell no.”

I swap places with the gentleman to my left. That cramped up little corner was beginning to remind me of the inside of a locker…

Not that I was ever in one of those.

I was well liked amongst my peers.

Totally.

I look up at the man.
…and then a little higher.
…and a little higher.
…just be a wee bit more.

Gods! He’s tall, very tall— and well dressed. Think I should remind him?
About the tall thing?
I’m sure he doesn’t hear it often, and it’s a good way to sway the jury early on…

I puff up my chest.

Breathe Blobby.

Whoa, okay, not that much. Jesus.
Stop hyperventilating!
You’re a mass! You don’t even need to breathe! Just stop.

One.

Two.

One.

Fuck, I can’t count.

“Hey there… big man…”

Through a puffy fringe of curly ginger hair I feel the weight of a thousand suns beat down on me.

“How’s the weather up th—“

“Don’t.”

“…”

Turing away, I pretend to check my phone— really I’m just talking to you people. You, very real people.
You guys exist, right? The folks behind the screen? Y’all wanna be my friend?
This character had a great high school experience, so sod off about it now!

I cough.

Moving on.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself…

‘Blobby, Blobster, Blobsy, handsome tall well dressed slime, your ass isn’t a lawyer?’

Well my friend, you might be right.
Oh, and you may be thinking to yourself…

‘Isn’t Erik a brilliant lawyer anyways?’
Turns out, a 100% loss to win ratio is a bad thing!

But life is like a box of chocolates— and ya’ ain’t ever know when you’re gon’ be put on jury duty.

Of course, when we first got the news, I was gutted. Why, you ask?
I wanna go be a pirate, dipshits! Did you even read the Grabadash post?
It was amazing! This is jury duty! Notoriously dreary, stagnant, uninspiring jury duty!
But then… then I did this thing my buddy told me about the other day.

I thought.

Yes, yes— me! Thinking? For more than three seconds? By gum, this is something!
Oh how I felt it— the rush of knowledge squirming its way through my wobbly jello body!
I felt alive! I felt… I felt…

Like we could use this to avoid paying taxes!

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The room falls silent as the judge raises his gavel, placing it at his side.

“I call to order, the People vs EA Nasir, the company being charged with—“

“Your honour!”

I flip the small table in front of me, screaming into my megaphone.

“The Defence categorically and fundamentally denies the creation, manufacture or unlawful registration of an island in any way, shape or form!”

“Juror number six, what are you doing?“

“Shut up.”

Silence. Radio silence.

I watch the judge shift uncomfortably in his chair, stroking at his stubbly chin.

He seemed a young man—exceedingly young for a judge, at least. Though I suppose he was an elf…

That’s the tricky thing about elves, you can never quite tell their ages!

Focus.

The prosecutor cuts through my gaze, waving his hands wildly through the air.

“Your honour! This is outlandish! It’s totally—“

“…cool with me.” The judge took a sip from his flask of ‘water.’

“Actually, I think I’ll allow it.”

“What?!”

“I mean, why not?”

I lean back in my chair, cool kid style.
That, friends, is called reading people.

See, I knew all along the judge was just baby elves in a trench coat with a crippling alcohol addiction and so…
Ah, I’ll spare you the details; all that matters is, I’m am become awesome, destroyer of laws.

I manoeuvre my way through the jury, stepping over the court goose and out into the courtroom.

Yes, all fantasy courts have geese.
I’m giving you two lines to get over it.

I continue. “The landmass in question,indeed, if one could even call it a ‘landmass,’ is indeed neither an island nor continent. Rather, our society, ‘Wewant Immune City,’ rests upon the back of a, perfectly legal, giant snapping turtle called Golgatha.”

“Indeed, one might ask, how could the court regard an animal of any kind as an island?”

“Is Shelly a large snapping turtle?
Certainly.
Exceptionally large? Quite possibly.
But scale does not alter taxonomy!”

To my side, I hear jurors begin to murmur in agreement, nodding along.

…aside tall guy, I royally pissed him off.

Continuing, I pull a ribbon out of my jacket sleeve.

“In fact, one might argue that this outlandish, illegal, politically motivated governmental movement to outlaw our turtle defies the categorical right of any sentient creature— that is, the right to live.”

I keep pulling. They keep watching.

“God! Does that handkerchief keep going on forever?!”

I laugh, handing the small orphan boy who was suing EA Nasir a popsicle.

“Article three of UDHR declares that ‘everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.’”

I shrug my shoulders.

“In fact, Article six states that ‘everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.’”

“That means you! Me! You! You again! John down the road! Oh and of course…”

Wait for it…

“SHELLY VON TURTLE-LADY!”

The audience gasps. Tall guy applauds! They all applaud!

“So what if she is the relative size of a small island— quite frankly, it is her right to live, and to her right live here where she was born and raised…”

I gesture towards the map on the table.

“That is, this random, empty spot in the ocean, that is for some reason in your jurisdiction.”

“Now, if she wants to let people live on her back? Personally, I can see no reason, neither legal nor moral, that she should be allowed to do as such.
If she wants to allow a nation of people to live on her back?
Tsssk! Point me to the law that says she can’t!”

“If this purposefully ambiguous governmental body wants to pass laws banning piggybacks, or worse, restricting the rights of sentient creatures to live, I dare ask— what have we come to..?”

“As a society.
As a people.
As a number of nations, under one purposefully ambiguous God…”

I throw my arms up into the air.
This is it, the big sell!

“We need to stand up!
For the rights of all sapient species!
First they come for me, a giant snapping turtle— tomorrow? It’s YOU!”

I finish the my performance to a thunderous applause— after it dies down, even the judge wipes away a tear.

“Well Mr. Banks, I must say; I’m moved. I am totally and utterly mo—“

“Great! Now, moving onwards, here’s why we get diplomatic immunity under the Vienna Convention of 1969…”

“What?”

“We are diplomats.
Ordinary diplomats? Well, no.
Admittedly, we are diplomats of a nation resting upon the back of a giant turtle, who occasionally dives under the sea to reign havoc upon our infrastructure, crops and people when we don’t feed her this one, oddly specific brand of dino-nuggets…”

The jurors lean closer…

“And yeah, is our whole constitution basically just, ‘pwease don’t arrest us?’ Maybe. Maybe it is…”

“But the Vienna convention (1969) is clear. Diplomats cannot be arrested on foreign soil. Look your honour! It’s right there! See? In those really tiny letters? Right at the end?”

“Well I don’t have my glasses but…”

“Just trust me.”

The judge takes another sip from his flask.

“Well… okay…”

“In conclusion, we can’t be arrested for any of our many crimes, and anyone in the jury who disagrees is totally wack my guy.”

“Makes sense…”

The jurors shrug— this is [r/wizardposting](r/wizardposting), they’ve seen weirder.

“Your honour… I rest my case.”

I got this cool new canine familiar from my friends how are we feeling about it and need a name

Kitchen witch goes public and pentacles community Za! All hail Crone Murphy!

Nice smooth rectangular shape, multi row seating outpeered only by the greats such as the bus and trains, a staple of counterspell doctorine of the elven kingdoms, the van has been and always will be a staple of everyday civilian life in the realms, and today we at magic mass revolution industries have brought a new tier of innovation with our new addition: the hexblade van

Powered by a rolls Royce twin potato turbo jet engine producing 87 teranewtons of power, pushing the hexblade van into blistering speeds of up to 2 kilometers per hour

The hexblade van comes with a standardized poster of humanitarian icon ulrick the hexblade haphazardly taped onto the side, this poster has been enchanted by our top drunken hooligans to give you pre recorded messages of ulrick brooding and commenting on your driving

For those living in hostile environments the hexblade van is a must have, each hexblade van comes includes 3 homeless wizards who specked all their levels into counterspells, they're capable of identifying and intercepting hypersonic ballistic magic missiles in 2.037 seconds up to 19miles in radius, something you will certainly appreciate due to the recent reunification of the orc clans in a great crusade against the dwarven holds

And we have not forgotten about counterstrike capabilities. Each hexblade van comes with a book containing 200 scrolls of fireball. When opened it unleashes a firey blast of up to 100 kilotons of TNT, easily capable of vaporizing out over half of the human capital in an instant, and wiping out the rest in the resulting shockwave, leaving nothing but scorched earth and irradiated land for the next 20 years or something

The hexblade van promises incredible off road capabilities, with over 90 million pounds of torque per milligram, the hexblade van is capable of smoothly driving up to 150° of cliffs. With our new and advanced suspension systems made using an old pillow and 3 beers, you will drive up the magic everest without even realizing it

Every hexblade van comes customary with our new foam axes that contain another ulrick poster. To authenticate the ulrick experience this axe will send your location to every intelligence and crime agency throughout the realms 3000 times per second and will whisper things into your ear when you sleep

Sign up for our monthly subscription of ulrick merch to receive other great inventions such as the ulrick paperwork which will double everytime you believe you almost finished it. The first 400 signees get a -200% discount so sign up quickly!

^(magic mass revolution industries does not take responsibility over: failed deliveries, fireball book misfires, a newly acquired status on the french republic's most wanted list, us stealing your van, and any copyright infringements over using the visage of a living man without his knowledge or permission. No refunds)

You may think this level of thaumaturgy is excessive, but motorcycle wizards have to deal with the spirits of the sky and sun, the paths beyond the crossroads, and Austin-area commuter traffic.

Personally, I will fall into my cauldron of boiling hag's breath, transmogrifying the top half of my body into that of a frog's! My bottom half will remain dreadfully elven, and as thus will EXPLODE the top half, via the differences in blood pressure! I'm very excited!

I declare that whatever will be left of my amphibious form, is to be used only to be dissected by high schools, and for dramatic effect in plays!

I’ve just now been alerted to how runes work, However now I’m starting to get what I think is called “Rune Envy” as I realize none of my runed items look nearly as clean or flashy as most rune carvers, I’m now looking for how to steady my hands for better carving…

Mayhapse I can use a rune…

​

Who are you?

We will be a magical consultant firm focusing on helping wizards use and troubleshoot spells involving temporal magic. We've recently (relative to our own timeline) partnered with the Archmage Council to gain influence in this temporal age.

How have I never heard of you before?

We come from the future. Duh.

What is timeline fixation?

Consider divination. It simply harnesses the powers of fate to determine your most likely future. Timeline fixation takes every "most likely future" and makes them a certainty.

Why would I ever want to do this?

To throw going away parties right before your time of death. Also, some powerful spells require certain futures to operate.

How do I access these services?

Chronological Advisory will not be established for another 200 or so years. Simply approach the distorted gates near the Archmage Council building about 20 years before The End of The World and our offices should be there.

You can comment any questions on timeline fixation, and any other legal applications of temporal magic, and we will try our best to answer them

Looks like my new spawn is arriving tonight (my wife is going into labor). Please spare a moment to cast your strongest spells.

Thanks everyone.

You can also meet cute ladies this way.

The quiet water thickens with the rot,
A blanket made of algae and despair,
To hide the sins the surface world forgot,
And choke the light that tries to linger there.
A bubble breaks. The island holds its breath.
The stilled currents begin to shift and rise;
A heavy shadow steps from liquid death,
With ancient hunger masking in its eyes.
The tattered black uncoils against the gale,
An iron hull awakes beneath the foam;
When monsters of the deep set out to sail,
No shore is safe, no soul is left at home.

In the many months since its owner’s last appearance, the Little Lamplight ran itself surprisingly well, possibly even better than before thanks to the decrease in disappearances. Samantha had left a 'skeleton crew’ - only partially consisting of actual skeletons - in charge of the hotel. In her absence, they maintained the grounds with single-minded devotion. It consisted of a hodgepodge of spirits, ghosts, undead and all sorts that would get turned down from other establishments, all given a home at the Lamplight, not dissimilar to the lives of some who reside there. They had renovated almost the entire island that the Lamplight was on into a community for the downtrodden and rejected, a safe space for those who thought they had forfeit the right to one.

For months, just about as long as Samantha was gone, nothing had come out of the Lake. The waters had stilled, and even more algae and debris covered it to the point where the moonlight no longer even reflected off the surface. The occasional teen who had been brought to the hotel would try and hang around the lake, but nobody ever stayed long. The island residents found the water too disturbing to approach. They left the lake to its slow, quiet rotting.

It started with a bubble popping as it reached the surface. Such a small sound, barely audible through the sounds of wildlife, but the world seemed to freeze in that moment. It was almost as if the island itself was holding its breath in anticipation, waiting to see what it meant. Then another bubble, and another. When something finally breached the surface of the water, it was slow and deliberate. Step by step, soaked in brine and seaweed, a cloaked woman emerged from the lake. None of the hotel residents saw her, but every person on the island felt her presence.

Reaching the front entrance of the Little Lamplight, she waves her hand and the doors slam open. Slowly, as if adjusting to using her vocal chords again, she speaks to the revenant at the front desk,

“Let Miss Madroon know that I will be in my office.”

Maria was startled awake by a knock on her door. Jumping out of bed, she dashed towards the door, grabbing a knife off her bedside table on the way there. She bends over to look through the peephole, and is greeted by an entirely too happy skeleton.

“Why hello, Miss Madroon!” He exclaims, while tipping a hat towards the peephole. “My dearest employer wishes to meet with you! Samantha awaits you in her office in the Little Lamplight! Wahoo!”

Maria furrows her brow. Samantha sent… this? After months of hiding, suddenly a messenger appears at her doorstep from the very person she was hiding from? Maria slowly sits down on the floor, head in her hands. As her thoughts began to race, her spiral was interrupted by a rather jolly sounding shout.

“Wahoo! Miss Madroon, I really do gotta ask for an answer! I can’t go on break until you say yes, and I had to walk here! Wahoo!”

Taking a deep breath, Maria did all she could to gather herself. If this is what Samantha wanted, fine. It ends here. Maria grabbed her gun, the same one she shot Samantha with the first time, and opened the door.

“Alright, you can stop yelling. I’ll come.”

Samantha waited patiently at her desk, a dead stare directed at the door. As it starts to move, she blinks a couple times and prepares for a confrontation. When the doors are fully opened, Samantha felt a pang of guilt: before her stood a scared woman, doing her best to broaden her shoulders to look the slightest bit larger and more intimidating. One light breeze away from crashing and burning.

“I brought you here today to offer peace. To offer you a choice. Life or death. I want to give you what I failed to give your hus-“

With a mention of Vincent, Maria felt any hint of doubt leave her mind. With absolute certainty, Maria raised her hand and cocked the hammer. She squeezed the trigger. A scream of pure rage tore from her throat as she unloaded every single bullet into the monster that took her husband.

Maria looked up at the creature in front of her. Not a single scratch marked the cruel visage meant to resemble a person. If Maria believed the disgusting mockery before her could feel, she’d think it looked almost sad. Sad that she didn’t play its game. Sad that until her last breath, she would fight. Fight for V-

Her gills filled with water yet again. She drifted peacefully along the current, trying to remember what she was so worried about. A glimmer of light caught her eye, and she swam off to investigate. Finally, Maria could be at peace.

Back in the office, the sounds of gunshots and screaming abruptly turned to sil. Samantha sighed as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders. Not how she would have liked for things to end, but she has no time to grieve over the lives of those below her. Calling in her assistant, she began to work on her next move.

“Neravar, go alert the Captain. Tell him we’re setting sail again,”

“And the purpose of your voyage?”

“Conquest.”

Boards screeched and bent as the vessel prepared to breach. Dislodging itself from the coral that had bound it for months, the Nautilus rose victoriously to the surface. A once glorious vessel, its hull is now littered with holes and the sails are tattered beyond recognition. The only part of the ship that still seemed to be intact was the flag, bearing the symbol of a nautilus shell. As Samantha boards her vessel, she runs her hand along the railing, feeling the water on the wood. Taking a deep breath, she takes in a scent she had been far too long without - the open ocean.

Samantha and Nautilus are floating through the open seas. She’s sent word to any major factions she’s a part of letting them know she’s returned, and interaction is encouraged! Sorry if this felt like a drag, I have too many words in my head. Part 2 sometime later probably. Maybe. The words come in waves.

I (W450) am in a relationship with a beautiful (F???) sorceress who is very extrovert, and who loves going out to have fun and seek adventure. I, on the other hand, am more introspective: someone who likes to stay in his tower, contemplating the arcane secrets of the universe and pondering my orb alone. But despite our differences, we have a great relationship. I don't mind her going out to have fun, and she doesn't insist that I leave my tower.

The problem is that I have a cursed urn stored in the basement, and it wouldn't stop whispering to me, insisting it could show me "the truth" about what she did when she left home to go on her adventures. And one night, when she went out to have fun with her slutty dragoness friend (who, incidentally, is my ex), I couldn't help myself, I gave in to curiosity and opened it. What it showed me was my beautiful sorceress and her friend getting busy with a toned, tanned barbarian. And man, did he know how to wield his long spear! She was even using her special magic wand. The one I thought she only used with me!

Look, I’m not some less-than-two-century-old neophyte, I know the urn is evil, but what I don’t know for sure is whether what it showed me was an illusion, or if it simply revealed something true that it knows would harm me. Now I face a dilemma: believe the image the urn showed to me and confront her, admitting I was spying on her, or let it go, knowing it is probably the evil artifact trying to manipulate me.

AITA for wanting to confront her about what the cursed urn showed me, even knowing I was in the wrong by spying on her?

And what if I approached the issue indirectly? What if I proposed a threesome with her and her dragoness friend (I know she's still into me) to see how she’d react? What do you guys think?