“The downside,” the witch told the nothing that was sure to be listening, “with multiple altars is that you invariably lose them or forget what you’ve stored away.”
“Yes ma’am, and we need to talk to you about some unauthorized polymorphing of the mayor and his cabinet. I understand you turned them into an actual cabinet set.”
May covered in small cuts, slime, and smelling like troll soup, grumbled softly. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m… I’m late and I’m gross… I’m, well, me. Hi.” Petal simply beamed happily in response.
The lich knocked quietly on the door, letting himself in when he heard a quiet snore in reply.
As in the mortal realm, important business partnerships in the Netherworld are often sealed over a game of golf. “Aim when the windmill is falling — Ah! Perfect!” (Well, mini golf.)
The doorbell rang on the stylish, angled door and was almost immediately answered by a grinning lime-green giant wearing a purple suit. It was at once fashionably out of fashion and expertly tailored for his massive frame.
You fool! I am in the full meditative state necessary to transcend the mortal coil! Or I am lost.
The sorceress gazed at the demon with hopeful curiosity. “Did I say it right?”
A young woman sits with a small, empty stew pot in her lap, brows furled in concentration as she clumsily butchers a language she doesn’t know, reads incorrectly, and is desperately trying to learn.
Winter brings a boost in popularity to the candy cottage construction industry.