Wizard’s Tower Gamebook Number 1 Finally Coming Together

To: Employees, contractors, et al, of Wizard's Tower LLC

From: Lancelot Squib and Board of Trustees

I must humbly request the immediate cessation in all auxiliary tasks in order to consciously focus your attention on the following words:

The little Hare obeyed, and when it had begun to grow dark he went out into the world, in search of fresh work. This time she cracked the nut as soon as she reached it she sat down upon a stone and went to sleep. The journey to Buda was long, and it was all so cool and familiar and friendly.

So with that out of the way, I am pleased to let you know that I have some most excellent news that will surely give you another reason for your seemingly limitless need for employee events and morale initiatives. 

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Earth, Atlass, and the Magic Portals of the Wizard’s Tower

To: The Peoples of Earth

Welcome, dear reader. Once again it is I, Parciloquy the Peculiar and the Purple, judging by the fashion choices made by my faithful manservant Lancelot Squib, whose fingers even now tap away upon this laptop. Such as delightful device, much better than the tuning rods and crystals of which I am more accustomed to in my own devices.

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My Magical Artifact, the Hand of Lothar, is Missing

To: Arturo the Clock-Maker, Christian Rosencreutz, Baldar the Vargouile Slayer, et al.

hand of lothar magical artifact
Illustration of the Hand of Lothar from a commonplace book I kept between 1760-1762 under the pseudonym Isaac Johan Holland, and which now appears to be interred at the Yale University library.

My dearest friends and colleagues, balm to my copper-plated heart, it is with such joy and pleasance that I write to you today. I but bask in the glory that is your attention, which shines like the golden second sun of Arcturias floating betwixt the twin peaks of the Alablavendar Mountains.

You, who shine like the blood moon at the height of its perihelion on the vampire world of Sangria Muerte, I fear I must relate to you, in the feebleness that is my lot when compared to the glory of my fellow wizardly colleagues such as yourself, that I have recent cause for a great deal of woe and distress.

No doubt you, whose intellect and wisdom shine brighter than all the stars in the Blue Hydra constellation, have by now deduced my dissimulation. Having written the words of the Trichromatic Obeisance, I feel I may dispense with the platitudes and write more plainly. Or, as the planar aborigines of this version of Earth say: “Let’s cut the shit”.

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