My Magical Artifact, the Hand of Lothar, is Missing

To: Arturo the Clock-Maker, Laddys Fermille, Malicule the Meticulous, Baldar the Vargouile Slayer, and all signatories of the Aurantian Concordat
From: Parciloquy the Peculiar, Pleonast of Bleak-on-Vomir and Thaumaturge Most Excellent

My dearest friends and colleagues, balm to my copper-plated heart, it is with such joy and pleasance that I write to you today regarding a magical artifact well beloved to me. 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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