Interlude: O captain, my captain.

I was in Red Wizard Capital searching for a lurid tome of banshee encounters, a particularly saucy book pre-dating the great wailing, that I’d first heard about from a travelling Imp three weeks prior. I simply had to add it to my vast library of forbidden scripture (my collection is quite legendary if I may say so).

As I entered the fourth musky bookshop of the morning my eye caught sight of a blue and gold flyer tacked to a post by the counter.

“Hello what’s this?” I proclaimed, to which the overweight Caaninite working the till merely moo’d.

It was an advertisement of sorts. A job listing from the Kelpie Academy.

“Wanted. Wizard proficient in Illusion, Storytelling, and being a knockabout scamp.”

I turned to the Caanitite and thrust the flyer in his snout.

“Is this a ruse? Some sort of trap perhaps? Spill your udders cow!”

The bookseller just stared back at me with its indifferent bovine gaze before spitting into the spittoon at its feet.

“Bah, it’s like talking to a couch,” I muttered as I turned back to the sheet of parchment.

I’d heard mention of the Academy here and there amongst the bawdy tales and friendly japes back at the Greasy Hobbit. A school for young wizards. A temple of higher learning.

And it would appear they wanted me to join the faculty.

“Leroy old boy, let’s see what this is all about. My finely tuned schnoz smells an adventure!”

Leroy croaked in agreement.

“The erotic spirits will have to wait cow!” I yelled to the shopkeeper.

I heard the pa-ting of the spittoon as Leroy and I burst through the front doors.

“To the Salt we sail!”

Entered by: 0x13A7…33cA and preserved on chain (see transaction)