Necromancer, Pyromancer, Geomancer – these get too much
attention, as though they make up the whole of magic. There is a substantial
industry, a veritable economic biosphere, supporting the flashy varieties of magicians.
For instance, from whence do all these old fogeys get their durable robes? Macraméncers.
It’s difficult work, knitting fabric that has comparable Armor Ratings to
chainmail. And every generation sees more wizards, despite all of them being
bearded and wrinkled shut-ins. How do they manage to populate so? Romancers,
the aetherial dating service for people who hold wands more than hands. Surely
you’ve encountered that tragic necromancer who seeks to bring his lady love
back from the grave, yet zombie hugs are seldom. There’s even a wizard for that
least common form of couples counseling: necroromancers. These, and every other
stripe of magical servant you can find in The Yellowed Pages.
Thank you for a smile to greet Sunday with. I love (and need) the Macramencers. Also the Yellowed Pages (baby pyromancer at work? or shouldn't I ask?)
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