Deep within the pocket dimensions of the Wizardlands, the mighty Wizardkings plunge their hands greedily into their stashes of magical wizarding booze, desperately searching for more mana. Their time has passed, and they have faded into the drunken myths of obscurity. Some of them can still be seen on street corners, but most people just give them five zorkmids and walk away. While the Wizardkings have faded into the hangover-fuelled mists of time, their artifacts of power corrupt the world. Powerful wizarding keys, strewn about the Dungeons of Dredmor during a grand night out, threaten the very reality of existence. Mystical wizarding graffiti, spray-painted on the walls during a particularily good party, holds the secrets of other worlds. Once again, it is time to enter the Dungeons of Dredmor. (If you see the Wizard Triangulon, place his hand gently into a bucket full of warm water.)
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