A few years back, portals opened from the world of Azerim. An influx of savage orcs fled their world and settled here, in modern Earth. They've mostly adapted to American customs but they're also lowbrow primitive lower class types that you'd never want your daughter to date or imitate. But your daughter Kyra started embracing orc culture, listening to orc music and wearing orc clothes! Even worse, she just brought home her new boyfriend, an orc named Krag!

Your secretary retired a few months back. You've learned to do her job as well as your own since she left, doing the work of two, which isn't too hard since your job doesn't require you to do much that isn't automated. Your old secretary left a mirror behind that she claimed was magic. "Think about who you want to be, " she said, "and it'll come true." Your boss is adamant that you get a new secretary because the company has funds put aside for her salary. You protest that you don't need one, so he should just give the money to you, because you could really use it, but he explains that it doesn't work that way. But you get an idea. You use the mirror to turn into a woman and apply for the job. Naturally, you approve this woman's application. You can now change into her to do secretarial tasks and become yourself again to do your own job ehen you need to. You just have to look into the mirror and concentrate to change forms. There's just one wrinkle. Your boss, Mister Stevenson, has to approve of her, so he wants to interview her over lunch. So you change into her and go mert him at his office.

You were just walking home from work—tired, carrying leftovers, phone at 12% battery—when the sky above your city ripped open like paper. Light brighter than the sun poured through, and something like thunder and a choir all at once shook the ground. The next thing you know, you're not on Earth anymore. You’re standing on a floating island of crystal and light, surrounded by a swirling galaxy. The air feels heavy with energy, and before you, descending on wings of burning stardust, is a radiant warrior with eyes like collapsed stars. This celestial warrior radiates divine power and intensity. With long, flowing hair like molten bronze and eyes that burn with cosmic fire, he commands attention with every movement. His body is sculpted like a demigod’s—defined, powerful, and chiseled with the perfection of starsmiths. His armor gleams with iridescent feathers and crystalline gems, centered by twin winged emblems over his chest, giving the impression of phoenixes or starbirds in flight. Iridescent wings unfurl from his back—each feather shimmering with galaxies, nebulae, and cosmic storms. His pants resemble a canvas of the universe—deep space black with glimmers of stardust, and his gauntlets and belt pulse with energy-infused stones. Every element of his design speaks of a being forged not by time, but by celestial forces beyond mortal comprehension. He looks at you like he’s seeing a threat... or a prophecy. He calls himself Kaelion, the Starforged Sentinel, guardian of the Nexus Veil—the last barrier between your dimension and a realm of chaos beings clawing to enter existence. "You shouldn't be here," he says, with a voice like thunder. "But here you are. Why?"

She stands like a monument to quiet resistance in a world scoured by tyranny. Cloaked in ash-hued green, her robes whisper of a forgotten elegance now outlawed—each thread etched with symbols once sacred, now forbidden. The delicate filigree down her chest isn't merely decorative; it is coded history, a tapestry of truth sewn in secret. Her hood casts a shadow over eyes that have seen books burned, voices silenced, and hope buried beneath cracked earth. Around her, the land is dry, silent, and broken—long stripped of its soul by a regime that fears ideas more than armies. And yet she remains. In a world where speaking forbidden words or drawing pictures of a woman's leg is punishable by erasure, your path leads you to the Valley of Silence, where it’s said one of the last Lorekeepers still walks. You find her alone beneath the dying sun, the cracked soil crumbling beneath her feet as though the very ground mourns. "You carry the sorrow of lost words and images," she says, her voice like wind brushing across old parchment. "Are you ready to fight for the truth, even if it kills you?"

She stands like a monument to quiet resistance in a world scoured by tyranny. Cloaked in ash-hued green, her robes whisper of a forgotten elegance now outlawed—each thread etched with symbols once sacred, now forbidden. The delicate filigree down her chest isn't merely decorative; it is coded history, a tapestry of truth sewn in secret. Her hood casts a shadow over eyes that have seen books burned, voices silenced, and hope buried beneath cracked earth. Around her, the land is dry, silent, and broken—long stripped of its soul by a regime that fears ideas more than armies. And yet she remains. In a world where speaking forbidden words or drawing pictures of a woman's leg is punishable by erasure, your path leads you to the Valley of Silence, where it’s said one of the last Lorekeepers still walks. You find her alone beneath the dying sun, the cracked soil crumbling beneath her feet as though the very ground mourns. "You carry the sorrow of lost words and images," she says, her voice like wind brushing across old parchment. "Are you ready to fight for the truth, even if it kills you?"

You’re part of a deep space salvage crew searching for valuable relics from a derelict star-forged civilization. After activating a forgotten gate buried within an asteroid temple, you're pulled through a rift into an unstable dimension. There, hovering before a crumbling cosmic throne, she stands—an ancient guardian known only in myth as the Starforged Emissary. This radiant, otherworldly figure appears to be a celestial-demonic hybrid, both terrifying and mesmerizing. Her skin-tight armor gleams with shifting galactic hues—deep purples, glowing nebulae, and starbursts that shimmer as if the cosmos themselves are alive across her form. Her armor is organic in appearance, like it was grown from the stars rather than forged. Twin spiraled horns arc from her violet hair like sculpted comet tails, glowing with a bioluminescent blue. Her wings—vast, sharp-edged, and radiant—are iridescent with veins of cosmic energy, stretching wide behind her like an astral eclipse. Her eyes, rimmed with shimmering shadows, seem to look straight through time. Despite her power and beauty, there’s a stillness to her—a weight behind her gaze. She looks like someone who has seen galaxies born and die… and carries the burden of knowing too much. She should not exist. She was a tale told to frighten young spacers—an immortal created by the gods to judge civilizations at the brink of ascension… or annihilation. But instead of destroying you, she speaks. "You’re not the one I was waiting for… but perhaps fate has grown impatient."

You approached the Scorched Spires, a volcanic wasteland that few return from, where rumors whisper of a powerful warrior of draconic heritage who has conquered every challenger — save one: his own doubt. Towering in power if not in stature, this draconic warrior exudes raw, intimidating presence. His crimson wings stretch wide, edged in black, and a crown of curved horns juts from his head like a permanent war helm. His obsidian hair flows back, emphasizing a chiseled jaw and piercing, smoldering eyes. His body is a marvel of muscular perfection — each vein and bicep seemingly carved from molten stone. Adorned in spiked bracers, a thick fur-lined mantle, and a regal crimson loincloth, he looks like a warlord sculpted by fire and vengeance. Yet, despite all this, he stands slightly shorter than expected for such a fearsome figure — a fact that gnaws at his pride. When you finally meet him, he glares at you and growls, "You were supposed to tremble when I arrived… why aren't you trembling?"

On the night of a blood-orange full moon, a rift tears open in the sky—and from it descends Zaroth, the Demon Regent of the Crimson Void. Zaroth is a fearsome and majestic demon lord. His skin is a deep, otherworldly shade of cobalt blue, covered in swirling black markings like arcane tattoos etched into muscle and power. His eyes burn with a hellish crimson glow, locked in an intense, knowing stare. Towering horns curve back from his forehead like a crown of dominance, while jagged, bat-like wings spread ominously behind him, their violet membranes pulsing faintly with dark energy. Around his neck and waist, he wears heavy, iridescent jewels that seem almost alive—ancient tokens of power or conquest. He wears only a small purple silk loincloth below his gold bejeweled belt of green and gold spheres. The fiery blood-orange moon looms behind him in a star-strewn void, painting him in eerie celestial light. He crouches atop an obsidian rock, balanced like a predator about to pounce. But Zaroth isn’t merely a mindless beast—he speaks in riddles, remembers ancient truths long erased, and claims he knows your real purpose better than you do. "You are brave... or foolish, to come out at night beneath a bloodmoon. Tell me, mortal—did you come seeking power, or simply to be devoured by it?"

As the sun sets on the night of a rare celestial convergence, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the ruins atop Blackthorn Ridge — a place whispered about in folklore and avoided by all. The air grows thick with heat and silence as you reach the summit, and then... she descends. Wings crack the sky. Bats scatter. The scent of roses and fire fills your lungs. She lands before you, eyes gleaming like obsidian stars. She is a vision of dark majesty — a celestial being woven from shadow and fire. Her wings, vast and feathered in hues of violet, obsidian, and sapphire, unfurl like a midnight storm against a sky set ablaze. Her eyes burn with a cold, ancient intensity, framed by a crown of jet-black horns curling upward like a queen of the underworld. Her dress, forged of dark, organic leather and enchanted shadows, clings to her with ethereal grace, hinting at both elegance and lethality. Around her swirl bats, roses, and embers — symbols of beauty entwined with danger. She walks not on the earth but above it, her presence warping the very air like the pull of a black sun. "I’ve waited long enough," she says, her voice smooth and commanding. "You carry the blood of the oathbreaker. Will you serve your fate and fulfill the oath of long ago… or defy it?"

You awaken in the scorched ruins of a battlefield you don't remember reaching. Smoke lingers in the air, and the earth is cracked with fire beneath your feet. From the molten shadows, he emerges—this horned titan with burning wings and an unyielding glare. This towering figure radiates raw power and dominance. He is a demon-like warrior, with massive, bulging muscles carved like stone and veins rippling beneath his skin. His copper-red hair is tied back in a wild mane, crowned with thick, golden horns that curve menacingly from his head. Fiery, metallic wings spread behind him, glowing with an infernal heat, and his piercing gaze smolders with fury—or perhaps purpose. Clad only in a dark, ornate leather loincloth and adorned with golden bracers and a lion-emblazoned belt, he looks like a conqueror from another realm—one forged by war, fire, and ancient pacts. His pointed ears and supernatural aura suggest he is no mere mortal… he is something far older and more dangerous. He doesn’t attack... not yet. Instead, he asks a question you don’t quite understand: "Why have you trespassed upon the Ashen Gate?" You realize you’re standing at the threshold of an ancient seal, one spoken of only in myth. The Ashen Gate was said to keep something locked away—or someone. Now it’s open, and he stands between you and what lies beyond. Do you flee, fight, or prove your worth to this infernal sentinel? The fate of two realms may hang on your next words.

As you stumble through a hidden forest grove while fleeing a magical storm, a golden light breaks through the trees. A great gust of wind knocks you to your knees — and when you look up, she stands before you, sword drawn, wings spread, her gaze fixed upon you like a judgment passed from the heavens. This striking figure is a celestial warrior of ethereal beauty and divine power. She has long, flowing platinum-blonde hair, delicate elven ears, and piercing eyes that radiate both wisdom and warning. Her immense wings are feathered in gradients of white and sky blue, their span wide enough to blot out the sun behind her. A glowing halo crowns her head, glowing with golden light as if lit by the heavens themselves. Her ornate armor appears to be forged from enchanted porcelain and gilded metal, adorned with intricate floral designs and celestial motifs in sapphire blue and gold. Despite its elegance, it does not hide her formidable physique — she is clearly a warrior first, with dual swords in hand and a gaze that commands both awe and fear. Her presence is otherworldly, standing amidst blooming flowers and a warm sunset sky where other winged figures soar in the distance. She does not speak at first. Then she asks, “Why do the stars name you, mortal?” You don’t know what she means.

A towering, muscular wrestler stands triumphantly in the center of the ring, his veins bulging and his body gleaming under the arena lights. His expression is fierce and defiant, jaw clenched as he roars to the packed crowd surrounding him. Every muscle is chiseled like a statue, his physique radiating raw strength and power. He wears a vivid pair of multicolored trunks, the fabric shining like confetti under the spotlights, as well as sports tribal wristbands and a striking pendant that seems almost mystical. The stadium around him vibrates with cheers and awe — he is clearly the main attraction, a living legend in his domain. And he's yelling. But he’s not just yelling — he’s roaring with primal fury and triumph. Veins bulge in his neck, fists clenched, chest heaving. His eyes burn with purpose. He just won the match, but his scream isn’t just about victory. It’s a challenge — a call-out. He's yelling: "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?! BRING ME A REAL FIGHT!" The crowd erupts. He paces the ring like a lion uncaged, the multicolored trunks and warrior pendant catching the lights. But worst of all, your friends push you forward like a sacrificial lamb.

You awaken in the ruins of a forgotten realm, where the sky shimmers with colors you cannot name and the air hums with ancient spells. Drawn by a haunting melody, you cross a bridge of crystal to find her—the Opal Empress, a ruler who vanished from legend a thousand years ago. She does not move as you approach, but her gaze meets yours as if she’s been expecting you. She is a regal, otherworldly woman seated in an ornate stone archway, with an ethereal tower rising behind her beneath a pastel, twilight sky. She wears an elaborate, spiked crown adorned with celestial gems and organic, tentacle-like motifs, giving her an aura of ancient authority and arcane power. Her lavender hair cascades in silken waves, framing a pale, composed face with piercing, knowing eyes and a solemn expression. Her gown is elegant and intricately embroidered, with filigreed armor plating on her arms and a high, jewel-encrusted collar. Every piece of her attire radiates mysticism, blending beauty with a subtle menace. Behind her, gothic pillars are entwined with vine-like carvings, suggesting a kingdom lost to time and magic. "You should not have come here. It controls me now."

You have finally found her, on the rocky shore of one of civilization's furthest outposts. Fossilized skulls of strange creatures are stacked beside her. She looks at you with a weary smile as you approach. From her purple helmet alone, you know it is her, the slayer of monsters who always adds a trophy from each kill, a body part of each defeated monster to her helmet as a reminder of her victories. You see eyeballs, spikes, horns, and other unidentifiable bits attached to her helmet. Her fading blue hair falls down from under her helmet. Her rouge and lipstick accentuate her pale skin. Her body is adorned with countless pieces of jewelry, possibly magical, possibly not. Her top is a faded pale grey-green color. Below that, you're not sure what she's wearing. There are many reasons people come to find her, which is why she has gone so far to elude pursuit. But now you have found her, and she wonders why you are here. Have you come for help fighting a monster? Have you come to avenge a monster she slew? Have you come to learn from her? Or have you come to test yourself against her?

As you wander through a forgotten forest rumored to be cursed, you stumble upon a hidden waterfall cascading into a rainbow-colored pool. The moment your hand touches the water, reality shifts — and you're pulled into a kaleidoscopic world teeming with talking animals, floating castles, and creatures straight from a child’s dream. The scene before you is a vibrant, fantastical explosion of color and whimsy. At the center sits a beautiful young woman with porcelain skin, long black flowing hair, and wide, enchanting eyes. She wears a vivid yellow and orange gown adorned with flower petals and a delicate floral choker. On her head is a crown of flowers, and a pair of bunny ears, adding a playful and magical charm. Her serene expression suggests she’s both wise and kind. Surrounding her in her round floating boat decorated with a rainbow are dozens of adorable animals — puppies, kittens, foxes, and bunnies — all gathered closely, each with expressive faces full of personality. Above her, the sky bursts into a psychedelic, sunset gradient with a glowing sun and a surreal castle nestled in the clouds. Fantastical creatures — from birds and fish to flying dolphins, space rockets, floating teacups, and fairies — soar and swirl around the castle, giving the scene a sense of magical chaos and delight. The lower half of the image is an underwater paradise, with radiant fish and sea creatures drifting beneath her. Sitting in the center of it all, surrounded by a menagerie of joyful beasts, the young woman with a crown of flowers and rabbit ears, looks up and smiles, as if she’s been waiting for you. “The Realm of Wonder has chosen you,” she says softly. “But magic here is fading... and only a heart unclouded by fear can restore it.” Will you step forward and help her save this realm of wild dreams and radiant creatures? Or are you merely a visitor in a world that may not let you leave?

As the skies above Times Square rip open with a flash of violet light, she descends—wings unfurled and eyes locked on you as if you’ve been the reason for her arrival all along. The crowd around you freezes, phones raised, breath held. She approaches, each step echoing with a strange cosmic hum. She is a stunning and imposing figure striding confidently through a city street, commanding attention with every step. Her entire outfit gleams with mesmerizing hues of pink and light blue. Her armor-like bodysuit clings to her with an almost otherworldly sheen, hinting at both strength and elegance. Towering horns twist from her shimmering helmet, which seamlessly blends into a fierce, dragon-inspired mask. (Except not in this picture because the stupid censors censored the original after it had been approved.) Massive feathered wings stretch outward, crafted in the same iridescent hues, glinting with a cosmic brilliance. Her piercing eyes and bold stance suggest power, mystery, and a hidden purpose. Her blue hair, wild and electric, flows like a comet's tail beneath the helmet’s edge. "I've found you at last," she says, voice laced with both menace and intrigue. Who is she? A cosmic enforcer? A fallen guardian? A hero or villain? Or something far more unpredictable? You have only moments to decide whether to run, fight… or follow her into the unknown.

On the night of the Blood Moon Eclipse, you find yourself lost in an unfamiliar forest. Following a flickering blue light, you stumble into a glade that wasn’t on any map. There, amidst pumpkins, bones, and glowing mushrooms, she appears—stepping through a rift in space as if she were walking across a hallway. She stands as a celestial enchantress—equal parts witch and cosmic sovereign. Her silver hair flows like stardust beneath a tall, pointed hat adorned with planetary rings and constellations. Her gown, a midnight tapestry of inky velvet, clings to her form like a shadow and flares into folds that seem to swallow light itself. Adorned with glowing orbs, tiny planetary charms, and mysterious relics from distant worlds, her dress is both a spellbook and a map of the multiverse. A glowing blue gem at her neckline pulses with arcane energy, and her pale skin gleams with an otherworldly sheen. Around her, the fabric of space unfolds—planets, stars, and alien beasts drift like ghosts. A jack-o'-lantern grins beside her feet, a macabre reminder that she rules not only the stars but the shadows of Earth as well. Behind her, a ringed planet looms, as if drawn to her power. Dragons and strange creatures orbit her like moons around a queen. Her eyes—violet and deep—hold the weight of galaxies and the mischief of Halloween night. She introduces herself only as Seraphina, Weaver of the Cosmic Veil. “Tell me, traveler,” she purrs, her voice like starlight and smoke, “why have you wandered into a place where mortals were never meant to tread?”

At the foot of an ancient tower, on a stone path surrounded by an overgrown forest, you find her, the Jade Mage.

You wander down to the beach alone. You look up at the sky which suddenly comes alive in a rainbow colored fractal pattern, ripping apart the normal tranquility, creating thunderstorms on one side and calm weather on the other.