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  <title>The Dementia of Magic</title>
  <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/</link>
  <description>The Dementia of Magic - A medieval fantasy webcomic with just the right blend of story and silliness.  By Nicholas Killewald.</description>
  <copyright>Copyright 2002-2024 Nicholas Killewald</copyright>
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  <lastBuildDate>Sat, 10 Oct 2026 00:01:06 -0700</lastBuildDate>
  <docs>https://validator.w3.org/feed/docs/rss2.html</docs>
  <image>
   <url>https://dementiaofmagic.net/images/DoMCastNasalFly128x128.png</url>
   <title>The Dementia of Magic</title>
   <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/</link>
  </image>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, October 5, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20261005.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20261005.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 5 Oct 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20261005.png" alt="In my not-particularly-well-defined home, I stand before a sink, watching as water fills up a small, cubical, glass aquarium.  I say, &quot;Well.  That&#39;ll teach me not to get fancy with page layouts.&quot;

As I carry the now-filled aquarium somewhere, I continue: &quot;Fortunately, after the next chapter&#39;s intro pages, I should be able to go back to my usual page templates for a while.&quot; As an aside in smaller text, I add: &quot;...and looking at the 6-panel template, I have no idea why the horizontal gap is smaller than the 4-panel one.&quot;

Now at my desk, I set the aquarium down.  At the desk is my sketchbook, my usual mechanical pencil, and a small plastic toy boat.  &quot;So next up is putting Chapter Ten together.  I think I&#39;ve got a good framework and broad plot elements ready, but the whole thing as a complete story isn&#39;t quite there yet.&quot;

With the aquarium in place, I now hold the plastic boat in my hand.  &quot;Though, it&#39;s one of those ideas I&#39;ve had percolating for a long time, so I&#39;m looking forward to at least getting it out into existence for you.  Should be good.&quot;

At this, I toss the boat into the auqarium.  It floats.

Holding my sketchbook and starting to draw in it, I conclude with &quot;Oh, and it involves the sea, by the way.  Just to be clear.&quot;" title="The final version of the boat may be bigger."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Friday, October 2, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20261002.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20261002.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Fri, 2 Oct 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20261002.png" alt="Howard sits in darkened silence, continuing to read his book, still with a pained grimace on his face.

He then silently closes the book, now staring blankly at the table, his grimace more pained.  Next to him, Tilly&#39;s arm can be seen climbing the table.

Howard then closes his eyes, his grimace ever-increasingly present and getting worse.  Tilly swings himself over and onto the table, a bottle of something alcoholic in his hand.

Howard then drops his head to the table, his hands clutching his hair in despair.  Tilly, now seated, turns to look at him.

Howard does not move.  Tilly helpfully suggests: &quot;Ha!  Ya miss her, don&#39;tcha?&quot;" title="That bed&#39;s going to be super important, you can tell by the light, just you wait."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 30, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260930.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260930.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 30 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260930.png" alt="A narration describes the scene succinctly: &quot;In a distant, lonely inn, late at night...&quot;.

We see an unassuming, three-story inn with some minor decorations, only a few rooms, and an attached utility shed.  It is winter; snow is on the ground and a single tree in the background is bare.  It&#39;s night, and nobody is around.

We zoom into a window.  Inside, the room is only lit by the moonlight streaming in.  All we see is a bed and the corner of someone&#39;s head.

A closeup on the figure turning a page in a book.

The camera pulls out to reveal this is Howard, up late at night, studying this book.  His notes are scattered around the table, with an inkwell (apparently branded with the same decorations as the inn itself) nearby.

Though studiously studying, Howard doesn&#39;t necessarily seem all that content." title="Oh, it&#39;s still winter, by the way.  Did I mention that yet?"><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 28, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260928.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260928.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 28 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260928.png" alt="(much like the previous comic, all spoken text from the tribals is represented with angle-brackets to indicate it being translated from their language)

The tribals investigate the weapons and are impressed.  &quot;Wow.  Actual walled-city weapons,&quot; the blue-shirted one says, holding a large axe.  The red-topped one is inspecting a war hammer and adds, &quot;I&#39;ve never seen them up close before. This is unbelievable crafting.&quot;  The shirtless tribal who just brought them up points behind him and says, &quot;There&#39;s all sorts of them in this tower over here.  It&#39;s incredible.&quot;

The yellow-vested tribal is now holding the axe and comments, &quot;These would be amazing for short-range combat.  Though, is there anything bigger?&quot;  Off-panel, the shirtless responds, &quot;These ARE the bigger ones.  The walled-city people are a lot smaller, after all.&quot;  The blue-shirted tribal, who was previously holding the axe, says, &quot;Ah, yeah, these are probably their heavier stuff.&quot;  The green-shirted tribal, in the background, squinting at the detail in a shield, simply states, &quot;It&#39;s still amazing.&quot;

The blue-shirted tribal suddenly asks of the yellow-vested one, &quot;Wait... are you suggesting... we take them?&quot;  This gets everyone&#39;s attention.  The yellow-vested one responds, &quot;I... maybe?  This could be what She was meaning to give us?&quot;  The red-topped tribal says, &quot;I don&#39;t know... I don&#39;t really feel good taking the walled-city people&#39;s things like that.  Don&#39;t they need them?&quot;  The green-shirted one adds, &quot;And after we chased them off?  I don&#39;t like them at all.&quot;  The yellow-vested one says, &quot;Yeah...&quot;

At this point, the view is zooming a bit away from the tribals.  The yellow-vested one continues, &quot;I&#39;m just looking for any reason we&#39;re here, is all.&quot;  The blue-shirted one concedes, &quot;Yeah, I know what you mean.&quot;

The view is more zoomed-out.  We are now looking out a window at the tribals, with Stephanie&#39;s laurel-crowned head watching silently.  &quot;These REALLY feel good to swing, though,&quot; the yellow-vested tribal says, swinging the axe.  &quot;I don&#39;t think I&#39;ll ever understand how they make them like this,&quot; the red-topped one says.

A reverse-angle shot.  We now see Stephanie in an elevated enclosed walkway over the street, watching the tribals investigating these weapons.  She is unnoticed.  The tribals continue, offscreen: &quot;How&#39;s the hammer, by the way?&quot; &quot;Same thing.  Stronger material than I&#39;ve ever seen back home.&quot;  Stephanie, with her hand on her chin, contemplates this development with a grin on her face, simply thinking to herself, &quot;Hmm...&quot;" title="&quot;I&#39;ll have the greatest competitive axe throwing team the world has ever seen!&quot;"><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Friday, September 25, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260925.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260925.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Fri, 25 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260925.png" alt="A closeup on four wasteland tribals standing near Roslori&#39;s town wall.  A broken cart sits in the scene, dwarfed by a green-shirted tribal standing nearby, investigating it.  Another tribal, in a yellow vest, is poking at something on the street which we can&#39;t see.  A third, wearing a red top, is standing around idle with her arms behind her back.  A fourth, in a blue shirt is just glancing around.  They all stand there, silent.

(all spoken text is represented with angle-brackets to indicate it being translated from the tribals&#39; language)

The blue-shirted tribal breaks the silence with an awkward &quot;So... did... anyone see where She went?&quot;.  The yellow-vested tribal hazards a response, &quot;I... no.&quot;

The blue-shirted turns to the red-topped one and asks, &quot;Does anybody know why we chased off the walled-city people?&quot;  She stammers, &quot;N-no, not really.&quot;  The green-shirted tribal in the back with the cart comments, &quot;I wish we didn&#39;t.  They always seemed nice.&quot;

The blue-shirted one follows up with &quot;But that IS what She wanted us to do... right?&quot; The yellow-vested tribal shrugs and responds, &quot;I think so?  When She grew huge, She was pointing to the city.&quot;  In the back, the green-shirted tribal notes, &quot;I was just following everyone else.&quot;

&quot;So where did she go?&quot;, the blue-shirted tribal asks.  &quot;Is... is this some sort of test?  What do we-&quot; is all he gets out before he is interrupted by a fifth tribal, not wearing a shirt, entering the scene from the right.

He is carrying a shield, longbow, war hammer, and axe, each of which would be large, heavy equipment for non-tribal races, but appear to be of normal size compared to all present.  He says, &quot;Hey, check out what I found!&quot;" title="Please don&#39;t tell me the one in the red top looks like Amy, the captain of Ruby Squad back in Landis."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 23, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260923.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260923.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 23 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260923.png" alt="Inside a building, we see a collection of what is best described as four scenes of people using magic objects.  From left to right:

First, in the foreground, a human is throwing up a set of small glowing objects that produce small magic streaks and some multi-colored sparkles.  Nearby, a dwarf and a beach elf are delighted by it.

Second, in the back, a kindly old woman is happily standing in front of her collection of several stacks of thick books on magic.  Two people are happily reading books from said stacks.  One, on the right, is inspired so far as to be producing a small black-and-purple swirly ball of some sort of magic energy from his hand.

Third, in the back is a large glass orb with a purple liquid in it, with an output that looks like this concoction is intended to be distilled into a cauldron underneath.  Next to it is a contraption that involves a cracked and patched-together sphere atop a pole that, itself, is also patched together, situated on a hopefully stable base.  In the foreground, a beach elf is presenting a beaker with a glowing yellow liquid to a human, who is considering the contents.  On a table in front of them are four more similar beakers containing blue, green, red, and purple glowing liquids.

Fourth, in the back is a weapon rack with several enchanted weapons on it.  A scimitar glows red, a broadsword has electricity arcing around it, a spear has a rime of frost hovering around its tip, and a mace has some sort of green energy emanating from it.  In front of it, the crafter of said weapons stands proudly as she watches someone examining a sword whose blade burns with a white flame.  This customer appears impressed.

There is a narration for this collection of scenes: &quot;Roslori, a port city with heavy trade, sees a wide variety of people coming and going.  With that comes an also-wide variety of unique and/or powerful magic books, weapons, and doodads.  Having an army she can flex is nice and all, but what Stephanie really wants is raw power for herself.  So, she went around town for souvenirs.&quot;

The next panel repeats much of the structure of the first.  However, the people are missing from it, replaced by Stephanie reacting to each now-vacated scene.  A narration begins, &quot;But, everything she could find was...&quot;, and is followed up by a text box describing each of the modified scenes, as follows:

&quot;...not really useful...&quot;: Stephanie throws one of the glowing objects up, and it makes a magic sparkle.  She is unimpressed.

&quot;...too complex for her patience...&quot;: Stephanie is struggling to haul away an entire stack of magic books.  The top of the stack is starting to fall off.

&quot;...ruined in the attack, or...&quot;: The glass orb and cauldron have been shattered, the contraption has fallen apart, and the purple liquid in the orb has spilled all over the floor.  The beakers on the table have been overturned, their liquids spilled on the table.  Stephanie is holding one of the beakers, emptying the single red drop it contained.  She is frustrated.

&quot;...taken by its owners as they fled.&quot;: The weapon rack is empty.  Stephanie&#39;s clenched fists are quivering with her anger.

Next, we see Stephanie as she continues storming down the street from the previous comic.  The buildings down the street all have smashed windows, debris of which litters the sidewalk, as does smashed lamp posts and trash from an upended garbage can.  Narration continues: &quot;Of course, she didn&#39;t have time to search the ENTIRE town, but she couldn&#39;t even get the tribals to help in the search, as they wouldn&#39;t even know what she was looking for.  Needless to say, she was not pleased.&quot;

The final panel shows the view down the street where, in the distance, we can see some tribals milling about near the city wall.  Narration concludes: &quot;But, now that we&#39;ve brought up the tribals again, let&#39;s check in on them...&quot;" title="I&#39;m not saying the liquids in the beakers are NOT just glowing fruit juice, but..."><br /><div class="comicfootnote">
    <div class="comicfootnoteimage siteimage"></div>

    <div class="comicfootnotetext">
        <p>In my local archives, I store my comics with the names "DoMStrip#" or "DoMCom##-##".  The latter is used for chapter intro pages and is separated by chapter.  The former is for "normal" comics and just keeps increasing.  I had some reason for doing it that way when I started.  I don't remember exactly why; it's been a while.</p>

        <p>There's been some odd exceptions throughout the years, so the DoMStrip numbers might not be fully accurate, but whatever the case: This comic is DoMStrip1000.</p>

        <p>Thanks to everyone who's been reading this long!  It's been well over a thousand comics!  It's unbelievable!</p>
    </div>
<br />
</div>
]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 21, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260921.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260921.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 21 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260921.png" alt="Sitting at my desk, I, acting as narrator, state &quot;Fortunately, you as the reader have an easy way to get answers: I can just tell you.&quot;

At a fountain in the middle of the Roslori festival grounds (which was seen in exactly one panel during the festival itself), we see numerous wasteland tribals.  The fountain is off; the water is still.  A few damaged and torn tents are in the background.  Narration describes the scene somewhat aptly: &quot;As expected, after the attack the tribals sort of milled about in town, still very confused as to why they were ordered to do what they did.&quot;  Sure enough, one is looking in the waters of the fountain at her reflection, one is looking at the disabled middle of the fountain, one is looking at the damaged tents, one is squinting and looking up at something, one is contemplating something off the bottom of the panel, another is looking at something off to the side, and one more is just sort of walking off to the left.  None look sure of any of this.

We jump to somewhere in the city itself.  Focus is on a round blue building that sort of looks like a squat pot with a purple roof; large decorative flasks attached to the front of it suggest it to be a potion shop.  As it is in the city, it sits among a few other colorful buildings along its street, none of which are important to the scene.  From inside the potion shop, we hear a distinct growl.  Narration continues: &quot;There was, however, one person in the city who approached this situation with any degree of confidence and certainty.&quot;

&quot;Also as expected, that person was Stephanie.&quot;  Stephanie, indeed, is now walking away from the potion shop.  Actually, &quot;storming away&quot; is a more accurate description, as she is scowling to herself and clearly not happy.  The narration concludes: &quot;And, she was a rather frustrated goddess.&quot;" title="It&#39;s really hard to line up the tribals in scale to a scene I drew exactly once while keeping in mind they&#39;re all significantly taller than the people I put in that scene in the first place."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Friday, September 18, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260918.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260918.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Fri, 18 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260918.png" alt="Inside a largeish tent, one outfitted with various accoutrements of the captain of the Roslori city guard, including a trunk, a small bed, a table with an unlit lamp, a small potted plant, and other bits, we see Sienna, Gena, and Theo, the three lookouts atop the Roslori city wall from the previous chapter.  They are standing at ease, addressing the captain off-panel.

Sienna implicitly continues a description of the tribal attack.  &quot;...then the woman went in the tent with the bogus icon, and, like, then the illusion started.&quot;  Gena adds, &quot;The tribes looked about as confused as we were, same as when they gathered outside the city.&quot;  Theo finishes with &quot;But, they still charged the gate.  Sienna went for the bell, and, well, everyone saw the rest.&quot;  Off-panel, the captain mutters &quot;Mmm hmm.&quot;

The captain of the guard is a red-haired woman in an outfit that, much like the officer from the previous comic, is much like the leather armor of other patrol members, but hers has a fancier, multi-layered shawl, with a lighter green layer atop a darker green one.  The lower layer ends in a blue diamond shape in the front.  Her helmet, with a larger plume than the officer&#39;s, lies on the bed behind her.  Said plume has a gradient from green at the base to blue at the edges.

&quot;That&#39;s about all the other lookouts saw, too,&quot; she comments.  &quot;Hmph.&quot;  Off-panel, Sienna adds, &quot;It was a lot to take in, dude.&quot;

&quot;Yes, yes, I understand.  Very well, thank you.  Dismissed.&quot;  As the captain says this, the officer from the previous comic arrives at the entrance to the tent, report in hand.  &quot;Ma&#39;am?  The scouting team just returned.&quot;

As Sienna, Gena, and Theo leave, the captain walks up to take the report.  &quot;Excellent, I&#39;ve been waiting.  The short version?&quot;  Handing her the report, the officer responds, &quot;Whole city&#39;s deserted.  The tribes, their &#39;goddess&#39;, everyone.&quot;

The captain is, understandably, incredulous at this, looking back at him with an arched eyebrow, responding with &quot;...what?!?&quot;  The officer says, &quot;I know, it sounds absurd, but nothing about what happened makes sense to begin with.&quot;

Flipping through the report with some frustration, the captain angrily states, &quot;If they just up and left after an attack like that, it makes even LESS sense!  Who WAS that woman?  What was she thinking?  Why were the tribes listening to her?  What&#39;s going on here?&quot;  The officer, undeterred by this, simply states, &quot;Just going on what&#39;s in the report, Sue.&quot;

The captain (Sue) sighs and says, &quot;All right.  Tell the other officers to get ready to head back tomorrow.  Maybe we&#39;ll get answers in town.&quot;  The officer responds with an &quot;Aye, ma&#39;am.&quot;" title="The officer&#39;s name is Jules.  I didn&#39;t make names for the three patrol members in the previous comic."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 16, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260916.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260916.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 16 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260916.png" alt="A narrative box establishes: &quot;At a makeshift Roslori city patrol encampment a good distance from town...&quot;

Sure enough, we see a part of a small encampment in a grassy area with few trees.  Some plain brown tents are in the background with a few Roslori patrol members milling about.  Among others, one is sitting on a stump, inspecting his helmet with some frustration throughout the comic.  Two others are beside a steel pot suspended over a small fire pit; one is crouched down, lighting the fire with a magic spell, while the other stands nearby.  Eventually, the latter will dump a nearby sack of vegetables into the pot as it heats up.

More importantly, a Roslori patrol officer is in the foreground.  His outfit is the same as other patrol members (light leather armor w/small pauldrons, something that would&#39;ve been established in these alt texts if I were doing them in the previous chapter), but with a purple tassel on his helmet and a matching purple shawl.  He is standing before a makeshift note board nailed to a tree, arranging papers with known details about the wasteland tribal attack on the city.  A squad of three patrol members approach him, the one in front holding a stack of paper in her hand.  &quot;&#39;Evening, sir&quot;, she says.  The officer responds, &quot;Ah, welcome back.&quot;

Turning to them, he continues, &quot;I trust you have good news?&quot;.  &quot;Far as we could tell, yes&quot;, the first patrol member responds as she hands him the report.  The second patrol member, a dwarf, adds &quot;Couldn&#39;t find anything.  Whole city&#39;s deserted.&quot;

Glancing up from the report, the officer asks, &quot;Completely?&quot;  The third patrol member says, &quot;Completely.  No sign of any of the tribes or the woman in the illusion claiming to be their goddess.&quot;

The second continues, &quot;We&#39;d need the whole crew t&#39; do a more exhaustive search o&#39; the city, but just from what we saw, there&#39;s not a soul there.&quot;  The first adds, &quot;As for the city itself, there&#39;s widespread wreckage, as you&#39;d expect.  Thankfully, the wall&#39;s still solid apart from the north gate and some superficial damage.  All in the report.&quot;  The officer, off-panel, simply responds, &quot;Hrm... yes, yes...&quot;

Now off-panel, the third mentions, &quot;We did find the armory&#39;s been cleared out of all our heavy stuff, though.  No evidence it was the tribes, but we&#39;re going to be short on gear regardless.&quot;  The officer is quickly skimming the report, but does have the mind to note, &quot;I see.  That is... concerning, to say the least.&quot;

The officer says, &quot;But, I&#39;ll inform the captain.  She&#39;s debriefing the last of the wall lookouts now.&quot;  Pointing to the three with some pages of the report in his hand, he concludes, &quot;With this, we&#39;re likely breaking camp early in the morning.  Get some rest.&quot;  All three respond with &quot;Aye, sir.&quot;" title="I like giving background characters things to do as a means of giving them some depth.  Sometimes, they&#39;re just dumping a sack of vegetables into a pot."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 14, 2026</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260914.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20260914.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 14 Sep 2026 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20260914.png" alt="A view of the city of Roslori from the wall of the North Gate.  There is evidence of the Wasteland Tribal attack here: The physical gate itself is broken and off its hinges; the decorative banner above the gate has snapped, a piece of it lying on the ground; the green gem atop the wall is smashed; and a few Tribal spears and ladders are scattered on the ground, with some ladders still standing against the wall.  There are no people.

A narration states &quot;Roslori, days after the Tribal attack.  An eerie silence permeats the air.&quot;

A view of a street inside the city.  The city is strewn with debris, further artifacts of the Tribal attack, with broken street lamps, broken signs, an overturned litter bin with lumps of whatever scattered around, broken glass, a dislodged sign (in the shape of a strawberry, clearly indicating the building on which it rested was a produce market), scattered mail from a downed mailbox, and other signs of damage.  Still, no people.

The narration continues: &quot;At present, the city is still empty.  Not even thieves or scavengers have come forth to take advantage of the situation.&quot;

A view of the festival grounds.  Several tents are still standing, though in serious disrepair.  Tent fabric is torn, burned, and flapping in the wind, revealing the structural materials of the tent behind them.  Damaged parts of tents, leftover food, and a stray Tribal spear lie on the ground.  Again, no people.

The narration: &quot;More importantly, though, the city is also empty of Wasteland Tribals and their ersatz goddess.&quot;

A silhouetted view outside the East Gate of Roslori.  We see three guards walking away.

Another narration: &quot;Also, as per a few minutes ago, the city is also empty of these specific members of the city guard.&quot;

Spaced down the panel a bit more: &quot;These guards right here.&quot;

And a bit further down still: &quot;They&#39;re heading out.&quot;" title="A quasi-medieval fantasy world can have a municipal trash bin or two, as a treat."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 17, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250917.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250917.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 17 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250917.png" alt="We turn to a lonely pub on the Landis side of the Landis-Terakol border, today.  It is late at night, the winter landscape is covered in snow, icicles hang from the roof of the pub in a way I&#39;m not sure actually works and should have researched better, and the pub itself is clearly closed to the public for the night.  From inside, we hear Catherine: &quot;I&#39;ve been tailing them around Terakol for months now... *grumble* ...and that dwarf&#39;s right, something&#39;s wrong up there.&quot;

Inside the pub, we see Catherine sitting at the bar, telling her story to the other two people there this late: The bartender, a heavy-set woman with light brown hair in a purple suit with a light green shirt underneath, who is serving both Catherine and a patron of the pub ales; and the patron, a younger, lighter woman with short black hair in a layered outfit and a large green scarf covering the lower half of her face.  Catherine continues: &quot;The more I saw, the more it just bugged me.  Like, I don&#39;t have any idea what in the hell council lackeys in sanitation uniforms are doing taking notes on random mining experiments and rocket tests, and it just got worse from that.

The patron interjects: &quot;Yeah?  They&#39;re council goons, right?  Get anything from the castle?&quot;  Catherine responds, with a slight glare from her good eye as if the answer were obvious, &quot;Couldn&#39;t get near it.  I don&#39;t exactly blend in with dwarves.&quot;

The bartender then speaks up: &quot;Sure, sure... what about Jacob?&quot;  Catherine answers: &quot;Haven&#39;t talked to him yet.  He&#39;s clearly not happy about this, but it looks like he&#39;s got his own idea.  I don&#39;t want him to know I&#39;m there until I know what he&#39;s got in mind.&quot;

As Catherine starts to drink her ale, she concludes: &quot;And Bnorm&#39;s with them.  I do NOT want to deal with him at any rate.&quot;  The patron and the bartender both respond in general agreement and understanding at that statement as the bartender walks off and the patron drinks her own ale (moving her scarf out of the way first).

After a beat of Catherine silently considering something (and not looking happy about it), she asks the patron, &quot;Where&#39;s Matthew?&quot;  The patron replies, &quot;Matt?  Last anyone saw him, he and his sister went down to Roslori.  You heard what happened there.&quot;  Catherine, unfazed, responds &quot;Eh, he&#39;ll be fine.  He knows how to run.&quot;" title="The Dementia of Magic: Dedicated to making up new characters out of whole cloth for single appearances and expecting you to act like that&#39;s perfectly normal."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 15, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250915.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250915.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 15 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250915.png" alt="Vince again continues writing in his room.  &quot;Regardless, I&#39;m a part of this now.&quot;

We now see the mountainside where Ogin finishes talking to Vince, with his lackey nearby, Jacob still leaning against the nearby wall, and Bnorm standing behind Ogin&#39;s lackey.  Vince continues narrating: &quot;I have no idea what lies in store for me in the upcoming days, months, or however long this lasts.&quot;

Vince watches as the other four walk away off-panel to the left.  Jacob glares at Bnorm.  Bnorm snarls back at Jacob.  Vince continues: &quot;I only hope Ogin knows what he&#39;s doing, both for my adopted kingdom and my homeland.&quot;

Vince also walks off-panel to the left.  He concludes: &quot;But for now, I must sign off.  It has been a very strange series of days, and I need sleep.&quot;

Vince&#39;s narration concluded, the mountain scene is now empty and silent.

However, then a lone pebble falls and plinks off a rocky angle in the wall.  A short &quot;Hrmph&quot; is heard from above.

Just above where the three were being lectured by Ogin and his lackey, we now see Catherine.  She has clearly been listening to the conversation, undetected.  In her own notebook, she writes a bulleted summary:

- Dwarves acting stranger than usual?
- Jacob&#39;s keeping quiet; what&#39;s his plan?
- Don&#39;t know what the beanpole&#39;s deal is.
- What the hell is Bnorm doing here?" title="If only above Catherine was, I don&#39;t know, Quertia the witch watching the whole situation, then I could&#39;ve just kept going up the mountain with more characters I haven&#39;t used in way too long!"><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Friday, September 12, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250912.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250912.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Fri, 12 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250912.png" alt="Vince continues writing in his room.  &quot;The reason I was brought into this is quite surprising: This very journal.&quot;

In a scene somewhere in Terakol in front of a garage with large double doors and a typically-misshapen dwarven service door, Vince approaches a group of three dwarves.  One is working on what looks like a yellow cannon, having removed a panel and is fiddling with something or another on it.  Another supervises.  A third is loaded in the canon, wearing a pinkish crash helmet and purple shades.  Vince greets them cheerfully; the three of them respond in kind.  Vince&#39;s writings continue: &quot;In my time adapting to life in Terakol, I suppose I have made a bit of a name for myself as a chronicler of Terakol culture.  People recognize me, they generally appreciate me, and are quite open to me about their lives.  To cut to the chase, while Jacob&#39;s job is to cain information by secrecy, mine is to do so more openly.&quot;

A new scene: A dwarf stands in a room with a rack of blueprints, rolled up and stored vertically (as in, stood on end), next to a filing cabinet stuffed with papers.  The dwarf smiles in approval at the blueprint he has retrieved and is actively reviewing.  Vince continues: &quot;One thing I may not have made clear in my writings is that Terakol citizens don&#39;t really keep cultural notes the way humans or elves do.  They are quite meticulous with their technical blueprints and procedural recordkeeping, but less so with day-to-day goings on.&quot;

Yet another scene: Vince is standing nearby a group of dwarves who are testing a rocket-powered vehicle that is very rapidly blasting off to the side of the panel.  This test is apparently a success, as all present, including what we can see of the pilot, are throwing their hands up in celebration.  Vince is happily taking notes.  His present-day narration continues: &quot;Or, as Ogin put it, they tend to miss things an outsider like me might pick up on.  I guess I can see how this would help when Ogin can trust very few people, but it does make me more self-conscious about what I write here.&quot;

Then, back in his room, Vince looks at his writing, slightly concerned.  With his mutated finger, he begins flicking back a bit, reviewing what he&#39;s written.  He then concludes: &quot;Re-reading these past few pages, I now realize I&#39;ve had a lot of reasons to not be very confident about this plan in general.&quot;" title="People store blueprints like that, right?  People store SOMETHING rolled-up like that, right?"><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 10, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250910.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250910.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 10 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250910.png" alt="Ogin turns and addresses Jacob.  Jacob remains cold, leaning against the wall of the mountain pass with his arms folded.  Vince continues: &quot;As I mentioned, there is one other human here with us, a Landis thief named Jacob.  His reason for being here is much simpler: He&#39;s a thief.&quot;

We shift to a scene that&#39;s sort of like a flashback but none of the characters present besides Jacob himself would know about it, so it&#39;s less of a flashback and more of an illustrative device?  Something like that.  This scene is in the shipping and storage district of a port town, late at night.  Jacob and Matt are slinking around against a wall, with Jacob taking the lead, making sure the coast is clear.  Around the corner is a bunch of goods, including a locked chest, a crate, a large sack with a label on it, and a gold pot.  Vince continues: &quot;I guess Jacob is well-known and quite connected within the Landis underground.  Exactly why a Terakol official like Ogin knows this is beyond me.&quot;

Now we shift to a scene which is far more speculative than a flashback, as this, by definition, couldn&#39;t have happened yet, which again makes it more for illustrative purposes.  This takes place in an alleyway in a dwarf city, seen from a high angle.  Debris and containers litter the ground.  Below, there are two dwarves discussing something.  In the foreground, high above them, is Jacob, crawling across a large wooden beam and listening intently.  Vince continues: &quot;Nevertheless, Ogin needs his talents in infiltration and remaining unseen.  As a human from Landis, he&#39;s clearly not part of the problem, and his short stature makes him far more ideal than most humans for sneaking around a dwarf kingdom.&quot;

Back at the mountain pass in something that more concretely happened from a narrative standpoint, Ogin continues talking to Jacob as Vince watches in the background.  Jacob&#39;s expression remains unmoved and irritated.  Vince&#39;s narration continues: &quot;The short version is, Ogin has people and places he wants watched, and he would rather these be watched discreetly.  Jacob doesn&#39;t seem particularly eager to help, but he has to feel something&#39;s up, at least enough to humor Ogin without running off.&quot;

One more scene shift lands us in a storage room.  This was the scene of Jacob&#39;s most recent job with Catherine back in Sornil in Landis, the scene where both of them got knocked out by Ogin and his lackey.  The focus is on the ground and Catherine&#39;s unconscious body.  Vince continues: &quot;That discussion did, however, bring up the topic of a friend of Jacob&#39;s, one who was with him when he was taken and who is notably not with us in this camp.  Ogin assured Jacob this friend was okay.  This did not do much to earn Jacob&#39;s trust.&quot;" title="Every time I do something like the high-angle shot in the third panel and work out how to draw my characters to fit, I grow more powerful.  Please ignore the fact that most artists learn how to do that much earlier in their artistic lives."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 8, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250908.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250908.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 8 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250908.png" alt="Vince brings up a point with Ogin as Jacob watches in the background.  Ogin looks away, as if he does not have an answer to what Vince is asking, but his lackey turns as if he has suddenly noticed something off to the right of the panel.  Vince&#39;s narration continues: &quot;Of course, all of this is hard to believe without proof, which Ogin doesn&#39;t have in this camp.&quot;

Now focused a bit more to the right, the view reveals Bnorm, who is shouting something back at the discussion.  Jacob, Ogin, and the lackey all notice.  Vince narrates: &quot;But, of all people, Bnorm was willing to vouch for him.  He did so quite angrily, too.  As he kept interjecting, it became clear why he was here: He&#39;s witnessed exactly what Ogin was talking about, and he isn&#39;t happy about it.&quot;

The next scene takes up the entirety of the page: Bnorm and his gang, the members of which were redrawn from like three or four comics way back in Chapter Two, are looking at a group of dwarves cheerfully moving a large drill mechanism down a road somewhere in the lowlands of Terakol.  Bnorm&#39;s gang are angry and incredulous at how these dwarves don&#39;t really care about a group of three more dwarves behind Bnorm&#39;s gang who, by their outfits at least, are Terakol officials.  These officials (for lack of a better term, given the context of this short story) are taking notes on clipboards, apparently about the drill mechanism, all with annoyingly overconfident smug grins on their faces.  They&#39;re clearly up to no good, is what I&#39;m saying.

Vince narrates throughout this scene: &quot;In fact, as he put it, this is why Bnorm and his gang left Terakol for Landis years ago.  He&#39;d seen the early stages of this in broad daylight and became frustrated at how the citizens were too preoccupied to notice.  Unfamiliar officials from the castle, always taking notes on civilian projects, never talking to anyone... it made them uncomfortable, in terms of the sanctity of both the crown and the people of the land.

&quot;It was strange to hear someone like Bnorm talking about how he didn&#39;t feel safe in his own homeland, but there it was.  Needless to say, he&#39;s not particularly thrilled to be back.&quot;

Back to the present-day scene, Bnorm has advanced to Ogin and is becoming more animated in his shouting.  Ogin, an experienced strategist, is no-selling this in his responses.  Vince and Jacob are both uneasy about this whole situation.  Vince concludes: &quot;At the very least, Ogin can trust Bnorm isn&#39;t part of the problem.  I admit, I&#39;m not comfortable with his level of optimism.&quot;" title="Some day I&#39;ll settle on a general climate and ecology for Terakol."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Friday, September 5, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250905.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250905.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Fri, 5 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250905.png" alt="Over a scene of a humble, happy King Terakol standing among his fellow dwarf subjects cheerfully going about their daily business, Vince&#39;s narration continues: &quot;I have noted in past entries about how King Rogald Terakol is a quiet monarch of few words, one who rules his kingdom with calm subtlety.&quot;

A new scene, however, depicts King Terakol, while still happy, now celebrating with a small cheering crowd of dwarves in a pub, merrily wielding two mugs of ale.  Vince writes: &quot;I have now been informed this is not exactly true.&quot;

We now see King Terakol giving a rather animated speech before a large crowd of dwarves as Vince continues: &quot;According to Ogin, the king has historically been a very charismatic and celebratory ruler, to put it lightly.  I was never aware of this; I guess that&#39;s what I get for never having been on any diplomatic trips to Terakol in my days with Landis.  His relative silence is a recent development, one which Ogin started to notice around a year ago, shortly before my self-imposed exile here.&quot;

Within Castle Terakol, we now see Ogin walking past two other dwarves, each wearing outfits consistent with other castle officials, a detail I stumbled across when checking past comics for reference and which nobody else will probably remember.  The two unnamed dwarves seem suspiciously content about something; one is looking over a clipboard with approval.  Ogin is very suspicious.  Vince continues: &quot;It was also around this time he noticed new, unfamiliar faces in Castle Terakol.  Faces which spent a lot of time talking with each other and the king, and not with his existing council.&quot;

A simple shot of Vince writing this journal accompanies his next lines: &quot;Though I do not have the time or context to go into full detail here, much of Ogin&#39;s discussion was pointing out a very alarming amount of abnormalities like these.  If all of this is true, it is greatly disturbing; the compromised rule of King Terakol, the monarch of a nation so closely allied with Landis, could have dire consequences for both kingdoms.&quot;

We conclude with a shot of a hallway in Castle Terakol, one whose walls have portraits of past rulers of the nation, each of which are wearing the same outfit and crown.  As Vince is about to mention, the crown, while golden and set with numerous gems, is asymmetric; it is made of seven points, two of which are taller than the others, the remaining five being unbalanced around the circumference.  Otherwise, the outfit consists of a greyish collared shirt and a somewhat pea-soup-green cape with brownish-green trim.  Vince&#39;s narration: &quot;Unrelated, I have also learned some of the other eccentricities of the Terakol monarchy, such as the asymmetric crown and the seemingly plain regal attire, are normal.  You learn something new every day.&quot;" title="No, the different colors of the outfits between Ogin and the unnamed dwarf in red simply mean they ostensibly work in different divisions, not that the one in red is evil.  You&#39;re not getting out of this that easily."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, September 3, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250903.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250903.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 3 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250903.png" alt="In what is evidently a flashback to earlier in the day, we see Vince walking out of a small cave somewhere in the mountains.  The narration is provided by a continuation of his journal from the previous comic: &quot;I am writing this from somewhere near Castle Terakol.  I don&#39;t feel it wise to go into more detail for the time being.&quot;

Next, we see Ogin and his lackey.  Ogin is looking through a spyglass out over a cliff, brow furrowed.  His lackey is nearby, looking over an unrolled sheet of paper.  Narration continues: &quot;At the end of my last entry, I was taken by two dwarves.  One identifies himself as Ogin, chief strategist for King Terakol.  The other is a member of the Terakol royal guard whose name I did not catch.&quot;

In a line of narrative just sort of hovering in the gutter between panels, Vince states, &quot;In the time I have been here, I have been treated well, apart from not being allowed to leave.  In recent days, however, I have been joined by two other abductees.&quot;

We see Jacob, a friend of Matt who we haven&#39;t seen since Chapter Six, leaning against a rock wall.  &quot;First is a short human Ogin has informed me is named Jacob.  I do not recognize him; all I have been told is that he is a thief from Landis.  He is clearly not happy to be here.&quot;

Near Jacob, we see Bnorm the Ravenous, someone else we haven&#39;t seen since Chapter Six.  &quot;The second one I do recognize, and concerns me greatly: Bnorm the Ravenous, a dwarf gang leader with a well-known reputation.  I recall him coming in and out of lockup at Castle Landis with alarming frequency.  He is also not happy to be here.&quot;

Vince stands near the other two as Ogin and his lackey approach them.  Jacob and Bnorm turn to look at them.  &quot;Until today, we have been kept in the dark as to why we have been brought here.  However, with the arrival of Bnorm, Ogin has finally opened up.&quot;

A closeup as Ogin addresses the group; we don&#39;t see what he is saying, but Vince&#39;s narration continues: &quot;He has a job for us.  A curious one, yet a disturbing one.&quot;" title="The Dementia of Magic: Dedicated to making you remember characters you don&#39;t actually remember."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, September 1, 2025</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250901.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20250901.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 1 Sep 2025 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20250901.png" alt="This comic begins at my desk where I deliver a warning: &quot;Okay, this time I&#39;m serious, you really should get caught up for this one.  Head back to Chapter Six for the last time we dealt with Vince and the dwarves of Terakol.&quot;  I then add, &quot;Yes, I&#39;m going a bit deep here.&quot;  The unfortunate shame is that, at time of writing, the comics of Chapter Six have no alt texts.
 
 The comic proper consists of a short montage of shots involving Vince, mimicing the opening actions he took in his story section back in Chapter Six.  He carries his journal, a dwarf tome bound in metal and a weird cylinder thing which I&#39;m not sure makes any sense, over to a table, where he opens it and clanks it down.  The journal lands open to his last entry, mentioning how his plan was to travel to a camp of dwarves at the Breznial-Terakol border to get their opinion on Breznial.  The entry is interrupted at the end, leaving an ink splat that has dribbled down the bottom edges of the journal&#39;s pages.
 
 Vince turns to a new, blank page.  He takes out the same overly-complicated, mechanically automated ink pen he used in Chapter Six, giving a small wheel on it a flick with his thumb to activate a small pump mechanism to get ink flowing to the nib.  Vince begins writing: &quot;My life has taken a strange turn since I was last able to update this journal.  I honestly do not yet believe I have fully processed it.&quot;" title="That screaming you hear is the sound of stylophiles discovering I have no idea what I&#39;m doing when inventing ridiculous dwarf pens."><br /><div class="comicfootnote">
    <div class="comicfootnoteimage siteimage"></div>

    <div class="comicfootnotetext">
        <p>If it helps, here's a link to <a href="https://dementiaofmagic.net//d/20130405.html">the part of Chapter Six in question</a>.</p>
    </div>
<br />
</div>
]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Wednesday, October 9, 2024</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20241009.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20241009.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Wed, 9 Oct 2024 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20241009.png" alt="Janis turns and walks back across the room.  &quot;Of course,&quot; she says, &quot;it doesn&#39;t matter how silent I am, I can&#39;t exactly tunnel my way out of the upper floors of this tower.  Plus, the moment they noticed me missing, they&#39;d search the room, find the tunnel, and find me.&quot;  The rat, scampering across the floor to follow Janis, comes to a conclusion: &quot;Sooooo ya stay in the castle, and ya stay queen!&quot;

Janis, now back at the hole in the floor, gingerly places the flask inside, having implicitly already placed the pickaxe in as well, off-camera.  &quot;So, I have more work to do,&quot; she corrects the rat.  &quot;More plans to make.  More stuff to get.  More.&quot;  The rat responds, &quot;Like what?&quot;

As Janis moves the false floor back to cover up the hole, she says, &quot;I don&#39;t know yet.  Something.  Anything.  This is step one.  It has to be.&quot;  The rat, appropriately continuing to be a pest, asks a perhaps important question, &quot;And whadya do when ya get out of the castle?  Are ya still queen there?&quot;

Janis approaches her bed, little more than a sheetless mattress with a pillow on it.  &quot;I leave.  That&#39;s it.  I get out of this castle, out of this kingdom, and into my own life, and I can figure it out from there.&quot;  The rat follows, leaping up on a nearby stray pillow on the floor.  &quot;Uh huh... but what&#39;s it like outside of Breznial?  Ya don&#39;t exactly get out often.&quot;

Janis, now lying on her bed and trying to get to sleep, replies &quot;At this point I&#39;m mostly hoping it has fewer talking rodents.  Good night.&quot;" title="Please pretend there&#39;s some sort of structural element that holds the false floor up so it doesn&#39;t just fall and crush the flask."><br />]]></description>
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       <title>Comic for Monday, October 7, 2024</title>
       <link>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20241007.html</link>
       <guid>https://dementiaofmagic.net/d/20241007.html</guid>
       <pubDate>Mon, 7 Oct 2024 00:00:01 -0700</pubDate>
   <description><![CDATA[<img src="https://dementiaofmagic.net/comics/DoM20241007.png" alt="As Janis rubs the potion-soaked cloth on the head of the pickaxe, the rat points at the bottle (off-panel) and asks, &quot;So what&#39;s in the bottle, queenie?  Doesn&#39;t smell good.&quot;  &quot;It&#39;s a potion,&quot; Janis replies.  &quot;The only useful one I could make without the help of our useless mages.&quot;

The rat responds, &quot;Uh huh, so what&#39;s it do?  Does it get us food?&quot;  Janis, for her part, is winding up to swing the pickaxe at the rat.  &quot;Hold still,&quot; she says, &quot;I&#39;ll show you.&quot;

Janis then grits her teeth as she swings at where the rat is.  The rat safely jumps out of the way in time and the full force of the pick impacts the wall just below the window, knocking small chunks of stone into the air.  Curiously, however, the only sound from the impact itself is a muted &quot;thup&quot;.

The rat, now behind Janis, is surprised.  He exclaims, &quot;Hey!  That didn&#39;t make any noise!&quot;  Janis replies, &quot;I already checked.  It won&#39;t work on you.&quot;" title="If your first thought on seeing this is &quot;Hush-A-Boom&quot;, then congratulations!  You&#39;re also old!"><br />]]></description>
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