From atop my tower amidst the windswept peaks, I write these words with age-crabbed hands. The knowledge of the ages had been bound within my skull. Power enough to transform all the universe to my will, but the wisdom to know that no matter my incredible arcane might, I still do not have the insight to remake all creation without flaws.

For instance, if I were to cast a mighty spell that would transform every kobold lawyer on the entire plane into custard, would it have an impact on local currency values, rendering my gold pile less valuable? Who knows? I’m not an economist, nor do I consult with those grey-garbed demons. I have the wisdom to know that I must limit the changes I make to outcomes I can predict. For instance, turning the kobold lawyers that came to my tower demanding payment for services rendered into custard.

It is not for custard that you call out to me. Nor is it my power you seek with your letters cast through lightning and the beakered world-storm. You have wisdom enough to seek me out for my immense experience of life.

Whatever troubles ail you in your mortal lives, you yourself can mend with but a touch of that wisdom to guide you.

***

Grek writes:

HELP! I am a goblin. I recently acquired a rather luxurious dwarf beard after an accident with a magical elixir. I don’t know who I am anymore!

***

My Hirsute Correspondent,

This is the reason there are no goblin wizards. To a man, your species is populated with buffoons and reprobates. It is my sincerest hope that the beard you have so wrongfully acquired slithers around and strangles you in your sleep.

A good day to you, sir.

***

After consultation with my imps and contract, it appears that wishing for you to be murdered by your own facial hair does not constitute “community service,” so with great distaste and protest, I shall now attend to your ridiculous problem as if you were a person of worth rather than dungeon-dwelling filth.

***

“Dear” Grek,

I am so terribly sorry to hear about the awful thing that has happened to you. I am sure that whichever wizard spent literally hours of their life gathering rare ingredients, weaving spells and preparing that potion is not simmering with rage to hear that it was squandered granting some goblin a beard. I am sure that wizard deserved it. Let’s talk about what really matters here. Let’s talk more about your “feelings.”

A beard does not maketh the man. Just as there are dwarves in this world who have no facial hair to speak of and humans with luxurious facial hair, who you are as a person is not altered by your appearance. You remain the same [Redacted by Legal Imps] that you have always been, you vile little [Redacted by Legal Imps.]

If a beard were all it took to transform a goblin into a dwarf, then I can assure you the population of that proud and stout people would be booming, while your own kind would have dwindled into non-existence as soon as I was old enough to cast the necessary charms. No, Grek. You are not changed. Your kind never change.

If the beard itself is causing you concern, then I would suggest you seek out a wizard to remove it for you. Ideally one that is travelling with an adventuring party somewhere near to your nest. Preferably one that has prepared a fireball spell. I am sure that wizard will be more than happy to remove all of the biological problems below your mouth for you.

If that is too much of an effort for you, then I would suggest that you find the largest and rustiest bladed weapon that you can lay hands on and scrape your face with it until the luxurious beard, and underlying skin, has been thoroughly removed. It is important that you also shave off your skin to prevent the elixir from taking effect again. In fact, the more of your own face you can carve off, the better. Why not take off the whole head, just to be safe?

***

Having relationship issues? Need career advice? You name it, our ‘Agony Ant’ can help!* Email your problems to thefantasyhive@gmail.com with the subject ‘Ask the Wizard’, or leave a comment below.

*Disclaimer: All answers are provided for entertainment purposes only. It may not be in your best interests to follow advice provided by a 1794-year-old man who lives alone in a tower with nothing but the distant memories of past glories for company.