Hearken to my words ye tremulous wretches for I have returned to thee in thy hour of need. Yes, back once more to my tower after months, nay years, nay decades, on the road. I am returned from the grandiose quest to slay an evil wombat in mortal combat and return peace to the realm, which I achieved thanks to the brave sacrifices of the heroes that accompanied me. Yes, all of them. Yes, I am the sole survivor. Yes, I’m sure I could have just hit it with a fireball right at the beginning, but they had come all this way in their shiny armour and really wanted to show off, who was I to puncture their dreams of dramatic showdowns. Who was I? Who am I?! 

I am Ulesorin the Green! Aunt of Agonies. Master of Magics. And through some presumably honourary bestowment in light of my achievements in the field I am now informed that I have been granted a doctorate in that most pervasive and perverse of human emotions. Indeed, Ulesorin is your aunt of agonies no more, and now returns to thee instead in a fresh guise, as a Doctor of Love.

Love is in the air, so they say. Though in my experience it is more commonly found on the ground, as you get some rather nasty gusts of wind up there that can render even the most amorous of intentions numb. Though I suppose one could also argue that love is in the water, given the fluids involved.

Regardless, I am an expert in the art and craft of love, and I am now returning to you to guide each and every one of you along the rose-lined path of romance.

If you desire, then through the means of Electrostatic Mail you might contact me with your romantic woes and partake of my vast experience and wisdom.  Send your problems to thefantasyhive@gmail.com with the subject ‘Ask the Wizard’, or leave a comment below and through the maelstrom of the interplanar storm they shall be delivered unto me.*

Failing that, I shall simply proceed to educate you all in the proper methods of romancing the various creatures I have encountered and known carnally throughout my many adventures.

This is a threat.

*Disclaimer: All answers are provided for entertainment purposes only. It may not be in your best interests to follow romantic advice provided by a 1799-year-old man who lives alone in a tower with nothing but a cadre of kobolds and an industrial sized tank of lubricant.