Author's Note: Good evening fellow Discworld fans. I am Dummkopf, a keen writer of pretty much anything. I write regular novels which if I'm lucky may get posted on here for u guys to follow at your leisure. But right now, I'm writing a little bit of stuff on Discworld. But before I begin, I will say this now and never again. My works will NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER contain SMUT between characters, now some of you will cry a little inside when you think of lord Vetenari and Lady Morgoletta and a lack of sex. But I'm strongly against smut, I believe it gives good fan-fiction a bad name. Now that my little rant is over, let's get into a synopsis. I enjoy the gaps that Terry leaves in his works and what I plan to do is fill them in and in some cases go back and add entirely new strings and directions to his wonderful piece of art.

The following fanfiction is based on sorcerers during the magical wars that destroyed much of the disc. It depicts the wizardly combat and of course the suffering of the people around them.

Chapter 1 - Baron Von Wick1

The light glinted of the huge white towers in the distance; the magical flares illuminating the sky and turning it a bright octarine. Death looked down at the crumbling remains of one such tower, he sighed and picked up his scythe from a nearby rock, "IF I DIDN'T KNOW ANY BETTER I'D MISTAKE IT FOR FIREWORKS" he looked down at the rubble "DON'T YOU AGREE MR MIKALI?" a shirt wizard suddenly shot bolt upright his chest sticking out of the rubble. "By devil that was close, I say who are you?" he said.

"I COME IN MANY FORMS, BUT MOST JUST CALL ME DEATH" said Death. "Oh I see, I nearly had those buggers you know" said Mikali patting his pockets for tobacco "but they just don't make focusing pentagrams like they used to, say do you have any tobacco?" he said fading out "I could really do with a…." Death stood there quietly listening to the cacophony of booms and wizzes of magical warfare, "HUMANS," he said "THEY JUST DON'T STOP" he turned and walked away slowly to another tower coming down in the distance. "IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG NIGHT" he thought out loud.

The magical conflict lasted through the day and into the night pausing momentarily for meals and toilet breaks. It was on one such break that esteemed sorcerer Baron Von Wick from far Uberwald stopped to talk to a nearby tower and discuss the coming fight, "I'm thinking of starting one of borenshekos time winding incantations" said the other wizard "just for the long shots you know" Wick nodded knowingly "yes I used that earlier it blocks simeans Inverted pulsator quite nicely" both wizards nodded "I noticed old Mikalis kicked the bucket" observe the wizard looking at the smoking ruins of Mikalis tower, a few small sapient pear wood trees had begun to sprout out of the rubble "yes I noticed that, it think his pentagrams were blown by fleabottoms solar ignition chant" they both looked at the rubble and then back at their towers, "did you hear about Mclean?" said the wizard, mclean was an odd wizard compared to the others, obsessed completely with dragons he built his fortress inside a hollowed out mountain he called the wyrmburg which he filled to the very top with dragons. "No what happened?" exclaimed Wick, the wizard leaned in closer "They say he was poisoned"

"No, who did it?" said Wick.

"They say it was his daughter, slipped it into his drink in the night" he said "I never like that little brat" said Wick, "she always looked a bit shifty.". They both nodded in unison. "Of course once he was done for the whole mountain went wacko, it's gone upside down now". It wasn't unusual for wizards to be keeping things in check using magic; the warfare had destroyed the terrain around them months ago, the only reason the disc hadn't fallen apart yet was because the wizards were casting spell upon spell to keep it together long enough to kill each other, and of course when one of them dies they take their spells with them. "Eh, it always looked a bit bland to me, needed something exciting to happen to it sometime" said Wick.

The low rumble of spells being fired in the distance echoed across the sky. "Well old chap, it looks like we part ways" they shook hands and Wick turned and floated back to his tower. Wicks tower was nothing special, a large stone cylinder that stuck out of the ground and scraped into the sky. The top bristled with battlements and turrets but the rest was bland. It bent slightly in the middle from where a magical barrage had hit it with a glancing blow.

People laughed at his tower, saying it was a "piece of art". Pfft well Wicks "tower of art" was going to be all the talk tomorrow, for he was planning something big something very big indeed.