🦇 Wazir of the Wood 🦇
A sorcerer by trade and a Djinn by creation, the decades Wazir spent as a military conscript for the Red Hats had left his mind vengeful and his body scarred.
Once released from the bonds of servitude, the sorcerer sought refuge amongst the dark brambles and overgrown thickets of The Fey Forest. It was here that he earned the title - Wazir of the Wood.
Looking back on his conscription, it wasn't that he had been opposed to the violence of it all; in fact, he quite enjoyed the opportuntity to showcase his power, he simply loathed that his Djinn nature compelled him to fulfill the wishes of his masters. It was the forfeiture of his own free-will and his loss of agency that angered him.
Fueled by the desire to repay his former captors, Wazir spent his years in the forest searching for a way to remedy the one aspect of his Djinn nature that stood between him and retribution -- Djinns cannot kill.
Entered by: 0xC6ED…8962 and preserved on chain (see transaction)
Where Wazir Sleeps
On the eastern edge of the forest, near the border of The Thorns, the sorcerer's meager hut sat wedged between two ancient pines. At a quick glance it would be difficult to discern if a branch belonged to the trees or to the structure - more than likely it was both of those things.
The small clearing in front of the hovel was surrounded by a palisade wall of the sorcerer's own creation. Comprised of thorns, branches, ivy, stone, and a variety of itchy, unpleasant plants - the contents of the wall may have led to the untimely, pustule-filled demise of at least one, if not two, but no more than three wayward travelers.
This was one of the more practical applications of the sorcerer's talents and one that he would boast about to his only companion - a large, overweight bat named Foxglove, often saying "...there is no druid, mage, or hedge wizard from here to the Archepelgo who could conjure a living, breathing wall the height of a full grown Kobold!"
The constant fumes which permeated from the sorcerer's hut had left the thatched roof covered in an unnatural array of lichen and moss which would often attract the most curious sorts of flying insects - something that Foxglove seemed to enjoy thoroughly. The deer hides that hung loosely above the entranceway were absent of any color and seemed to be impervious to nature's elements; with the strongest winds not even causing them to flutter.
Despite the dwelling's off-putting facade, the inside was unexpectedly lavish. Upon crossing the threshold, it was hard to ignore the golden aura which seemed to radiate throughout the home. Orange flames flickered from a bronze brazier which was a permanent fixture in the middle of the spacious room. Two armchairs with plump, green velvet cushions sat on either side of the brazier and looked incredibly comfortable but otherwise unused. The far wall was overlain with large, black tiles on which no other adornments or decorations hung except for a large circular rune which resembled the sun.
An ornate alabaster table ran the entire length of the tiled wall. Littered with an extraordinary amount of flasks, vials, retorts, and cylinders, the table looked less like it belonged to a sorcerer and more like it belonged to a bar keep. Glass piping weaved itself haphazardly across all parts of the table, and a dull pattering of...drip...hiss...drip...hiss...drip...hiss could be heard as the distillilations leaked onto abandoned pieces of parchment.
The long lengths of dried herbs and flowers that weren't strewn about table hung from the beams of the ceiling. Everthing from fairywands to ghost orchids and even bloomed corpse flowers could be found in abundance. The sheer quantity of ingredients would have been enough for most herbalists to consider the collection a botanical treasure trove.
The remaining three walls of the home were lined entirely with beautiful redwood bookshelves. Every inch of every shelf was occupied with text. A reader was assured to find at least one scroll or tome dedicated to even the most obscure subjects including "A Supposition into the Effects of Virgin's Blood on the Violent Predispositions of Fur Gnomes" by Unknown Wizard of Arcadia - one of Wazir's personal favorites.
Amidst the beauty, chaos, and clutter of the space, tucked into a small corner of the western-facing wall, a small bedroll was spread along the floor. On the few occasions that Wazir felt the need to rest; this was where the socerer slept.
Entered by: 0xC6ED…8962 and preserved on chain (see transaction)
