The Lore of Wild Mage Moloch of El Dorado

Moloch never chose the way of magic. He stumbled upon it in the forest, near a large rock, in the dead of night. The year was 1977.

A night partying in the woods with his friends went south as the glowing tendrils sprouted from the earth and consumed Moloch. Penetrating his skin, his mind, his puffy coat. It was when the green magic lifted him into the air that Moloch's friends left him for dead, beer cans and joints tossed as they ran.

Moloch awoke with startle in the freezing night. A newfound power flowing from his core and through his fingertips.

Entered by: 0xE7d2…1Aa3 and preserved on chain (see transaction)