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Sorcerer Aldus of the Morning Star (#6491)

Owner: 0x03d9…c658

Sorcerer Aldus of the Morning Star

In the charred ruins of a cathedral, he dwells. The charcoal walls are streaked with flakes of desiccated blood in the shape of runes he can no longer read. The prodigy sorcerer once led legions, but now only commands a hollow empire of bone and misfortune. Half-finished rituals and alchemical preparations litter the witchwood altar. Nothing thrives. Not even sunlight dares linger here.

The local villagers, emboldened by the tavern’s stale ale, utter the sorcerer’s name in hushed tones: Aldus the Black. Heretic of the Morning Star, named after the fallen angel who waged war upon the heavens. While much about him remains an enigma, one fact is clear. The moon is his kin. Its arcane glow is complicit in the heretic’s dark deeds. Runes drawn in fresh blood activate by moonlight, offering short-lived but powerful conduits for his magic.

Fortunately for the world and its inhabitants, Aldus is forgetful. Even being naturally gifted in the black arts, he can barely complete a blood ritual without forgetting a critical component. His latest blunder occurred while preparing a mortal sacrifice. He briefly left the incapacitated villager unattended on the altar to fetch his ceremonial blade. Aldus was bewildered to return to an empty chamber. He then noticed the meticulously distilled — and not administered — sleeping elixir on a nearby table. He forgot the second dose! The once unparalleled sorcerer realized his error with a chuckle. He shook his head. A predatory grin spread across his face as he glanced out the broken stained glass window and spotted the victim fleeing in the distance.

It wasn’t always this way; legendary reputations are seldom forged by failures. The eve of a crucial battle marked the origin of the heretic’s amnesia and sole reason his imperial campaign was lost. Aldus can only vaguely recall that a fellow wizard traveling through the region congratulated him on his recent success and shared in tales and drink. He awoke the following morning, war forgotten, and abandoned camp to go on a pleasant grave robbing journey. With his skeletal legions and devoted zealots left without a commander, they fell. As did a part of the great sorcerer. Since then, he has been consumed with the quest to confront the culprit who cursed him with forgetfulness and reverse it. However, there is one complication. He cannot remember who it was!

In response to a sharp rise in disappearances and defiled graves throughout the village in recent months, efforts have been redoubled to hunt the heretic and purge the land of his perverse magic. Thus far, all have failed. As long as that pale orb traces an arc across the sky, Aldus the Black endures. Forgetful, perhaps, but he endures.

Entered by: 0x03d9…c658 and preserved on chain (see transaction)