The Lore of Battle Mage Cromwell of the Tower

Prologue

It must have been at least eighteen moons since he had last seen a decent tavern. In these mountains, winter can be extremely difficult, even for a seasoned traveler such as Cromwell. It was one of the few things that still excited men of his age, a warm tavern. The older you get, the more you desire just the primal things, such as warmth and food.

During the winter season, the Purple Clover was almost always full. On the ground floor, there was a large dining area with wooden chairs and tables, a large bar, a kitchen and a bathroom. An upper floor contained a few basic rooms and a private area for the owners. Most of the people in these parts were cattle farmers, more specifically, Hillar sheep farmers. They were renowned for their strong wool that was extremely durable, flexible, flame resistant, water resistant, and even magic resistant. Our traveler came here for precisely that reason.

Cromwell's stomach grumbled at the thought of bread and ale. A pair of drunk men slammed the door of the tavern before he could open it. Trying to avoid falling, they clung to each other, but miserably failed and fell down on the frozen ground before them. Taking a graceful step over the two groaning men, Cromwell felt the warm air touch his face as he stepped over them. He ensured that the door was tightly shut and searched for a place to sit down and eat.

Cromwell was not well known for his social skills, but he was fond of visiting taverns and listening to the people around him. He particularly enjoyed their disregard for him. However, it was not just about drinking and eating that he visited the Purple Clover, there was also business to be conducted. As usual, Cromwell arrived early to be able to assess the surroundings and prepare accordingly. He had just finished a visit to a farmer with whom he had business dealings. He had purchased seven batches of wool. The wool was first clipped, cut and washed. It was then dried, painted and coated. This was the finest wool in the Runiverse.

The evening progressed in a gradual manner. A pig was being slowly cooked on a spit while wood was thrown into the fireplace. Cromwell was to meet with an important tailor. One would not think Cromwell was a person who had any interest in fashion or tailor-made suits. His clothes were covered in mud due to his travels and his waistcoat had dark green mold stains from the forest. Moreover, there were holes in his jacket as if something had burned through it. As a result, Cromwell did not appear to be a man who cared about his appearance. However, looks can be misleading.

The Purple Clover's door opens and a small figure enters. The door closes quickly, and the figure disappears in the tavern's lively crowd. A second later, the figure arrives at Cromwell's table. Without looking up, the supercilious figure takes a seat. As he sits up straight, Cromwell sweeps the table clean with his arm. The tailor is holding a sturdy leather folder under his arms from which he pulls out a drawing book. He puts on his monocle and coughs twice. He then proceeds to open the drawing book. As Cromwell examines the drawings, he takes out a sample of knitted wool and places it next to the book. He nods in approval. It might just work.

If only he can convince The Merchant.

Entered by: 0x77D9…7f0c and preserved on chain (see transaction)