The Lore of Archmagus Alessar of the Tower
Tale One | The Making of a Name
The night was dark. Not a star shone through the heavy clouds that made their way through the valley earlier in the evening. Barely the tip of his nose was visible, illuminated by the faint ember glow of the crackling pipe just in front of him. Puff. Puff. As the smoke filled his lungs, the wind grew stronger and stronger. It is here, atop The Secret Tower just north of Skylord Rookery, where Alessar sat, piecing together all that had transpired, leading him here. Cold. Dark. Alone. Yet accomplished.
The story begins but a few days prior. Alessar was there in his keep, a light breeze and the faint scent of salt joining him for his morning coffee. Life was good for old Alessar, at a mere 115 years of age, he had experienced more than most in The Runiverse. But now, life was quiet. It was still. And that was alright with Alessar. He spent every morning here, seated on the balcony, quill in one hand and his pipe in the other, marking down the years past, the stories come and gone, so that those who wonder may know for ages to come.
Although seemingly a typical morning at the Keep, it would not stay this way for long.
Far off to the west the sky began to darken, the morning breeze grew fierce. Devos, Alessar’s Psychic Rabbit, began to stir, hopping around, knocking things over in a fright. In this moment, Alessar knew it would be many a days until he had another morning here at the Keep. The Darkness was coming, and he must prepare. For what? He would soon find out.
A dark figure began to grow nearer and nearer, as it came into view, Alessar realized it was a Crackerjack Crow, bringing the news of what lie ahead. As he broke the Capital’s Seal and unfolded the letter, there it was inscribed, Cleric Bathsheba of the Hills had been taken by The Darkness. The Darkness is not one person, it is not one thing, it is all that bring evil upon this world. A collective force that must be fought against.
Alessar swiftly grabbed his quill and more paper, writing urgently a letter to those he entrusted most. The letter called for a meeting. All were to meet at the west end of Hedge Wizard Wood the morning following. It is here they would craft their plan to take back Cleric Bathsheba from The Darkness.
Packing only the necessities, he pushed them into the saddlebags and mounted his trustful stead, Dunny the Keen. With a kick of his heels they were off. Dust clouds the result of their urgency as they made their way north. Passing through the home of the Kobolds, Alessar came and went. There was no time for lingering with the horde. The Darkness grew greater, the crows flew wilder. Alessar arrived at the meeting point half past moonrise. He tied up Dunny to a nearby tree, collected some wood, and lit a fire to keep those who would arrive yet tonight warm.
It wasn’t long until Drako appeared. Battlemage of the Obelisk. Flame in hand, lighting his way over to where camp was set. He laid down his bag, said his hello, but not much more. A rustling in the trees began just outside of view. Emerging from the brush atop their steads were Enchanter Lumos and Aeromancer Allistair. They, too, had long journeys that day. Greetings were made and eyes were shut, for they knew it would be days until that luxury was upon them again.
The sun began to rise the next morning. Though the clouds still covered the land, only allowing for a faint grey light to awake the company. While Alessar, Allistair, Lumos, and Drako were asleep, Magus Impy and Magus Jahid, along with Adept Voidith, arrived by night cover. Alessar pulled some chicken’s eggs and a loaf of rye from his saddle bags and crafted the last proper meal for the weary travels. Lumos had some left over brie in his coat pocket. Passing it over to Alessar, brkfstsndwchs were crafted for all. A final fueling of the souls and the minds before their journey commenced.
As they sat and ate, a Crackerjack Crow flew down carrying another note from The Capital. Written beneath the seal was a message to head northwest to the Skylord Rookery. It was here that The Darkness was holding Bathsheba hostage. Without a second thought, they trampled out the fire, packed their bags, and mounted their steads. Dust and dirt flying up from the hooves of their companions, they were off. Off to save the soul of Cleric Bathsheba before The Darkness could have its way.
You might be wondering why Adept Voidith of the Cosmos was along on this journey for their magic is but of darkness. The truth is, only darkness can call upon darkness as it draws near. It was with Adept Voidith’s power that The Darkness would be summoned. With The Darkness Summoned, Cleric Bathsheba would not be far away.
Nearing the Skylord Rookery, it began to grow darker by each stride. It was here that the company chose to split up, half going west and half going east around the foothills. Those going west rode along The Salt’s edge in search of The Darkness’ call. Those going east, Adept Voidith, Magus Jahid, and Archmagus Alessar had a treacherous path ahead. Between the Fur Gnome Wold and the foothills they rode, nearing closer and closer to where The Darkness was sure to be.
With the elevation changing and the temperatures growing more frigid by the minute, a Crackerjack carrying a message for Magus Jahid landed upon his saddle. This message was calling him home, there were urgent matters to attend to in The Sand. Knowing his mount was of greater endurance than Alessar’s, he offered up Marengo the Triumphant. Humbly, Alessar accepted this not-to-be-forgotten deed and handed over the reins to Dunny the Keen. With a nod of their heads the three became two as Magus Jahid turned around atop Dunny and headed south.
Adept Voidith and Alessar broke through the tree line and entered into the clouds. Dark. Cold. Damp. They kept riding. Higher and higher. As rocks turned to snow, they knew they were getting close. Slowing their steeds to a stop, Voidith called out into the darkness, summoning its master. The pull was impossible to withstand. As if a chain were wrapped around his neck, it wrenched him forward into the snow. It was calling them further north, directly to The Secret Tower. A place neither Voidith or Alessar had ever endeavored. As Voidith’s deed was done, he shared his desire to depart. Granting this desire, Alessar, atop Marengo, hurried along the ridge line. As the crow flies, the tower was only a few leagues away. It was nearly time to meet The Darkness.
A faint light began to grow more clear as Alessar and Marengo ventured on. As the tower came into site, Alessar realized the light was coming from the lower levels, from the basement. This must be where The Darkness had taken her, Cleric Bathsheba of the Hills, to be offered to The Darkness itself in a burnt offering. Knowing there mustn’t be much time left, Alessar dismounted and with a puff of his pipe, was launched forward to the opening of the corridor’s ember glow. Peering forward, he witness Bathsheba standing, shaking, atop the pedestal, flames surrounding her, no way to escape.
With another puff of his pipe, Bathsheba was lifted up and pulled into Alessar’s arms. Just in time. It was in this very moment that the flames exploded in size, consuming the entire room, launching Alessar and Bathsheba back outside the opening. With an unexpected landing of soft fur, they looked back to see Marengo lying there, breaking their fall. Out of breadth, sweat falling from their brows, they looked at Marengo, at each other, and sighed. Bathsheba was at a loss for words, she was sure her soul was to be lost forever, never to live again. Alessar assured her that no thanks were in order, it was his calling. Standing up, he gave her his hand and pulled her to her feet. Marengo followed. They climbed atop the noble steed and made their way to the staircase that lead up The Secret Tower. Bathsheba whistled in the oddest of pitches, noting that something would be waiting for her up there. As they neared the top a great white eagle appeared through the parting clouds.
The eagle and the party of two arrived to the tower‘s top as the sun began to shine through. The Darkness was departing. The quest was complete. Giving a kiss on his wind-blown cheeks, Bathsheba dismounted Marengo and climbed atop the eagle. With a flap of its wings, they lifted off together. An eagle and a soul, still whole, to live another day, to tell another story.
It was here that Alessar would stay for some time. To ponder and reflect. Until another quest was called upon him. It is here where Alessar got his name. From now until the end of time, the world will know him as none other than Archmagus Alessar of the Tower.
Entered by: 0xDb94…7aDe and preserved on chain (see transaction)
