Brazen Wolfe Tabletop

Albazahr

16Albazahr

Albazahr drifted through the halls amongst his keep with multiple extra-dimensional spaces where he kept his experiments, workshops and laboratories. It had been a long time since he had wandered the halls without writing something or stopping to look into one of the seeing crystals that let him view the inside of the spaces. He was waiting, waiting for a delivery of artefacts, magic items and knowledge that was recently uncovered by adventurers who knew not of the worth of what they had found however the delivery had not arrived. He had scried for the driver he had hired, a man called Red, and could only find a trace on his wagon having never left the city of Merchants Glen but remaining inert and empty, the enchantments on it still intact, all but one, one that he himself had placed upon the wagon.

Never the less, the predicament of the wagon and its failed delivery was a riddle that he was yet to work out and this provided a burst of giddy excitement in the man. A feeling that he had grown unaccustomed to with the last several hundred years of his life seeking new knowledge or understanding and always left found wanting more.

The magical items and trinkets were to fill his collection of similar items and to use as ways to broker agreements and arrangements with adventurers who coveted such items but the books, one in particular, were priceless and he had a hunger for them.

Entering the room at the end of the hall he could not help but appreciate that this, his room, was the only room which was not an extra-dimensional space and he had become famous for his ability to blend the magic that governed the creation of such spaces with other schools of magic making him second to none in the control of, well, all extra-dimensional space.

Sitting at his desk he ran his hands over the rich red carved wood that lay before him and he marvelled at the fantastic reflection of his creed. One dwarf, nearing the end of his short life of a few hundred years, had presented the desk, the pinnacle of his craftmanship to Albazahr at his coronation of Supreme High Magus. It was the testament that one born with a natural affinity for a skill and when applied training and further dedication to the pursuit of mastering said skill could accomplish things that were far beyond what was previously capable by people in history let and occasionally it would set the utmost limit for excellence in that area. This desk had no equal in much the same ways that Ablazahr had no equal, well except for one.

The tome of Mordenkainen, a lost work of secrets and discoveries that was yet to be read and fully understood was among the items that was in that wagon. It was the one thing he needed to confirm his mastery of the arcane arts and perhaps it was time that he left is sanctuary to visit the people of Merchants Glen to locate the missing tome.

Drumming his fingers on the desk he called forth a mirror and looked at the fact that had not aged in centuries, long hours had marked his face with wrinkles and streaks of grey hair had begun to form. A more vain man of his power would remove such signs of age but Albazahr was not such a man, content with his appearance and the knowledge of his near immortality. Albazahr slowly stood, stretching slightly before moving his hands in arcane passes that created a soft humming to resonate through the room. Slowly he plunged his hand into a shimmering distortion in the air next to his hands, an opening to the personal pocket dimension where he kept his most prized possessions. Drawing forth a great staff and as bag for travelling he prepared to leave for the Market City.