"Mystra wards the Weave against those powerful or reckless enough to damage it further. Until the world changes or the
divine powers themselves lay down their guardianship over human affairs, the high and perilous magic of the past remains locked away under Mystra's eye."


A pallid human of middling height and slight build might have gone by as another face amongst the crowds if not for the accoutrements of the arcane, a weathered and full tome heavy with power slung to his hip, bone wands flanking it on his belt, and often enough the bluster of refined magic crackling around him. Ensorcelled by the weave this wizard's hazel eyes had a luster reserved for fanatics.