The Tale of a Much Less Famous Wizard from a Much Less Famous Avalon

"I know I'm just a servant; my word doesn't count for anything. I wouldn't lie to you."
Merlin

In a forest imbued with magic, where the leaves fluttered on the winds of change and warrior kings rode through with their loyal knights, a great wizard toyed with the duality of physics and mystics.

This is not a story about that forest or that wizard…

Instead, let us fly far across the land and sideways through time to a different forest and a very different wizard.

Beneath the canopy of heavy leaves, in the clustered trees of Avalon, the woodland creatures pranced in the solar beams that speared through branches of the looming trees on a gentle hillside. Deer grazed on the dense grass while birds of every feather flittered above. Baby bunnies hopped in step, learning the slopes from their mamas, and all things idyllic settled in the warmth of a summer day.

The treeline exploded.

A bear crashed through the trunks, full tilt, spinning paw over claw at a pace still accelerating on the glade's downhill incline. Branches, boulders, and earth flung in the bear's orbit, raining dirt, woodchips, and debris.

The roar cut through the melody of the birds in a garish tear. But just as quickly, it was gone. Continuing its descent at rapid velocity.

The rightfully frazzled woodland creatures didn't know what had hit them. The deer dashed and scattered, birds took to the sky in a cacophony of alarmed squawks, and the baby bunnies dove into their burrows with wide-eyed terror. An Elysian garden shattered and was rent in the claws of the whirling Ursa.

The bear, however, was not as it seemed. It began to shimmer and shift as it tumbled to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Shaking free its form of fur, the imposing figure of a beast dwindled in size, morphing into a much less threatening, if equally bedraggled, figure. Hothor of Avalon, Battle Mage, stood up, dusting himself off with a look of profound irritation.

"Cursed corvid," Hothor muttered, his voice a gravelly rumble that seemed to resonate with the ground beneath him. "This wasn't part of the plan." He turned to look up at the destruction of the forest he left in his wake. "Wasn't part of the plan," he spat once more.

Hothor glanced around, taking in the detritus in his radius and the wreck he had inadvertently caused. The forest creatures peeked out from behind bent trunks of trees and crushed bushes they had used as their hiding places, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity. Hothor sighed, raising a hand as a gesture of goodwill.

"Sorry bout that," he belched. "Didn't mean to disturb yer afternoon." Hothor burped again and pounded his chest.

The creatures, sensing no immediate danger, began to slowly emerge. Hothor turned his attention to the sky, scanning the skies for any sign of the crow that had precipitated his ungraceful descent. The bird was nowhere to be seen, which could only mean trouble.

"Right," Hothor grumbled and clapped the dust off his orange scholar trousers, "time to set things straight."

With a wave of his hand, the air around him shimmered as he summoned his goblet. The golden chalice brimmed with a sickly sweet ale spilling over the gems encrusting the cup. He took a deep gulp from the tumbler and let it fall from his hand. It vanished before it hit the ground.

"Hey!" Hothor was startled by the voice. He turned to see an upright bunny squaring off right under his nose. "If you're, like, a wizard, can't you fix the forest?" The irritated hare accused.

"Sorry," Hothor shrugged, "Battle Mage. I can destroy things. Putting them back together is less… my thing."

Satisfied with his answer, Hothor set off deeper into the forest, following an unseen path. He needed to find the crow before it could cause any more mischief. The far less famous forest of Avalon is no less magical. Hothor knew that the magic, once set loose, could be unpredictable.

As he walked, he pondered the events that led him here. The crow, a harbinger of trouble and ill omens, had been his adversary for as long as he could remember. It was rumoured that the crow had once been a wizard in its own right. Or still is a wizard but prefers wearing the feathers for the freedoms it brings. Hothor had been tasked with keeping the creature in check, a duty that had proven challenging and exhausting.

His musings were interrupted by a rustling in the leaves above. Hothor halted, conjuring his goblet once more, ready for whatever might come next. The crow hopped onto a bare branch several feet above Hothor's head.

The crow regarded Hothor with beady, intelligent eyes, its feathers ruffled with what could only be described as smug satisfaction. It cawed once, a sharp sound that echoed through the forest.

"You again," Hothor muttered, raising his goblet in a mock toast. "Come to gloat, have you?

The crow flapped its wings and settled on the branch, tilting its head to one side. Hothor took a swig from his chalice and let it evaporate again. "Look, Corvus, we both know how this ends. Why not save us both the trouble-" he shot off a bolt aimed just where the crow had been. The air shimmered and crackled with magic. "D'arvit," he cursed at his poor aim.

Hothor sprinted after the fleeing bird, which bobbed and weaved through the trees with remarkable agility. Branches whipped in the wizard's face, thorns tugged at his clothes, and the roots threatened to trip him, but he kept his eyes on the crow, determined not to lose sight of it.

The chase led him deeper into the forest, to a part he rarely ventured. The trees grew thicker, the brush denser. It was a place of ancient magic where even the most seasoned mages tread carefully. The crow, however, seemed to navigate the area with familiarity and ease.

As Hothor pushed through a particularly stubborn thicket, he stumbled into a small clearing. The crow was perched on a moss-covered rock in the centre, watching him with an air of amusement.

No light pierced the thick foliage above.

"End of the line, Corvus," Hothor panted slightly. Once more, he called upon his goblet and pointed it at the bird.

Now, the bird spoke. Not with words, but with such articulate emotion, Hothor saw clearly in his mind's eye.

I'm up to nothing nefarious. Merely killing time until you were ready to face the real threat.

Hothor steadied his goblet and primed a spell.

Did you ever wonder why you were sent to after me? Why does a simple crow warrant the attention of a Battle Mage? Let alone the so-called council that assigned you this case.

Hothor tightened his grip. "You are no simple crow."

Indeed. And you are no simple pawn. There is more to your mission than they have revealed to you.

The silence clung to the clearing.

You seem to be missing something.

Hothor stared down the bird, wishing his stare would burn through. "I have all I need."

You have no Rune. Have you forgotten?

Entered by: 0xA954…FdF0 and preserved on chain (see transaction)