At the far edge of the Wyrdwood, nestled among ancient trees and carpets of moss, stands the peculiar tower of Medium Hadrien of the Toadstools. Unlike the grand spires of the Arcanum Collegium, Hadrien’s abode is an odd, spiraling structure seemingly shaped by nature itself. Fungus-covered stones twist upward as if grown rather than built, and faint, luminescent mushrooms glow in its shadows. Inside dwells Hadrien, a wizard as peculiar as his home.

Medium Hadrien is instantly recognizable wherever he goes, thanks to his striking attire. A wide-brimmed purple hat, its fabric worn and patched, sits tilted jauntily on his head. A green cloak, frayed at the edges but embroidered with intricate designs of mushrooms and stars, sweeps behind him as he walks. On his shoulder or curled up nearby is his ever-present companion, a sleek black cat named Umbra, whose glimmering golden eyes seem to reflect the mysteries of the multiverse. Hadrien insists that Umbra is the true source of his “luck” and often refers to her as his "partner in perception."

At the center of Hadrien’s tower is his most prized possession: a crystal ball cradled in a stand of twisted, petrified roots adorned with delicate fungal blooms. The orb pulses with faint, iridescent light, swirling with colors that seem alive. Gifted by the enigmatic Mycofae of the Wyrdwood, it is said to reveal visions of untold truths—past, present, and future—though its insights are maddeningly elusive. Hadrien has spent countless hours bent over the orb, his purple hat shading his face as he murmurs cryptic interpretations of the swirling patterns. Umbra often sits beside him, tail flicking lazily, as though she too is scrutinizing the orb’s secrets.

Despite his reclusive nature, Hadrien’s reputation extends beyond the Wyrdwood. Scholars at the Collegium speak of him with equal parts frustration and awe. His predictions, when decipherable, are uncannily accurate, but his tendency to weave tangential musings into his explanations has earned him a reputation as a frustrating conversationalist. "If you ask Medium Hadrien for the time," one frustrated wizard quipped, "he’ll tell you the history of clockmaking, the philosophical implications of timekeeping, and the life cycle of the mushroom spores used to make the ink on his notes—yet somehow never answer the question.”

Hadrien’s eccentricities are matched only by his profound connection to the Wyrdwood and its hidden powers. The fungi growing throughout his tower are no mere decoration; they hum faintly with magical energy, amplifying his spells and providing cryptic omens of their own. Hadrien often claims that the toadstools are alive with wisdom. “A mushroom grows where it’s needed,” he’ll say, stroking Umbra’s back as the cat purrs approvingly. “You just need to know how to listen.”

Despite his quirks, those who seek Hadrien’s aid often leave with more than they bargained for. His visions have saved kingdoms, unearthed ancient treasures, and even averted apocalyptic disasters. Yet, as he gazes into his orb late into the night, Hadrien is haunted by darker truths: glimpses of shadowy figures, crumbling towers, and himself, older and more careworn, standing alone in the Wyrdwood with only Umbra by his side.

Still, Medium Hadrien of the Toadstools perseveres, driven by an unshakable curiosity and a deep-seated hope that even the darkest visions might hold a spark of light. Whether his future holds glory or ruin, one thing is certain: Umbra will be there, her golden eyes glowing, as the wizard peers into the mysteries of his ever-turning orb.

Entered by: 0x5798…0ebe