The Lore of Archmagus Ozohr of the Cold

In the capital, above the door to one of the countless crooked towers, there hangs a large oak sign. The sign is decorated in golden runes and constellations. It reads:

               Archmagus Ozohr

               __\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\__
             Purveyor of Secrets
          Answers from the Ether
    Master of a Thousand Whispers
          Seer of the Multiverse

              Rites of Knowing
   Pyromancer, Alchemist, Astrologer

At the top of the tower, a brass telescope stands on a balcony encircling the spire. Through the spire windows, stacks of books cam be seen. Cucurbits, alembics and crucibles on shelves. A table covered with shells, bones, pinned insects and rocks. Feathers. Thousands of feathers of every shape, size and color fill vases and hang from the rafters. Feathers for every purpose. Stars shine through the glass ceiling, aligning with inscribed golden constellations. At the pinnacle, a copper serpent is coiled around an ornate lightening rod.

Tonight, because the moon is in the Shadow and the Sisters twinkle above Aldo's Isle, Ozohr is on the balcony. With a hand on the rail, he leans over. In the other hand, he holds a large scarlet phoenix feather to his ear. This is not a feather of the past or the future. This particular feather vibrates with the distant present. Tonight, Ozohr listens. A bell is ringing from afar. A siren song from the Woods. A confession. A curse. Kobolds in the forest. Dreams. But, Ozohr turns the feather tip toward the Valley of the Void and closes his eyes. This is a Red Council job and the Council pays Ozohr generously. A wind blows from the East. The feather hums. Ozohr smiles. Dawn breaks. A rune glows red. The serpent opens its eyes.

Entered by: 0x7347…3669 and preserved on chain (see transaction)