and What They Do When No One Else is Around.
The Ehrdic Wizard poised on the edge of excitement, though his countenance did little to show it. He was dressed in his usual, simple attire: a dirt-brown, ankle-length robe, cinched at the waist with a matching sash and a rope belt. He wore a cowl over his shoulders, but the hood hung at his back, leaving his head bare. He was inside, after all.
From the outside, his home appeared as a modest stone fortress built into a mountainside, which happened to float freely among the clouds. An astute observer might notice a peak far off in the distance that hadn’t been there before, and which seemed gradually to move across the horizon over time. Such were the cloaking abilities of the Wizard, however, that most folks never gave his mountain in the sky a second moment of consideration, whether they thought they saw something or not. He rarely lingered on any horizon for more than a day or two, anyway, so even the astute observer was likely to forget the mysterious mobile mountain after a while.
The Meeting was at his lofty abode, this evening. The other wizards were due to arrive within the hour. He fingered his mandolin and strummed aimlessly to fill the silence of his halls as he waited. Yes, it had been quite a while since he’d seen his friends. The Ehrdic Wizard was looking forward to the night.
He didn’t normally live alone, but today his fortress was one of solitude. He placed his instrument gingerly in a corner, and stood up, stretching a bit as he did so. Then he grabbed his mantle and threw it over his shoulders. He’d decided to wait on the arrival of the others from the dock.
His mantle was spun from a rough and heavy material, deep, drab, earthy-green in color. In a certain light, his cloak over his robes gave the illusion of moss or lichen growing on a log. From one of its many cavernous folds, the Wizard produced a small briar pipe and a leather pouch. He packed the pipe full of leaves from the pouch with his thumb as he walked. When he reached the outer-most door, he put the pipe to his lips and drew his hood. It was a fine day outside, but the altitude of his fortress required him to bundle up any time he left its walls.
Once outside, the Ehrdic Wizard meandered down a winding path towards his dock, leaning on a smooth, weathered staff that reached the height of his shoulders as he walked.
The Wizard didn’t need to strike a match to light it, but his Fire magic was not advanced enough at this point to forego the match altogether. And so he lit has pipe as he reached his dock, which was situated on the edge of a startling cliff. The Wizard sat on the end of the dock, his feet dangling carelessly in the open air, and puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. His mind seemed to melt away as he gazed at the clouds below him, and the blue earth far below them. In this way, half an hour passed by in a moment, and the Wizard became aware of a Skyboat approaching him from a distance. He smiled.