The Mage of All

Outside of time and the constructs of space There stood a defyingly beautiful place   A tower that floated above what was real   A thought held together it’s magical seal   Inside of it’s walls worked a man with ambition   Who reworked the flow of all things with volition   A glimmer of magic did dart through his eye   As he worked without rest from his home in the sky.     A man in his late 30’s stands alone in a room filled with machinations beyond the comprehension of any mere mortal. Hourglasses floated around, turning by themselves. Magnifiers were swayed with the wave of his hand, attached to the ceiling by metal arms extruding like a spider’s web from a casing, which held an enormous glowing crystal. As he turned his magnifiers, which perceived many worlds of varying genres, scrolls and books flew out of shelves into his hands. This goes on for a few moments before a portal opens in the corner of the room. Exiting said portal is a middle-aged woman holding a crystal prism. She looks around the frantic room in slight disdain.   “I see Mordenkainen rubbed off on you.”   The man looks over, his hands still moving as an arcane eye appears and skims over the pages he was reading previously.   “Oh come now, Lillian, you must appreciate the complexity of his work. After all, I do need references of worlds for my project.”   Lillian moves across to a table cluttered with all sorts of magically inclined tools. She places the prism down and sighs.   “Call me old-fashioned, Quincy, but magic is best when it’s done from the mind. Not from some metal contraption.”   His attention is sent askew, and pages begin to hit him in the face. He lets out an exasperated grunt and waves his hand again as he walks towards Lillian. An hourglass descends, and stops turning abruptly all while an expensive-looking ruby jets off of a nearby shelf, making contact with a magic missile sent over the shoulder of Quincy. The ruby turns to dust and slams against the hourglass, and a pitcher of water is sent flying from its table, turning to snow mid-flight before doing the same. In mere moments, the hourglass shatters, and out walks a perfect replica of Quincy, who takes his place as he approaches Lillian.   “Call me whatever you want, but I prefer efficiency over tradition— ah— is that the refocuser I asked for?!”   “One and the same.”   Quincy picks up the prism and giggles like a child. He throws it up into the air and ceremoniously claps his hands together. Parts fly off the shelves, assembling around the prism. Once the rather large mechanism is constructed, Quincy interlocks his fingers, and the construction crunches itself down to a cube only three inches in width. It falls and lands in his hands. Lillian looks on in confusion.   “It’s… a box.”   “Oh, silly senile Lillian.”   Lillian scrunches her face.   “This is no simple box!”   Quincy, much as a performer would, glides his hand under the box in a presentation-like fashion. He clicks the surface before throwing it to the other side of the room, and a gateway pops open above it. Lillian scoffs.   “A cubic gate? How absurd. We have spells for that, and they’re much more—“   “It doesn’t lead to other planes.”   She starts. “What?”   Quincy smiles. “It leads to other realms.”   A beat passes between them. “How can that… be?”   “Tell me, Lillian, have you ever had the fancy to take a stroll through Waterdeep in the Forgotten Realms? Or perhaps, longed to have a chat with a Warfoged of Eberron? Oh… perhaps you’re more adventurous, and wish to slay the vampires of Innistrad!”   “I hate it when you use that voice.”   Quincy pouts. “I think it’s funny.”   Lillian glances wistfully at the portal. Then, she looks back at Quincy. “Greyhawk.”   Quincy tilts his head in confusion. “Greyhawk? Why Greyhawk? It’s not even that different from here in Dragonlance.”   Lillian smiles wistfully. “I’d like to say hello to an old friend.”   With that, she stands, and Quincy shrugs before changing the portal. The two walk through, and the portal closes.