The Mage of Wonder

In a notch of the city with water and depth Stood a quaint shop of drawings with notable breadth   These drawings of places around the vast world   And maps of a realm long forgotten unfurled   Straight into this shop walked a man with conviction   His gaze told his will to avoid dereliction   A wise man would see that he sought to give birth   To a sky that could catalyze water and earth.     A dusty map shop sits humbly in the city of Waterdeep. The shopkeeper meanders aimlessly through the shop, fixing a tilted map here, cleaning a dusty compass there. Suddenly, the door swings open: In walks Quincy, a smile plastered across his face. He looks around the shop, before hastily grabbing a variety of maps. The shopkeeper looks on, confused.   “May… may I help you, sir?”   Quincy, his gaze still perusing the shelves, takes a break in his melodic humming to say:   “Oh, don’t mind me. I just need a few references of your world’s landscapes.”   “Are you… not from here, then?”   Quincy chuckles.   “Oh, heavens no… I’m just hopping in for some context. As much as I love Dragonlance and Greyhawk, something about the Forgotten Realms just feels… newer. Exciting. You understand, I’m certain.”   The shopkeeper most certainly doesn’t understand. However, Quincy doesn’t notice, as something occurs to him.   “Oh!”   He throws the maps up in the air and snaps his fingers, freezing them in place. He then touches both pinkies and index fingers together, and twists his palms in opposing directions. A mage hand appears from thin air, followed by an arcane eye that floats directly above it. Both then fly at the wall, opening a portal and walking through as Quincy catches the maps in his hands once more.   “I’ll need a documentation of travels for the land! Much more detailed that way.”   Not a moment later, the hand comes back with a book, which it then opens and presents to Quincy. After a quick skim, Quincy scoffs.   “Bah. Volothamp is such a shit writer.”   It takes him a moment to realize the shopkeeper’s stare, which he meets with a slap on his forehead.   “My apologies, good sir! I owe you some monetary compensation.”   He reaches into his pocket… and keeps reaching… until eventually, he finds what he’s looking for. His hand re-emerges, holding foreign-minted platinum pieces.   “I don’t have any dragon-minted pieces on me, unfortunately, but these platinum orbs should more than cover the cost. Toodles!”   With that, he walks out of the store with a skip in his step, leaving the shopkeeper bewildered.