To the Wizards tower

On the outskirts of the city is a singular watchtower, built atop a hill to keep watch on an neighboring enemy that had long since turned to a friend. The structure has shown its years of service and veritable age in the layers of vines that cover its once sterling white edifice. A green light shining through the windows, visible from most points of the city below, is the only sign of life of the solitary, hermetic who wizard lives there. Nobody that you have heard of has gone there to meet him, any interactions are when he goes to the city for odds and ends when needed, or the rare occasion he fancied social interaction, like with Archdeacon Doolyn. You approach with necessity and morbid curiosity of this strange man. You have some knowledge of divine magic, spells granted to you through favor to the Goddess of Life. Arcane Magic, gained through rigorous study of magical principles, or through the lottery of birth, was a foreign concept to you, and while you want to see what he knows of your estranged leader, you also want to pick his brain, something that could be a new sensation for him, as people in the area are nearly as fearful of magic as they are of people like you.

The pathway up is a long winding road along a steep hill, cutting its way through a crop of thick, ancient trees. The bright sun of the early morning is nearly completely blocked by the canopy, small beams of light cracking through along the way. The scurrying of rodents and chirping of songbirds fill the place with life, an unfamiliar beauty that nearly calls you to forget your troubles and current mission, begging you to sit and bask in the wilderness forever. Despite the temptation, you press onwards, and find something unexpected along the journey. Among the myriad of sounds, you hear a faint cry. Stopping, you take a look around and spot a young fox, its leg caught in a snare trap. While this creatures fate is none of your business, you can't bring yourself to leave it to its fated **** by a measly hunter. Tepidly, you make your approach to it. Scared, small, and injured, it takes a defiant stance as you approach, willing to fight to the last, even if the fight is unnecessary. You try to calm it, moving slowly and with your hands out wait "I'm not going to hurt you young one, I promise" You sit in front of it, extending your hand towards it. Insticts take over and it tries to bite at first, but misses your fingers. Curiosity takes over as you don't back away, smelling your fingers, but not attacking further. Holding the fox still in one hand, you use your other hand to see it free of the trap. Once free, it tries to scamper off, but is held back by its injury. You easily hold it with both arms and keep it close to you, and with a deep breath, channel the healing power of Phoenica's grace into the young creature, healing its legs. You set it down easily, and it bolts off into the wilderness, in the direction of the Wizard's Tower, which you did not previously see, a narrow porthole through the forest.

You double back the way you took and cross the road towards the tower, even as you lose sight of it again. The path becomes more difficult, the terrain more uneven and rocky. The heavy oaken trees become increasingly covered with layers of ivy, until they envelope the area, seemingly stopping you dead in your tracks as they form a wall blocking your path. Pulling a few branches back, you see that the ivy is little more than a thin veneer masking a veritable barricade of large sharp thorns. Not to be deterred, you aim to push through, closing your eyes and holding your arm in front of your face. You lean forward to allow your demonic horns to take at least some of the burden. The rest of your body has to make it through the endless cuts and abrasions of fighting through, tearing through the threads of your homemade vestments. Tiring of the struggle and the pain, you try to give one last push through, hoping to be done with all of this. You successfully clear through the thorns, but lose your footing in the process, falling face first into soggy mud. Your moment of exhilitartion is followed by fear, followed by anger.

"Fuck!" you shout to nobody as you pull your head and body out of the mud. Wiping your face as best you can while regaining your footing, you see that your clothes are soiled through. It would take forever to wash them thoroughly, to say nothing the countless irreparable tears in the fabric. You cut your losses and angrily take your vestments off, throwing them in the grass. As you storm towards the tower, you see a fox, seemingly identical to the one you rescued before, as it runs towards you and takes your disheveled robes in its mouth and runs off with them. The seeming oddness tempers your anger somewhat as you slowly scale the spiral staircase of the wizards tower, magical torches dotting the windowless walls as you climb. A heady smell fills your nostrils as you near the top, and you feel like the rest of your senses start to numb.

The bulky double doors to the observatory at the top of the tower are locked open, and you let yourself in, looking around the various odds and ends throughout. The place is a confusing blend of living space, arcane laboratory, and eccentric museum of personal keepsakes. You find the source of the smell from earlier, a strange bubbling brew inside a large wrought iron cauldron.

"I strongly suggest you don't touch that!" You hear bellow through the tower. Startled, you walk around to find the voices owner, the wizard who lives here, but find nothing. Instead, you find the fox again, curled up and snoozing beside the entrance, using your discarded robes as a makeshift bed. Confused, you turn back on your heels to find the wizard standing immediately behind you. Startled, you take a few steps back on instinct. The wizard appears even older than the Archdeacon, a disheveled beard and appearance masked by clean robes, made of fine green silk with ornate golden trim laced in.

"That's my medication. I don't know how it would affect you, especially with your.." he eyes you up and down, dwelling around your hips "particular physique. Now, what can I do for you, so that you can get out of my home and leave"

"I was told you might be able to help me. ArchDeacon Doolyn was taken by monsters. I thought you might tell me where they might have taken him, or anything that you know about his past."

"Ahh" the wizard shifted his head back and forth "You must be Demetria. Fergus spoke highly of you over the years." The wizard extended his hand in formal greeting "Ezra the Wizened, High Arcanus. I'm afraid I can't help you, except that everything you said is wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Fergus Doolyn left the Cathedral and his position of his own free will, and those weren't monsters."

"But someone saw monsters leave the Cathedral"

"They didn't. Most monsters can't step foot on hallowed grounds. Did you see any evidence of these supposed monsters?" You shake your head no "I thought not."

"So what did happen? Where did he go? If I hurry I might find him!"

"Perhaps you did not understand properly. He does not wish to be found, and not even you could pull him away, even if you knew where to find him."

"Do you?"

"I do not. I know to whom he owes his true fealty, and that's enough"

"I don't understand" you protest, frustrated by the wizards cryptic words. He clearly knows something, but every answer only leads to more questions

"All the more reason for you to go back home. Take comfort in knowing he is doing the world a better good, wherever he is."

"Please, Ezra you must help me!" You can't help but start to get hysterical "I'll do anything to find him!"

"Are you sure those are the words you want to go with? I should think the favored pupil of the ArchDeacon would be more restrained..." Ezra eyes you longingly