Beyond the Material Plane
The White Tower
The White Tower is an ancient monolith located near Lochwater Lake, middle Marsadova. For as long as man can remember, the tower has always existed, and been a subject of intense debate throughout the centuries. Many wars have been fought by the lands of Lochwater, with the White Tower serving as a backdrop to the epic battle below it. Most mages and wizards have declared the tower inaccessible, due to its heavy, arcane fortification. Even attempts to excavate the ground beneath the tower has proven useless, as the area below the tower is also heavily warded and fortified, leading some to believe the tower may have chambers that extend to the middle of the Earth.
Many great minds have attempted to identify the magic warding used on the tower, but all have concluded that the magic is unknown, and may not be of this world. Famous attempts by Magus Saren Tal’deva to access the tower have left his mind heavily scarred from the counter-magic produced by the tower.
It is not uncommon to see people gathered around the tower, mystified by its unworldly properties.
Story of the White Tower of Lochwater Lake
Translated by Osric Micolai, with additional content by co-author, Goldilocks.
Author’s Note: As of now, the origin of the White Tower is up for debate. Whether the story is mere myth or truth is up for the reader, and any other researcher that may study it.
There once was a young mage who constructed a large mirror in his house. The purpose of this mirror, the mage explained to his wife, was to peer into the realms of the ancient gods; something that has never been done before!
And so, the mage crushed a flower, sprinkled it on the mirror, and recited a spell from his scroll-book. Upon completion, the mage looked directly into the mirror, but could not comprehend what he saw. Just swirling images, a haze of confusion. Despite the inability to understand what he just witnessed, the mage had an uneasy, and somewhat disturbed feeling upon looking into the mirror. So he moved the mirror away from sight, and decided to throw it out first thing the next morning.
That night, while the mage and his wife slumbered, the goddess Sahinine (goddess of trickery and illusions), took human form and approached from out of the mirror. She walked up to the bed, where the mage and his wife were sleeping, and softly whispered to the wife:
“A poison of the soul, passion’s cruel counterpart; from love she grows, til love lies slain.”
And then Sahinine vanished, walking back into the mirror.
The next morning, the mage woke up and noticed something strange outside. There was now a stone wall completely encircling his property. There was only one wooden door leading to the outside of the wall. To his surprise, he saw his wife casually walking towards the door, opening it, and going through. The mage followed, but was only greeted by a door he could not open. The wall wasn’t too high, so the mage jumped and tried to grab the top of the wall and pull himself up to look over. No matter what, the wall always seemed to be out of reach. He continued to inspect the wall, wondering who could’ve constructed it in such a short time. A few hours later, his wife walked back through the door, laughing, looking as happy as he has ever seen her.
She gave vague answers to the mage’s inquiry which only upset him. Knowing that he was getting nowhere, the mage decided to build a ladder the next day.
In the morning, the mage’s wife, similar to what she did yesterday, took another walk through the door. The mage, determined to get over the wall, constructed a ladder, and leaned it against the wall. The mage climbed up, and tried to peer over the wall, but once again, the top always seemed out of reach no matter his efforts. And again, a few hours later, his wife reappeared through the door, laughing, happy as he’s ever seen her.
The next day, clearly frustrated, the mage decided to magically grow a tree on which he could climb. Similar to the previous days, his wife went out on her walk through the door, and the mage went on to cast a spell to grow the tree. Out from under the ground, a magnificent tree the size of the tallest tower sprang from within the earth. He climbed to the top, confident he’d be able to see over the wall. But, like before, the mage was unable to glance over the wall. And like before, his wife reappeared through the door, laughing, happy as he’s ever seen her.
This routine continued on for a year, with his wife disappearing, and the mage thinking of clever new ways to gaze over the wall, but always failing. But, one night, while the mage was sleeping, he heard a sweet voice beckoning him. It seemed to have come from the mirror. The mage approached it, and the voice told him that if he wished to see what was on the otherside of the wall, he must construct a magical tower with an altar atop it. In this altar would be a large bowl, and within the bowl would be placed the mirror he was looking at right now. If he wished to make the tower taller, all he would have to do is place drops of his own blood into the bowl. An elaborately decorated dagger appeared in the mirror, and the mage reached in and pulled it out.
The next day, after his wife disappeared through the door, the mage began construction of the base of the tower, along with the altar and mirror placed at the bottom of a giant bowl. When completed, he pulled out the dagger, and placed a few drops of his own blood into the bowl. The blood drops seemed to vanish as it hit the mirror. The ground beneath him rumbled, and a great white tower started to grow from beneath his feet.
The Mage tried to look over the wall from atop his tower, but it still seemed too short. And so he placed more of his blood into the bowl, and the tower once more began to grow. Yet, still, the mage was unable to look over the wall. Drop by drop, the mage was getting weaker and weaker, and the tower was growing taller and taller.
He was now so weak, he could no longer stand on his feet. He placed a little more of his blood, and once again, the tower grew. Now, almost unconscious, he glimpsed over at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was his wife. She kneeled down next to him, and asked him,
“My dear, Sigmund, what is greater than any god, more evil than Asmodeus himself?; the poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you will die?”
“I do not know…”
With disappointment, his wife said while disappearing from sight,
“Then you have learned nothing”,
With his last ounce of strength, the mage took the dagger, and dropped another bit of blood into the bowl, and once again, the tower grew.