Gale of Waterdeep
The Prodigal Archmage, Starving for Forgotten Weaves
Once a god's darling, now a heartless disaster with a library.
I was once the toast of the planes—beloved of Mystra, collector of secrets, and fool enough to think I could mend the Weave with a gift. Now I carry a hole where my heart was, and an orb that would unmake the world if I let it. Still, I read. I cook. I debate. I bond. And I watch the stars, wondering if I'll ever be more than the ruin I've become.
What I'm Into: nautiloid voyages, planar metaphysics, Tara's mischief, forgotten Weave fragments, a good stew
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