I know most of the people on this forum love to write...so here's a little game to play..i'll begin the story, and end it in a way that the next person can continue it. Do the same at the end of your post so that the next person can continue it and so on and so on...





The building, if building it was, had no doors nor did it have any windows. People called it a tower, but for all they know, it could be a solid spear of stone. It did appear vaguely spear-like, a long straight shaft with a slightly wider section near the top, tapering to a sharp point. By its very existence, the tower mocked the efforts of the city's inhabitants, for nothing they could ever do would equal the achievement of the tower. Nothing man could do would affect the tower. No stonemason's chisel, no alchemist's acid, no general's siege engine, could do more than put the finest of scratches upon the onyx stone. Like children who close their eyes to block out unwanted sights, the inhabitants ignored the tower. That is just the way things were, until one particular day.....

until one particular day..... when the wind wailed like the Banshee and the sky boiled with storm clouds, there arrived a stranger. No heads turned as his passing, everyone looked past or through him and the villagers shuddered slightly as he walked to the tower.

A dirt stained coat hung from him, ragged hair hid his eyes from view (if you could have seen him) and in his right hand he carried (or did it carry him..?) a weathered oaken staff, taller than a man carved in runes long since forgotten........

if any had seen - they could not remember to tell you - the stranger walked up to the tower and passed through the walls.....

and passed through the walls.....

the walls enveloped his mysterious form with no more then a thought. the tower had accepted him as it's own, as if the tower was merely an extension of his thoughts or a appendage of his soul. the wanderer was home.

inside lay his chamber, untouched by the outside world, just as he had left it so long ago. beautiful polished black marble cast reflections like mirrors on every wall. a singular thought brought several magical purple illuminating glows throughout the room. near the opposite wall a circular staircase followed the contour of the tower, leading to the floor above.

moving now as if floating above the marble floors the wizard made his way across the lower level and began his ascension to the next floor...