NPC in Fortune's Favored of Alderra
Reginald Peterstone
Wizard
| Carries | pouch with Golden Lions figurines |
|---|---|
| What Bards Say | dashing attire but horrible tipper |
| Last Seen | in Hartford on Brightwater street |
Behold, Reginald, a nobleman of Hartford, doth oft grace the cobbled thoroughfares of the ducal city, a figure of no small import, or so he verily believes. Married unto Nelmy, the fair daughter of Duke Francis Wilston and Duchess Lavariss Mistwalker-Wilston, he doth boast a lineage interwoven with the very fabric of power, albeit through the matrimonial bonds of another. Yet, it is not his station by alliance alone that swells his chest, but a conviction far grander: that he is a wizard of unparalleled brilliance, a veritable luminary in the mystical arts.
His raiment, though cut of the finest velvets and silks, doth oft seem but a mere adornment to the imperious set of his chin and the perpetual sneer that doth oft curl his lip. Whithersoever Reginald doth venture, a solitary city guard, clad in the Duke's livery and bearing a spear of polished steel, doth follow but a pace behind, a silent sentinel to his master's perceived eminence. And oft, too, is found Master Boblie Blackinson, a cleric of middling repute but uncommon forbearance, who attends Reginald's every utterance with a studied patience that borders upon the saintly, or perchance, the utterly resigned.
To Reginald, the world is but a stage for his genius, and all who people it naught but players of lesser parts. He doth address even the highest-ranking officials with a condescending air, as if their very breath were but a tedious interruption to his profound cogitations. “Thou art but a mere mortal”, he might declare to a master artisan, “unversed in the true machinations of the cosmos, which I, Reginald, doth grasp with effortless ease.”
His pronouncements upon magic are frequent and verbose, laced with terms of baffling complexity, though none hath yet witnessed a spell of true power emerge from his gesticulating hands. Indeed, the common folk whisper that his 'brilliance' doth manifest only in the prodigious consumption of fine wines and the lengthy monologues he doth inflict upon any hapless soul ensnared in his orbit. Verily, Reginald doth move through Hartford as a king within his own mind, blind to the weary sighs and knowing glances that do follow in his wake.