Most weefolk in the city of Loridon have two career paths: conman or merchant. Some would say they are one and the same.
Endeller Maysfellow never took to his father’s clothing business. He was fairly good at it - helping customers, doing fittings, tailoring - but he never wanted to do that for the rest of his life.
His father’s shop, The Thread and Needle, was across the street from the home of a crusty old man named Thorik. He kept to himself mostly but at night, Endeller would occasionally see strange lights from behind the closed curtain in Thorik’s house. What went on in there? What was Thorik doing? He was fascinated.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Endeller snuck up to the window on the front of Thorik’s house. With the curtains drawn, he couldn’t see much but he did hear who he assumed to be Thorik speaking in a tongue he didn’t know. Quite loudly too, most likely to be heard above the sounds of the howling winds emanating from his house.
It was too much for Endeller to resist. He tried the front door to Thorik’s house. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He slowly opened the door only to have it ripped out of his hands by the sheer force of the whirlwind swirling in Thorik’s living room.
Inside the whirlwind was Thorik, floating and seeming to glow. Ahead of him, on the wall was what looked to be a portal to a most alien landscape. The portal was getting bigger.
Thorik, looking intensely concentrated, focused on the portal. Strange lights, spirits maybe, floated out of him into and through the room, the walls and Endeller. He looked down at himself, and realized, he was glowing like Thorik.
It seemed Thorik’s magics were now touching Endeller. The portal opened to the full height of the wall. Thorik floated through it and the portal snapped shut behind him.
Since that day, the wild magic has flowed through Endeller. Thankfully, his life as a clothier was not to be.