ANTHESITIAGA

The multiverse has always been a place of wonder. Infinite possibilities
exist, with innumerable paths to discover them. However, despite the
baffling numbers, it is still exceedingly rare for one individual to unveil
the greater mysteries of life. Rare, but not impossible.
 
Anthesitiagha was possessed of a unique sort of brilliance. Everything
he touched, he conquered. At the age of seven he'd taught himself
the fundamentals of magic. All magic. By fifteen he had become the
guildmaster of his local chapter, sought far and wide for his gifts. His
power and acclaim only grew from there. Of course, like any in his
situation, the greatest failing he had to overcome was his own mortality.
 
He became consumed, undertaking any number of dangerous and
illicit experiments to uncover the secrets of eternal life. Not undeath,
mind, like the shambling corpses he used to fetch his tea, but true
freedom from the cycle. With the full might of his genius come to bear,
he finally discovered the secret. So simply! So easy! In fact, so complete
and elegant was his solution that ANY living creature could transcend
the bounds of mortality!
 
Total, unfettered freedom was his at last. No longer worried over the
prospect of dying, he threw himself at any pursuit of knowledge with
a zeal bordering on obsession. He became known as a prophet -
but it was not for any mystic vision of the future. so learned was he
in all fields, he could accurately predict trends decades before they
came to fruition. He truly was master of his time.
 
One thing that Anthesitiagha failed to foresee, however, was that his
mortality did not come with eternal youth. As time marched on his
body aged. He grew frail and wrinkled. His magic was capable of
reversing a great deal of the damage, but he was too absorbed in his
work to worry over fundamental maintenance. It was too late when his
mind started to go.
 
He disappeared from the public eye for an age. Finally, when he was
again sought out for his wisdom, it was discovered that the Great Prophet
was little more than a wrinkled old man, confined to a chair and attended
by his magical constructs. He would, on occasion, appear to become lucid,
but those times were growing farther apart. Time had moved on without him,
though death could not free him from it. With no further purpose, the
powers that be relegated him to menial tasks. He liked books, and so they
gave him command over the libraries and written knowledge. After all,
all they reckoned, who reads anymore anyway...
 
But were they too quick to dismiss this ancient genius? Is this lassitude a
ruse? Is his forgetfulness simply the outwardly appearing manifestation of
a higher state of being? Or has his brain truly gone to mush? Time will tell,
for Anthesitiagha has plenty of it.