Benjamin Ludenhof
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Benjamin Ludenhof
"I will greet death like an old friend, one day.
But for now, there is work to do."
-Benjamin Ludenhof
(Source)
The creator of Cloaking, the equivalent of Golden Ascension.
Unlike many wizards, he was only discovered as an elder man, the son of a Strigany and a lumberjack, born in Middenland. His mother died, his father was slain by Dark Elves; and in the stress of this he ran to the woods, fearing for his life. He was pushing forty by the time the Colleges found him; fortunately, despite their fears, he was-- by the many decades he spent hiding-- attuned, in a way, to one Wind-- Ulgu, the Gray Wind.
Despite a lacking upbringing, he was wise and intelligent enough to be taught-- the Patriarch of the College himself, Guntram Schatten, taught him the ways of a gray wizard-- fitting, since there have ever been rumors that he is an acolyte of Ranald.
He was given relatively loose leash in his education. This eventually culminated in tragedy, as during the earliest parts of his schooling he would, eventually, fail with explosive consequences-- though ironically enough, it would not be caused by magic. Meddling with gunpowder during an experiment, he would lose an eye; more than that, he would lose his mentor's trust for some time.
Ironically that might have been the best gift that the Magister could have been given-- for it gave him time to do naught but read and study and prepare. Years, decades passed; but with the patience that only wizards can muster, he plotted, and planned, and eventually was released to do work for the Empire.
The new Magister was obsessive in his work on the Ritual, spending the five years after he was released from his...house arrest attempting to perfect it. He traveled the length and breadth of the Empire; but always it seemed that he would be evaded in one way or another of the prize he sought.
Eventually, as he was losing hope, a call, a hope, was sounded from the Borderlands. The Wizard saw his chance, or as much as he ever had had. Going to the Grand Matriarch of the Colleges, he was eventually sent as part of the small Imperial detachment that headed to the Borderlands.
Eventually, he led a daring company of soldiers on a raid of a Druchii caravan. While the Imperial Soldiers took weapons, arms, and armor for themselves or the people of the Borderlands, the Wizard stole a small library's worth of books and a chunk of warpstone shaped like some great dragon encased in a chunk of a strange jellyish substance that seemed to arrest its effects.
With this trove of awesome knowledge, the wizard lord purified his ritual, molded it.
He was denied the time he desired to perfect it, though, as Kaldor the Cruel and the Druchii Sorceress who he had stolen the knowledge from attacked the small, hidden cabin that was his home. Kaldor skewered him upon his sword and left the wizard to die.
With no time to ready and little to prepare, the Wizard Lord, armed only with the awesome will of all who grapple with the cursed Winds and perhaps faith in Ranald, the Benjamin gripped the Winds, grappled with them-- and emerged triumphant.
What the exact process of Cloaking was, or the results, you cannot comprehend; and neither, indeed, can your court. Only Rose understands in even the slightest, and to hear her describe it by (imprecise) analogy, it was like he dipped his soul itself in Ulgu, and was thus cloaked in shadows, hidden even from death itself. To hear her tell it is even more terrible and dangerous than the Ascension of the Gold Mages-- for all they can face is the doom of flesh and not of soul; even the lightest failure, by Rose's words, would see them thrust through the Aethyr, anywhere from the Realms of Chaos to entirely unknown and strange worlds; there are perhaps a half-dozen Cloaked Mages in all the Empire.
With that he was healed, in a sense; and gripping his blade, he smote the Druchii from the world with wrath.
When he looked once more, that chunk of pure Warpstone was no-longer solidified Chaos, but pure Ulgu given form. He bears it, now, upon a golden staff, along with a blade he forged as a younger magister.
In recent years he has walked Norsca as part of the Army sent by the Emperor, fighting the forces of Chaos.
"I will greet death like an old friend, one day.
But for now, there is work to do."
-Benjamin Ludenhof
(Source)
The creator of Cloaking, the equivalent of Golden Ascension.
Unlike many wizards, he was only discovered as an elder man, the son of a Strigany and a lumberjack, born in Middenland. His mother died, his father was slain by Dark Elves; and in the stress of this he ran to the woods, fearing for his life. He was pushing forty by the time the Colleges found him; fortunately, despite their fears, he was-- by the many decades he spent hiding-- attuned, in a way, to one Wind-- Ulgu, the Gray Wind.
Despite a lacking upbringing, he was wise and intelligent enough to be taught-- the Patriarch of the College himself, Guntram Schatten, taught him the ways of a gray wizard-- fitting, since there have ever been rumors that he is an acolyte of Ranald.
He was given relatively loose leash in his education. This eventually culminated in tragedy, as during the earliest parts of his schooling he would, eventually, fail with explosive consequences-- though ironically enough, it would not be caused by magic. Meddling with gunpowder during an experiment, he would lose an eye; more than that, he would lose his mentor's trust for some time.
Ironically that might have been the best gift that the Magister could have been given-- for it gave him time to do naught but read and study and prepare. Years, decades passed; but with the patience that only wizards can muster, he plotted, and planned, and eventually was released to do work for the Empire.
The new Magister was obsessive in his work on the Ritual, spending the five years after he was released from his...house arrest attempting to perfect it. He traveled the length and breadth of the Empire; but always it seemed that he would be evaded in one way or another of the prize he sought.
Eventually, as he was losing hope, a call, a hope, was sounded from the Borderlands. The Wizard saw his chance, or as much as he ever had had. Going to the Grand Matriarch of the Colleges, he was eventually sent as part of the small Imperial detachment that headed to the Borderlands.
Eventually, he led a daring company of soldiers on a raid of a Druchii caravan. While the Imperial Soldiers took weapons, arms, and armor for themselves or the people of the Borderlands, the Wizard stole a small library's worth of books and a chunk of warpstone shaped like some great dragon encased in a chunk of a strange jellyish substance that seemed to arrest its effects.
With this trove of awesome knowledge, the wizard lord purified his ritual, molded it.
He was denied the time he desired to perfect it, though, as Kaldor the Cruel and the Druchii Sorceress who he had stolen the knowledge from attacked the small, hidden cabin that was his home. Kaldor skewered him upon his sword and left the wizard to die.
With no time to ready and little to prepare, the Wizard Lord, armed only with the awesome will of all who grapple with the cursed Winds and perhaps faith in Ranald, the Benjamin gripped the Winds, grappled with them-- and emerged triumphant.
What the exact process of Cloaking was, or the results, you cannot comprehend; and neither, indeed, can your court. Only Rose understands in even the slightest, and to hear her describe it by (imprecise) analogy, it was like he dipped his soul itself in Ulgu, and was thus cloaked in shadows, hidden even from death itself. To hear her tell it is even more terrible and dangerous than the Ascension of the Gold Mages-- for all they can face is the doom of flesh and not of soul; even the lightest failure, by Rose's words, would see them thrust through the Aethyr, anywhere from the Realms of Chaos to entirely unknown and strange worlds; there are perhaps a half-dozen Cloaked Mages in all the Empire.
With that he was healed, in a sense; and gripping his blade, he smote the Druchii from the world with wrath.
When he looked once more, that chunk of pure Warpstone was no-longer solidified Chaos, but pure Ulgu given form. He bears it, now, upon a golden staff, along with a blade he forged as a younger magister.
In recent years he has walked Norsca as part of the Army sent by the Emperor, fighting the forces of Chaos.
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