Hooho

Hooho was never a fan of wizards. Too much noise, not enough sense. Yet, after a young geomancer’s spell nearly shattered a floating monolith, Hooho found themself bound by an old promise to the youth’s mentor. Their days in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria became a study in contrasts. The wizard would try to part streams with arcane gestures; Hooho would simply cast a line with their fishing rod. The youth would pore over texts to predict the weather; Hooho would just watch the clouds. “Patience is a weapon they don’t teach in your fortress,” Hooho would say, never looking up. The wizard always grumbled, but they always stayed, slowly learning to read the reflections in the water—one for magical currents, the other for fish.