*On the Plains of Galdor stands the Red Tower, the making of the tower is the stuff of legend.
Millennia ago a great battle was fought across this landscape, here the forces of Dark met the armies of Light, it is said the war lasted for twice a thousand years.
And at its end there were no true winners, the Dark retreated into the bowels of the earth to lick its wounds, the Light took what victory it could, and retreated to the Lands of Light beyond the Shimmering Sea.
And the plain was left to hold the bodies of the fallen.
From these bodies rose one not yet dead, a young Mage, no longer held by the thread that bound him, he looked across the Plain of Galdor, nothing lived within his sight, he had been left, forgotten, alone among the corpses of the vanquished.
And as he rose to stand the thoughts of the fallen pulsed through his mind, the life essence flowed into his very being, he felt the fears,dreams, that would never be realized.
Somehow he had gathered the power of souls, he knew he must give them rest, with the power given him he lay the tens of thousands of bodies upon a mighty funeral pyre.
Nothing in the legend tells what happened to the Mage after, maybe he still wanders the dark places of the world in search of peace.
But it does tell us the the Red Tower is the bones and ashes of the fallen, and nothing lives on the great plain.*