I am Dorothea Greskkovičja, Historian of Boudičja’s Forge.
These are my notes on the life of Pataphor, Sorcerer, which I have prepared for her Ladyship of the Forge, great maybe her vault.
It is said that Pataphor had a map of the world so large and so precise that when overlaid on the world, it was the world.
Such is the ‘pataphysics of Pataphor. It extends from reality as a reference to reality, and then is an abstraction of that abstraction. For example, as a young man raised in the north of Gloriana, Pataphor fell in love with an older woman named Rosilyn: as a result, the village became a burgh of roses, which was visually beautify, enticingly fragrant, laceratingly dangerous, and utterly impractical all at the same time.
That seems to be all you need to know about Pataphor.
It is my belief — and, of course, I am correct in this belief, and if you don’t like you’re just itching for a fight, I’m looking at you, History Department at MIT — that Pataphor set off The Cataclysm. It was Pataphor who attacked Clinamen’s tower, this we know from witnesses at the time. It was he, surely, who fractured the content.
This act of folly is notable for its consequence on Pataphor himself.
The blocks that rained down across Ur were what once was Pataphor’s tower. That is common knowledge.
Beyond that, there seems to be very little actually thinking about these stones cast through out the countryside. They are arranged in such a way that it is evident — to me, anyway — that Pataphor’s tower exploded from the inside!
It is my belief, further, that the attack Pataphor launched on the four other ‘pataphysical sorcerers destroyed Pataphor and he took his tower with him.
I would, I think, be able to confirm such a thing if that irascible general of his would step away from his loom or if the other one would step away from his garden. While they put of a good front of being retired to their weaving, their garden, and their small menagerie, they are up to something, no doubt.
And I do not say that just because they wouldn’t let me in the gate. It’s called the Many Miserable Isles for a bloody good reason, and they could have shown an old Dwarf a bit of hospitality in that inhospitable place.