In a faraway kingdom across the sea there was once a young orphan, as nameless and faceless as the rest of his kind. He spent his early days growing up, or more accurately starving, in a great city named Castlepass. That city was like a man-made mountain, with great buildings of brick and stone rising from everywhere to form a labyrinth of busy streets and shady alleys.

On one side of Castlepass was an ancient and looming castle that was the town's namesake and home to a knightly order as well as the king. The other side of the city was dominated by a newer but far grander structure: a great keep known only as the Castlepass Mages' Institute. Many of the Institute's founders were good people, former apprentices to Primus that had returned to their homeland to take on apprentices of their own and spread their knowledge. That first idealistic, founding generation brought magic to those faraway lands. Previously they had been rather isolated from any innovations in the field, and talent was rare as any who wanted to learn as an apprentice would have had to travel across the sea.

The second generation were the golden ones: they surpassed their masters and the first generation in both numbers and knowledge, and brought the Institute and the kingdom to new heights. A friendly rivalry with the Idolized Tower was formed, and while the Institute was nowhere near as grand its wizards did make the occasional breakthrough to boast about. The Mages' Institute was a benevolent force, their benevolence bringing prosperity, curing sickness, and offering a chance at advancement to any youngsters that had a talent for magic.

One of those youngsters was the orphan that this story began with. Brave as a fool and with nothing to lose, he tried to pickpocket the Institute's Archmage on one fateful day in the markets. He was caught of course and shackled with magic, but instead of being handed over to the guards the Archmage took pity on the youth. Seeing potential in the boy, he named him Crompter, adopted him as a son, and took him on as an apprentice. Crompter excelled and was the at the forefront of all his classes. By the age of fifteen he was bestowed the rank of Master Alterist, and by eighteen the previous Archmage at last died peacefully in his old age and Crompter was chosen over many older mages in the institute to be the next Archmage.

Being a mere boy in charge of men twice his age, he was of course only the Institute's master in name. He quickly learned that he had no true power over the others, and began to become solitary and do his own research. The third generation of wizards in the Mages' Institute came, and these were not like the first two. The spirit and morals of the Institute's wise and noble founders had not been passed down well, and many in this generation grew too ambitious. The ones with less scruples eventually took over. The Mages began to terrorize Castlepass, their experiments growing increasingly cruel and their once rigid Code of Honor being blatantly disregarded. Any that spoke out against the tyrannical masses and their treachery were driven out of the Institute and the kingdom, or worse.

In a selfish bid to maintain what little power his title gave him, Archmage Crompter went along with the others, though he certainly was no ringleader. There came a day when the entire Institute at last plotted to depose Castlepass's rightful king and disperse the knights that guarded it, for those men and their laws had of late chafed with the Institute's goals and become too much of a thorn in the side.

When they attacked the castle, there was no challenge. The arrows that flew from the battlements towards the wizards were blown away by unnatural gusts of wind, the wooden gate and all atop the walls were incinerated by fire magic, and the castle was stormed by undead and demonic minions before the wizards themselves went in. There were still many who doubted his loyalty, so Crompter himself petrified the king and the entire royal family. After all, the king had been no angel. Perhaps the other mages were right when they said that the kingdom would be safer and more prosperous under their rule, with no two competing factions to disturb the peace.

In the following years the entire nobility was overthrown while individual wizards struck out to conquer the kingdom's cities, towns, and hamlets. They declared themselves lords, and there were a few that were unimaginably cruel in their tyranny. At last, when Crompter reached the age of twenty and five, he could no longer ignore what his heart had told him the entire time. He determined to end the Institute.

He invited all of his peers to a feast in the keep of the old Institute, and while many had their own palaces, castles, and towers they all attended. Crompter had both their trust and respect, his title ironically meaning something now that he no longer wanted it. As the wizards all filed in to the feast hall, they began to talk amongst themselves and dine. Crompter announced that he had some matter to attend to but that he would be back within the hour. He went outside the keep to where he had already hidden and prepared a gigantic ritual circle, having spent weeks empowering it. With a tiny flick of his wand, he unleashed all the power that had been stored in the circle in his countless hours of meditation.

He unleashed what was perhaps the largest Alteration in history, almsot instantly converting the entire Castlepass Mages' Institute into sand. It was fitting, that the once grand castle was now a petty toy of a sandcastle, just as the once great wizards were now petty fools. Unable to support itself, the collasal structure of loose sand collapsed in on itself and buried all the tyrants beneath a dozen feet of crushing sand. Taken by surprise, none managed to survive.

Crompter used his magic to ensure that the statues of the old royal family would slowly be reanimated into living people once more. Then, he left the kingdom in self-imposed exile. He now styles himself just Wizard Crompter; the Institute is gone, so he's no longer an Archmage, after all. He goes from hamlet to hamlet, trying to hide the fact that he's a wizard so as to avoid any annoying requests from the locals. He transmutes pebbles into gold nuggets as he needs them, using his essentially infinite wealth to stay in taverns drink himself into oblivion rather than build a mansion or anything ambitious like that. Ambition is a vile thing, as his late peers showed him.