The Dark Sorcerer’s Hidden Tower was, as hidden towers are wont, extremely difficult to find. This was for a myriad of reasons, the first and foremost being that the Dark Sorcerer didn’t particularly want to be found. There were also many reasons for the Dark Sorcerer not wanting to be found; the first and foremost of these was that there were a lot of people out to get him. This wasn’t mere paranoia, it was simple fact. He happened to be on the top of an alarming number of hit lists.

The second reason for the Dark Sorcerer not wanting to be found was that he simply didn’t want to be annoyed by idiots. This was rather difficult as idiots were in a disturbingly large supply, but he found that by merely being difficult to find, he cut down on his idiot encounters by nearly forty five percent. Considering that his Hidden Tower lurked in the middle of a black sea in the middle of a white desert masked by impenetrable magic spells, forty five percent may seem to be a rather low figure. However, disposable idiotic minions were kept on hand as a necessity, so the Dark Sorcerer took what he could get.

It was another typical day in the Hidden Tower for the sorcerer; he’d been plotting, a particularly pleasant pastime, he found. His minions outside his Hidden Tower had given him tidbits on all the mischief and dark deeds they’d achieved recently. They were all lying; they'd done nothing but lie about all day, but it still made the sorcerer feel good to hear about it. So he was in an uncharacteristically good mood when he received the surprising news that a rogue had managed to traverse the scorching desert, swim the icy dark sea, and penetrate all his magic spells to reach the Hidden Tower.

Needless to say, he was somewhat bedraggled when he was led before the Dark Sorcerer.

It was the habit of many evil power-holders to make majestic entrances and have an aura of mystery surrounding them all the time. This Dark Sorcerer, however, considered all that rot a cheap trick used by those who wished to pretend they had power. This Dark Sorcerer actually had power; he didn’t need to create the cliché atmosphere. The hall where he met the intruder was well lit, had a merry warm fire, and was populated with many squashy oversize chairs.

It was the rogue’s turn to be surprised by the Dark Sorcerer’s blunt nature.

“Who are you?” the Sorcerer asked candidly.

Rogues, as a rule, aren’t particularly concerned with the affairs of others unless the affairs of others concern their own affairs. Often times, an unwary rogue may find himself getting swept up into hero journeys by being forced into believing that the fate of the whole world rests on their interaction with the hero, thereby affecting the rogue’s own affairs. The Sorcerer, seeing the effort that this rogue had gone through to find his Hidden Tower, was beginning to suspect that this rogue had been caught up in a heroic effort. Rogues just didn’t do these things on their own. He felt his good day slipping away.

“I am,” The Rogue answered in the trademark unhelpful manner, “a rogue.”

“Now that, my dear friend, I doubt,” the Sorcerer said. “I think you were at one time a rogue, but you’ve run in with some hero who’s given you the whole sob story about the world’s fate and how the whole world concerns you.” He said this last part with an exaggerated mockery. “Now you’ve been sent on some fool’s mission to find the Dark Sorcerer’s hidden castle and either show the sorcerer the evil of his ways or kill him. It’s always the story, though I admit it’s the first time it’s happened to me personally.”

The Rogue grinned. “It’s not happened to you yet.”

“Oh no?” The Sorcerer cupped his chin in his hand as he sat on the largest, squashiest, and most comfortable looking chair.

“Actually,” the Rogue confessed, “I’ve come to ask you to save the world.”