It has been many years since you were last awake. The eddies of the astral realm were waning, and you saw no point in scrabbling at magical learning in a world with such little connection to the immaterium. The Eye of Leng looked elsewhere, and the teeth of Ag-Shazzar bit not upon the world-flesh. In your absence, your tower fell into nature. Towers are the embodiment of a wizard's will, and with yours dormant your tower receded, till it was merely;

>A great tree, sprawling roots wrapped around a great amber orb containing your sleeping form.
>A barb of cliff-edge, rearing out towards the sea.
>A silver-white pond in the depths of the woods of Carachon, milky and opalescent to the eye, and utterly toxic to all but you, sleeping within.
>The stone walls of the vast ruins beneath the city of Tomare.
>A molten crack in the earth, a yawning span of magma surrounding a sharp pillar of slade reaching up like the aye-aye's finger from the hell-depths.