A Faerahrn's Journal

[thaelis]

The following record appears to be the wizardly journal of one Lanathas Ell'thariel, a Sun Elven Mage from Evermeet, studying at the Sundren University at the time of its writing

I have decided to record my thoughts herewith for several reasons, foremost of which being so that other Faerahrn need not repeat such painstaking and lengthy processes as these in the pursuit of new arcana.

Sundren University is, as expected of the only notable magical educational institution in these parts, well furnished with instruments of the arcane, a wide assortment of alchemical instruments, and an extensive library. Even so, I do not expect my work to be expeditious, and I am considering taking on an apprentice in the hopes of speeding my progress.

Funding is as always an issue which vexes me greatly, and I am forced to hire out my services to explorers and adventurers if only to cover the more costly ingredients, those which I cannot keep pestering the Curator to replace. The man seems to have little love for words when not in the classroom...I think I must find a method of ingratiating myself with him, for I am sure my research would go much more smoothly with his cooperation.

The library of the University, as well as the Archives in the adjacent building have proven invaluable so far in attaining a base from which I can begin my research, though I wonder whether such texts will retain their usefulness in the researching of more powerful spells? Likely many of the more insightful tomes have been censored or sequestered by the Hands of Mundus, a government-sanctioned (and the sole) wizard's guild in the valley. The “Hands” seem intent on strict regulation of magic, and I find it almost ludicrous to imagine they would share such tomes except perhaps at great cost.

My current research is comparatively simple in nature, which I believe was a wise choice, especially considering this is my first project. The subject is a commonly known spell, named “Scorching Ray” in most texts, though others call it “Searing Ray”, “Burning Lance” or even “Liecter's Luminous Lance” by one self-styled Archmage.

The next section is an in-depth summary of the pre-reading Lanathas has undertaken so far, and its relevance to the Scorching Ray spell

[thaelis]

The Elven mage dropped the second heavy spelltome onto the desk nearby the first. He looked down at his hands somewhat disgustedly after having touched the thing. The two grimoires on the desk, not surprisingly, shared many features in common. They were both bound in thick sheets of what he sincerely hoped was animal hide, reinforced with bones which seemed to have come from a variety of creatures, some obviously demihumans. The pages themselves were thinner, and might be taken for ordinary parchment by one that did not know the books' distasteful origins.

He thought back to the moment that the books had come into his possession. The first time he had accompanied a druid and a woodsman into the Ogres' lair, relying on their eagerness to slay the beasts as he searched every room for his treasure. The second, brought down by the icy blades of a one-eyed Elven warrior girl. A hunter of the dead, she had called herself. She had been very useful, and pleasant company too, though of course one such as her would never see anything in him, a sickly aberrance of his race. He gave an internal chuckle...as if he had time for such distractions anyway. The Weave demanded all.

Focusing once again on the tome, he noted it differed from the first only in the large skeletal hand juxtapositioned on the front cover, obviously too large to be that of a human, perhaps an ogre or troll? A keepsake of a defeated opponent perhaps? An old mentor? He shuddered a little at this thought, before silently berating himself. If he didn't even have the will to master his fear, how could he ever master something so deep and intangible as the Art?

Ensuring to first ward himself in every manner imaginable, he still couldn't help but tense a little as he opened the first page. As the afternoon light waned outside the windows of the University, he leaned his stave against the table, letting its steady light fall over the books as he attempted to unlock whatever secrets they might hold.


((Decipher Script +18, Knowledge (Arcana) +17, Knowledge (Planes) +17, Spellcraft +24))

[thaelis]

Sitting at a simple wooden desk, an equally simply-clothed mage stared down at yet another page of sigils and arcanograms, idly flipping another page whilst stifling the rising urge to toss the book from the nearest window.

He had been at his study for months now, and looking around the neatly arranged research lab, he had to admit that he had painfully little to show for it. Apparently spell research was better left to Archmages.

Ironically his study had made more progress in his brief trips to the "surface" than any of his time in the University. The valley seemed rife with cabals of evil wizards, or mages who had simply chosen the easy path to wealth...hiring out their services to local groups of cutthroats.

With the help of other adventurers, he had gleaned no small number of scrolls from the corpses of such evildoers. In particular, the girl Myathvin had again proven very useful in keeping him alive, though he had to convince her that his purpose in the city of the dead was not that of tomb-robber. As if such a thought would even cross his mind! To steal from the resting places of the dead was one of the gravest crimes of the People. Though, he wasn't so sure about the walking corpses that those necromancers had armed and armored and bid kill any living thing that entered their domain.

He supposed the Seldarine would give him some leeway for the service of putting their evil to rest. And after all, he hadn't even entered their tombs...they had come out.

He sighed and looked around the too-familiar room once again. Perhaps it was time for a change of scenery. He had rather liked the look of Avanthyr, the port city, and he thought he might even be able to make a decent living for himself there hiring out his services as a wizard.

When first visiting Avanthyr, its proximity to Sestra, and all that he'd heard of that dark place had worried him more than a little, but his fears had quickly been alleviated by the presence of the Meriadoc enforcers and Exigo guards alike throughout the town, as well as the ever-present keep looking out over the bustling town.

With a final nod of decision, he snapped shut the book, gathered those ingredients and supplies whose absence he doubted the caretaker would object to, especially given the fees he had already paid to the University, and made his way towards the Castrum district.

[thaelis]

Lanathas took a deep breath of the familiar salty air as he reached the gates to the bustling Port town. Familiar. What an odd concept, that he would ever be capable of regarding the assemblage of crude wooden buildings before him as something like home. He chuckled inwardly to himself as he started down the slope and towards the Mariner, the steady tap of his staff on the cobbles drawing a few stares from the locals as he passed.

Although he wasn't perhaps living the dream he had imagined on setting sail for the valley, he had been able to make a steady living for himself in the growing Port town. Since the Hands of Mundus, seemingly aloof from the affairs of common folk had retreated to their flying city, the services of a skilled spellcaster were in quite high demand. A fair trade could be made simply in the crafting of minor magic items. Float charms were especially popular with those sailors that could afford them, and a few of the more discerning captains had seen fit to invest in a Wind Fan, or the less expensive Wind Caller Compass. One particularly rich merchant had even requested a Ring of Water Walking, the creation of which he had been more than happy to experiment with.

Despite this though, he couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness. His objective in coming to the Valley remained unfulfilled, on the contrary seemed to be slipping farther and farther out of his reach. The Grove he had heard speak of was decidedly lost, the Keeper dead or in seclusion. Worse still, what Druids that remained were reclusive to the point of isolationism, even going so far as to kill to preserve the sanctity of their woods.

Finally reaching the door to the Mariner, he gave a friendly smile to the two off-duty sailors standing outside. Today their was a fraction more recognition in their return stares, and even the hint of a nod from one of them before he turned to spit loudly in a nearby gutter.

Lanathas paused at the door only long enough to run his eyes over the barely-legible noticeboard and to pin his own note precisely in the centre of the board. The almost perfectly white parchment, neither torn nor tattered, stuck out like a sore thumb, and those passing by would surely find their eyes drawn to the flowing emerald-green writing.