Combat

From the journal of Galdor, Wind Mage of Aurellentia
13-20-4873, Secondday.

Yesterday, a dark mage arrived to observe the village, and he and I locked in combat. The powers of the Dark Mages are indeed great. I could not have defeated him without the help of my new apprentices. His power lay in the dark god of fire. Upon confrontation, he drew a long jagged blade which glowed like a beacon. His hair and clothing likewise ignited. He sent torrents of fire at me which I either dodged or deflected with the power of the wind. I called the power of the wind to me and hurled great spells, powerful spells at him, to no avail. He was able to penetrate the great cyclone I called up to defend me, and avoided powerful gusts of wind. He seemed to grow in strength while I diminished. Thaldor, I think observed this, and struck him a great blow from behind with an immense stone. He fell then, and I pierced his heart with my blade. He left naught behind; his body was consumed, as if from within, by a great and searing flame. His ashes drifted away and he was gone. I have spent this day recovering from a series of minor gashes and burns, and shall tomorrow set off towards the great Angrod, with my two acolytes, who have agreed to accompany me to the great city.

Blackened Ash

I topped the last rise to Demlon, and stopped as if dead before what had been a flowering vale, water still ran in a trickling rivulet down the center of the vale. Where the crops had been slowly ripening in the sun are now black, broken, charred. As yet, smoke still waves from what had been a pleasant farming community. Huge boulders from above Demlon had been hurled through the village, brown scars on the hillside above marked their passage. Bodies lay scattered as if Death had sowed them as seeds thus, but they would never rise. They had fallen for the last time, never to grow or flourish. As I stood there, I did the only thing I saw fitting to the horror that stood incarnate before me: I offered the souls of the dead to my god as we would honor fallen warriors from a great conflict. For thus I beheld them. As I stood their numb, I heard a sound behind me. I turned slowly, (now I recognize in pride of my new power) and beheld two youngsters from Auroch Hal. One was a boy, of slender girth and narrow chest, the other was a girl, who stood one dantra* higher than he, but was also slender. The boy had brown hair dusty from the road. He had an intelligent face, and was clever with his hands and body when training with the sword. He was known as Thaldor. The girl I knew less about. She had shining black hair swept from a high dark forehead, which stood guardian over a lovely face. I had seen her around, but she studied arms under a different combat master. I knew her name not. "Be strong" I said. After a moment I asked "Was this your home?" They nodded in assent. I took them under my wing. I hunted game from the local valley, but game was scarce, the noise and war had driven it away, but I did come up with two rabbits, which we roasted and ate. I spent as much time imparting wisdom to Thaldor and the girl (who's name was Idril) as I could, preparing them for the conflict ahead. They were both fourth year acolytes, trained in body, mind, and soul, still learning the craft of applying the power of the soul to the world around them.

*Dantra: about two inches

The Burning Vale

The solstice finally arrived. I departed from Auroch Hal and the wind mages there and set out for Demlon, a small village between Auroch Hal and Angrod. By foot, it is a two day journey from Auroch Hal to Demlon. Half way between the two my powers returned. Not piece meal or even fully, but four fold. I am many times stronger than I had ever hoped to be. I only hope that I do not forget myself in my new found power and slip during a battle or become proud. The new power from the wind God empowered not just my soul, buy my mind and body as well. New realizations dawned on me as I ran tirelessly towards Demlon. I have never heard of the mages bodies being energized thus by the gods. The souls, yea, but ne'er the bodies or minds. No; I err. The gods speak to my mind, and I recall a dusty tome in the library of Auroch Hal in the old dusty script of old:

Durring the first darke mage warre the warriors of light were weak. They had become proude, the gods didst not think it fitting to lende their powers to men who wouldst missuse it. Twas not till the second darke mage warre, when the men of light were pure of heart and soul didst the powere flow from above. Their bodies and mindes became imbued with powere. Yet we shouldst not long for this powere, for that is of the darke. Quoth Thantos, darke mage of death: 'When the gods grant us powere we shall rule I shall kill the people of Aurellentia.' We shouldst be careful of this powere, lest we become proude and losse it or become overbearing in battle and fall.

I read that during the training of my mind in my second year as an acolyte. A decade ago.

Summer Solstice

From the journal of Galdor, Wind Mage of Aurellentia
4-20-4873, Fourthday

My superiors here at the temple to the God of wind have decided to permit my pilgrimage to the Earthstone, I must but wait until the solstice. I am needed here at the temple to train the bodies of the acolytes of my order. However, at the solstice all my acolytes are dismissed to help with the upcoming harvest and to spread the teachings of our God amongst the people of the land, so then I will have time free of duty to wend my way to Angrod. Loth am I to wait, feeling the disorder in the elements around me, the fire I write before, the stone beneath my feat, the wine in my horn, the order, the chaos, the life, the death, and the air around me. I am but a string in a chord of life, a note on the wind; I feel the wind, am the wind, I am moved by the wind. Thus must I wait: in a world drained of power, yet twitching with energy, as if disturbed by some power, distracted from their normal movements, dead to the world they power. Thus must I wait, thus must I wait.

Angrod

From the Journal of Galdor, Wind mage of Aurellentia
3-20-4873 Thirdday

The Earth Feels tainted. The messengers of the air are disquiet, yet they speak not, they scream of their agonies in some ancient language. The fire on the hearth of the temple to the Light Wind God burns fitfully. Our magic brings at best a small gust of wind. We lack the power to cast whirling towers of wind at foes as we once had but four weeks ago. It will return with time. The Gods will withdraw; they will realize that they cannot harm each other, they can but tire, and they will infuse their power into mortals to do their work. I have heard rumors of dark mages wandering the land again, destroying things at whim. Only chaos mages would do that, and they have been the last to emerge in the dark mage wars before.

I must travel to Angrod: that sprawling land of twisted steel and stone, to bow before the Earthstone. The dark mages will inevitably attempt to form their Dark Circle again, as in the dark mage wars of old. I must travel to Angrod to resist the forming of the Dark Circle. To lend my blade if the Gods are silent, to lend my mind if my body fails.

The Antarctica of Then

From the Journal of Glador, Wind mage of Aurellentia
14-18-4873 Fourthday

The Gods have gone mad. Even now they battle for supremacy over the plains of Amajaden. The clouds roll dark, and glimmers of fire and darkness can be seen at times. By the end of the year there will be another dark mage uprising. I can feel it. Power twists insideously inside the Earthstone as the powers of above struggle in their cosmic war. It is only a matter of time before some young lad will be lead astray by the seducing power of the dark gods and falls prey to the dark magics. Only time before there is a third mage war that will engulf all of Aurellentia. Only time before the detestable god of Chaos breaths his power into the land. What has caused this struggle? Before the first dark mage war, we light mages were corrupt, had fallen into darkness. It took a war to reveal to us that we had perrished. The fire of war purged us, cleansed us from the corruption into which we had decended. The dark mages were just in their war, but since then they have become sinister; evil in thought and desire, ruthless and cruel. The only neutral temple has yet to be visited by a dark cloaked man, and when it is, we dare not attack. The first of the dark mages in every war are powerful beyond compare with all six gods of darkness behind them. Latter they become weaker, as the gods no longer care if they loose one or two minions. Then we strike. It is sad, for it means great destruction of inocent people, but unless all the light mages of Aurllentia combine to war against this threat to peace, nothing will happen. No individual posseses the power to resist the only dark mage. We can bottle them up, strike when they are not looking, but never confront them.