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.