From the journal of Galdor, Wind Mage of Aurellentia
19-20-4873, Seventhday.
Today we completed our journey from Demlon to Angrod. We are staying in a small tavern just outside of Angrod, for I despise the twisted lines of the city, they conjure up before my mind's eye visions of the power of the mages of chaos of old. Ere we enter the city, I must complete my ablutions to my god and purge all thought of self, and greed, and power, for in this lies weakness. Thaldor held up well, as did Idril on the journey hence. All our powers have been slowly building. I know not whether this is from minor confrontations with the dark in which mages of light became proud and perished, or from the building energy of our gods. I know not which is better. I pray only now that we will retain power sufficient to sustain justice in this world.
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