The Humble Scholar

[Cort Thundershot]

As Elias sits in his quiet room the Elfsong Tavern staring into the fire as it crackles and dances within the hearth he ponders his own mortality. Taking another deep draw from his handcarved wooden pipe he decides to begin a journal of his adventures. Either to marvel over when he grows old and grey, or to leave some kind of legacy behind to let people know the plight of good wizard along the coast.


//All info inside this journal is only accessible to Elias. Please do not meta game with information found in here.

[Cort Thundershot]

Beginnings


Many years I have spent in the confines of our library in Neverwinter. Rarely playing outside with the other children, or pretending to be a great adventurer with a crude wooden sword. I sought knowledge instead, knowing that a quick mind was just as important as a quick sword. I poured over knowledge of all things that peaked my interest. Reading scrolls of all various types of spells that I dare not practice for fear of hurting myself or others. Reading stories as well, stories of horrid monsters, wild animals, and evil people that would do unspeakable things.

It was not until my mother married, left her job at the library, and moved with her new husband to Silverymoon that I realized I could not remain. I was asked to take over my mother's duties as librarian, but alas I knew finally what all of my years of study were for. It was the same day they offered me the duties that I left for home to pack my things. I spent one final evening alone, in our empty house, before setting out on the grandest adventure of my life. I was heading for The Sword Coast, and Baldur's Gate.


Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

The Invitation


I have been on the coast now for some time, and I must say that all of the knowledge in the land will never prepare a person to face danger personally. My first days were filled with absolute terror of the fact that everything outside of Baldur's Gate was filled with malice and hate. Wolves ready to devour unsuspecting travellers, bandits who make it a point to tax anyone who would pay or bring pain to them, and not to mention the hideous number of monsters that inhabit the trade way. Writing and drawings only served to place names with the foes that I faced, and nothing more. Fortunately enough for me in my studies I had learned a few secrets of the arcane, and had practiced few while on my journey here.
After a few days here I met the brothers that I now spend most of my time travelling with, Keagan and Kahlen Wyndsoul. Through the two of them I also was also introduced to Weave Exarch Nahum. After lending what little aid I possibly could to the Exarch in fending off an attack of undead soldiers he extended to me an invitation into the Weave Masters. An invitation I graciously accepted as our tenets were the same. Since that day I have grown, in knowledge, and experience, to the point where I do believe I will survive quite well in these lands. I should say not just to survive though, but to contribute my share to keep these lands free and safe for everyone.
I take my leave of writing to you now for a time, for the fear has left me, and I do believe it is time for my nightly stroll.


Weave Adept Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

A Pact With Myrkul



Our day started out a beautiful one. The wind rustling in the trees, the sunlight pouring through the branches creating rays that sparkled like magic. The only danger, an occasional stray goblin here and there. Keagan and I were sitting idly by the river north of Beregost sharing stories with our newfound friend Naryldur. Keagan was sharpening his blade while we spoke to Nar of the dangers of the land, and our shared adventures. I was sitting on a stump thumbing through my pocket tome of spells for something useful and new to try in our next battle.

My ears decieved me greatly for what I thought I heard was just a mere goblin moving through the brush toward us. Knowing that Keagan would make short work of our would be attacker, I sat, still thumbing through spells. I heard Keagan's shout for help, but alas, before I could stand I was clubbed in the back of the head, dimming my vision for what I thought would be forever.

My companions and I were stangely united on the fugue plane, Myrkul's plane. We were greeted by a hideous yet small undead who gave us a message that Myrkul lay in wait for us, that in fact it was his actions that had brought us there. We agreed to approach the god of death together, and with caution. As we entered his hall, he greeted us with his ever shrill voice that could only belong to a god of tormented souls. The coldness of the hall was unbelievably intolerable. It was not only cold, but damp as well, the dampness that clings to your clothes and skin. The three of us stood before the apparition of Myrkul awaiting his answer to why he had brought us there. Myrkul recounted his lament of the fact that he had no control over quite a number of dead orc souls due to a shaman raising them for his own god Grummshh's purposes. Myrkul also explained that if we were to bring him this orc shaman we would be free from him, as well as rewarded for his task. Normally none of us would enter into such a pact with the undead, but to kill an orc shaman raising the dead was not such a nefarious deed as one would expect from them. Not to mention the fact that we were held prisoner in his realm until our agreement was sealed.

Myrkul sent the three of us back to our beautiful realm once again. It seemed as though our meeting was a dream, for the day had stayed as it was before we were attacked. We discussed our mission, and decided that this shaman was most likely in the Cave of Sharp Teeth. As we neared the cave a number of well armed orcs poured upon us! It was all we could do to stave them off. Keagan led us into the sway of battle ducking under the swing of the first orc while spinning to take the head cleanly off of the following one's shoulders. Our newfound friend Nar in the meantime had already fired into the lead orc placing an arrow directly into it's windpipe, silencing it forever. The rest fell fast due to the swordsmanship of Keagan and my handy spells.

As we entered the cave, the smell of orc was heavy in the air. We fought through room after room of less armored orcs until we came to a most foul statue of their god Grummshh. We knew the shaman was dangerously close at that point. Of course, we were right in thinking so. In the very next room Keagan barged his way in, and before anyone could act, gave chase to the fleeing shaman and struck him down. Nar and I were more than happy to take care of the other orcs that tried to follow.

Shortly after Keagan had dispatched the shaman, the same little ghastly undead that greeted us on the fugue plane appeared before us bearing his message from Myrkul. He relayed that his master was quite pleased, and had special plans for the shaman in his grasp. Before the eerie ghoul left us we were rewarded for our task with items of some significance. Keagan a sword, Nar a new bow, and I with a ring. We made haste from the cave of orcs at that point, and were eager to make our way back to the trade way and Baldur's Gate.

The rest of our day was filled with quiet sitting around the Elfsong Tavern laughing and recounting our tale to those who would hear it. Enjoying the peace and quiet while we could. Quite a tale we have to share of that day! Just one of the many adventures I have shared with my guardian and the other Weave Masters in our order. Those stories are for another day though I'm afraid, for my friend Kahlen is knocking on my study door. I am quite sure that he will be ready to find an adventure for us today!


Weave Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

A Welcome Respite


"How much time since has passed since my last entry I cannot say. How many times have I narrowly escaped my demise at the hands of something sinister I could not tell you. Trouble plagues the lands surrounding Baldur's Gate daily in some form or another. Beset by the family Ramset, the appearance of blackguards, and many other very dangerous foes have left us facing immense challenges. The people that inhabit the area are of generally good ilk, and offer their help to aid our order, though sometimes I fear that the combined strength of all the people in the land will not deter the events of which I speak. Perhaps last night was more than a welcome respite from the daily dangers we face.

I came out of my study for a well needed stroll through the farmlands surrounding the city, when I happened upon Exarch Nahum, and two Elite Magi, Sion, and Lana. They were sitting around a cozy campfire sharing their experience of recent events in the surrounding area. Discussing as well some business of our order. I joined them, and we all spoke for hours. It was nice indeed to be able to share stories with friends who have shared the road together many times.

Naturally as the hours rolled on we attracted quite a gathering. Which is perfectly normal, and I am getting used to finally. There is something about a gathering of mages that draws peoples curiosity. Anyhow, to be on with my story. The gathering around us grew with anxious adventurers. Grumbling here and there about our apathy. It's truly amazing that with everything going on, that people aren't content to sit and share stories. At some point in our discussions it grew much harder to focus on our tales, or to talk about our business with prying ears about. To clear our minds of the recent dangers we decided to lead a forray against the formidable frost giant patrols in the Cloudpeaks. If only we would have made it so far, many giants would have fallen.

I will hold the rest of this tale until the Exarch allows us to speak of what happened that night. Lest some curious maid, or inept youngling find their way into my journal. Rest assured that if they do, they will be spotted quite easily with their eyebrows singed off!"


Weave Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

The Life of a Scholar


Deep inside Istari Tower the humble scholar sits at his wooden desk, with piles of books next to him on the floor, and some stacked on the top shelf of his desk as well. A faint magic light hangs above the desk flickering slightly, giving off just enough light to write. A low fire burns in the hearth sending dancing light onto the walls of the small study, and the occasional crackle and spark as the fire finds a pocket of moisture in the wood. Quill and ink beside him Elias stares at the blank parchment in deep concentration while he enjoys a long overdue smoke. Finally he sets his pipe down on the desk next to his inkwell and takes up his quill.

Long it has been since I have written in my journal, and in truth it is because there has been nothing interesting to pen. Some think the life of a mage and scholar is full of fantastic spell-flinging fights against all sorts of evil. Honestly, I tell you it is quite the opposite. There are fantastic crusades to venture on of course, but those only occupy the smallest portion of a scholar's life. The rest is filled with books, study, and the art of practicing the arcane with the utmost caution.

Many an apprentice, and master alike have fallen to the seduction of the power of the Weave. I have seen one such apprentice as of late that will no longer practice any sort of magic due to his obsessive curiosity with gems, but that is a story for another day. To keep a fellowship with those that promote responsible use of such power not only keeps others in check, but one's self as well. The use of the Weave in itself is not an overly difficult feat, but to discover it's inner workings is. That is why we spend months at a time in seclusion, in a little room, or large library digging for the answers that no others care to seek.


Weave Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

The Greedy Mage and the Minotaur Maze


I awoke in the morning to the sound of birds singing outside of my study window. Like many other days I felt like a walk along the tradeway would be a wonderful way to start my day. As I entered into the the farmlands skirting the city I realized how wonderful it truly was to be outside enjoying the morning air. Lazy clouds rolled along at their own pace, and squirrels played around the good farmer Jorn's well. As I strolled along I greeted those that passed by, some in a hurry, and others casually making their way.

It wasn't until I neared the old hilltop ruins that I encountered the good guardian Beorg Olivar. He was sitting on an old stump sharpening his massive axe when I approached. We greeted each other, and started with one of our ever interesting philosophical conversations.(I do so love to hear his stories about running wild and free on the open plains) Our talks eventually led to me telling Beorg I needed to go to Phlydia's in Candlekeep for a few supplies, and he offered to join me on my journey.

A half day into our journey, after making short work of a couple of unintelligent ogres, we happened upon a voice that seemed to come from the very air about us. As it would turn out we were beset by a quite ugly little fellow who felt he needed to teach Beorg a lesson. He struck at us several times from the shadows until Weave Exarch Nahum and our newest guardian who goes by the name of Raz happened upon us. The Exarch sent the little ugly one fleeing, and all was well once again.

After some deliberation Nahum decided to test our two guardians martial prowess against the likes of minotaurs. Another half day's walk led us through the Cloakwood to the entrance of the sprawling cave system that holds the massive bull like creatures. The Exarch and I gave the two guardians a few minor boons of protection before we entered, just to be on the safe side of things. Once we stepped through the large entrance, I instantly felt uneasy leaving the beautiful outside surroundings. Knowing that the horned brutes were inside was no help to my discomfort. Straight away though, the guardians went to work on the first unsuspecting group of monsters making very short work of them with Beorg's great strength, and Raz's unyeilding gracefullness with his blade. As we worked our way deeper into the complex we felt a slight tremor, we shrugged it off though given the fact that we barely felt anything at all. We moved a bit further along when the unthinkable happened. The earth all around us gave a great shudder, and thunderous retort as tons upon tons of earth rained down all around us collapsing our exit from the cavern, and seperating us from Exarch Nahum!

To our dismay the only way forward was through the mazelike structure ahead, which was worked stone unlike the rest of the cavern we'd left behind. Distraught and weary from the previous battles and the loss of our Exarch we decided to press on. I cannot tell you how many days we wondered in search of an exit from that tedious maze! Or how many battles we fought against the foul horned minotaurs. We rarely rested for those many days, and when we did we hid in defensible places, and the rest was uneasy even with one of us keeping watch. We came to the same places over and over again, many times retracing our steps.
Our resolve wore thin, and so did our rations. We ate on the mice we could catch, roasted on fires of broken furniture. The corpses of would be adventurers were littered about in places. Those that weren't felled by the minotaurs were starved to death.

After what felt like weeks of walking in circles we came across a dust room with a single tomb inside. It looked like it had been untouched for many years. Not thinking rationally we sent Beorg to lift the lid off of the sarcophagus, and in doing so awoke a very angered mummy from his long rest! The battle was long, as we were all exhausted from our weeks of not seeing the sky, but we did prevail. Upon a closer examination of the tomb we found quite a stash of absolutely astonishing gems. Not long after this we had found the answer we were seeking.

This answer lied in a portal in the deepest part of the maze we were within. We had no idea where it would take us, but our entry was out of desperation. Upon entereing the portal I was knocked unconsious almost instantly, and Raz was as well. The only thing that saved us was the amazing strength of our barbarian guardian Beorg! When I awoke it was in a small room, a mages bedroom in a place I had never been. A dead mage was lying on the floor with scorch marks, and axe wounds all over his body. The interesting thing is the stone he had dropped in his untimely death. Instantly we knew the stone was linked to the portal, but when we tried to grasp it, it released waves of electrical energy burning the one who tried. We searched, and searched for an answer among the books in the small room. What we found was a volume on the creation of the maze we were in, with details about the gem laden tomb as well.

Several hours of deliberation by our worn minds behind us, Beorg, with his ever wild nature could not bear being in the small room any longer, and drew his axe up over his head. With all of the strength in his bezerked rage whrought his axe down upon the portal stone smashing it into smaller pieces. This of course caused a massive rumble throughout the tower we were in, and collapsed the portal to the minotaur's maze.

It was only a few seconds later when a mage entered the room through the heavily enchanted door. We recounted our story to him, and he was grieved at the loss of his apprentice. He told us we were in Spellflicker Tower in Candlekeep. He let us gather the pieces of the shattered portal stone, and walked us to the entrance to the tower. We said our farewell to the man and happily took our leave of the place.

Squinting our eyes, the three of us walked out into the beautiful sunlit day. Never before have I ever been so glad to see the butterflies in the parks of Candlekeep, or the sunshine relflecting off of the pools in the fountains. Being under the bright blue sky, breathing in fresh air is something that most of us take for granted. This humble scholar has learned to take every moment of fresh air and cherish it. You never know when it could be your last.


Weave Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

The Flower Among the Thorns



When I first received word that my lifelong companion was on her way to seek me out in Baldur's Gate I was filled with many different emotions. Excitement that even though I thought never to see her again, or until I had retired from adventuring, that I would be able to look upon her face again in a short time. Secondly fear took hold of me. There are a few reasons for this fear of her coming. The first is the danger to her in her journey here from Neverwinter, and the dangers we all face once we arrive. The second source of this fear was deeper yet. It is a fear born of my own conscious. I've changed much since I've arrived here. I've become.....more hardened, as many do in these lands. I am not the young man in the library seeking out answers to things I know nothing about. I've seen death, catastrophe, and abominations that wrack this land on a regular basis. One can not help but to steel their emotions when faced with such things on a daily basis. My Lilly, sweet innocent Lilly would soon learn the truth of such things.

The day she arrived all of those emotions were set aside to true elation as we were together once more. We talked the night through in the Elfsong Tavern, her telling me about the sadness she felt at my departure from home, and her journey with the caravan to find me. I could not help but to tell of the many friends I have made in the area, and some of the adventures we have braved together. Laughing as we talked, it reminded me of when I was a young boy, as we had often shared such times together.

Since her arrival I've still had those feelings of fear for her safety. I have taken it upon myself to teach her the same things I have learned since my arrival here. With her as my apprentice I can watch over her, and see to her safety. She is learning the secrets of the Weave at an astonishing rate, and will no doubt be able to hold her own here. It was to my relief that she has been welcomed into the Weavemasters with open arms, and with the friendship that they have shown me.

Lilly has brought with her to Baldur's Gate a happiness that I thought was lost when I left my home. Though she is quiet most of the time, and listens more than she speaks. Her warm, natural smile is always a welcome respite no matter the conditions around. She truly is my flower among the thorns of the land.

Weave Elite Magus Elias Goodmane



////For those that don't know, Lilly is my wife:)

[Cort Thundershot]

Loss and Gain



It is very difficult to express the amount of grief I have suffered over the loss of my dear friend Keagan. It has been weeks now since I've heard the news of his fall in the underdark, yet still there is a void that cannot be filled. Watching the Weave Guardians in training, and not seeing him give their lessons. When I walk past his quarters and do not see him inside sharpening his blade, or writing a letter to home. Not seeing him in the front lines in our most recent expeditions. All of these things add to the weight of the loss that is felt.

They say that elves are slow to make friends because they fear they will long outlive them. Yet they do not take into account the loss we feel for our friends and family when they are taken? Keagan was of elven blood, yet had no quarrel in naming me as a friend to him. It was an honor to have travelled with such a fine warrior for as long as I was able. With time, I am certain that this terrible feeling of loss will eventually subside. I only hope that in the days and years following that I will still be able to honor his memory with my actions.

With loss comes gain. In my most recent travels I have been working more with the Weave Scouts. They are as skilled as any in the land when it comes to handling themselves, and they share the same sense of honor in their service to the Weave. Without having their eyes and ears we would not be able to function in the way that we have. So they have gained my respect, and I hope that I have gained theirs as well. I have also spoken more to the honorable ones outside of our order. People who seek to root out evil in the land. It seems that most share close to common goals with our order in terms of banishing outsiders, and keeping evil at bay. Thus respect, and sometimes friendship is granted on both sides of that coin as well.

Keagan will never be forgotten by me or the Weavemasters, but we must continue on. To uphold the tenets of our order as he would have wished. Farewell old friend, I do wish you one more safe travel into a peaceful existence in your afterlife.



Weave Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

The Ancient White Wyrm



Stories of dragons have been passed around and handed down from fathers to sons for too many a generation to count. Some believe that they do not exist, yet others that claim to have seen them first hand dispute the matter with a zeal and flourish that would make their story hard to disclaim. The ones that present their tale with such great excitement most likely have not seen the likes of such a great beast. However, there are those that remain quiet about their dealings with the scaled monstrosities. Only recounting their tale to those close to them, seeming lost in memory or filled with fear as they recount their tale. These are the ones that have faced such a foe, and have lived to tell the tale.

Since my travels began on the Sword Coast I have encountered two such beasts. The one tale I will recount is of an ancient white hellbent on destruction along the trade way.

The sky grew dark, as if the sun itself refused to shine upon our small gathering near the merchant camp just outside of the city. An enormous gust of wind that almost toppled the three of us came about suddenly. Then, without warning, the ground trembled as the ancient one landed only one hundred yards from where we stood! Almost instantly the mighty beast spewed forth a nasty cloud of fog from it's mouth that knocked us unconscious for a short time. Once we awoke there was nothing left aside from the gigantic claw marks in the ground where the wyrm had landed.

As more travelers stopped to help, the dragon circled overhead crying viciously into the air. Mystra had blessed us enough to regain our wits before the dragon landed once again a good way to the south. By the time the ancient sentient had landed we had quite a gathering of stalwart adventurers ready to face the massive invader. A score of warriors, and a score more of mages all from different backgrounds ready to come together to aid in the time of need!

As we approached the mighty one, many tried to plea with the creature, and I was one of those. Knowing that dragons are extremely intelligent and steeped in the lore of the land I had to try. This one though, had other plans. It attacked those of us that tried to avoid the fight. We fought for a length of time that I do not know, for it seemed hours upon end. The sky was alight with powerful magic, and the ground with flashing steel. Every time we seemed to gain ground on the massive creature, it's regenerative powers healed the wyrm so as to not seem phased at all by our attacks. It was all we could do to retreat from the mighty beast. As warrior and mage alike ran for their lives the ancient being turned upon me and gazed directly into my eyes! I stood frozen in wonder and fear. Unable to heed the call of my allies until, at last, with a mighty flap of it's great wings the dragon lit into the air. It flew out of sight to the south unharmed from the massive battle that had just ensued.

Never before have I looked into such intelligent malevolent eyes! Completely filled with hatred of all the races. I tell myself as well as anyone who reads that seeking dragons is a fools errand. For ultimately that which you seek is all of the ancient knowledge of the land mingled with power untold. I will be content if I never see another in all of my lifetime.



Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

Trust

Elias sits in his chamber after a long day of traveling with a large group of people coming from Beregost. He sighs gently and grabs a leather-bound tome. He chants a few unintelligible words as he traces a rune on the cover which releases it's bindings. Slowly, in the small room with only the hearth as light, he dips his quill and begins to write.

I have found that trust in another is hard to come by, and harder yet to gain. When it is found it is easily broken with mere lack of responsibility. Trust comes with friendship and respect, as well as with time.

It is easy to travel with others that share a common goal, and easier yet if they have not the strength or opportunity to fell you while your back is turned. It is another thing entirely to turn your back to one who in seconds, could end your life. This place is full of those people, and so it is a vigilant watch we all must keep. That watch takes it's toll on everyone who travels here, and makes us all rather glad to have the friends that we do.

I have come to place my trust in select individuals since my arrival here in Baldur's Gate, and have found that it has been well placed. I have no regrets in the friends that I have chosen, and hope that their sentiment is the same. It is the strength lent by those individuals that has sustained me in my stay here. I only hope that as my understanding of the Weave, and those around me grows that I can lend the same strength to them.


Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

Right and Wrong

In a small study inside Istari Tower the humble scholar sits staring into the fireplace as he contemplates his actions over the course of the last few weeks. Slowly he opens the large tome that sits in his lap and reaches to the table beside him for his quill. Billows of a bluish hued smoke exit his nostrils as he takes another long, thoughtful draw from his hand-carved pipe.


Unwanted attention has been brought to my actions over the course of the last few weeks. This attention has been brought about by the appearance of a group that call themselves the Victorious Blade. A zealous band of elves seeking their own brand of justice. I have been confronted by them on the roadway just south of Baldur's Gate, and accused of crimes against elven-kind. I have been accused of helping an enemy of the land. It pains me to have fallen two of their number, as I consider myself a friend to elves. Though my actions were purely in self defense, to know what I have done burdens me immensely. Once they attacked me I had only time for two spells before I was subdued. Luckily they disbanded quickly upon the approach of a Flaming Fist patrol. I was questioned quite thoroughly by the leader of the Fist patrol before I was let go, seemingly under some suspicion.

Many who witnessed the incident have asked who it was that I have aided, and why it would draw the attention of such a band. I have aided those that could find help from no other person. Without my help they would not survive their stay here in our lands. Sometimes it takes sacrifice of one's self to do that which benefits the realm and those within it. I have weighed the consequence of my actions against the benefit of those actions; and have found my own reputation to weigh far less than the lives of those that wish to live in peace in a hostile environment.

Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

Elias closes the tomb and replaces his runes of warding. He sits back in his chair as he takes another long draw off of his pipe. As the fire dances across his features he smiles, seemingly satisfied with himself.

[Cort Thundershot]

A New Chapter

All of those that are friends to the Weavemasters know that at times our existence has been turbulent. We have lost many of our number, and friends to our order due to various circumstances. The loss of our Captain to the drow was the start of a slow dwindling of our number, yet the elders remain, and are as vigilant as ever in our cause. Many would seek to vanquish us from the face of the realm forever for the work we have done, yet we remain. Our staying power can be attributed to the many friends that remain alive and true to us.

The night is always darkest before the rays of dawn shine through. Mystra has recently blessed our order tremendously. Her blessing has come in the form of many new faces among those new here in Baldur's Gate. Many who share a common cause and would wish to join our order. Never before have we received a dwarf or a gnome into our ranks, mostly due to their own disinterest in joining. I must say that Boddynock and Foggy have been most valuable additions to our number. Not only do they command the Weave with respect for it's power, but they give us the gift of humor as well. There is the sturdy dwarven scout Hendel as well, who has more than proven his reliability and devotion while doing his work in the field. Samah and Vlen have more than proven their worth, as they are always prepared with spell and blade for whatever comes. There are numerous others as well, stout warriors who would wish to join us in our cause as Guardians who only need to be initiated as of now.

So a new chapter of the Weavemasters begins. Our numbers grow, and we quickly once again fill Istari Tower with a bustling crowd of new Weavemasters to delve into the mysteries of the Weave. Many have established new connections and alliances in places where we thought not to look, and reaffirmed old alliances with their will to help any who are in need. The Weavemasters will be a fixture in Baldur's Gate for a long time to come.

Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

[Cort Thundershot]

Decision

Elias quickly walks into his small room inside Istari, closes the door behind him, and sets his staff aside. He takes a few moments to get into more comfortable clothing and lights the stocked hearth with a word and snap of his fingers. Without another thought he reaches for his large leather bound journal, quill, and inkwell. He mutters a few words and traces lines along the tome removing the protective wards, and flips the book open to it's nearest empty page. Before he begins the scholar reaches for his pipe and takes a few deep draws. He conjures a small source of light and begins to write.

Long it has been since my last entry in this journal. If I wrote of everything that has happened it would possibly keep me busy for the next lifetime or two.

In the absence of our beloved Exarch and Overwatch, much responsibility has befallen the Captain and I. Decisions as to the future of our order are left to only two of the four members of our council. Daily administration alone is a daunting task to tend, let alone the surprises that await at every turn. Every day news comes that requires action, and those decisions are left to us alone. Two of those decisions that I have only recently made have been much altering in their own.

The first is in response to the ill rumors being spread among the populace. I have no doubt that these have surfaced as we work to root out the evil that plagues the land. I have answered these rumors with an open door policy taken by our order. The Weavemasters will welcome any and all of good nature into Istari and listen to their request for aid, or help them in any way we can. This policy will undoubtedly bring the public closer to us, and leave less fear in their minds as to what we do here in the land.

The second, much more serious decision that I have made is to ally ourselves with allies who leave much to the unknown. The Cowled Wizards of Athkatla have long been a strong organization of mages who imprison rogue spellcasters in their own land. They have come to us asking for aid in matter concerning those that flee to our lands to escape them, as well as in other matters of an arcane nature. They seek our wisdom in identifying an object of great power that they cannot fully comprehend. In exchange for our services they have offered to leave some of their number behind at Istari Tower as diplomats, and to see to the protection of those within. I have made it known that in our land our ideals are to be upheld as part of our agreement. Our alliance seems to be beneficial to us both at the moment. I can only hope they do not hide motives of a more sinister nature.

Elite Magus Elias Goodmane

With a deep sigh the scholar exhales a puff of light blue smoke through his nose and mouth. He closes the tome in front of him, and replaces the protective wards. He then pulls a small stone out of a thick leather pouch and holds it up in the firelight. The stone glows with a bright golden light. Elias stares into the stone as he thinks to himself. "It's about time I've had something worthy of my time to study."

[Cort Thundershot]

The Stone


Many weeks have passed since my meeting with Archmage Tellsane, and in truth I have spent few hours outside Istari's spell chamber since. Neither thirst nor hunger can persuade me away from my study of this amazing artifact. Cloaked with as much protection against spells as I could muster I have entered the spell chamber daily to throw magic around the curious thing, which has proven quite dangerous. This stone in itself is a wild magic zone, either making the result of a well prepared spell unpredictable or null. Once only three days past I believe I had actually shifted planes very briefly with only the casting of a powerful dispel.

I am by no means obsessed with the stone itself, but with the words that have appeared within it's golden radiance. "Mystra's Fire Shall Be Given" it said, and there is more yet to be read though I cannot make it out.

Few literatures point toward an elven tome named Major Creare as a source for the knowledge I seek. This book does not rest within the walls of Istari Tower though, so I will be forced to seek it elsewhere. Perhaps Candlekeep or The Shelf of Many Books will have the tome among their many. Needless to say I will seek it out, as my own studies have come to a halt without it's knowledge.

Elite Magus Elias Goodmane