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[Minalan]

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A wise man once told me, that It may be that your whole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others. In the inevitable likelihood of this event, here I will record the events of my life.

Anskitas, the great library of our order, was more than I had ever dreamed possible. It is a veritable treasure trove of lost knowledge. In here I have found advanced spells I had only dreamed of, lost magics of ages past, and most important of all: the secrets. I have found original manuscripts, unmistakably stolen from other libraries before their scribes ever copied them. There are volumes of books penned by authors who were murdered before their works were ever edited or reproduced. Anskitas is, literally, the sum of thousands of years of accumulated clandestine power, jealously guarded and shepherded by the order. Now, it is all mine to peruse at will, a figurative flask of lamp oil thrown on the white-hot coals of my personal ambition.

The smooth glass of the Orb of Knowledge felt cool under the fingertips of my left hand. The cold surface only served to remind me of the hot stuffy library. With my right hand, I continued to scrawl away the translated text in my small, cramped, and meticulously neat handwriting. Each word I knew, I wrote immediately, and those I did not, I consulted the Orb. I continued to read the ancient Sosarian manuscript with a keen interest, for it was written sometime in the middle of the Age of Darkness.

The cult of Mondain Reborn is unlike many of their bloodthirsty relatives, in that they once possessed an idol infused with a small portion of the shattered essence of Mondain. During a particular alignment of the moons and planets, and after the proscribed ritual is performed, the statue of the long dead wizard is awakened, and is thus compelled to answer a single question.

Fascinating. This is it! The implications flooded my mind, possibilities opened up by an artifact of this power.

Far off in the (non-translated) of the (undecipherable), of the ancient (questionable translation) the cult met in secret, plotting the end of the world with the help of their dark master. The order was eventually scattered and destroyed by the (non-translatable) order of knights. It was rumored that the status was taken to (non-translatable), where it was buried beneath the very foundation of their keep. There, they kept eternal vigilance over their dark charge.

I removed half a dozen maps from scroll cases I kept nearby, and pored over maps of Ilshenar that dated back to the age of darkness. No locations matched the non-translated phrases. These words sparked no memory of mine, and the Orb came up completely empty. Rage flowed through me as I considered the implications. The mysterious words are most likely slang, or cartographic jargon. One of the most frustrating things about translating text, is wrestling with time and locale specific colloquialism.

With an exasperated growl, I swept the maps off of the table with one arm and stood up, gripping the edge of the table tightly. It was then that I noticed the sweet smell of nightshade blossoms, mixed with the loamy fragrance of grave dirt and toxic herbs. Nightshade had been looking over my shoulder for who knows how long, and I hadn't noticed. Again. "There's that fire that I saw in you before".

I could no longer contain my ire. "Idiots! The answers I seek are lost, hidden sometime in the middle of the Age of Darkness. It was common knowledge then, most likely everybody knew what these words meant! BUT NOBODY BOTHERED TO WRITE THEM DOWN!" I laughed bitterly at my own predicament as I felt the rage subside. I started explaining my research to her, when I was nearly bitten by a goblin that leapt at me from behind a bookcase. Startled by the sudden move, I stepped backwards. An offensive spell was on my lips, and the magic coursed through me, ready to incinerate my attacker.

“Stop! He’s a new brother.” At Nightshade’s command, the goblin backed off, staring at me hungrily with her razor-sharp teeth bared. Hermy, as it turns out, is our order’s interrogator. I could only imagine the depravity that a creature who sees humans primarily as a food source can devise to extract information. Favoring my right leg and leaning heavily on my staff, I moved closer. The creature allowed me to examine her, looking back at me with strangely curious and intelligent eyes . We spoke at length, until nearly daybreak, long past the time for me to return to my studies. Nightshade and the goblin started to leave, but before she did, something unexpected happened. Nightshade stood on the tips of her toes, and kissed me on the cheek.

I am a man, and only mortal. I felt her soft cool lips brush against my feverish hot cheek. My heart raced as her moss green hair fell across the front of my robes. My whole body was aware of how close her lovely pale white flesh was, and my mind could recall every gentle curve of her body. Narcissa’s hatred I could take. You see, I am accustomed to being despised, and her ire is no different from anyone else I’ve met. However, one thing that I cannot bear is pity, pity for the poor, wretched, club-footed cripple. I immediately flushed with embarrassment, my face twisted into a scowl, and I snarled as I turned to walk away, my red robes sweeping in an arc behind me. With a single deep breath, I reasserted control of myself, and returned to my writing desk to continue my work. Focused on my goals again, I began transcribing a very old mystic spell into my personal compendium.

[NightShade]

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Like a fiery ball of chaos Nightshade roamed Blackrock settlement with gusto. Always moving to and fro the wispish woman flitted here and there. Yet on her mind she contemplated many Cabalish things.

Nightshade's place amongst their fold had ever been one of constant turmoil. Due to her insatiable curiosity and love of just plain fun, Nightshade often found herself in one sticky mess or another. So it was with surprise that she climbed the stairs of Anskitas, to the library, and found the Red Wizard, Minalan, sitting there. An unknown in the library! Her undead heart almost gave a palpable beat (but it did not as it had long since given up such things.)

Turning on him with a flash she held a deadly tipped Kryss in hand and the words of some horrid spell were ripe on her lips....

Instead, she greeted him in her silvered tongue, like the head of an asp raising and staring you down...

Hello Doll....

A Few Nights Later

Nightshade was once more up to her usual tricks, she had a knack for wreaking havoc on the well-ordered rows of the Anskitas' Library. Ever since Toren had built this museum to the Cabal's Knowledge, Nightshade had come, like clockwork to mess it up. She despised the order of each neatly dusty row and placing books in areas they did not belong was quite her forte'. This eve Hermy, the lovely yet rather wild goblin of their clan had joined her in assured Chaos.

Cear had always ignored her exploits knowing that to challenge her on this would just cause the mess to grow. Narcissa scoffed, as she was well accustomed to her antics, at least these wouldn’t get her killed, Drago had passed it unnoticed perhaps to his own chaotic mind. She now pondered how Minalan the newest Cabalist would react to her handi-work. She was intrigued by this strange new Cabalist and somewhat distrustful still, but she vowed to figure out what made the man tick. She must of made his ears burn, for just moments later the man himself had presented himself before her.

Hermy was set in motion ready to tear the sinews of his flesh right from his bones. The flash of green was so quick Nightshade barely caught the goblin before her sharp little teeth ripped right into Minalan. Now while Nightshade was sure that Minalan could take care of himself, she felt that he had surely been plagued by women trying to kill him quite enough. Besides who knows where Hermy's mouth had last been...

She grinned, her voice light as she greeted him and they spoke at length for a while. Then, as was her customary charm, she planted a cold kiss on his warm cheek, relishing the feeling of life so close but resisting the urge that always came from it. Little did Minalan know that Nightshade's kisses were of approval, a sign of respect for her fellow cabalists. She was surprised and further intrigued by his cold reaction.

This would surely be fun...
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[Minalan]

---

I saw the great library of the conclave burning.

The place and the people within were once dear to me.

The flames leapt high enough to lick at the stars themselves.

The wizards trapped within screamed and howled curses at the one who destroyed them.

...and that person is me.

I woke up with a start, clenching my fist and shouting the words of a spell. The book I was reading left the most undignified crease on my face where I had passed out on it. My back groaned painfully in protest of having slept in one of the stone chairs of my study instead of bed, and the hourglass timepiece on my dark stone worktable told a grim tale of the current obscene hour. You see, I've been working far too hard lately, pushing myself beyond where I thought myself capable.

Mentally, I went over my to-do list, taking meticulous notes:
Contact Dragothien, and complete the construction of the doorway needed to anchor a stable and permanent translocation portal. Complete the spell to create the actual portal itself.
Continue my search for Mondain’s Statue
• Forget wringing the information out of the wretched “Priests of Mondain”. Few of them know anything at all, and those that do would rather fight to the death.
• Scratch visiting the last human settlement on Ilshenar. The humans there were nothing more than murderous brigands. I had to blow one of their decrepit buildings to the sky as an example in order to escape the settlement.
• Search the basement archives of the Lyceum for the untranslatable words and phrases that I need, seek the Ilshenari archaeological cartography section.
• Contact the Meer people of Ilshenar, to see if their sages can translate what I need.
Return to the renegade elven settlement in Sanctuary with the items that I need, most notably the severed ears the creatures wanted. It turns out that I found all I that needed in the rubble of the building I blew up in Ilshenar, as the colossus did not leave anything larger intact.
Take the time to study spell-weaving in detail, and add that immense power to my already formidable magical arsenal.
Continue experiments the silver serpent venom that I acquired in Tel Mur. Note to self: Ask Nightshade to brew an anti-venom.
Continue experiments with imbuing artifacts.
Continue experiments with the storage of magical power, acquire the spells needed from the dark wizard Renthar.
Now that Renthar has his power back, get his assistance to imbue the scrying artifact that he had promised.
Acquire the vestments and tools necessary to summon Exodus. Study what is known about the fiend and how to destroy him if necessary, should he prove unwilling to aid us in completing the Armageddon spell.
Complete the construction of my personal library of spell books, especially those that can be used to destroy other creatures.
Find an apprentice.

I laughed bitterly at the last item, yawning uncontrollably. I was exhausted far beyond the capacity for rational thought, and I hadn’t even transcribed half of my list. I stood up to put my spellbook back with my collection of nearly identical and lovingly-crafted black-bound vellum tomes with bright silver runes. I stopped and looked at the bookshelf in surprise, my mind taking a moment to register the mess. Half of it was on the floor, and the other half was on haphazardly stowed away on the other side of my personal library in the maps section.

Nightshade my love, you have gone too far.

[NightShade]

---

How she did love to rebel...

As her long tapered fingers ran across the top of a leatherbound book, her poison painted nails grazing each hard bound cover, she cackled inside. Glee, wickedness, and passion for destruction bubbled forward as she looked at this new wonderland.. this new structure of order in her chaotic world. Minalan's library lay before her and he was terribly distracted...

As he and Drago labored she lovingly guided each book away from its intended spot unto its new intended spot. Her spot, her mark upon his abode. She could feel his rage, that fiery spark bursting thru the air. She reveled in it, it was her job to inspire the cabal beyond thier wildest dreams. To incite raw power and energy and wrench it forward into the vast expanses of Xorinia. She could almost feel the pure energy moving swiftly thru her, she shuddered with pleasure...

She stared with death in her eyes at Minalan's house warming gift, and her green hair darkened to the purest black, for just a moment, as the gentle tendrils of entropic delight weaved across her soul.
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...