Excerpts from the Journal of Lethis, Spellweaver Sage

Date: 3/17/2013 at 1:08
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Excerpts from the Journal of Lethis, Spellweaver Sage

.................................................. Midwinter, 43

I have finally done it! Well, I believe I've done it. One never really knows when dealing with magics not of his own inclinations.

But it isn't like I'm a Sage because I look dashing in the robes.

I really do look dashing. Jaunie, just the other day, told me so. I do so enjoy how close we've become in these last months. Who would think a man of my years would find tenderness in the midst of such a troubling time? But my name shall go down in the history of my people! The man who vanquished Ilomba Umdhelbi!

Well, the man who figured out how to vanquish his cowardly barriers anyhow.

................................................. Early Nuna, 43

The people have gathered and I have wrought the barrier into a piddly pile of threads. One would think that Ilomba's strange magics would've been more... well, intricate. But alas, he seemed to think a mere bastardization of our own Spellweaving techniques to suffice. I suppose it was mildly clever to use the forest's own magics to strengthen his shielding, but still. A well-plucked seam and it has unraveled quicker than one of Jaunie's silky ro-- Well, nevermind. It is down now, and I wait by as the army gathered by the Queens own Warden, Naftali, follows the villain.

Note to self: Purchase a lighter journal for travels.

It appears that Ilomba was a bit less sane than his antics hinted. Standing in this makeshift 'lair' and looking at the scrawlings of a madman, I can only imagine the way his victims felt. He appears to be obsessed with Pantathians, and given the nature of his abominations (the remains of which seem to be festering in dark corners of this cavern that I've no plans to explore) I'd say if he was not one... well. That's really the difficult part with those snaky bastards. Too often they parade around as anything other than their serpentine selves. This will certainly bear further investigation.

....................................................... Nuna, 43

Finally, the little army has vanquished the pesky Keshians from Wyke.

Wyke! Imagine that! This certainly explains the rumors of Moredhel abominations wandering the north. Were I a better man, I would pity those women and their families. But I cannot shake the uneasy feeling of having those wicked Moredhel claiming to be allies.

Even now, Naftali leads our people with them. I've watched as Majurad, Zerif, Aidan, Savil, Murkistad, and Aerrant followed with the Moredhel Tora hot on the trail of Ilomba. It is rather interesting, his map portal is an ingenious travel device. Much like the now-common form of rifting, it transports one almost instantly, though the prick of the pin to draw upon one's blood as magic is odd. Seemingly any may use such a trick, why even the human Nemi and Jair eventually found their way into the lost city of Isbandia via the 'trick'.

I refuse to call this proper magic. Ilomba Umdhelbi is more of an abomination than his creations!

Wyke is much as I'd expect though. Dreary, half-rebuilt to suit a war fort, and stinking of the odd, unnatural stench of that man's trickery. And to think the world once cowered at his every act!

Again the forces gather to chase him, and once again, they've cornered the slippery man. Really, his wily ways are almost enough to convince me of his Pantathian connections, he seems entirely capable of slipping through our grasp with all the spineless grace of a snake. But now he seems on the defense, shouting in his tongue at us. All I caught was 'infidels' - Keshian is not really a language I've spent much time learning.

With ease, I unraveled the magic of the barrier Ilomba erected to protect himself, seemingly his final defense against our numbers. They have grown now, more humans join the Queen's Warden as we rush into the atelier, intent upon ridding all our lands of this man's torments. Naftali leads us all, followed by his Captain, Ran, and joined by Gianna and a shadowy pai---

[Author's Note: Let it be known that the following passage was cut short by a large stain of what appears to be the Spellweaver Sage's own blood.]

.................................................. Late Nuna, 43

Let it never be said that I, Lethis of the Spellweavers, did not shed his blood for his people.

Also, if I see that ruddy scamp Vanko Vasil anytime in the near future, I plan to show him just what sort of weaving I can do to a man's nether regions! The fleas common to all those pesky Tsurani will be nothing compared to my own curses!

Moving on, though, my lack of corporeal form was actually quite advantageous. I drifted in to observe as our multi-racial army appeared to vanquish Ilomba (of course, that wretched Vanko got the glory, may his lands be plagued by ravenous locusts and his bastards gnawed on by diseased beavers for all eternity!). Shocked by the strange ease of their victory, those present were quickly waylaid in their merriment as a strange, dark laughter echoed through the chamber.

Ilomba was not the simple mortal they assumed. It appears that yet again, my assertions were correct. Though his physical form was crumpled before them, a shadow arose, slithering and growing large before the swirling gray portal behind him. Others like Grin, Ethon, and Zacc arrived and, in quite the rude gestures passed right through me to watch as Ilomba made his escape.

Hot on his non-corporeal heels, they slid through the portal and I followed, careful to keep partially within our own realms. The world beyond seemed vast and unnatural, gray and somehow inconsistent, as if it were just on the cusp of becoming something further, but was not quite prepared to reveal itself to us. There was a sense of between-ness, if I can create a word for such a feeling. Ilomba was quickly seen by those who'd stepped through, his form whole for but a moment before lights began to pour forth from the nothingness. I caught a flash of vines and realized with a start that these glowing bulbs were the very fae that had been trapped in our forests, those odd creatures that Jaunie had told me were unfortunate refugees in our world, torn from their own by Ilomba's meddling.

This must be their world, for they converged with a sudden fury, growing brighter and powerful in this vast, strange place. I watched with not a little glee as they converged and tore the physical form from Ilomba, ripping away his false Keshian limbs to reveal his Pantathian form for an instant before he... well, I cannot quite describe, but it appeared as if he exploded into a strange, virulent miasma.

Some deep instinct within told me I was in danger even in my spirit-like form, and I quickly slipped back to be revived within the forests, behind the protection of the wards. But not before I heard the screams of the many his less-powerful misty form went after. Thank the Ancients that the tear between the world of the Fae and our own was quickly sealed, and that... creature that once was Ilomba Umdhelbi can be trapped and tortured there away from our people.

His magic quickly began to unravel, further proof of his departure. The fog around Wyke's bridge subsided, and even the magical access point to the town was rendered not-functional soon after the tear between worlds was closed. A strange peace has fallen upon the forests, and I plan to take this time to study the remaining clues as to how this darkness arose in our midst. Did the Keshians know of Ilomba's true form? Are there more? They have abandoned Wyke, but odd maps and lingering caches of troops still plague us with losses and questions.

It is clear this battle was a great victory for us. Even for the North, though only a fool would trust this 'alliance' to last. I am no politician though. Just an old sage with questions to answer and a beautiful companion to keep me occupied...

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Agaeis, in the year 43.