Eil'daen's Passing

Hello... my name is Zhane, and I make this entry in Eil'daen's journal with sadness. Early this morning, apprentice mystic Eil'daen tried to enter a portal as a chaos storm hit the isles. The convergence of energies vaporized him instantly, and he was lost to Puddleby. Those close to him should know that he felt no pain, and he was doing the thing he loved most at the time he died: exploring mysterious phenomena.

From his prior notebooks, it seems that he was divorced. His will, on file with the Puddleby courts, has indicated that his home and possessions should be forwarded to one of his close friends. I have taken the liberty of doing so, per his wishes. Paraphernalia and notes of a mystical nature were forwarded to his mentors at the Council.

May Eil'daen rest in peace,

Zhane
Summer 567

Alchemical Research and Bracis Training

Lately I've been focusing on my alchemical research, which might gain me a few more coins. It seems I'm always in need of money now, particularly since my rod of Akea broke into splinters during a recent ethereal invasion. Fortunately, other exiles love to throw paint, or even smear paint all over themselves. And at the auction house, it seems to sell moderately well. Some colors more than others, for sure. My colleague Mary Jane has been encouraging people to "Keep Largo Purple", which made me smile since I know Largo hates paints messing up his fur. In fact, I imagine he'd probably shave himself if the added color was permanent. Fortunately, it's just a fun thing, and it's fairly easy to get it washed out quickly. Eventually, I'll learn more useful things in alchemy. I hear there are potions to assist with breathing water, which is amazing! And it's even possible to learn potions for enchancing energy and curing lyfelidaeism. Surely those would bring a pretty penny!

Also, I've been considering more training with Bracis. Hand-to-hand fighting has never been a strength of mine, but it seems to be popular among many of my mystic colleagues. Although it might enchance my capabilities in battle, the training is arduous and time intensive... and I wonder if my efforts might be better spent in specializing with mental enhancements.

Perhaps I'll ask one of my colleagues at the mystic academy.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Winter 84, year 566 of the Lok'Groton Isles.

Ethereal creatures in South Forest

Another ripture from the ethereal plane occurred tonight, perhaps the worst one I've yet seen. All manner of creatures from the ethereal plane leaked into our reality, spreading through nearly all of south forest like a wave. Curiously, multiple riptures have centered on the south forest, which may be significant. Only time will tell, if we survive further attacks. If only I could be more useful, in helping to defend our fair town. But it seems we're rapidly running out of time, and still people will not heed our warnings against use of the ethereal portal stones.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Winter 73, year 566 of the Lok'Groton Isles.

Full Moon

Today marks the first full moon of the new year, 566. During the new year celebration, one of the older ma'ta's of my guild suggested that I reflect upon the moon for guidance. I found this interesting, given our dedication to the Sun. But it makes sense as I look upon the shimmering brightness of this night's full moon. The moon reflects the light of the sun, it marks time and moves through space like the sun, and it gazes upon the earth like the sun. More thoughts occurred to me, but I need time and... reflection... to fully understand them.

It also reminded me of a lullaby my mother used to sing.
I see the moon and the moon sees me,
Under the branches of the great old tree.
O'er the mountains and beyond the sea,
She smiles on Sylvans where'er they'd be,
Gaia bless the moon, and Gaia bless me,
and Gaia bless the love that I feel for yi.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Winter 10, year 566 of the Lok'Groton Isles.

Imizael

Today, it seems important to write of my time on the mainlands, my life before exile in Lok'Groton. How long ago that was, a mixture of memories happy and sad. Today is the anniversary of the last time I saw my sister, Imizael, alive.

She was everything that was good and noble about the Sylvans of our community. I remember her striking violet eyes and golden hair, so much like our mother, and her smile that could stop arguments in a single moment. Like our father, she was a gifted scholar, much of her knowledge learned in secret because... well, Emperor Mobius controlled everything. Her particular gift, which I can write about now, here, because I am exiled, was languages. But she and father taught at the Imperial capitol, and only taught mathematics. Her students, mostly young nobles, loved her approach and wit, making the subject fun.

The last day I saw her, things happened so very quickly. The imperial guards came, bursting into our home. The servants scattered, things were thrown and destroyed as they searched for something but would not tell us what. In minutes, Imizael and I were separated from our parents and taken before Mobius. There could be no resistance. What happened to our parents I may never know, but Imizael was thrown into a dark portal swirling with energies. Moments later, with my hands bound, I was thrown into that same portal - a jarring experience that left me to awaken on Lok'Groton. But I have not seen her here since that day years ago.

So this day, I light a candle for Imizael. May the light help her find her way.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Autumn 84, year 565 of the Lok'Groton Isles

Dreams of the Past

Memories of that skeletal hand... killing me over and over again as I drifted in the ethereal plane for years, they continue to haunt my dreams. Is it Necro holding me there, preventing my escape? It must be, the feeling of dread and horror are so strong! But the memories are as elusive as quicksilver and as incomplete as a cracked visionstone. Perhaps as I continue to recover my strength, those memories will return in full. I hope.

During my absence from Puddleby, my marriage seems to have evaporated. And yet I discover that there were children! Two little ones, Figwit and Wigfit. Little Figwit hides his face behind a cloak, but seems so smart. He has a passion for adventure and exploration, and a joy of life that is unmarred by time on the mainlands or first-hand experience of Mobius' tyrannical rule. But of Wigfit, where is he? And... I do wonder, are they mine or...?

But such thoughts of little ones, when there are others to consider as well. Boo seems happy that I've returned, in a sense, but I wonder if my return has brought back memories of an unhappy time for her. And Largo... he believes that I left of my own volition, and abandoned them when they needed me most. Perhaps, someday, the wounds will heal.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Autumn 75, year 565 of the Lok'Groton Isles

Returning to the lands

Now that I've returned from the ethereal plane, it feels important now to keep a journal, with my mystical field notes from my adventures, in written form. As I reflect on those years of drifting in the ethereal, and having near-total memory loss upon my escape, I must start keeping things that will jog my memory if need be. Therefore, I begin my wanderings again, with these small journals to be kept in my home. These will hold my reflections, my theories, and speculation on the things I find.

Eil'daen Kitaan
Autumn 70, year 565 of the Lok'Groton Isles.