The Travels of

Karina Toren

Wizard of the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts

Foreword

It is with a heavy hand and heart that I write this foreword.  Wizard Karina was a good friend to many, and I count her as my closest while she lived.

Many have faulted her recklessness, though this criticism is most likely borne from their sadness at her loss.  Wizard Karina was a beacon of hope, a shining example to all of us in both the way she lived her life and in the way that she treated others.

The manuscript that follows was found in her belongings after her permanent death.  It encompasses many years of her life, and seems to have been written sporadically.  I present it to any who would read it as Karina’s journal, and as an insight into the life of the most remarkable woman I have ever known.

As many of the statements contained herein have not been researched or confirmed, this is not presented as a treatise on any matters.  Any claims or discoveries within are simply to be viewed as the recounting of stories.

This text is filed, appropriately, within the archive of the Royal Academy’s journals.

If you never met Karina, then you have missed something special that perhaps this book can share with you to some extent.

June, 591

I grow bored with my work here in Lake Hollym.  To be honest, I have never had the scholarly bent possessed by so many of my colleagues.

I can so clearly remember the days spent in classes as I gazed longingly out at the world beyond.  I was a good student, mind you, but I probably could not have been better had I possessed more of the drive that other students had for laboratory work.

Field Experience… oh, how those two words have always intrigued and fascinated me.  First spoken to us by our trainers at the Academy on our first day.  The proclamation that they would be our final requirement after a decade spent in study.  They had spoken them as a requirement, but to me they always felt like a promise of better things to come.

And then the words were spoken in hushed whispers among us students as we toiled in the dark laboratories or listened to lectures.  To some, those words were fearful things, a warning of dangerous days ahead.

But to me and others, they always held the promise of exploration and the wonderful lives that we would be leading ahead.  What would we discover in the world beyond the walls of Lake Hollym?  How would we put to use the training we had received?  What difference could we make in the great world beyond?

And here I am today.  Five years beyond the completion of my training and the words “field experience” still have had no real impact on my life.

How easy it was to fall into the role of academic after my graduation.  I had hoped to travel to Sutherland and to experience the vibrant thrills of living in a world in turmoil.

Instead, I found myself appointed to the Mage’s Guild here in Unity.  The people here have been quite welcoming, despite beliefs by others that there were still lingering hostilities.

But I feel empty.  This feeling is a selfish one.  I know that.  On a daily basis, my training and experience provide useful help and valuable insight to those in need.

However, I am not doing anything for them that any graduate of the Royal Academy could not do.

I want more from my life.  I want to explore, to create, and to challenge myself in ways that this position will not allow me to do.

For that reason, I am taking a sabbatical from my post here.  Another, the surely capable Dravis Windshire, is taking my place while I take two years away to gain the “field experience” that I do so desire.

March, 592

This past year has been the most wonderful that I have ever known.  Stepping finally beyond the shelter of the Royal Academy, removing from myself the smothering shadow of Lake Hollym, has both broadened my perspective and gained me insight into matters that I would never have experienced.

For the past three months, I have been living with the Hawk in the Dragonsteeth Mountains far beyond the borders of Evendarr.  The road that took me here was a long one.  At first, I traveled within Volta, finding work selling my magicks and formal skills to those in need.  We often take for granted the daily benefits our our magic.  I have learned just how much of an impact what I consider trivial can have on those who live without these skills.

Where wraiths torment, Turing’s Enchanted Aura provides far more hope for those in villages to protect their families than the prospect of investing their limited silver on silver-plated daggers.  They provided me with food and shelter in return for these spells, and I have never felt so worthwhile.

My next stop was in Dinsdale, where I spent some time helping the locals as well.  Armood’s and Barantur’s protective fields are so valuable to the people here as ghouls and ghasts threaten them, giving the armorless a chance to flee before being paralyzed.

In time, I was contacted by Baron Boddin Douglas of Dinsdale.  I was honored to meet with him in his estate.  Though he was not the first noble I ever met, there was something different about this meeting that occurred outside of Academy property.  Within the walls of the Academy, the Wizards hold more power than nobles of the land.  Here, I was but a commoner meeting with a member of the peerage within his keep.  It was a daunting experience.

Baron Douglas hired me to travel to where I now reside.  Volta has interest in these lands, due to their common backgrounds.  I have been sent to survey and learn what I can of the people here to discover how well met a Voltan emissary might be met here in the future.

Of course, I had some concerns before traveling here.  The people of these lands are not known for being welcoming to those who cast the magic of the stars.   Having never experienced it themselves, they can be quite distrusting of its use and its power.

Baron Douglas thought me ideal to send because of the fact that I am also a healer, and he cautioned me to present myself as such during my initial travels, saving the other magic for only after I had gained the trust of the people of these northern reaches.

I was deposited, rather abruptly I might add, on the shores of these lands by a boat that quickly made its way back to Volta.  I could, I suppose, have arranged to spirit walk to the circles of the Royal Academy’s Northern Outposts, to the north of my landing spot and then made my way south.  However, I neglected to tell Baron Douglas of this possibility.  I chose instead to leave out my prior affiliations.  I did not want the people of these lands, in any case, to connect me with the Royal Academy, for I knew not what their feelings toward it were.

Before I could find the people that I sought within these lands, I was found by others far less desirable to meet.

While walking the paths marked on my map to lead me to the People of the Wolf’s lands, I was ambushed by a band of goblins led by an orc.  Expecting to be able to make short work of them, you can imagine my surprise at the flash of Tyler’s Improved Protections from the bodies of the first two goblins that I struck with magic!  

Before I could turn my attention back to these goblins to follow up, I discovered the source of their protections.  Their orc leader, who I later learned was named H’Wold, let loose a volley of magic at me, decimating my own protections and then silencing me.

Unable to cast any longer, the goblins were able to quickly subdue me.  I found myself bound and gagged, wondering what their intentions were.

The next days were terrifying, forced to walk with these goblins toward mountains that loomed in the distance, that I have now learned are named the Dragonsteeth.  The goblins stopped rarely and spoke even more rarely.

From time to time, H’Wold would speak to me during our infrequent rests.  He told me that I was being brought to his chieftain, K’Tang, and that I would be a fine prize for his leader.

Days later, I cannot remember how many, we reached the base of the mountains and I saw the treacherous trail that led upward.  From above, I could see smoke rising from a plateau, perhaps cookfires of the goblin tribe.  

We had only just begun the ascent when my captors were set upon by ambush.  Men and women in leathers adorned with feathers set upon the goblins.  Most carried axes, crudely fashioned but effective as they slashed at the goblins.

H’Wold, however, was quite effective at healing the goblins as quickly as my would-be saviors could harm them.  Without a spell caster of their own, the battle was hard-fought and seemed almost a stalemate.

And then one of the Hawk (as I now know them) freed me from my bonds.  Aware of H’Wold’s abilities now, I set upon him quickly, unleashing a volley of my magic and watching with satisfaction as he fell.

The Hawk made quick work of the rest of the goblins now that their healer was gone.

The end of the battle, however, did not end my troubles.  With the goblins and the orc leader fallen, the Hawk turned to face me.

At first I did not understand the strange looks that they gave me.  But then I realized why they were viewing me with suspicion.  In my haste to fell H’Wold, I had fallen back to my natural use of celestial magic!

I quickly explained to the Hawk that I was a visitor to these lands, and that I realized that my magic must have seemed strange to them.  This seemed to pacify their concerns somewhat.  I told them that I meant no harm, and that I was exploring these lands on behalf of others.

Begrudgingly, the Hawk agreed to bring me back to their encampment.  Little did I know at this time that this meant that I had not, in fact, been spared a trip up the perilous trails of the Dragonsteeth Mountains.

I was quite a sight as I climbed the rocky, twisting trails.  The Hawk did nothing to hide their amusement as I almost fell to my death countless times.  They themselves climbed the trail with practiced ease, an ease that I have now grown closer to myself.

I met with their leader, a fierce old warrior named Phorrel.  I remember now how intimidated I was by him when first we met and first I pled to be allowed to stay with them as I gained my bearings in these lands.  He seemed so cold and distant.  It is funny to think back on those times now that I have become so much more trusted by these wonderful people.

And that brings me to the present.  I have been among the Hawk now for three months, or something close to that.  They have begun to trust me, though I do not use my magic openly except when I am among those who have given me their blessing to do so.

I have sent to the Northern Outpost of the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts to request a copy of some formal magic scrolls.  I want to show these people the benefits of enchanted weapons.  It is a legacy that I would like to leave with them before my time here is done.  I do hope that they will be open to the use of them.

April, 594

It saddens me to leave the Hawk, but this is a time of change for them and I am no longer welcome here.

I cannot believe that I have been here for only a little over a two years.  I feel as though I have lived so much in this time and learned so much more than my decades in stuffy libraries ever taught me.

Despite my best efforts to aid them, the Hawk have decided that they are beyond help from their kindred brothers, the Wolf and Bear.  They are a proud people, but a scared one, too.  I can see and feel their fear in the way that they speak of the choice they have made and what awaits them in the near future.

When I first arrived here, the Aierie encampments of the Hawk seemed so formidable and indomitable.  It seemed that no enemies could reach them here, between the cliff walls that they make their home.  Would that they could simply stay here and fortify themselves against the world beyond their retreat.

Alas, the Hawk need hunting grounds, and K’Tang has massed many goblins, ogres, and orcs to harry them whenever they go below to hunt.  My people, the Hawk, are starving and they fear that they will not have the stores to survive the next winter as it approaches.

So, they are going someplace that I cannot follow.  Despite my love for them, I am not one of them, and they tell me that their totem will not accept me when they give themselves over.

I do not know what this truly means, and I wish that I could stay to study what is to happen.  But they will not allow it.  Only their own can be present for whatever it is that they now plan to do.

I am not sure where I will go now.  I leave this place a changed woman, a different person than the sheltered scholar who came here.

Tomorrow morning, I will descend the trails to the base of the Dragonsteeth for the last time.  Perhaps I will head north to the Royal Academy Outpost.  Perhaps I will be drawn in some other direction.  In any case, I will be among the Hawk no longer.

January, 595

As expected, the path that took me away from the Hawk was not a straight one.

I originally set out toward the Royal Academy Outpost, where I currently rest, but that route was interrupted by massing armies of goblins, led once more by K’Tang and his orcs.

The goblin army had massed to the south of the Dragonsteeth under K’Tang’s banner and was heading north, directly on the trail I had intended to take to get to the Royal Academy Outpost.

Staying in the foothills, in lands the goblins generally avoided for fear of the Hawk, I made my way south instead, traveling the outside edge of the Dragonsteeth as I made my way south and west.

When I made it to the Rok’Nel Pass, I travelled through the Dragonsteeth north until I reached the other side of the mountains.  I made it to Lake Sol without incident.  My arrival there among the Bear people was a strange one.  I found it quite odd how easily they welcomed me as one of the Hawk.  Had I been among those people for so long that I now appeared to be one of them?  In time, I learned the reason that they overlooked the obvious facets of my appearance that separated me from the rugged people of these lands.  Being Hawk (or Bear or Wolf or Coyote, for that matter) is not a matter of birth or blood.  It is a matter of calling.  Though it is not common, there are those within the ranks of these people who come from without, and these Bear simply assumed that I was one of them.

This aided me in my journey.  The Bear provided me passage, none too elegant, on the boats they used to ply the rivers here.  It was a long journey, but they do trade with the wizards of Krite Hill, and it was just a matter of time before I reached that place with their help.

Arriving here, I was immediately reminded of the mission that originally brought me to this place.  In my time with the Hawk, I had come to forget it.  A Voltan presence in these lands!  And now I learned that it is already here.  While I lived amongst the Hawk, a former noble of Volta arrived and created a settlement.  To hear the wizards talk of the place, it seems that it must have been formed of the very dregs and stragglers of polite society.  I wonder now, how they look at me?  Though I am welcome among the wizards, I do not feel like I belong.  I can see the scorn in their eyes as they view the pieces of Hawk attire that I refuse to give up.  But those people are a part of me now and not something that I can easily give up.

March 595

I have found my place here at the Krite Hill Outpost.  The relationship between Archwizard Belcross and the people that tend the grounds is tenuous at best.  The people here respect the stability and safety that the wizards bring them, but they do not feel that they have any means to communicate with them.  I have become that conduit.  There are so many ways that we can help these people and make the land more valuable and profitable both for them and the Academy.

The river that runs through the property comes straight from the high mountains that were my home for so long.  By the time it reaches here, it is often quite low, depending on its usage along the way and the weather that it crosses to reach us.  Very little of the water actually reaches the lake.

This creates a very interesting and valuable opportunity for us, I have discovered.  The river must rage quite savagely before it reaches us, because I have found that there are many precious rocks broken loose from inside the mountains and carried all the way to our grounds on the river.  The locals know to look for silver and gold deposits as they pass the river here, though it should truly be called a creak at this point.  But they did not realize that some of the other ores that arrive here are quite valuable to those who produce weapons and armor.  This metal (the locals call it Kritite out of respect to the academy) can be mixed with plain iron that is readily available to allow a smith to create steel more quickly and easily, greatly increasing their production.

The local smiths are quite grateful to me for this information, and this aid to them has greatly improved the way that the view the wizards of the Academy.

June 595

I traveled out to Brekhet hut earlier this month to gather what I could find there.  It seems that our production is increasing.  I wonder whether this is some sort of effect of the changes in magic that seem to be occurring around us?  But I don't make this entry to speak of such a basic task as harvesting.

I make this entry, rather, to tell of the strange trail that I found there.  Someone or something had beaten a trail from or to the northeast directly to the hut from the woods.  I could see no signs that whoever it was had left in any other direction, though they might have taken our well-worn path to or away from Brekhet.

I could not resist the urge to follow the trail.  It led down into a deep valley next to the hut.  At the bottom of the ravine, the trail turned to the right.  I followed the trail through the ravine for some time before I reached what appeared to be a fountain, only dry.  A detect magic spell, however, revealed that the fountain was radiating magic.  My interest picqued, I have spent many days this month experimenting with this fountain, though I have not been able to invoke whatever magic it might contain.

When I made it to the Rok’Nel Pass, I travelled through the Dragonsteeth north until I reached the other side of the mountains.