This is an open letter to those who wish to hear the words of one old Mage. It is especially pertinent for those whose life paths have wound their way across time and crossed mine in so doing. From the Celts of Caledonia to the Drow of Aldavidvan, from my own Apprentices to the others seeking wisdom and knowledge in The Mages Guild, read now my thoughts.
Over 600 years have I lived and in that time I have seen many visions and experienced many emotions.
I remember the Dark Years of The Great Cataclysm. When I close my eyes I can still see the raw magical power spreading like a great wave from the Loch Tay ritual circle, enveloping and destroying all in its path, making the waters boil, and destroying my clan and its home. I can still smell the blood of goblins, as in their thousands they laid siege to my tower and were eradicated. I can still see the Necromancers at work in raising those very bodies.
I can still remember the hours I devoted to teaching Elias, and watching him grow from a baby to a King. I can still feel the anguish in having to lay to rest Rowan the Blue Mage, after being her lifelong guardian and mentor. I can still sense the magical power of the Death Knight as he murdered her predecessor in front of Floris.
I can still picture my own master, The Violet Mage Jerome de Richlieu and his last words before he lost his life. I can still feel the refined energy of Mage Bolts as I struck Maroc down. I can still sense the Anti Magic dagger cutting through the Tarantulas Death Rug.
I can still recall the ceremony to maintain Lord Gryphons life and then my trial after he died. I can still describe rescuing Enoch on Orkneyjar and then watching as he used Schadel to destroy all the Unliving in the world.
I can still remember my surprise at finding the Vipers Dark Lord helpless and about to be sacrificed. I can still summon my feelings of realisation when Zoist Kyan attempted to repledge. I can still call forth my refusal of the Grand Masters order to take back his gift. I can still visualise him throwing back his hood to reveal the new Floris Brand.
I can still feel the raw power of the ritual to summon and then banish the Immortals. I can still sense the merging required to enter the Great Library of Magic. I can still invoke the power of the Tomes as they flow through me. And it is no accident I come to them last. I thought I had seen much but they have shown me how wrong I am.
For out there as you read this is a whole Universe suspended in a single teardrop of moment. And that is where I shall find my destiny, out amongst the stars and through the paths of time. I take with me Mage Tazael to witness these wonders that are even now beyond our comprehension. I leave behind the Tome of Air and the Tome of Earth for my Apprentices, Xixix and Jax-Ur. There is also my Tower; in my memory let it become a place of learning, a citadel of wisdom and a castle of knowledge. For I am and always will be The Violet Mage, born of a Celtic clan on the Shores of Loch Tay.
Joshua McTay
The Violet Mages Tower
North Shore of Loch Tay
An Mhaorine Moirealh
Caledonia ~ 1098 AF
Footnote ~ The Demise of Violet
June 1100 A.F. ~
An open letter from Lasha, Master Fire
To the gracious, most noble people of the Harts,
Out of my sincere heartfelt emotions of respect, I commend the following news to you my friends.
You are no doubt aware that our mutual friend Joshua McTay with whom we share similar feelings towards had at one time gone missing within the Great Library of Magic at Norhault. I have the greatest of pleasure to inform you that the Violet Mage is missing no longer. It would appear that a book entitled 'Arcanus Extremus Violentia - A Collective Works of Aggresive Physical Magic' seems to have devoured him whole. We have curtailed the actions of this book and such a tragic death should not occur in the future.
No doubt you will wish to mark the occasion in a suitable manner with whatever merriment is appropriate and I hope to pay my fitting respects.
