The Rebirth of Torall
Last Testament of Eemil
As I pen this testament I know my days are numbered. Yet this knowledge is more than simply the far-sight than the holder of the Seventh Staff is granted. I am encamped with a small party of Empire mystics at a small quarry. These young mages are working night and day with Kivi scribers to create an army for a final stand. If we can not hold them then these terrors will be unchecked and be free to rampage the Citadel of High Magic. I owe it to my master to buy him enough time even at the cost of my own life. A price most of the Archmages have already paid.
Foul magics have been at work to the north, I can sense a rift in our plane. I believe that the minions of Katar are bringing foul beasts from the realm of death itself to our world. What I would give to have a Paladin or Priest of Zel’kel at my side in the days to come to send these foul demons back to where they came. But now is not the time for wishing and what ifs, it is far to late for that. Battle magics have never been my strong suit but I must be strong for the sake of my mystics. I see them watching me hoping that I divine some way to spare them from the cold despair of Katar’s grasp. Alas it will not be so. I have looked into the veil of the future and all the paths lead to death. The balance of life and death is tipping and death is gaining an ever increasing advantage.
There is something strange about the world though. I can sense that another balance is tipping, but I can not deem what. The only thing I can tell is that it centers around the Kivi. I do not think think it is them however or if even if there are aware of it. All I know is it involves them. They are a puzzling thing, the Kivi, they are unlike any magical creation I have ever encountered. I am frightened and yet fascinated by them. And perhaps it is my fear that leads me to leave behind a secret that few know about. We are not longer in control of them. The Scribers now lead themselves and the rest of the Kivi. The lesser mystics simply think they are too powerful for them to control and that Fomza and we Seven are the only ones powerful enough to do so. Yet when we instruct the Scribers, i can tell they only listen to us because they want to. And if they decided they could turn and leave. We are watched by the greater Scribers, I feel we are as much of a puzzle to them as they are to us. They can not fully understand us and nor can we them. I can only wish that there are survivors of this war and I am sad to think that none of the ones here with me will be among them.