The Combine Empire

Friend, Know this. At the end of the Combine Era, after Tsaph Katta had died, Seru sent his minions out to renew his Inquisition. This brought great torment and wailing to many. The Inquisition was dispersed when they attacked the Circle of Light. Although the battle left no survivors, the Circle of Light succeeded in holding back the enemy while their loved ones fled. Out of respect, the enchanters' descendants divided their Tomes, so all could have proof of their exaltation. We must not forget the great Tasarian, Velishoul and other Circle members. Honor them by reassembling their tomes! Try to find sections of the enchanters' tomes to piece together an entire spell.

Some of the pages may be faded but with careful research they can be restored to their prior glory.

It is rumored that some spells were so large that they had to span two or more pages.

The fear he had borne those many, many long year, since the end of the Age of Combine, had come to pass: The disapperance of the gods, Yes, for hundreds of years now that had been known as the Lost Age, and of course that name was given by those who knew little to nothing of events during that time.

Of course, few – perhaps none – had lived a life as long and eventfu as this ancient elf called Aataltaal. Now, it seems, he’d outlasted even the gods.

The elf looked up into the bright night sky and watched Luclin’s continuing disintergration. A flaming meteor, no doubt a portion of the sphere of the Maiden of Shadows, soared fast and low just to the south of him. Lightning traced the rock’s path through the swirling clouds, and Aataltaal was certain he felt the wind and heat generated by the meteor.

The destruction of Luclin, named for the goddess who was for countless years beyond the reach of mortals, was a metaphor for the fate of all created races… as well as for the gods themselves. Even if they were not dead, the gods who birthed the races of Norrath and had guided the events of millennia, including the seemingly wanton destruction of all they had so assiduously crafted, were beyond any mortal’s reach. The immortals might as well be dead for all they could do on behalf of those who relied upon them, those who worshipped them. Likewise, there was little to be done by one such as Aataltaal, who sough to slay gods, or at least some – partculary one! – among their number.

As he sat on the Luclin-blasted landscape of the Thundering Steppes, with no other living entity around for league upon league, Aataltaal gave himself over wholly to these reflections. And soon his vision returned.

In the long past age of Combine, Aataltaal had foreseen the fall of that great empire. He tried toward emperor katta, but neither of them understood the meaning of the vision fully enough. Of course, Aataltaal considered that failure to be his own: It was his magic that had crafted the visions, his knowledge that should have deciphered them, and even his plans that had set the fracturing of the Combine into motion. Granted, the plans of those against whom he toiled, General Seru and his fell sorcereress, were a considerable part of the events that brought the empire to its knees.

Ages had passed since then, and yet another was dawning in this time of the broken moon, and still Aataltaal toiled. He had victories to relish and humbling defeats to rue, and still his nemesis Opal Darkbriar dogged him. She thought to have won the day in Freeport, but he had meant the promise he made to the humans there after he saw them safely westward across the Ocean of Tears. That city, like his battle against the gods, might seem lost at present, but the Wheel of Time always rolled round again. The trick was stopping the wheel when it was properly poised for one’s purpose.

Final Entry—

It is with heavy heart on this long night that I write what I know to be my last entry here. I have deliberated on this issue, and always I come to the same conclusion. These are a brave people in Landing — noble, able, determined. Yet as long as I stay, they shall defer to me out of respect for what I have done in these early years. I would simply pass on the rulership to another, but any whom I favor shall be treated with the same thoughtless deference, and these people must have a ruler they have chosen from among themselves. For this to happen, I must be gone entirely, beyond any hope of their finding me.

Of course, in a matter of hours the question may be moot. An army of the Deathfist unlike any I have seen marches toward our walls, and at this moment a band of accursed Teir’Dal assassins positions itself beneath our feet. I am confident, with the warning I have received from these strange scientists of the arcane, that I have plotted a course through these troubles. But my sense that the city and its people shall endure is no guarantee that I myself shall live through this night. The paladins of Marr have sworn to lay down their lives to protect mine, but a stray blade or spell of death may always find me. Still, I must be the bait, and only a complete victory over the Teir’Dal allows my remaining forces to reinforce the walls and defeat the Deathfist.

After that, the city is safe. Difficult years may lie ahead, but these people deserve a chance to plot their own destinies. I cannot in good conscience bring the entire city along on the dread road I must travel. Lady Delailith shall return to Landing should it require help, but my heart tells me that she will never need to do so. A finer people I have not known on Norrath, and I love them enough to set them free of my shadow.

Tonight, even if he sees the end of it, Aataltaal dies to the mortal world. At least until such a time as events may require me to reveal myself again.

By Mine Own Hand,

Aataltaal