I have not many tales which I can tell you, but I do have one heroic tale of the magus.
There was a time a few years ago when a war broke out between the Nephilim and the dwarves. There were two neighboring villages at the border of their lands. A few people died over a feud, which to this day no one recalls who started it or what it was about.
You know that most of the dwarf kingdom, eaten by the ground as it is, doesn’t have anything to do with the “heavenly world,” as they so often refer to the civilizations above the surface of the ground. So, when the feud broke out, there was much ado as to whether the war should be strictly between two backwoods families, or whether it should not have been between the entire dwarven monarchy against the democratic republic of the Nephilim.
I will tell you the secret of this tale. There was an illusionist of an order now extinct; this order took magic so seriously that they sold their souls in return for unrivaled magical ability. The illusionist was used by the beckoning of a cosmic realm being; he cast a spell of illusion over the entire nation of the Dwarves and Nephilim, causing them to believe in the existence of two villages which never existed, and causing them to believe in a feud between two families which had never stepped foot on the earth.
The spell was so complete and powerful that one can to this day excavate from a few inches of dirt the ruins of the villages. It took the magus elders over thirty days and six hundred soul gems to undo the spell. Even then, it wasn’t a complete removal of the magic, as some Nephilim and a few of the topside dwarves still swear that they knew some of the combatants personally.
The mage responsible for the illusion must have died at the end of his illusion incantation, as his ghost later had to be beaten back into the underworld, to whom he sold his soul for power. I was near the sight of that incredible battle, but I myself did not take part as I was far too young in the ways of magic.
I hope to see you soon. I wanted to visit those other places of which you spoke to me, but I am bound by the laws of magic to follow a particular path, and I must of necessity pass through the place you call home before the month is over. Indeed, I am already as far as Stephen’s Gate, and with the weather this fair we shall pass by way of the river to navigate between the mountains before another fortnight.
Dear Magus Belvor,
I must reiterate to you the folly of visiting the Judean Valley. Please understand the sincerity of my declaration, as it is granted in humility of heart and honest concern for your welfare, but consider it prudent for me to announce that there is nothing here worth finding or seeing for the likes of you.
Allow me to state specifics. I understand the purpose of journeys for the people of the magus-hood. They seek the wealth of ancient magic artifacts, most of which are located in towns and cities and villages with many centuries of history, troubles, wars, tombs and the like. Here in the Judean Valley, we possess none of these conveniences which attract even the least of the magus—especially not the soul stones of which you magus are always in desperate want. Therefore, I regret that I must maintain my good conscious by persevering in the expression of the idea that you are causing yourself no end of trouble and much wasting of magus resources.
I hope this letter finds you before you depart the mountain ferryman’s camp, but I fear you will already be too far to turn back to your home or to go by another, far more fruitful way by the time you receive it.
Your sincere acquaintance,
Abigail of Judea.