The Darker side of the Nature of Magic

Another report from my journals abroad. Now, I would never ever admit to going to Kragrock spire, which is a hive of scum and villainy, because no self respecting Mage would ever make the journey to its rocky hell to revel in its decadent pleasures of science and the flesh, and flesh science, and flesh science magic, and then theres THE WHORES, I mean you want to talk about whores and gold, wait until you see the Kragrock pleasure pits, once you get past the suture marks, the four arms that some of the Madams have are... I mean... I've heard that they are... I mean... Here is my report on my findings. All gathered through second and third hand sources... I MEAN... through informants... Who are definitely not soldered together four armed geishas of intense evil and pleasure. They were like... goblins or something... Sure... Goblins. Goblins in the know, in the know about Kragrock Sprire. Who I met on the other side of the continent. 

A Brief Study of the free city of Kragrock Spire

Firstly, it should be noted that while Kragrock Spire remains a free city to the auspices of the enlightened peoples, and therefore isn’t recognized by the Monarchy for the reasons of representation and taxation, that nothing is really free there. Power over the lives of your fellow man, power over nature, power over life and undeath, usually come with a overtly ironic price tag, and only slightly shop-soiled.

Kick started by blightmages and necromancers ousted from Eula around the time of the human colonization, Kragrock was built as a refuge to fledgling practitioners of the darker arts. Fleeing into the wilds, the mages discovered a massive verdant jungle teeming with life, and by concentrating their awful will on the world, created the Kragrock Spire tower in an instant.

Bending the local flora and fauna to their ends, the blightmages began tampering with the natural order. Empowered by their dark machines, the mages made short work of the surrounding territory. It should be noted here, that if perhaps mages themselves weren’t such jealous and treacherous lot, then perhaps the story would have ended here. Unfortunately for the majority of the blightmages in attendance, this was not the case. After a single night of bloodshed and curses, one lone mage survived a servant of Vecna with a healthy aptitude for domination, the Dark Lady Mab Veinlash. In her first official act of office, she raised her former mutinous comrades back to life and fused them into a giant, cancerous abomination. In constant suffering, it is said that the monster still lurks in the various dungeons of Kragrock Spire.

Using the goblins native to the surrounding jungle, Mab created a network of trade routes to the outside world. A small town flourished, as the Dark Lady traded dark secrets and scientific marvels to the caravans for supplies and materials. Soon like-minded vagrants and necromancers ousted from their homelands began streaming into Kragrock Spire. Using the slave trade to supplement their experiments, many successful half-men and undead species emerged from the tepid jungle.

Then something unexpected occurred. While there had always been a following of religious fanatics trying to bring Mab and her cabal of necromancers to heel, never had they actually succeeded in bringing their gods personally to their side. Emboldened by a dimensional rift the rebels thought belonged to their god, the swarmed en masse. Rallying cries rang from the liberators of Kragrock Spire, until they realized that opening a dimensional gate is tricky business, and rather than summoning their war god, that they had actually summoned Shar herself. The goddess of the primordial void, it was sufficient to simply look at the assembled warriors before they began killing themselves in horribly graphic and imaginative ways. Then she simply winked out of existence, leaving the portal hanging wide open.

News reached Lady Veinlash, and soon dimensional tampering became a ready source of income to the budding city-state of Kragrock Spire. The slave trades and assassin’s guilds took vested interest, as the rise to power promised non-stop profitable opportunities. The wealthier mages built their estates closer to the tower, as symbols of affluence and position. Mab closed herself off in the tower, protected by fell magicks and powerful hexes. The gangs of half-men and goblins closed on each other, jockeying for positions as bodyguards and hedgemages. The remains of such clashes were often used in more medical experiments, and the morticians and torturers banded together to bring the dead to life to seek the mysteries of the dead and damned.

Interestingly enough, the quest for arcane knowledge often went back to the gods and goddesses of yore. Churches and mausoleums were built, most literally out of thin air and the prayers of their faithful. Spiteful deities descended on Kragrock Spire; Lovietor, the patroness of sadists and torturers; The King That Crawls, god of slavers; Vecna, the lord of undeath; Zehir, the patron of assassins and snakes; The Shadow, god of corruption, and even a small sect belong to Shar. The native goblins built shrines honoring their god-king Maglubiyet, ever waiting for the day they take back their homeland and expel the mages.

And so to this day, Kragrock Spire stands, with an ever-increasing desert surrounding the jungle center where the city was built, as the necromantic nature of the tower culls the life energies of the vegetation. Mages fight each other in the streets, assassins and slavers fight in the shadows, and the gods themselves are content to watch as their minions propagate whatever dark whims only they know. Mab Veinlash herself works alone in the tower, watching as the elements of the city come together, very much like explosive chemicals reacting to a catalyst. Her city, and her promises of freedom, became her personal experiment.  

Guardiain 4: The ancient technologies of the Heartstone

 When I was doing temple archeology in some of the old Dwarf ruins on the coast during my internship at Joh Nuhz and Son Archeology I found a small glowing crystal that I of course pocketed. I'm a wizard, they are archeologists, I beleive the pecking order of the universe is quite clear on this front. After working at it for centuries in my spare I was able to figure out what in the many leveled and interesting hells  this thing was; a detailed data drive of some mystical nature. For some reason it began screaming and exploded when I radiated it with about 47 Magithaums of bane magic. A shame. I could have erased whatever data was on it and used it as a spell book back up. A crying shame. For the sake of prosperity I had one of my own interns (Gar Dun? Jarzun? I have no idea. Honestly he probably wont survive the summer) record it down. I'll get around to reading it eventually.

Guardian 4 was born almost ten thousand years ago, what his heritage was before he entered the temple has been lost in the annuals of time, Guardian 4 was raised in traditional monk fashion in a far off temple where he was trained in the ways of peace, meditation, and punching people so hard that their faces came out the back of their heads. The guardian's peaceful monk commune surrounded a temple of a forgotten god, that was built over a natural rift to the shadowfell, the temple was initially designed to keep adventurers out and keep whatever dark energies that came from the shadowfell from getting out to the world, over time the rumors of the temple became more and more exaggerated and adventurers became more and more of a nuisance looking for powerful weapons or treasures that they believed to be hidden in the halls of the temple.

Generally the monks were enough of a deterrent to keep most would be pillagers out of the harmful dark energies that inhabited the temple, but every now and then a few would get through, generally these people were killed in the process of trying to escape from whatever just happened to be lurking through the sealed doors. One day a gnomish artificer Martaf managed to stagger broken and bleeding out of the dark temple doors after seeing his party decimated by what he called a moving wall of eyes and teeth. After his wounds were taken care of Martaf joined the order and lent his incredible intellect to making sure that no one suffered through what his friends had. One of Martaf's ideas was an incredibly risky but effective soul transference into a mechanization of his own design. This soul transfer would take the spirit of a trained monk and infuse it into a crystal known as a heart stone, this heartstone would be set in the breast of a man made of enchanted steel and mechanical parts, these new mechanical men would have increased strength and stamina and would never need to eat or sleep, and for all objective purposes they would become immortal guards inside the temple to stand against the darkness. The only problem with this procedure was that the monk's body was completely destroyed in the process, so the transfer was permanent.

The sect leader Hoganda asked for any volunteers to come forward, knowing full well they could never go back to what they were before. Guardian 4 was one of several men who stepped forward to be part of the process. Over time he and the other guardians fought back the darkness in the temple and managed to keep it at bay, but the years that passed the guardians by took their toll on the temple life, and eventually Martaf grew old and passed away, as all people do, but Martaf left no apprentice or notes, so the process to repair and make new guardians died with him. Over time the link between this world and the shadowfell grew weaker and weaker and the monsters that used to craw out were less and less frequency, until they one day stopped altogether, and the temple fell from legend and into history, but guardian 4 and his mechanical brothers and sisters stayed.

Years passed by and the temple fell into greater and greater disarray and the village outside began to slowly crumble apart as the last of the order passed away, centuries passed and the guardians fell slowly into a sleep mode never to restart, while others just stopped moving as the light faded from their chest and eyes. Guardian 4 preserved, guarding his duty day after day as the silence enveloped him completely. Guardian 4 has no idea how much time passed before he was awakened from his sleep mode by a rumbling deep in the mountain. Calling for the others to join him he rushed out to see the village of his childhood destroyed by the ravages of time. Turning around he saw the empty husks of the other guardians covered in dirt and cobwebs, and that is when the temple began to collapse, the rumbling under his feet opening up fissures and he fell into the abyss.

All Guardian 4 new was black, time had already lost all meaning for the mechanical man as he wandered through the subterranean maze of rock that used to be his mountain, his village, his temple and his duty. Eventually he hit a dead end and in frustration he lashed out and left a crater size hole, which started a smaller landslide that let light shine through. Pushing through the rumble Guardian 4 found himself in an unknown area surrounded by snow, his mountain paradise was gone, and even if it wasn't Guardian 4 couldn't pick his mountain out of the sky ridge that was off in the distance. So he sat down and began to wait, knowing the monk Teaching that the universe would show him the way. And he waited and waited and waited as winter left and spring came and still he sat, as flowers and weeds took hold in his joints, and the rain and the winds weathered his ancient metals, and the travelers on the roads began to think of him as a statue that had been placed there as some wayward shrine. Guardian 4 began to feel the dimness set in as he unmoving watched the world pass him by and he was sure that soon his crystal would stop its slow glow and hum and let him join the rest of his sect in whatever lay beyond, until one day while he kept his vigil a small human dressed in robes  stopped to rest his feet. The human set up camp next to Guardian 4 and began his ritual of prayer to his new god. While the cleric was deep in concentration a group of bandits began sneaking up on his location, knives drawn and clubs raised. As the guardian observed all this his crystal sprang back into life, its sing song hum of life bouncing around the valley, creaking and snapping Guardian 4 moved into action catching the first bandits club as it came mere inches from the clerics head, ripping it out of the shocked bandits hands. All the first bandit could do was open his mouth as Guardian 4's hand moved in a swift movement, with all the power and unstoppable force of a glacier. The burly highwayman didn't even have time to scream before the militaristic chop and ancient rusty steel took of his head spraying Guardian 4 with warm blood. Guardian 4's eyes glowed bright in the dark as he turned on the other untrained theives. When the cleric brought himself out of his meditation he was greeted with the site of a mechanical man covered in blood and eviscerate, and bodies surrounding his resting spot. Hurrying to gather his things he raced off, and Guardian 4 followed, not knowing what about this man had awaken him, but determined to follow the universe's signs. 

Grun "The Skytoucher" Ironband and a brief Eulian History

I have to admit, however reluctantly, that the visions of the fall of the majestic city of Eula took me completely by surprised, as a wizard you live for an exhausting long time, and you get used to certain things just being there. Eula was one of these such things. Built near the end of the second era it has been a consistent beacon of culture and magic for thousands of years, and was also the premiere military and economic power of Amini for centuries. The glory of Eula was two fold, first the area is a glorious area for trade and defense, It is placed directly in the middle of the only natural appendage between the twin continents of the Amini kingdom. That means that any trade that goes between north and south, has to pass through the city and a lot of that money would stay in the trade quarter of the city, and due to the canal that was cut through the center of the city any trade ships that want to cut their voyage time must travel through the city as well, this quickly made Eula a central hub. Second reason that Eula worked so well was because of the defensive capabilities of the city, not only is the city open on 4 sides, making it almost impossible for any single army to surround lay siege, any land based siege is going to starve as long as Eula has the seas available, and the logistics of having a coordinated fleet attack both sides of Eula from the sea is almost impossible, and even if the city was laid to siege by mortal weapons, and the wizard tower ,which is the last defense of any city, fell Eula was built by dwarves, originally, for dwarves, so there are miles and miles of tunnels underneath Eula many of them emptying out in satellite farms and villages designed to take in refugees if the city ever was to fall.

Enough of the simple logistics of a city, this isn't an architectural journal. No. This is a BOOK OF MAGICAL HISTORIES AND LEGENDS! So... the legend of Grun Ironband, Grun was the son of an semi influential, but very rich merchant, and like all golden trust fund dwarves he was unhappy with his lot in life. So Grun started making regular expeditions to the north, and had many wonderful and sexy adventures that I am not going to bother repeating here. Go read the “Big Grun Book of Grun” if you want those “adventures” (assuming that all copies haven't been destroyed in what I can only assume is a TERRIBLE DYSTOPIAN WASTELAND of Tarzania's future.) So after Grun was beset by a particularly violent tribe of bug bears pirates (I swear to the 73 ¼ divines of this plane and the others this is what is written) He and his crew washed up on the shore of the current Eula city site and managed to hold them off for 3 weeks (I suspect this has been ridiculously exaggerated, dwarves are notorious liars, debt mongers, and they cheat at cards.) Noticing that this was almost an impenetrable place to hold a fort, and because of his merchant background he saw the potential in becoming a trade route. When he got back to his home he instantly became enamored with building a trade capital, and was constantly laughed out of the dwarven builder council. It wasn't until his father died under mysterious dwarf drinking circumstances that he finally had the necessary start up capital to begin construction. Originally the city was just a dwarven city, which is basically a mole warden with a bunch of interlacing tunnels that all fed into a central underground market place, unfortunately because of Eula's lack of proximity to magical ore and over proximity to ocean water, the great forge that is usually seen in the center of ever dwarven city was impossible to construct, this put a major kink in the dwarven community and Grun quickly began to notice that the movement of dwarves into his new city began to slow into a trickle. Grun began to send out expeditions to neighboring cities offering a place to work and grow to all the races of the natural world. Once again he was laughed at, no self respecting human or elf would live in a hole in the ground on purpose. So Grun went back to his city, and now began to build up, and build high, and build majestic. He had the foresight to realize that dwarven stone work would not be enough to make this city the beauty that would attract the population he needed, so he brought in mythical Shardminds from the City of crystals (these shardminds would be brought back at least once more to aid the wizards in the creation of the crystal council chambers) the novelty of the shardminds brought the wizards, and the wizards decided to stay. The reasoning for that is another chapter all together, another chapter and another day. Needless to say Eula grew tall, and grew in beauty and influence. The height of the cities towers, especially the beauties in the Highblood Terrace section for the rich and affluent members of Eula nobility, earned Grun the nickname of Skytoucher, a name that was meant in jest, but he bore proudly. Grun was a funny kind of dwarf in a lot of ways.

Eula spread and became more and more sprawling, and the dwarves eventually became a minority in the city, and as they began to depart for more traditional dwarven venues the thieves guild began to take advantage of the sprawling tunnels as a way to bring in smuggled goods and people, and after the thieves got their hold in the assassins guild began to set up an arrangement working in tandem with the thieves. It was after Grun, in his old age and infirmity, protested the lax law enforcement that had grown to become accepted in Eula that he was found dead in his rooms, drowned in a cask of smuggled dwarven ale. This was a rather pointed warning, and in the power vacuum that Grun's death left in the ruling class of the city the Council of the seven came into existence, this council is composed of the top field leaders in Magic, Merchantile, Guards, Rural outreach (dirt farmers with delusions of grandeur in my opinion), Dwarf ambassadors, Nobility (almost always part of the assassins guild) and the Dock master (smugglers to be sure). I will include some of the genealogies of the current ruling class in a later chapter of course.

Little known fact; Eula actually means “vindication” in the deep tongue.

Goliaths: Wasting in the Wastes.

• My previous journal mentioned the  Goliaths of Tarnzania, and the origin of their species, i was going through my old nots from my traveling and adventuring days, before I became a Tower Warden and bound to these stones. The notes are sadly incomplete and sparse, I appeared to have misplaced some... In a fire. So here is what I have at the moment, as I find more notes I will of course supply them. Forgive me if these notes seem alien to you, not only am I not 100% sure if the goliaths will survive the oncoming blight, but I am also no expert in their strange language of grunts so, there may be some translation errors. Completely not my fault of course, if the goliath language was meant to be understood by intelligent creatures it wouldn't be the goliath language.
  I believe these are part of my notes concerning goliath culture and a bit of their history in the Goliath Wastes in the frozen north.
  
  
  Selune- The goddess of the moon and the heavens. Once every year in the North, the sun disappears and is replaced by the moon, at which time there is a great festival to honor the moon goddess. In keeping with goliath traditions, the religion propagates nomadic lifestyles, in which the goliaths constantly search for better hunting grounds and new sources of water. Secret tributaries and pools of water high in the mountains are often attributed to Selune’s blessings. Common goliath beliefs say that somewhere in the mountains is a bridge of stone that connects the world to the heavens, which further motivates their inquisitive nature.
  
  
  The Festival of the Moon- A celebration in honor of Selune, during which the Northern Mountains are without sunlight for 7-10 weeks at a time. During this time, the goliaths hold great hunts, and celebrate the mysteries of the moon goddess. During this time, elk are sacred, as Selune is said to take the form of a great silver doe to live among her people.
  
  
  Cultural hatred of duergar, the clan of dark dwarves living in the Underdark. Refer to duergar as the Defilers.
  The Great Civil War- There once was many clans of goliaths, all fighting for control of the Northern Mountains. Some fought over old grievances, some for religious reasons, most for resources, but all fought because their fathers and mothers fought and that was all they knew. Seeking to profit from the mineral rich lands that goliaths inhabited, the duergar employed subterfuge to keep the goliath tribes separated. Constantly pitting one clan against another, or by supplying both sides in secret, the duergar were able to mine in relative peace. Ultimately the duergar hit their prize when they discovered ancestral goliath burial caverns. Using the remains of dead goliaths, the duergar began utilizing dark magics to power their machines of war. When the goliath clans heard of this atrocity, they united under the banner of Skystone and fought against the duergar. The machines and superior arms of the duergar were outmatched by the goliaths’ numbers and fury, and all of their strongholds were reduced to rubble. This is how the tribes united and vowed to their honored dead to never be divided. The nine remaining chieftains who brought the tribes together were interred into the chamber of the dead, and sleep there to this day.
  
  
  When a goliath ages, their lithoderms turn slowly harder, until they become similar to diamond. The last act of these goliaths involves activating their Stoneskin, and becoming their own grave marker. This is the greatest honor of a goliath, and only those who have become cultural heroes can perform this act. It is said that you can look into their crystallized forms and see their heroic deeds reflected in the facets of the diamond.
  
  
  Although nomads in nature, goliaths set up temporary settlements following better hunting grounds and trade routes. These settlements are more numerous in the south, where goliaths habitually trade with the dwarven and human villages. Most of these interactions use bartering, as gold and silver have little real value in the wilderness.
  
  
  In the tundra regions, there exist villages carved from the icebergs on the Great Frozen Sea. These hardy goliaths are largely self-sufficient, hunting the giant beasts lurking below the ice. The homes themselves are comfortable, despite their appearance.

On the Dwarves of Tarnzania

On the races of Tarnzania

The different races that Tarnzania plays host to are as varied as the environments that play host to them, so for the sake of fair play I will try to give them all as much as time as I deem necessary. Today I will be talking about the Dwarfish varieties. An industrious and ancient race with an undeniable claim on the title of eldest race. The dwarves also have one of the most intriguing and distressing religious origin stories.

In the beginning there was Gar'uld (untranslatable into common I believe it refers either the planet, or perhaps some kind of life force?) and all was well. Gar'uld was content and sat in the inky black of space and basked in the light of stars. It is unknown how long Gar'uld floated through space, but it is believed that it either collided with another planet or another type of interstellar refuse ,But Gar'uld was deeply wounded by the accident, and went into a type of shock, releasing something similar to what we would consider antibodies to deal with the damages. These first antibodies were the titans, and they moved stone and stitched the continents together as best they could but after eons their work was done and finished, everything on the surface was as it should be, and they laid down, stopped being titans, and became the mountains instead ( it is interesting to note that this ties DIRECTLY into the goliath origin stories of being breed of mountains and titans) but the damage to Gar'uld went much much deeper than the titans could reach, so Gar'uld release a secondary set of antibodies, the first dwarves.

The first dwarves (as implied from all accounts and archealogical digs) where vaguely humanoid piles of stone and flesh that set about repairing the veins of the world, and in doing so created great subterranean cities to house them, over time the first dwarves began to change and evolve into the dwarves that we are all more familiar with, and with these physical changes there came a change to their mission, instead of fixing what was wrong with the planet, they begin to harvest and work with the materials that surrounded them, This is furthered by the major advances that the dwarves have in metallurgy, alchemy and the deep magics. There are rumors that there are still pockets of pure First dwarves the closer that you get to the core of Tarnzania (or Gar'uld, if you prefer) and many of the more noble dwarven clans can be said to trace their heritage back to the first of the first dwarves, this is unrealistic and incredibly unlikely since all evidence points to the first record or any dwarves happens around the 2^nd age, eons after the suspected birth of the first dwarves.

Dwarves are stocky creatures, generally being considered abnormally tall for their species at above four and a half feet in height. They are gifted stone smith and jewelers, and many a kingdom has paid richly for a dwarf on staff, as their nobility and amazing practical skill set makes them invaluable. The cliché of dwarves being beer swilling beard laden fools comes from two very different pieces of information, that I feel I am delegated to record so when IF those idiots from Eula fail, and our world is destroyed, one of our most noble races will not be seen as a caricature of what they are. First, the drinking, Dwarves are NOTORIOUS for their love of alcohol, and they are notorious for getting uproariously drunk when they visit topside. This is actually a simple scientific explanation, Dwarves brew beer that puts hair on the chest of every man, woman and child, simply because as deep down as their cities are the alcohol takes more and longer to affect then it would up on the surface, I am unclear on whether this is a natural, biological, or magical effect of the caves and dwarf anatomy, so dwarves spend their entire life drinking hard brew in an environment that, frankly, is not conducive to getting drunk at all, and then they come top side, and keep drinking what they brought with them (frankly who can blame them? Even the strongest Amini firewines taste like ogre piss if you have been drinking dwarven ale for any amount of time. Hells, once I sent a fortnight in a dwarven settlement drinking like the best of them, I spent the next three weeks after my return to the surface hunting for that sweet nectar, and once I could not find it, attempting to end my own immortal life, but I digress.) Where was I? So dwarves come to the surface and keep drinking their glorious brew, and it without the fortifying effects of their deep caves it goes straight to their heads, even the littlest bit can send a full grown warrior dwarf around the bend. Now, onto those hideous beards, Once again, one of the biggest dwarven cliches is a simple explanation based in logic and history, just like any dwarven problem really. Dwarves live deep underground, but are constantly surrounded by magma that pumps into their forges, and even the smallest dwarven settlements are positioned around volcanic vents that supply their smiths with the heat necessary for making their magic items. There are depressingly few volcanic vents on the surface, to a dwarf even the caustic Sunderlands have an undeniable chill to the air. So they grew beards to defend against the cold, and over time the dwarves who went topside went back below, with riches and tales of honor, and their beards, and they became a fashion item of the rich and famous and took off.

Another important piece of information, the dwarves are also the only race that have a steady and available supply of darkstone, which is the magical base for all items and weapons. This makes them an economic super power, but this supply had been running low previous to the introduction of the Godtrees, though there had been talk of the Deep King opening up other mines that would dig even lower in hopes of finding new veins. That of course was before the attacks, and the communications of the world all seemed to fall apart... 

There be dragons here

Sometimes, during my travels, I come across a tome of some remark. One of such tomes is Orgund Mesart's "Treatise on Dragons and their descendants: A companion for the races of the world." Here is a quote from one of the first chapters. 

"Despite being similar in their genetic makeup, dragons actually pity dragonborn for not being able to fly. Dragonborn look upon dragons as a relic from an era they evolved from.

Dragonborn have a drive that pushes them towards whatever goal they decide is worth the time. If a dragonborn decides to master the bastard sword they will use the same weapon until it falls apart from age. From a wizard’s viewpoint, it’s almost admirable. They will usually join an army or some form of clan due to their need to distance themselves from the solitary nature of their dragon ancestors.

Dragons enjoy a very different lifestyle. They test warriors by hoarding piles of gold and waiting for parties of adventurers to come find them only to be cooked in the blast of dragon fire. Dragons also conquer their foes with their powerful claws.

Now here is an interesting tidbit: dragon eggs are delicious. Because they are delicious, dragons will defend their eggs to the death, meaning most dragon eggs are rarely tasted. But giants have been able to halt a dragon long enough to snatch some eggs and eat them at their leisure.

Since giants tend to run the gamut of “stupid” to “ very stupid” they don’t realize that dragonborn eggs aren’t as large as dragon eggs, so they go for any eggs and destroy everything in the area, including the dragonborn villages. Because of that in combination with giants bragging about the taste of dragon eggs and dragonborn holding grudges like a pro, dragonborn tend to regard giants with anger and mistrust."

And there you go! A walking companion for the races that were of our world! I included a piece from another book solely because although my genius is mighty, I would not pretend to be the only compiler of knowledge of our age... Just the only one of note.

The Recognized Levels of Wizardry

First and foremost I feel that to fully understand Tarnzania, and the fate that will overtake it I must first detail thw driving force behind the world, Magic. To put it modestly as a MASTER OF ALL THE MAGICAL ENERGIES, magic is the very foundry that everything is built on, Look down at this book.  Here by magic.  Your hands? Magic. Even the lights that allow you to read this tome. MAGIC. This is all very basic, and assuming that you were able to bypass my sorcerous entrapments to get your hands on this information I can probably venture that you don't need a mystical learners guide. This shouldn't be your first magical introduction, if it is you should probably read another tome, May I recommend the "Buffoon's Guide to Crossbowery"? If you have full use of at least one finger it should be more your speed.

And that brings me to the Sanctioned Eula School of Magic classes of magics.

At the height of the Eula School there were seven officially recognized levels of wizardry

The Crystal Council
Auxiliary Pundits
Professors
Swordsingers
Undermages
Hedgewizards
BaneMagi

The Crystal Council is the goal of all wizards, After a wizard has worked long and hard for ages upon ages, and has completed many great tasks and he is fortunate enough he is allowed into the wizarding sanctum, where his consciousness is preserved for all eternity in a shell of living crystal. This council has been the ruling authority on the path that magic has taken for eons ever since Marthsege The Unsullied had hewn the first crystal and laid the first brick for the Eula School. It is almost impossible to get into the crystal council now, especially since it was destroyed during the fall of Eula.

Auxilliary Pundits are professors who after their tenure in the Eula School of Magic are granted a specific task by the Crystal Council, this task can be anything from discovering a new spell, researching any recently discovered artifacts, or even helping guide nations in the best interests of the Academy. I personally have been a Auxillary pundit for several centuries, working on everything from the creation of the far reach portals to my new project, the cultivation of the under dark's god seed into a harvestable  fruiting tree for the sake of potions.

Wizards are the traditional magic weilders of Amini, picked up at birth and spirited away to the academy where they spend the first part of their life under severe training, Wizards tend to be secretive and lone wolves, usually binding themselves with singswords they meet during their studies instead of other wizards. It is because of this natural mistrust that the wizard academy exsists at all, originally there were near constant magical wars between the wizarding schools, and individual wizards themselves. The school was designed as a tenative truce, built in a highly populated military center the wizards put themselves in a place where they could potentially be governed by non magical people, and at the same time set up a governing body of the 9 highest accomplished wizards of the time, at any time there are 3 of the 9 wizards at the academy, where they teach for 6 months to a year before cycling out and heading back to their own towers to continue their own research. This gives the students the ability to learn from the masters personally and then serves to get the masters away from their research and under scrutiny of the other masters. After a wizard proves himself he is granted his staff or wand, and then he generally leaves to adventure up and down the world, or use magic to create their own towers and start up their own research, that is why there are many wizard towers spotting the country, most are hidden and shielded so regular people don't just walk into them. Each wizard tower is connected to the main school by a teleportation/scrying orb called the far reach portals,  in case of emergencies that require all the wizards to be at the main school quickly. There are wizards that concentrate on all mediums and elements, and even necromatic magic isn't nessecarily frowned apon, since in amini it generally is the other side of life magic. But necrotic magic will be called blight magic in this campaign, which is a dangerous and unstable magic that can rip open the fey and bring it into Amini.

Sword Singers are the official wizard body guards, they are wizards in the loosest sense of the word, while they have the raw energy of the arcane in their blood Usually Singswords have an enchanted item on them that they need to use as a catalyst otherwise they cannot use magic at all. Often time Swordsingers are descendants of wizards far along their family tree or they are born around magical battle sites where the magic has seeped into the ground.  Regardless of how they got the magical residue in their blood Swordsingers have no control over the magic, and often times cannot even trigger it without years of practice.Taken from their families as soon as they are discovered to have any mystic aptitude they are brought to the Academy and trained to be a fighting force for the protection of real wizards. After their graduation they are bound to a specific wizard or pundit and sent off with them into the world, prepared to defend them at all costs. You can often tell the level of a wizard's importance by the number of Swordsinger at his disposal.

Undermages are students of the arcane, and have not yet been fully inducted into either a teaching capacity, defense or research roll, and as such have not been granted the secrets of agelessness that comes with a full wizard title.

 Hedgewizards: this includes shamans and medicine men, and holistic healers, basically anyone who has magical talent in a great enough extent to be able to perform magical spells, sometimes on an incredibly destructive or talented scale, but somehow managed to sneak under the Academy's attentions, either by hiding, since a lot of people fear the wizard guild for being too much power in too few hands or by being so far out of the way that the Wizards literally cannot scry to see them.

Banemagi are wizards who for some reason or another could not handle the rules and applications of the Academy and were either asked to leave or left to start their own non sanctioned towers, since these wizards are not supported by the Academy they are named rogue and if not killed on sight, generally hunted, which is perhaps why many of them have fled to the safety Kragrock Spire, the antithesis of the Eula school. 

Kevice Journal #1

Greetings scholar,

My name is Kevice Duskstrider, son of Sevrix Dawnsrider, tower warden of the Dhu-at Spire, usurper of Gawnthez the Immortal's power, and last known survivor of the Wizarding College of Eula. As our way of life, and the very planet of Tarnzania is at risk of utter destruction through conflict with the Underdark dimensions I feel that it is my responsibility as quite possibly the only surviving great mind of our or any time, to record the histories and cultures of Tarzania so that any future generations (Assuming there ARE any future generations) can have a record of our world and (i use this term grudgingly) our heroes. Enclosed in the following pages is all I could gather, by magical or traditional means. I hope that my words are a benefit in the inevitable dystopian wasteland of our world.

                                                         -Kevice Duskstrider