106A-04-0C

I may have overextended my reach on the plane shift. I divined the location of a faraway plane that seemed similar to our own and decided to make an expedition. Upon arrival, I feel incredibly weak. For the first time in thirty years, I have been barely able to feel my magic. It is a crippling feeling. My son seems to have responded to the jump better. He began commenting in his excited manner on the similarities of the flora around us to our world. I suppose this trip will be more interesting for him than when I took him to visit Phendar in the Inferno.

Additionally, most of the metal I carried vanished. My coinpurse is empty save for a scant few silver. My dagger and crossbow have vanished. Though I lack my magical might, I can still conjure up some basic spells to keep Aran safe.

We wandered through the trees for hours until I made camp. I am glad I remember my basic survival skills from my adventuring days. I see a walled city in the distance, tomorrow I will seek help there. I will leave Aran here. I worry the city might present a danger to a seven year old, especially when I am not at full strength. I will leave him under an illusion. We did not encounter a single intelligent beast in these woods, and any mundane beast will fail to see through a sufficiently realistic spectral image.

106A-04-13

My power has steadily been returning in the brief time I have been in Iria City. My control over teleportation magics has returned with strength, however I've yet to regain my ability to shift away from this plane. I've met some new faces who have been of assistance so far. The enchantress' goals are still unclear, but she does not seem to mean harm. The swordsman is a bit too noble for his own good, but that just keeps him easy to control. Aran has happily spent his time solving the puzzles I draw for him in the morning, I'm sure he has caught on that these puzzles are enchanting training, but he enjoys them nonetheless. He is starting to draw up his own puzzles now and hand them to me to solve when I return to the inn in the evenings. He is a precocious child, and this time spent traveling with me is far more suited towards his speed of learning than staying at the tower or working as an apprentice.

I began hearing the most interesting rumors at the inn in the last few days. Most of the patrons are travelers, and they have brought news of a grand struggle happening out in the deserts of another land. It sounded like a profitable enterprise, and I found myself with the desire to travel there. Eventually I came across a man who had traveled to the outpost where the activity was being organized. He was a painter who had fled the country for safety. I asked him to reproduce this outpost, and he created for me a flawless representation of one of the gates. The gate was covered in glyphs I did not recognize, but I do not need to recognize them to use them as an anchor. I will leave for this place tomorrow. I am interested to see what I might find there.