Chapter 1: Kindled Magic
Part 1: Orientation
8 Arodus, 4721 AR
The devastation of Earthfall resulted in the slaughter of billions, and the widespread destruction of most civilization erased much of humanity’s knowledge. The man credited with bringing magic back to humanity was Old‐Mage Jatembe, a folk hero and a myth to the people of the Mwangi Expanse. During the Age of Anguish that followed Earthfall, Old‐Mage Jatembe and his students, the Ten Magic Warriors, traveled the Mwangi Expanse and beyond to deliver lore, and with it, hope. Perhaps the greatest and most long‐lasting of Jatembe’s achievements was founding the oldest (and arguably greatest) magic school in the world, the Magaambya.
To this day the Magaambya strives to spread the same knowledge and hope that Old‐Mage Jatembe and the Ten Magic Warriors did long ago. Teaching a blend of arcane and primal traditions, the Magaambya aims to do more than educate wizards and druids; it hopes to act in service to the whole of Golarion.
It is your turn to join this prestigious organization! You have arrived together at the Magaambya Academy as initiates. The Magaambya has a beautiful campus with massive mosaics of Jatembe’s Ten Magic Warriors overlooking the school’s terraced gardens and the surrounding city of Nantambu—a beautiful view only slightly spoiled at the moment by a powerful rainstorm.
You gather under the cover of an overhang as you wait for your first teacher to greet you...
Raknar hurried along along the streets of Nantambu in hopes of beating the storm. Hopes that were in vain. As he darted from one bit of cover to the next, his fur soaked up the falling rain like a sponge.
Of course it is raining. I’m already going to be the strange one in the order, now I have to be the foolish looking one as well.
A tall and muscular catfolk of obvious lion heritage makes a mad sprint across the final large stretch of open ground before slowing to a stop beneath the overhang. He is quite clearly displeased at the weather and his condition. He proceeds to wring water out of his white mane before looking to make sure no one was near before he proceeded to shake out the rest of his fur to dry himself as best he could.
Baldrek walks calmly under the rain, getting thoroughly soaked. A thunder rumbles in the distance and Baldrek once more smiles. This must be a message! What a wonderful day. Baldrek reaches the overhang but remains in the rain, even if he places his soaked sacks and bags under it.
He sees the big catfolk and notices how strong he is. "You do not look like a mage." He simply says in a friendly tone.
Baldrek isn't very tall, but he is lean and quite well-built. His head and face are shaved, his eyes are brown and his skin is dark, much like most of the zenj from Nantambu. He isn't particularly handsome, though his smiles is. Badlrek wears very simple clothes and the few bracelets he has are made of inexpensive materials, like seeds, bones, and shells. Aside from his soaked sacks, he carries a polearm, thought is is wrapped in clothes, making it difficult to discern its shape.
The catfolk scoffs. He looks the man up and down, noting his armor and polearm.
”And you do?” he asks, his voice a half growl as he squeezes some more rain water out of his mane.
Patizamo squints through the rain, seeing a pair of figures under the awning where he was supposed to go. Arranging his cloak to ensure it covers his backpack and as much of himself as possible from the cover of a nearby awning he'd just run under, hopping from awning to awning as he tries to avoid the rain. No sense in delaying the inevitable, just try to get there as quickly as possible. Taking a deep breath, Patizamo holds his cloak tightly to himself and runs across the courtyard. He still gets wet, but he's fairly sure he managed to keep his spellbook and the things in his backpack dry - he didn't have much, after all.
Shaking out his cloak, he removes his hood to reveal his black hair has been styled into a multitude of braids, held out of his face by a leather cord. His clothing is simple, of a Thuvian style, yet worn over it is a suit of worked leather covered in metal studs. At his side hangs a shortsword. He wears no jewelry, but his dark eyes look over the other two as he says, "Good day to you both, albeit a rainy one. Are you also here to begin your studies at the Magaambya?"
”No rainy day is a good day,” Raknar replies to the newest human to join him. At least this one had the sense to come in out of the rain!
”Can’t hunt. Can’t keep dry. Can’t do anything worth…well…anything!” he fumes. He lets o ur a sigh as it becomes clear that he isn’t going to get the rest of the rain out of his fur any time soon. He drops his hands in exasperated defeat and answers ”Yes, it would seem that I am soon to start an education here at Magaambya. My name is Raknar Whitemane.”
He gives the two men an apologetic look. ”Apologies for my manners. Just, well, when it rains is the only time I envy you humans and your lack of proper fur.”
"No, I do not, but that is good, since I'm not." Baldrek replies and soon steps aside to allow the newcomer to get away from the rain. Baldrek greets the man. "Good day to you, specially because it is rainy."
"You are correct that we can't do many things in a rainy days, but we also get to do other things." He shrugs. "I know I'm an oddity, but I do love the rain, even if I do not know why."
Baldrek then bows slightly to the catfolk. "Nice to meet you, Raknar Wetmane." He laughs of his own joke, but then feels guilty. "Sorry, I know it is rude to make jokes of one's name. I'm Baldrek Zar'Zaron, also a new student."
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A tall man with a broad hat slips under the awning. The man wears worn scholarly robes, of a sort, that fit him oddly. He has a backpack with a few things poking out of the top, and is carrying a staff made of an inky wood. He peers out into the rain for a moment, then removes his hat, shaking some of the water off at his feet. He appears to be wearing sandals of a sort, and his feet are uncommonly broad.
He looks over the others that have sought shelter, and then back at the rainy world. The irises of his eyes cover most of the space that's visible, a flinty grey that is but one of the obvious signs that the man is an elf. His pointed, slender ears peek up above his white and grey braids, intricately woven into a ponytail that is pulled back behind his head.
He returns the battered and damp hat to its home on his head, and sighs, shaking a bit of water off of his feet. He leans on his staff for balance, and it's obvious that he's somewhat weary.
Soon after you have all assembled, a human man with colorful clothing and warm eyes meets your collected group. Baldrek recognizes him as Takulu Ot, the same teacher who has sponsored his education here at the Magaambya. The teacher speaks with a gentle, soothing timbre.
“Welcome, and a kind hello, new students. And a special hello to you, Baldrek." He gives the fighter a wink. "It is my pleasure to instruct you. You may call me Teacher Ot. You are embarking now on a life of study and service. We see within you intellect, passion, and judgment—in short, the virtues to build upon the strengths of the thousands who have come before you. We follow the footsteps of Old-Mage Jatembe, who showed us that the price of magic is the responsibility to better the world.
"It is time for the traditional interview for incoming students. The questions are basic, but still important. After you answer, I will test your aptitude. Shall we begin?"
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The tall elf nods, and begins, answering the questions as they are asked.
”Who are you?” He responds, ”I am Mokhasi Kpu’unde, I am an Ekujae, but I was raised by the Zanj village of Hazdi when much of my family was killed in my youth.”
“What most interests you?” Mokhasi takes a moment to think, and then responds with a smile ”Learning. Lore about the world, history, magic, and secrets. I would also like to explore Garund, and defeat slavers such as the Aspis.” He looks a little embarassed but adds ”I also appreciate uncut gems and interesting minerals,” adding with a whisper ”especially those which are extraplanar or have interesting magical properties.”
“What do you consider your greatest strength?” Mokhasi laughs ”probably my greatest weakness! I believe people are good - and often that is proven incorrect - but I am very stubborn! Beyond that, I can feel Golarion move under our feet, somehow, and have a strange connection to the very roots of the world. This seemingly has allowed me to expand the range of understanding about magic - I believe it is all functionally the same and is just a matter of creativity to get it to function the same way.” He pauses and adds ”plus - I am a good smith.”
“What work have you done to bolster those in and around the Magaambya before now?” Mokhasi stands proudly, ”I was chosen by Hazdi to come to the Magaambya to study - but we did not have much money, so I am proud that I assisted in counting houses as an accountant and sometimes janitor. I represent my village and wish to return one day to help them when my adopted father dies.”
“What do you seek at the Magaambya?” Mokhasi thinks carefully, and responds ” To learn more about the beautiful and true nature of magic - unbound by primitive ideas of school and class. Golarion itself is a conduit for this and more.”
“Once you have attained that which you seek, what goals do you wish to achieve?” Mokhasi has a angry expression, but controlled and managed, he responds quietly, ”to permanently drive the Aspis out of as much of the Mwangi as possible, and find what remains of my birth family.” He seems resigned and saddened.
Mokhasi listens attentively and carefully when the others around him are interviewed as well, his hands folded in his lap.
Raknar leered at the bald man for mocking the name his people had given him.
Then the teacher came out, and Raknar held off on further retorts.
Of course the bald man is a fried or the teacher…
Then Teacher Ot mentioned the interview.
So none of us are truly in, yet.
The quiet elf entered first. Raknar paced as he waited his turn.
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“Who are you?”
Raknar stands tall, holding his head high. ”I am Rak’nar. Son of Zakkar. Cub of Alyara. Only surviving cub of their litter.”
“What most interests you?”
This question caught him off guard. He paused a moment before he stammered out ”I…I enjoy the thrill of the hunt. The seeking of my prey, the rush of the pounce, and the honor in the kill, knowing that I have now been able to feed my pride another day.”
“What do you consider your greatest strength?”
The questions were nothing like what he had anticipated. He continued to be kept mentally off-balance as he tried to come up with answers on the spot. ”My greatest strength? That…that seems deeper than it’s words alone mean. To that end, I believe my answer is my dedication to my pride.”
“What work have you done to bolster those in and around the Magaambya before now?”
At this, Raknar’s fur prickled a bit. Had they not noticed my efforts still? Two years of trying to earn their favor, only to be met with an interrogation where it seemed they knew little of me!?!?
He then looked to the panel, frustration growing heavy in his voice. ”I have tried to protect your supply lines. I have tried to provide fresh game for your people. I have tried to act as scout for your expeditions.”
“What do you seek at the Magaambya?”
Raknar tried to settle his breathing a bit. He likely had already ruined his chances, but this was a question he was at least prepared for. ”…A…better understanding…I guess. Of the jungle. The world. The forces that bind it all together.”
“Once you have attained that which you seek, what goals do you wish to achieve?”
Raknar looked the interviewers in the eye one by one before answering.
”To repay that which was given to me with that which was given. A life debt is owed. I just want to repay that debt as best I can…” he says, his eyes filling with tears.
He then stepped over to where his pack was, and sat on the ground. He hid his face in his arms, certain he had failed in his one chance to prove himself worthy of acceptance from the Magaambya.
Baldrek finds the questions strange, mostly because they are too much focused on the individual. Is this a test, perhaps?
The first two gave answers that boosted their status, and Baldrek questioned himself if he had done enough to deserve being here among them. As always, he decided that honesty and humility was the best course of action. He steps inside the cover, so the rain doesn't enter his mouth.
"I'm Baldrek Zar'Zaron, and I'm nothing but a servant of the people of Nantambu, as was my father, who died to protect it, and my grandfather, who healed its wounds." He says with calm.
"I'm not educated enough to answer this question properly. I could list many things I like, though they are mundane, like the rain, or birds."
"I could say my willingness to serve, though I've always thought it to be a prerequisite of those studying in the Magaambya. I could say my ignorance instead... like an empty bag, my mind will be able to carry whatever you seem fit to teach me." He is aware that this isn't really a strength, but it was a better answer than saying he is a good fighter. This is not an interview for the guard, after all.
"I have protected it as a guard of Nantambu and as a healer. I'm still young, and thus I hope my past accomplishments to be nothing compared to what I'll be able to do with a proper education."
"I seek knowledge, peace of spirit, understanding, but also a better future."
"My goals remain the same, if I attain what I seek or not. Like my father, my grandfather, and the missed Old-Mage, I wish to serve Nantambu and the world."
Patizamo nodded a greeting to the Ekujae when he arrived - who introduced himself as Mokhasi to Teacher Ot when the instructor began asking questions. He noted the names of the others - the catfolk Raknar and the human who was already acquainted with Teacher Ot, Baldrek. I am unsure of the purpose of these questions. Still, I had best answer them.
He was the last to speak when the questions were put to him. He listened to each question as it was posed, and answered them as they came to him.
"I am Patizamo of Mareb, a once-street urchin and thief turned scholar's aide and student."
"I am interested in a people called the Shory and their command of the skies. My father told me stories of our ancestors, and what he told me sounds much like what little I have learned."
Patizamo blinked a couple of times at the question. My greatest strength? Looking at the teacher, a somewhat confused look on his face, he said, "My teacher said I had insatiable curiosity, and a drive to learn. Perhaps that will suffice as my greatest strength - I am not sure what else I my possess that could be considered a strength."
"There is not much I have been able to do for the Magaambya - I have only recently arrived, and scarcely know where to go here and in Natnambu. In Merab, I have helped my teacher to preserve knowledge, which I believe is one of the goals of this academy." I hope that answer is sufficient - I really don't know what to say for this one.
"I am unsure of this, as well. I did not have a thought of traveling to the Magaambya until a stranger approached me in the market and asked me several questions. When I returned home, I found a letter for me telling me to journey here. It has been a long journey, and I still find myself unsure of why I have made it. The knowledge of the Shory is one thing I would seek, if it can be found here."
"I wish to tell my father of the past, to give him new stories that he can tell others."
Patizamo stepped back, hoping his answers were sufficient. Now we shall find out if this journey is worth it.
Teacher Ot nods at all of your answers, seemingly satisfied. "Very good. Now, we will be conducting a short series of aptitude tests. You are free to decline any of the challenges. I understand that as new students, you might reasonably lack the magic or skills to accomplish every task. But I hope you will try to find some solutions to these tests.
"So, let us begin with this: can you light this candle without flint or matches?" He holds forth a small wax candle
Raknar is elated when he hears a task he knows he can do! He leaps up and grabs a pair of sticks, the driest ones he can find, and sets to rubbing them together.
Unfortunately, the rain complicated matters. He was persistent, though. Eventually the friction rubbed away the moisture, and the sticks started to get warm. After several more moments, the sticks started smoking…and then…a flame!
Patizamo watched as Raknar used two sticks to light the flame. That's a very good technique - and helpful. I wonder if he has learned some magic, as I have.
For his turn, he cast a cantrip he knew well, one that allowed him to conjure a ball of flame he could use to light the candle.
Raknar had been proud of himself for completing the task.
…then the mage did the same feat with but a snap of his fingers.
He unconsciously let out a low, frustrated growl.
Baldrek is quick to grab one of the sticks Raknar left behind and runs towards the still lit candle. Using the existing flame, Baldrek waits for the stick to burn. He then blows the candle and re-lits it with the stick. "I'd not argue if you classify this foolish stunt of mine as a fail. If there was sun, I could perhaps light it by reflecting the sunlight from my spear."
"Indeed!" Teacher Ot says. He extinguishes the flame and puts the candle away. "Try this one. Can you get a feather from this bird without plucking one?" He coos to call forth a blue quail tame enough to flee only if someone gets too close.
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Mokhasi nods, opening his mouth, and extending his hand briefly, only to retract it. He leans on his staff. "I do not believe I can do this with ease. I am much slower than any bird - my limited spells did not prepare me for this! However, I could summon a different bird for a short time, should we wish to see two quails!" He grins and nods solemnly at the quail, "you are a very striking bird, quail."
Noticing the direction the bird flew towards Teacher Ot, Baldrek tries to find a fallen feather. Perhaps luck would smile at him...
The qual chirps at Mokhasi.
Baldrek doesn't find a feather, but there is a rough bit of brush nearby. It might snag a feather free if you can lure the quail close enough to it.
Patizamo didn't know much about birds - he had spent most of his life in the city, and he wasn't exactly well-traveled. Still, he'd occasionally found bird feathers on the ground when he walked the streets, so he figured they must come off naturally in some way. He asked Teacher Ot, "How long do we have for this assessment? I think bird feathers eventually fall from the bird as new ones grow, but I don't know if we have enough time to wait for one to fall off of it."
Undeterred by his failure in finding a loose feather, Baldrek tries another approach, trying to lure the quail.
"It could be days before the bird next molts. I'd prefer to wrap things up before dinner time!" Teacher Ot laughs.
Fortunately, after a couple of tries, Baldrek is able to lure the quail over to the bushes without startling it. It brushes against them, and a feather falls free from its body.
"Well done," says Teacher Ot. He whistles, and the bird flaps away. "Now, on to the next challenge. Can you get a secret from this snake?" He presents you a small, harmless Garundi shovel-snout snake with distinctive scale patterns.
Patizamo studied the snake. He didn't know much about them, either - he was starting to realize just how much he didn't know about these kinds of things. Still, the scale pattern was distinctive, so maybe there was something to that...
Studying the snake closely, Patizamo notices a hidden spike on its tail. He also understands the occult significance of the snake's patterns--the snake was born alongside a shadow twin who watches events from the spirit world.
"Not just one, but two secrets! Well done," says Teacher Ot. He returns the snake to his pack, then holds forth a small finger bone. "Try this one. Can you soothe the soul of this bone?"
Raknar steps up and looks at the bone, hoping to see what kind of bone it is.
The finger bone appears to be human. Perhaps a funeral local rite will suffice here.
Patizamo was unsure of funeral customs in the Magaambya, and there was always a chance that the finger bone hadn't even originated here, but he gamely tried to arrange a proper ritual based on what he remembered from his mother's funeral. Looking at the bone, he intoned in a somber voice,"May Pharasma take your soul into the afterlife and find it worthy of an eternal rest within the cosmos. May your soul know peace, and may any suffering your may have experienced in life be brought to an end."
Teacher Ot nods in satisfaction. "One more test, now. Can you make this stone dance by itself?" He holds out a small rock.
"There is a spirit, yes. But can you make it dance?" asks Teacher Ot.
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Mokhasi takes the stone, asking "may I?", and holds it near his mouth. He whispers something strange and unintelligible to it, then places it on the ground, with a sigh.
"I do not think it is my right to make it dance, but I have asked it to do so, as a favor. I cannot do more than this." He gestures, "sometimes, stone will help us - usually it is content to sit. Some stones wish to be carved, to be free of their confinement. Others prefer to stay as they are. I ... am uncomfortable doing more than they are willing to do." He looks at Teacher Ot, "it is quite a thing for a stone to agree to move on its own. It is against the spirit's nature. We all may need to be patient." He watches quietly, and then after a moment, sits - cross-legged in front of it.
The stone doesn't move. It seems disinclined to dance at this time. Perhaps a little encouragement is needed?
Upon hearing Teacher Ot's instruction regarding the stone, Patizamo had prepared to use a cantrip he'd prepared to try and make it dance. The words of the Ekujae, Mokahsi, made him hesitate. He didn't know a lot about the talk of spirits - rocks were rocks, as far as he could tell - but it seemed to hold significant meaning to him. Looking from the Ekujae, to Teacher Ot, and then to the stone, he asked Mokhasi, "What do you mean, spirit in the stone? I don't think I have ever seen a spirit from a stone before. Do you think it would like some music? I don't play an instrument or sing very well, but maybe we could clap a rhythm?"
"I agree that everything has a spirit. I'd assume a spirit of the winds would be more inclined to dance than one of the stones, but perhaps they can be taught to?" Never afraid to make a fool of himself, Baldrek approaches the small stone and takes as much air as he could muster, he then blows at the stone, trying to make it move.
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Mokhasi looks at the stone for a moment, but it doesn’t move. He sighs, and says to Patizamo, ”the soil and stone of Golarion contains spirit - or an energy, or life. Not visible to most. Much like those of the grass and trees.” He nods, then, ”we can encourage the stone, yes. I asked politely, but stone is stone.” He opens his hands ”I have little rhythm - but I will try my best if someone else begins.” His fingers are slender and have callouses from repetitive work holding a writing instrument and using other tools.
Patizamo considers this information from Mokhasi. It appears I still have much to learn. Aloud he said, "Well, then let's see if we can clap the stone a rhythm so it can dance." He begins clapping in a simple rhythm - one clap, pause, two quick claps, pause, repeat.
Baldrek's exhalation causes the rock to wobble and roll a few inches, a little dance in time to the clapping! Teacher Ot smiles. "Good!"
Takulu chants a few words of power, magically conjures glowing symbols in the air and says, “You see six symbols before you. Which do you choose?”
The symbols are as follows: Flickering Candle; Balanced Scales; Multipronged Key; Pursed Lips; Open Hand with an Eye in the Palm; Running Hourglass.
Patizamo looks at the symbols, carefully considering them, before he says, "I choose the multipronged key, for with keys we can open doors that can lead to ever greater things."
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Mokhasi stands up after having assisted very little, and doesn’t seem to brush himself off much. ”the scale - the foundation of commerce and trade, which we use to open ourselves to the experiences and lives of those who would otherwise have little in common. It represents balance which the natural world demands of us as a condition of our existence within it.”
"I'll choose the running hourglass, as a reminder that time is our most precious resource."
Raknar studied each strange floating image as the others made their choices. He eventually settled on the hand with the eye, but he does not verbalize why.
The images flare brightly before vanishing, but you feel their magical energy infusing your bodies. "The symbols have helped kindle your magical potential. They have given you a small taste of the power you can learn to wield," Teacher Ot explains.
Multipronged Key: The hero gains mage hand as an arcane innate spell.
Open Hand with an Eye in the Palm: The hero gains shield as an arcane innate spell.
Running Hourglass: The hero gains stabilize as a primal innate spell.
Teacher Ot looks at each of you as he delivers a speech. "At the Magaambya, we seek to understand our differences. Where others might dismiss a trait as irrelevant or troublesome, we understand that the things that make us unique in life are key to who we are as people. And it is who we are as people that defines our magic. Sometimes, it is things that are different about us, things that societies have taught us to hate, that show what our talent will be. To the north, people say that children with white or red hair have strong potential for magic. Here in Nantambu, we recognize that left-handed people are skilled at undoing spells. One student of mine is terrified of butterflies, even though he considers it ridiculous. Yet in exchange for this fear of fluttering whimsy, he has one of the most orderly minds for games and strategy that I have ever seen.
"Sometimes, we do not understand our magic, and that lack of understanding causes pain. People who are uncomfortable in their own skin are incredible shapechangers but often feel unsettled until they recognize the shape they were meant to be. Those who feel an urge to jump from high places often become frightened of themselves, but they are simply channeling the untrained will to fly.
"Sometimes, our talents are not revealed by happy means," Teacher Ot's face becomes somber, and he continues, "One student here had a family who planned her life out from birth to death, punishing her when she deviated the slightest bit. She only found freedom in the thought of her grave, and as a result, the dead began to speak to her. Here, she has freedom to choose her own path, but her necromancy remains strong.
"You don’t have to share, but I want you to ask yourselves: what about you defines you, even if others rarely notice it? Is there something inside you that pulls at you, perhaps defying rational explanation? Thus, I return to my first question: who are you, and how can that person best be guided to grow?"
Once you have thought on his words for a few minutes, the teacher hands each of you a yellow and blue bead made of durable glass. "You are expected to wear a string of beads at all times to identify yourselves as initiates of the Magaambya, both to let people know you represent the school, as well as to identify you asinitiates should you cause trouble. Please incorporate this bead in your string, as it shows my role as the teacher who has admitted you.
"Now, then, you will be staying at the Spire Dormitory. Are you ready to see your lodgings?"
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Mokhasi is surprised by the suddenness of it all. He does not respond to the query, except to nod solemnly. He closes his eyes and then looks down, and reaches, bending his knees, and picks up the stone that was used for the testing, then slips it into his pocket.
He stands back up, and nods again. He slips the bead onto the string of beads, and ties a knot onto the string, and slips the beads around his neck, patting it once it is resting on his chest. "Yes, Teacher Ot. Thank you."