3. "Finding a Balance of sorts" - A journal of Leena

"Finding a Balance of sorts" - A journal of Leena


  • _Life has been a whirlwind.

    Even a literal one, in the case of the minor Djinni we freed from some drow, before the incident in saving Marie from some Blackcloaks a day or two later.

    I have to say, I much prefer the swaggering, sneering, two words away from giving you an actionable threat to your face kind of evil, to the type that poisons drinks at parties to create huge undead.

    I've done too much lately to write it all down, which makes me want to kick myself, because I need to be better about writing important things down. Otherwise, one good hit to the dome, and you lose them.

    In the past month or two, I've seen a brawl in Norwick against these BlackCloak goons, therefore saving Marie, managed to be along to track down who poisoned a drink with foul necromancy at Hedia's party in celebration for defeating the demon threat, and got proposed to at the very same party.

    Of course I said yes. It was Arty, how could I not?

    We set out, found the brewery, and tackled waves of undead til we got to the lair of a powerful mage.

    He had a bad time of it. Even barricaded in a room, where he could unleash his punishing magics on anyone who put their face through the door, Arty got off a disjunction, which blasted through his defenses, and I hit him with the usual sunburst, on the off chance that it might blind him.

    My next trip over, while people hacked away at him, I let loose a little Kossuthan anger I'd been holding up, and caught him on fire. Next time, I might just -extend- that spell.

    Finally, after some people needed to fall back for healing, I got to dive in, and help cut him up. Some folks wanted to question him, but I simply wanted him dead. It was pretty clear that it was his operation alone, and his box of goods verified that.

    Good riddance.

    No sooner did we get back, however … than did kobolds appear, blowing up sections of the city, with the Mermaid experiencing 4-5 explosions all on it's own. Those little farks.

    I turned into a Winter Wolf, and blew out the fires with freezing breath... but I had to use it so much my tongue frosted over. That was weird.

    It was nice to see one mystery to it's conclusion, and I hope that to be the end of it. Now to find out what's up with these Kobolds, I imagine.

    I wonder what's next? The thought makes me nervous, but hey, at least Mom already found out about me and Arty, as did Uncle Aelthas for that matter, and Arty's still alive ... so if nothing else, at least we'll be facing new stuff together._


  • _Seeing a deity, is an experience. Some say that their deity tends to show up only at the time of death, to judge whether they move on, or go back, or go … elsewhere. And they have rules. What they're allowed to do, to influence, here on the Prime.

    It pisses me off that the infernal and abyssal arses we've been dealing with don't seem to have to play by the same rules ... but deep down, I know they do.
    That ... of course ... means that like the Gods, they need mortal agents to make their moves on the prime, which means the one called Abigail, who people talk of being a colluder with the demons here, was likely not along. No, not with what we had to face.

    We had to face Glyphimhor, General of Orcus himself, as one of our two remaining tasks from helm. He didn't say his name of course ... just telling us that we had two more tasks, one of which was hunting down an ancient enemy, who even now, was cowering with fear at our approach.

    The other task, was that we had to choose one of us, as a Watcher. An Eternal Watcher of Helm, to forever stand guard at his temple, in Jiyyd, henceforth.

    We gave it little thought as our minds turned to raising our fallen, and continuing the fight .. which I know some people had hoped was already over. One such person LEFT, right then. Apparently too much was asked already, and they had enough. I believe they died in Jiyyd, alone, at that point. We were too busy to try to deal with that at the moment, as we had a final great enemy to face.

    So we did.

    We struck forth, made our way into a cavern that used to be where a swamp was, once, and descended.

    More enemies awaited us, at nearly every turn. Plenty of demons and the like, but like before, we kept to teams, worked together, and shredded our way through their ranks, like a storm through a forest. This time, however, I took a place a the front. This time, I had more death wards prepared. This time. I would be ready.

    I was not.

    At some point, the front line faltered, and for good reason. Once again, deja vu like, there was a whole pile of Balors blocking our path.

    Once again, I got wholly dispelled.

    Once again, I fell, to what appeared to be death magic. This time was so much more vivid. I remember boots rushing by my face, advancing or retreating. The warmth of the stone in that hot place faded out, til I was numb, and all efforts to move were useless, as everything started to go dark.

    Then ... green.

    I heard the sounds of the forest, and was confused. Where was the screaming of battle, or the quiet of the fugue? Was I ... done?

    A hand appeared in my vision. A helping hand, so I took it, suddenly able to move. I let it help me up, my body feeling less and less like a sack of stones, until I was fully back upright, and the sights and sounds of battle were going from silent, to distant, to suddenly, urgently, close and loud once more.

    A whispered word I couldn't make sense of was right in my ear, and I knew who's voice it was. The Lady herself ... but I cannot remember what she said. I can only remember what I DID.

    I HAD to be there. I HAD to finish this.

    Drinking my strongest potions, activating my most potent items, using the last of my spells, I leapt back into the fray, and ended up face to face with Glyphimhor himself. Well, I say face to face ... he only took a couple cursory swipes at me before turning back to the more obvious threats in front of him, and that let me wreak merry hell on his hide with Jonni's damned demonkiller sword.

    It was... intense. I could still hear people screaming, retreating, dying, from Glyphimhor's spells ... spells he was sacrificing his flesh to cast, as every time he went to speak them, he opened himself up to us in his face again ... and eventually, it cost him.

    The blades sinking into him were getting harder to pull out, as they bit deeper and deeper, and the giant thing's wings finally lost their fire. His guttural roar petered out into a shuddering sigh, a final rattle of sulphrous breath. The crash of his body signaled a ragged cheer, and all I wanted to do was scream in victory myself ... but all I managed was a shocked "It's done..."

    It was yet, of course, done. There was work yet to be done. But it was a good start. Maria made good on that start once we got outside, by sealing the rift finally, and it seems that what she started will take a while to complete, but should be done by now ... and all that's left is the cleanup of the demons that we hadn't managed to slay the hell out of, yet.

    Next, was the matter of Helm's instruction. One of our Helmites was to stay, forever there ... and though both Morgan and Albryanna volunteered, and the group thought we'd have to choose among us, I knew from the moment I handed that helmet over, that she was going to have to do -something-. I just didn't think it was this.

    Like my father before me, his friend and my adopted aunt basically, who helped raise me, Albryanna has acceted a mantle of responsibility from her God.

    Helm himself assured us, as we stood holding our fallen, Aoth herself in my own arms, that he had faith that we would prevail from the beginning, and that we really were well and truly done. Morgan was bade to bring the Helmite priesthood back to the Temple, Albryanna to join Helm at his side in eternal vigilance and ... me? I just watched it all happen, and marched with the rest back home, where I got to tell Mom all about it. And Arty.

    It's done.

    Finally, a break from the thing that has plagued my waking AND sleeping hours. I wonder how long it will take for something else that's been dormant to come flying out of it's hole to take the demons' place?

    Eh, enough of those thoughts for now. I have a sword to return, and a win to celebrate, since Aoth answered the call to return. I don't know what I would do if she didn't ..._


  • _How do you find the time to write, when you're simultaneously busy beyond words trying to scramble to find people, information, and things … and suddenly burdened with free time, and a lack of an overbearing weight on your shoulders, and it's accompanying sense of unbridled freedom?

    I suppose I can start at the end, but that's no fun. So here, dear reader, is a story. It's brief, and written without regard to any particular perspective throughout, though you can consider it in mine by default. MY Diary, my rules. I'll leave the writing rules to the pros, like Isolde, who I just got to see the other day again, finally!

    It was a day like any other ... which is a dirty lie, of course. It only FELT like an ordinary day. And for many people, it was ... at least until the birds came. I had asked a group of birds to help me, and they did, taking little rolled up scrolls for me, and dropping them off at several places that I know the look of from above. I also included special instructions to drop them on groups of people, if outside those areas, to make sure I got everyone.

    I don't know if I got everyone ... but I got enough. The message was simple.

    "The time is now. Come to Heroes Bluff. "

    Nothing more, no signature. Not only was there no room, but if a flock of birds delivering messages wasn't an obvious enough clue as to who was sending the message, well ... chances are the person is the type to follow the instructions anyway.

    The gathering began, and Aoth soon joined me, there, followed by the person I'd been waiting to see. "Auntie Albryanna." Albry had been around while Mom and Dad raised us, played babysitter, helped train me as an adventurer, and has been a staple of my life for the entirety of it. And I had sent her a specific message. An urgent message.

    "See me. Heroes Bluff. Important. - LLR."

    She came, of course, armed and armored, because of course she was, with a note like that. Reliably Albryanna. All raven black hair, with stern features, and an imposing figure of polished and scarred steel.

    And the same kind and caring figure that was my babysitter for years. She did so much for me over the years, and now it was my turn, though I don't know if my 'gift' was going to be a boon, or an anchor around her neck. I found out moments later, when I presented her with it.

    For YEARS now, ever since some friends and I enacted a raid on the Peltarch Renegades tower off in the mountains, and slew Akton Sent, I have had a relic. An artifact of Helm, long jealously kept hidden away, and now in my capable hands, being handed off for the last time.

    When this demon mess broke out, much was tried to close it, coming to an end when attempts failed, and the Druids ended up enacting a barrier til something else could be figured out. Over time, some of us learned more in little bits here and there, and it was then that I found out that one of the keys to defeating the demons for good ... was this artifact, and it's ability to do what nobody has been able to do since the Scarring.

    Open the Temple of helm.

    For so many years now, since I was a younger adventurer, this has been this massive, out of reach, never moving goal, with progress few and far between, and the sinking realization that this was about to become a quest, sorry a Quest with a capital Q, and not just a puzzle or adventure or fight.

    We were going to have to draw in allies, fake out traitors, try to stop power-hungry morons from succeeding in helping the demons, and keep fragile alliances together long enough to stand as much chance as a fart in a hurricane against this threat, and I'll be the first to admit ... it didn't look good. Not for YEARS did I even have HOPE that this would ever get better ... and then when we got news that not only was the barrier actively failing, but it was worse than that. It wasn't failing, the rift was GROWING, and in such a way as to indicate that our plane was MERGING with the Abyss, actively.

    Not only that, but we soon found out that likely because of the Druids having made the portal before, and our connection to Toril itself ... Druid hearts could be used as ritual fuel to further solidify the tear, and give the Abyss a better foothold on the Prime.

    And then they wiped out half our circle.

    I wrote about that already, so I'm not rehashing that memory, but it serves me to remember the price we paid for victory, before I recall the victory itself, because that's the good part.

    Albryanna accepted Helm's helm, one that prevents one's mind from ever being affected by anything, and we struck forth into Jiyyd after giving people the truth about our goal, and instruction on how to accomplish it. Once more we split into groups, and Aoth was back with the healers and mages, before the archers. Faelar and Ting, Wolves, kept track of their ranks pretty well, and Warziver took point in the frontliner group, where I was.

    Into Jiyyd we went, and right into a pile of demons. Vrocks and succubi, and the usual Hezrous and Glabrezus piling in on us, Nefalshnee joining them as they pleased, spreading out our group pretty well with their assult, which I had to pause my fighting to join the healers in. Not many people can cure disease without magic spells of potions, but I know how to coerce magic out of the mundane ingredients in a healing kit, and cured so much poison and disease one after the other that the dust from my efforts hung about me like a cloud.

    We kept East with a bit of yelling not to wander off, and press to our goal, since some folks apparently thought wandering toward the CENTER of Jiyyd was a fine tactic. Don't get me wrong, we had a plenty powerful force, but based on my last experience with the Balors ... I wasn't about to risk anything we didn't need to risk.

    More tough fighting was waiting for us when we got within sight of the temple, as the demons seemed to have a pretty good idea what we were up to. Porting into the area with their hellish swirls of black and red magic, they poured forth our of their little portals, and were cut down as fast as we could make it happen, which wasn't fast enough foe some. Namely, Hedia and Aoth, in this first fight ... but we fought on, while the last I saw of ALbryanna, she was pressing the helm to the door, and praying to her God to hear her, as I charged off without her, having heard the familiar scream of someone falling.

    Jonni's sword is a miracle, I'll give it that. Getting in behind a Balor that just popped in and starting killing people, I got to finish cutting it down with a few swipes, hard demonic hide be damned, his scaley arse bleeding freely with ever clumsy slash. I wish that thing was a scimitar. . .

    "It's OPEN!" I heard, repeated in a ragged sort of cheer that was followed by one of those weird pauses where everyone is so wound up in survival mode that nobody actually reacts ... "GET IN, THEN!" i remember screaming, and the idle turned to shouting GO GO GO while I dashed back into the pile of fighters to recover my fallen sister, Aoth, and make a mad dash for the door, myself.

    Just as soon as it began, in fire and blood, the battle was over, and we were inside the Temple of Helm ... which was apparently -exactly- as it was decades ago, untouched by man, or time.

    With a flash, and a rumble, a helmed man approached us, bathed in holy light. Knees found the floor, eyes averted or gawked, and a silence fell over the room ... save for hushed whispers of shock and profanity all around. Helm himself, congratulated us ... but there was more. We were not done, he said, and we had two tasks left before us.

    I think I'll take a break here before I can't hold a sword, and leaving an entry off with the arrival of a literal deity in front of everyone ... seems fitting._


  • _Alright journal, I've procrastinate long enough.

    If you're someone reading this, I'm dead.

    Okay, enough dramatics. If you're STILL reading this, I might be dead now, but at the time of this writing, it's more correct to say "I died."

    I had such a good run, too. I survived demons invading the glen. I survived demons taking Aoth's arm, and nearly her life, demons killing Raryldor, and Aoth again when we went to go help him.

    I helped take down the fallen angel, through ice giants and dire animals, through swamp and through rain, and even got to take the killing blow.

    I fought the Immolith one of the times, scried him successfully, and have planned and plotted to see him done away with, especially after what he did to my friends.

    I saw Ruin … well, ruined, and got grind his disgusting matter under my heel as we marched out of that sad excuse for a lair of his. I got to leave, and breathe the air of the wood as it got less stagnant and tainted with every breath, and know... that we did good.

    And then came Rhigor, the lich, and I fought him too. My friends like Ros made it possible with fantastic intel, backup from allies including far off Druid circles, even a 'friendly' ice giant. My other allies blasted, shot, and stabbed the undead frost giants in our way til we gained passage, and we entered Rhigor's lair ... only to catch something apparently nicknamed a "hellball" which is like a screaming fireball from hell, with all kinds of elemental damage brought down from it.

    Which I survived.

    This time, separating our folks by skillset and strength, making sure EVERYBODY had the potions and spells necessary to fight shrouds and Balors, we went forth. We fought were strong, and skillful, and fought well ... til suddenly frontliners started falling. It was really ONLY Warziver left in the frontline when I finally saw him. Rath, Terror of the Grave. He started to march forward, around the OTHER Balor taking on Warziver ... so I moved up.

    This was my moment. My demon-fighting amulet, my shield, enchanted against outsiders, and Jonni's sword, capable of biting through a demon's hide like they were a goblin ... and I stepped forward, loaded with spells and protections, and took a swing. I hit him, and hard, and he had the good grace to look surprised for a moment, before stepping back, and casting what I now realize was a spell breach, or a disjunction.

    My spells were gone, and because I'm a dumbass, I still had Tindra's armor in my pack that I was going to drop off at my house, so I was almost dragged down backwards at the unexpected weight. I was SO distracted by that, that I drank from my cup of strength, used a greater stoneskin, and stepped forward to meet his next step again, somehow not realizing that ALL of my spells were gone.

    Including my death ward.

    Preparing for YEARS.
    Surviving EVERYTHING they've thrown at me.
    Being one of HALF of our Elders that survived this crisis.
    Collecting gear and items specifically to fight demons, and slaying HUNDREDS.
    Helping take out all four lieutenants, and opposing them at every turn, surviving every ambush, and even erecting a warding tree from the recovered heart of one of our Elders!

    I die to a finger of death spell.

    I have talked to Arty, and Mom. I've spoken to Ras, and had my bitch-fest with Aoth and others. Now I finally write it down, to remind myself how real my failure was personally ... but despite that, we still WON. Rhigor's phylactery was destroyed, and though I wasn't there for the end, we apparently killed Glyphimhor's general, that Balord, Rath.

    But I DIED!

    I cannot take the form of an elemental anymore. I can't hold as many spells in my mind as I fight, so I have to choose between protection, and my sunlight spell that I even had to use just RECENTLY to protect myself, dusting a vampire in the process.

    Aoth brought up a good point. Was I this strong when I first started adventuring, when the demons were still, and already a threat? Am I suddenly unable to fight? Of course not. She even nearly made me trip with one of her rare moments of being less than reserved and private. "You are not nothing to me."

    Every single one of those things is good, and should be encouraging, but all I feel at the moment is loss.

    I know she felt this before me, and even Raryldor left for a time after his fall. I guess it's harder on a person when they're more powerful. The bigger you are, the harder you fall? It sure feels harder, now ...

    I don't know if I'll ever get that strong again, or if my own personal strength has anything at all to do with what we're about to attempt, to finish this once and for all ... but I hope that little bit of power wouldn't have made a difference. Because I can't for the life of me think of how to bring more to this fight than I already found was not good enough ...

    Gods of balance, hear my plea. Help us. Help me.

    I don't know if I can do this, whatever comes next ... but I'm going anyway.

    If this is the last thing you read, I guess I AM dead, and did not make it. If not, you're welcome, we did it. Though I'll probably have written again by then ..._


  • _Division.

    It's of little surprise to me, that merely days after writing about unity and teamwork, that I would have division on my mind. I ended up thinking about it thanks to a night in the Peltarch commons, where a familiar scene played out. By familiar, I mean, that nearly every time I see someone, this kind of encounter plays out, with a rotating list of players around the 'main character' of this particular performance.

    All is quiet and peaceful until this particular figure in white says something haughty, derogatory, or prejudiced around any of the many who feel negatively toward him. I don't think he realizes the unsettlingly large number of people that make up this group … but I digress. A comment here, or a dismissive remark there, and somebody is going to call him on it. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes it starts in whispers, people daring to make sure they're not alone in their feelings toward that person. Normally, he'll do it again, as if not provoking a response spurs him to be MORE of an example of himself.

    The feedback is given, a comment made, an insult thrown ... and SOMEHOW, I do not know how, he seems surprised. Affronted. Offended. All of these reactions are preposterous. I have MYSELF, defended his ass in public both in front of, and away from him, but he's heard MORE than enough such vitriol against him that his surprise MUST be either born out of falsehood, or outright stupidity. I cannot think of another viable answer. I simply cannot fathom even HIS ego, the possibility that he has not realized that people feel the way they do about him for a reason. It boggles the mind to even consider, especially for one so OLD.

    Artemis, HATES him. he had the gall, the nerve, the audacity, to suggest I reign Artemis in. As if I owed him a DAMN thing. Though I survived the encounters ... I too have a similar gripe as many regarding him. In perilous journeys and adventures, sometimes just the two of us back when I considered us more as friends than occasional nearly unwilling allies, I can think of at least one time that stick in my memory of when he got in over his head, and left me to die. His confidence that our Duergar enemies were no match for his power, got him overwhelmed, with a far less experienced that now Leena supporting him, when he got dispelled, or hit with something he was expecting to shrug off, or simply taking too many blows for someone who's supposed to be so powerful ... and he ran.

    No warning for me. No quick toss of a healing balm my way to make sure I would make it til he could regroup himself. No. Simply leaving the enemies present to focus on ME instead, without a word.

    If I were not a cheating daughterofabastard (Sonofabitch just didn't work here...), I'd not have made it out of there, either. As it was, I escaped death by the skin of my teeth, defeated my immediate threats, and half-dead, chugged a heal potion under the cover of invisibility and a large rock outcropping, waiting for him to return and finish the job.

    It took a while, but back he came, like nothing happened, with nary a word of apology or care for my experience in his sudden absence.

    No, you smug bastard, I won't reign in Arty. Nor Kathea, nor anyone else who I might have defended you from once upon a time. No, I will not pretend that you're above any of the things they say about you, because I've said the same, TO YOUR FACE, and still, you cannot see anyone's view but your own narrow one.

    I cannot even, for the life of me, feel bad about the last battle you fought before your extended leave from these lands, though I know not whether you traveled elsewhere, or hid in a closet the whole time. In your arrogance, you fell. In your idiocy, you went RIGHT Back, weaker, still dragging people who didn't know better, with you. In our idiocy, some followed, including Aoth. To help you. I don't know if they felt bad, or guilty, as if it was their inaction spurring you to take on a BALOR without a full support crew. I do not know if they simply didn't wish you to fall again, because they cared about you, or something. I DO KNOW, that I carried BODIES out of there, including Aoth's.

    I am surprised you came back after the second time. I am not surprised that you left soon after.

    I do know, that in the upcoming fight, just like with the fight against Rhigor, I am going to plan, prepare, and rely upon my allies. I am not just going to strike out for glory for myself, and jeopardize the lives of others for my pride. I'm going to ignore the part of me that screams for vengeance, and ensure that I make everybody capable of working at their very best, so that we not only win, but survive to celebrate such a victory too. A win at the cost of the lives of others is hardly a win to celebrate. It's going to be hellish, and scary, and hard ... but I won't worry too much. This next foe will be stronger, and maybe smarter than all the rest before. It won't underestimate us, or count on it's one-trick-pony explosion spells to win the day, either. Some of us were plenty capable or surviving that, anyway. No, it's going to be a fight, hopefully the final one, worthy of deciding the fate of our entire realm. But hey, I'm not stressed or worried, or scared about it at all!

    After all, it's "Just a Balor."_


  • _Leadership.

    It's amazing, that so many will follow for so many different reasons.

    Some people will follow others because others will speak up and lead, and that's simply good enough. Others, due to a predetermined factor. Race, Faith, Coin, the list goes on.

    I'm so used to leading, at this point, that I feel it bears paying attention to, after the talk that Aoth and I just had. The announcement that we made to our fellow glen dwellers. The news that we'll soon get to share with everyone with ears open to listening. The realization that, perhaps, just maybe, it'll all be worth it, and THEN some. If I didn't stop to wonder why, and give it proper thought, then our proclamation would mean little.

    Why do I think people should lead, or follow? For me, it all boils down to three thing. Interest, Ability, and Trust.

    Does somebody care about those who will follow them? Do the followers care who it is in front, or are they just happy that it's not them?

    Are they qualified to lead? It's not all about power, as most of us already know. It's why some seemingly powerful adventurers can't get people to go anywhere with them. Would you leave someone to die? Would you follow someone who would?

    Trust. Both of those things above, involve trust. The moment trust wavers, a group falls apart. Whether they're just a group for that fight, or united by having a single clan, or tribe, that trust is vital.

    I hope that people trust me for good reasons, and I like it when people who DON'T trust me, speak their minds. It lets me know where I'm at, and if I have to check myself. To slow down, take account of my actions, and make sure I'm being someone who I could follow, were I not me.

    Ugh, this is getting circular and difficult to follow, even for me. Think good thoughts, Leena. Besides, you said it yourself. Adventurers are taking the lead, showing themselves to be leaders, which means you don't always have to, anymore. Think about it. No more frontlining! Goodness… I cannot WAIT for these demons to go away.

    Alright, now I'm talking to myself on a page. Time to take a break._


  • _Progress.

    I said I was coming for you.

    Turns out, I'm also coming for your little stashes, protections, and whatever else you've left behind in hopes that it would help, you bastard.

    I arrived in the little grove near Peltarch (I need to think of a name for it, I think), to find Mad the Mage with some adventurers. Apparently, she'd found a magical signature of something left behind by Rhigor? I didn't manage to get all the details.

    What it ended up panning out to … was us going (back) under the remains of Jiyyd, and taking on the demons there. Apparently, there were several altars strewn about the place, with a few guards each for most of them, and an auro of abjuration magic surrounding each one.

    They were dispellable, and as we found out ... the reason the magic felt suppressed instead of gone, was because they needed to be destroyed, too ... which we eventually got around to.

    All told, we slew dozens of demon fighter ground troops, and about a dozen or so succubi, and then two Hezrou, and one Glaebrezu. Jonni, your sword did the trick, yet again. I wish I had a scimitar like it, but for you, I'm using it well. I got the killing blow on each of the three, doing plenty of harm along the way, while brave Warziver seemed to attract the most of their attention. He must radiate so much good that they thirsted for his gnomely blood.

    He also ended up finding a bowl of water that didn't seem to end, and quenched the fire trap spell barrier to the last of the magical foci, that apparently may have been linked to a protective shield of some sort for Rhigor's phylactery.

    Told you so, you son of a btich.

    With that all cleaned up, Mad apparently had a prize for the adventurers who went out and fixed this thing ... which makes me all the more curious exactly what Mad really is ... because I'm certain that she could have fixed that issue herself. But as my conversation with Hedia and Mom touched upon several times ... there are apparently RULES.

    You would ALSO think that the Gods, especially my nature Gods, would have taken a more direct opposition stance on the collision of our plane with the abyss ... and with that, the only explanation I can think of, is RULES. So whatever anyone asks why I'm so diehard about invoking all of my Gods, that's why. If they can only act with a majority of their power through influencing their servants on Toril, then I'm going to make myself the best vessel for that power that I can.

    The line I draw, is where the mention of being a "Tool" came up in conversation. Being a vessel, a conduit, a champion, whatever you want to call it, is fine. My Gods have never prevented me from 'choice', however. I take advantage of that where I have to, but try not to stretch it. It's my duty to oppose the undead and those that cavort with them, but I have Horgrim as an ally. I still wreck his pets, and ask him not to create them around me, but don't try to kill him outright, since reuniting his court, and his friendships, is important to my friends.

    I walk a line that's never straight or clear, and trust that my Gods will speak up if I stray from it. Right now, however, I know that Mieilikki knows my heart, and is with me. For now, that's enough.

    Now, to go try to find some more ways to prep for that Balor fight, and Rhigor's phylactery. I firmly believe that the damned Balord is the last thing between me and being able to deliver The Artifact to it's rightful bearer to be able to put an end to this.

    I'm trying to remain excited and optimistic for this, without being overly enthusiastic in my efforts. Truth is, throwing myself at those greater demons gave me a thrill better than sex. Better than chocolate ... or as Tojan recently discovered, Marshmallows! (And that elf girl!)

    I DO want to give this sword back, dammit. I won't feel guilty for enjoying wreaking destruction on demons with it in the meantime, but if after this I get to hang up all of MY demon gear for a while, and give up this sword while I'm at it? I won't be upset.

    Will I?_


  • _Treasure.

    How do you measure, 'worth'?

    When various scouts from Norwick and Peltarch chatter about what they've seen, and the knowledge disseminates through the ranks til it hits the public ear, you get what I saw in the commons the other day. An empty commons. That got me wandering into the Giantspires, and I saw adventurer tracks leading into the orc cave. I ALSO saw clawed tracks that only belong on an outsider. The air still carried it's scent, too.

    So I ran. I ran and I ran, and I blitzed my way through some orcs, before realizing I PASSED the group in a side chamber, and checked in on them, weapons at the ready for demon-fighting.

    Turns out, there's been strange creatures spotted, most of them with some sort of wealth or treasure on or around them. That's reason enough to get people to go check on them, each for their own purposes. Some want to make sure these new and interesting threats don't come plague the innocent … others purely want profit, and still others are simply glad for the experience of traveling to new places, and seeing new things, and perhaps testing their might against a new enemy.

    I can respect all of those, really.

    What I can't respect is when it leads to bickering and infighting, which thankfully I saw little of. Because of this rumor wagon trundling on through our ears, I've been deep to the heart of the Queen Orb weaver's lair, and then below it to the forgotten temple below. I've fought Saurials and Yuan-ti, and we ever defeated what appeared to be a matriarch of their people, who cast a killing red mist spell, cloudkill ... but we got her, and her staff, and her tunic, both of which were rather quite powerful.

    Ginger, though she's not reptilian, not a mage and therefore could not use them, wanted both of the items for study, but the rest of us had more practical ideas in mind. Namely, gold. Though when I thought about it, I realized I had a reptilian ally, Leaf-crest, in the glen.

    I gifted her these robes, so she would not get cut or sliced gathering herbs for potions, or venturing out for them, and they aid in concentration and spellcraft in general, as well. She was grateful indeed for the gift, and also glad that we took out the enemy in that nearly forgotten place.

    My group also went to the windy plains, underneath Jiyyd, and actually found a treasure there, though we had to fight off a Glaebrezu and an Incubus for it. I was glad to take on the demons, the more we take out, the better. We got a hefty chunk of gold to split for our trouble, and some nice potions.

    OH, and I finally went through my loot pile from the Lich's Defeat. I opted not to go for any gold or potions or anything, figuring other people could use those more, since I barely dipped into my supplies, but I did find an armor. As an enchanter, I can say that it's above my ability to make, for sure, but I'm not sure I'll be able to do it to do what I need to do.

    I have been looking for some leathers to sneak in, like my displacer leathers, but enchanted. These will last me cast more spells of the second circle when wearing them, and they'll help muffle sound, but they leave me very open to attack, which I can't sacrifice.

    If I'm going for stealth, I already lose the protections of my cloak and boots. Losing it from the armor as well would set me back to no longer being able to fight my way out of situations, and I'm not sure it's worth it.

    Perhaps I can think of a specific situation in which they'd be perfect ... perhaps as a hidden healer, in a group. Now to just convince everyone ELSE to do the fighting next time I go out ...

    I'd best go check on my demon hunting pals. We need to make a move on the phylactery and it's Balord (Yes I'm still calling it that) guard, before Rhigor can make use of it again.

    I'm coming for you. You just wait._


  • _Adventure.

    There are days when I miss ignorance.

    Not because the burden of knowledge is heavy or difficult, particularly. I mean, it can be, but that's not why I miss it. Namely, because the past few days since our fateful lich trip have been … utterly mundane for the most part.

    I busy myself where I can. I patrol the Rawlins often, check in at the towns, and heal every adventurer I come across, even if it's just a scratch. Little acts of good here and there DO make a difference.

    But as we make preparations in warded rooms, scout for information (Which Im not a skilled enough scout to do), and look for signs of opportunity to plan around, I find myself listless. I chatter away at people in the commons, to much eye-rolling occasionally, and find that I'm better suited to just going out, often alone, to destroy the 'threats' that don't actually threaten ME overmuch.

    I hate feeling like some kind of show off, despite enjoying the attention on occasion. I've trained So long, and against SUCH difficult opponents, though, that a lot of stuff is just routine, unless they have a surprise in store for me ... like the orc trip the other day with Berserkers and Mages showing up.

    So, for now ... I travel alone when there's not anybody around to go with me. I pillage the orcs in their caves, disrupt their worg training outside the caves, and then go confuse the giants, taking them on in groups, and letting my direwolf on them once they're distracted trying to hit me.

    Me smash you, dead you be, huh?

    Nu-uh big boy. Though I appreciate your dedication to all sharing a mantra. Imagine if giants were well spoken in common, and that was just a line in a popular song.

    Me Smash You, Dead you be!
    You'll be smashed so thoroughly!
    Elfie, Humie, Gnomey, PASTE!
    My club hungers for your face!

    This is what's going on my head while I cut them off at the knees, and leap for the throat on their way down. I'm not tall, so I make the most out of it. I think my next project, my next attempt at becoming stronger, deadlier, is to practice Dad's old fighting style, since he fought like a bladedancer. At least, a bladedancer with bricks tied to their feet ... he was not the most nimble of men, but his swordwork was a thing of wonder. Especially with that ridiculous blade of his that could daze an enemy when struck, leaving them open to him tearing into them like a hin with a pastry.

    I miss Isolde and Nate. Nate would be happy to duel with me to help me improve. Cause Gods is that guy dodgy. Isolde would come up with far superior giant songs, and then the punning would resume.

    I miss Fadia. She seldom comes out of the glen, these days. Even IN the glen she's hard to find, she's become quite private.

    I miss Silvia the Fey. I still need to have that dinner with her, and questions spin in my head constantly about her, about their situation, and what it means for this land. I hate feeling like things are still progressing in the things I'm embroiled in, but I'm simply missing them! What if that's the case?

    I'd also been SO much better about it, but having Mom come back and talk about it ... makes me remember how very much I miss Dad. She spoke to him, and he's proud, so it's nice to know that ... but I still miss him. When I feel like that, I feel ten again, learning my first complex spells, learning swordplay, and tracking, and feeling so unsure about everything.

    So instead, I work. I fight. I check in on the hin city at the Bluff often, and scan the skies with them. I visit the wolf den, and hang with Faelar and the crew. I wander the caves of Oscura, and pick up curiosities, herbs, and other interesting things ... occasionally wandering into their keep of the fallen, and destroying the undead I happen across. It's one of the few 'easy to reach' places that I can really go let loose, and have to be on top of my game.

    I think I'll go check on Mom, and get around to that whole, "Catching up properly." thing. She's given me some space since the Lich fight, cause I have to admit ... it affected me more than I figured it would.

    Also, I think I need to buy more ink. These pages have seen more of me in the past couple weeks than in years previous._


  • _The commons.

    Often, anything but common.

    It sounds like the heading for someone's flyer, or the Peltarch news rag which hasn't had anything written in it for a while.

    So, a Priest, a Druid, and two guards walks into a bar. Only the bar isn't a bar, and there's at least two -other- priests, and a bunch of other folks wandering about.

    Here I stand, nearby several people who, like me, have access to magic due to the grace and favor of their God, as if that's a perfectly normal and mundane thing. As I listen to the one armed woman ask questions, and people answer them, this sticks in my head as we all share information about the war.

    Yes, the War. It Deserves the Capital Letter. Dad fought in it, and his fiancee was the traitor who turned our countries against one another. Yes, scholarly woman, there was an alternative reason for the war. No, it's not what you think.

    That conversation covered an awful lot. Peltarch has a king now, and the recent influx of people from days past has a lot of them surprised about this. Apparently, some time ago, it was a point of pride that Peltarch needed no king.

    I've met this king. I've personally saved the life of one of his generals, DelRosa. I wonder if he remembers me.

    I've stood before him as a suspect of a murder, I've stood before him as a savior of one of his people. still, things like kingship seem too 'big' for the remembrance of a single individual in a kingdom of so many. "heavy is the head that wears the crown" they say. Probably too heavy to hold the weight of memories that aren't needed for the next day, I would guess.

    What brings this to mind?

    I guess people asking what Dad was into reminded me of just HOW MUCH he did. Captain in the Legion, Leader of the Wolves, unofficial Leader of the Circle several times, when he was one of the few around to do anything, and regardless of his status, he was certainly their ambassador for the pure simplicity of "He's the Druid everyone knows."

    Recently, that's me.

    I've seen Wick, but not Aoth for a while, save for one time when she was there, however briefly, then gone again.

    I met a new one, once, recently, but again I have not seen them since.

    There are probably Druids hanging about after the battle, recovering, from the Desert Tribes, and some from Rashemen, the Wychlaran. I look forward to spending more time with them, and if any want to stay to help continue the healing of our Circle, I will happily have them.

    So what of me?

    I'm here, again … and present for the big stuff ... but aside from that, I have a remarkable amount of free time alongside my duties as a woodswarden and Druid. So what now? Perhaps I'll pursue that group of Wolves to see if I'm worthy of being a member, and see if they can help drive me, and let me help drive them, into a stronger pack for all.

    I wonder if the King has any Druids in his employ. It seems like it would be silly not to ... especially with vampires under the city.

    Perhaps I'll go ask around about that, and see what's what. I mean, at this point, til there's a plan ... it's the only plan I've got.

    Don't worry demons, I'm still coming for you. Promise <3_


  • _The days are passing too slowly for my liking, these past few. Don't get me wrong, the company is good, as I've spent it with the Druids who haven't headed home yet after the big battle, and they're an interesting lot.

    It's always good to see things from another perspective, another angle, especially when those 'things' are your methods to accomplishing your job. The conversations have been mostly lighthearted, but of course there are stories from the past for all of us. Things that made us who we are, that made our Circles what they are. Not all of them are good, by any means, which is unsurprising. Adventurers who go to distant lands to fight demons aren't exactly a casual sort… they all have reasons that they'll go do something crazy like that. They're my kind of crazy, the kind that seen some shit, and grown from it, and I'm ok with that.

    I'm looking forward to the next chapter of this situation, if for no other reason than how much I'd love to put it all behind me. Once it's a story that I can say I learned something from, then I'll be happy. Until then, I'm going to continue feeling like a caged animal when I have downtime, moments when I have to choose what I do next, instead of reacting.

    If nothing else though, I do have one thing in particular to be thankful for.

    My enemies, such few as they are (Surprising, but I haven't been attacked including assassination attempts, threatened, followed, or had my home surrounded by nasties in ... months, really.) have been absent. I came across a vampire by accident, but no more vicious shades at my house, no more appearing where I am, mwahaha'ing, and attacking my group, and no more horrific dreams of things watching me while I try to sleep.

    So, even with all the problems with the world, and my heavy involvement in some of them, my enemies apparently have the courtesy to take turns these days. Is it because if the world ends, so do their plans of conquest? I'll have to ask them the next time I bump into them in the market, shopping for fruit.

    'Hey ancient evil, haven't seen you in a while. How's the wife and kids?'

    'Oh you know, dead by adventurers again. It's so hard to raise a family these days ... takes a lot of Black Onyx.'

    'Oh, I understand. So, see you next moonrise in the crypts, I assume?'

    'Oh no, little Diablette has violin lessons.'

    'Ah, another time then! See you around!'

    'Yes certainly, take care. I mean, die horribly you self-righteous treehugging scum!'

    Man, this journal gets weird sometimes. I need to socialize more. Guess I'll take a trip up to Peltarch and see what's kicking. I heard howls from the Wolves Den earlier, so I assume they're busy with something worth celebrating, and I don't want to intrude._


  • _It's been a couple of days.

    A couple of days can make a tremendous difference in a lot of ways, to a lot of people. Mourning takes more than days, but celebrating usually wears off in that time. At the very least, hangovers usually only last a day or so too, so … at least there's that.

    For me, however ... a couple of days is enough time to recover from the shock and exhaustion of our bitter victory, and begin looking forward to the next chapter. The last chapter?

    I'm pretty fairly certain, though I need to confirm this with our tacticians ... that the Balord (That's what I'm calling him, since there's a pretty good chance that this guy is unlike any Balor we've seen so far, including the one that smoked Rary and Dermin and Aoth) might be the last pin holding this invasion together, and once he's out ... I might be able to push the last piece of OUR puzzle into place, and slam the gates closed on this whole planar collision.

    I need to go talk to some people ... people who might have forgotten about this entire thing, or their place in it. I don't know how it's going to go, or if it will at all ... but I know that while I'm the bearer, this puzzle isn't complete. It isn't supposed to be me, and it won't work with me. I may have a part to play in all of this, but truly, it's going to be as a messenger, and a protector. A convincer, maybe. But I'm not the hero of this story. This story started before I was born ... and though Dad was a big, and very CLOSE part of it, thanks to Kara, I am but a footnote in it.

    And that's ok.

    If my Gods can keep thinking I'm doing alright, then I must be, right? As personally as I take some of the things that have happened in this fight for Narfell, and the rest of the Prime, against these demons ... at least I don't have a fiancee who was secretly an agent of devils. A 'deal' made in desperation, a 'sacrifice' made to save lives ... ending in chaos, tears, bloodshed, and betrayal. I have NO room to complain in comparison, but all the more reason to fight til I can't lift my sword again.

    Speaking of swords, the time for me to wield this one is almost up. Jonni's loan of this sword has saved my bacon multiple times, and let me kill demons I wouldn't otherwise have been able to scratch, much to their surprise. But it's not mine. It needs to go home, back to the one who earned it. I'm glad I'm getting to put it to use, but will be gladder still to give it back.

    Thanks Jonni. Don't worry, it's going to finish out this use by making Narfell that much safer for you and Elaine. It's the least I can do._


  • _Rhigor.

    Rhigor, the lich, the Scourge of the Coldstones … ally of demonkind, and plague to the Druids, has met his end. For now.

    Thanks to Ros's scouting, we found out information that let us attack Rhigor from a less-defended point, and not only that, but know the point of weakness necessary to locate his phylactery, AND keep him from it for a time.

    Victory!

    Though... our victory came at a staggeringly high cost.

    It started out innocently enough. Try not to make a big scryable fuss in Norwick (That was hard, and we didn't do a good job. People simply weren't very subtle.) , gather and distribute supplies (I spent about 10k giving stuff out, not counting spellcrystals), and go kick some lich ass. Simple right?

    The last minute updates were the best part. The living creatures up there, from goblins to giants to what appeared to be a pet Chillblain, were our allies this time. Against the risen dead, we are all on the same side. This was for the best, really ... because even with the allies, and the huge distraction of an army of giants and Druids marching their way up to the fortress on their own ... we still had to fight dozens of undead frost giants.

    Frost giants are hard enough to fight as it is!

    Our task was hard, the climb was hard, keeping people focused, and working together, and being efficient was hard ... but the hardest part came next, and there wasn't a damned thing I could have done to stop it.

    Apparently ... I'm strong enough in my spellwork that I can tell what things are being cast, for the most part ... even if they're out of my league. As we rushed in to take Rhigor down, my hair stood up, my senses screamed at me, and I smashed a spell crystal of lesser spell mantle on myself as quickly as I could, before my world EXPLODED completely.

    My protections were wiped, an explosion of ... well, everything went off, I was deaf, blind, and lost for a moment in the chaos, and suddenly I was tripping over the fallen forms of my friends, trying to get clear ... only to find that there wasn't ONE Rhigor ... there were like, ten.

    "Get clear, get focused, aim, fire, kill." Follow the script, dummy, you have a role to play, I thought at myself, and as I sighted in on a target, trying to find the real one to help Maria, I realized that I was nearly dead, myself.

    Alright, heal, THEN kill. Right.

    I healed myself, and the few others survivors around me before we got picked off my the copies of Rhigor, since I'm pretty sure the real one was much more concerned with Maria in that moment ... and a few moments later I got my shot.

    Rhigor's attention was on Maria, and I gave him a greater dispel to think about, followed by a sunburst, right in his face. I don't know if either of those things did anything, because as I was casting, I was hit with several more dispels myself, and had to scramble not to bite it myself, as the other Rhigors sought to take me out.

    That got me mad, and I charged the closest one, which surprised me by going down in just a couple of strikes.

    By the time I was rushing the next ... it was over.

    A spell took it out in front of me, and I pulled up short, finally getting a good look at the battlefield ... which made me hit my knees in a panic, and check people for signs of life. SO MANY PEOPLE ... all down. Dead. Whatever torment he unleashed on us, my wards held long enough to let me survive it, but the same can't be said for almost everyone else. I know it's selfish, but I'm glad Arty made it. I'm SHOCKED that I did.

    It's been two whole days, now ... and I haven't slept.

    I've hugged my Mom, went home with Arty ... and stared at the ceiling of my house. Read books. Sorted my things. Counted to roughly 729 before I got bored of that. Sharpened and cleaned my blades ...

    I think I'm going to take a page out of Dad's book. I'm going to shift, and let my mind settle into the patterns on the animal whose shape I take, and take advantage of that long enough to sleep. A bear will do, I think. A big fat happy dire bear.

    Until then, though ... there's things to do. While I'm awake like this, I'm going to make sure that I check in on Mom, and ask her if she had a PLAN for what she talked about, going to see Dad. I'm going to revisit the Wolf Den, and ask about their new potential recruit, and see if he's being considered. I'm going to dig through my share of what we got divvied up from that lich's lair, that I haven't yet been able to bring myself to look at. Like, looking at all those fallen. Is this what they call survivor's guilt?

    I'm going to recover.
    I'm going to recover.
    I'm going to recover.

    Time to take another walk._


  • _Visits.

    Mom's, (Lorelai's) 'other half' Tindra, showed up today, too. It makes me wonder … just how much of 'each other' is still connected between those two. It's weird, to the point where hugging each of them is almost the same as hugging the other. I wonder how many people actually know the truth of what's up between them.

    I managed to spend some time with the Wolves today, and Sapeh showed up too, which was nice. She seems well, and is still JUST as eager and willing to fight for our circle, and our allies, as the day I met her. No wavering in her commitment, for sure. It's refreshing.

    I know things move slowly sometimes, with the circle, with the Wolves, even. At least, they did before Faelar got his paws on things upon his return. He's got the makings of a leader, which I keep telling him, but he admitted to me that his fear, is failure.

    "Those who do not try, cannot fail ... but they also cannot succeed." I told him. Sometimes I surprise even myself with the things I say. It sounded like one of those phrases you'd find on a napkin in a fancy inn with specially prepared meals. Something to spur polite mealtime conversation, and make everybody sound esoteric and wise.

    I can't help but wonder if Ras is going to pass the mantle, or throw it at him, or decide he likes it after all. (I doubt that one, thoroughly.) Dad had to practically ... okay, maybe literally fight him to take it, before. Whatever happens, I'm going to be around to help, whether or not I actually try to join. I'll cheat my ass off, of course, because there's no rules in the woods. I'll don my leathers, lighten my packs, and clear my mind to make room for being quiet, and still ... like I don't exist in the space I occupy, and I'll pass the tests they set out for me. I hope. The best part is that it's not necessarily -about- just stealth, as the Wolves used to have a plate-wearing ranger, William Morrison. He was one of Dad's early mentors.

    The story of the fight against the Malarite pack still rings in my mind ... of Dad walking out in the open, and challenging them in groups... their laughter as they had him grossly outnumbered, and the glee in which they charged him, all rage and bloodlust ... then the surprise in their screams as the shadows nearby turned into the Wolves, Dad's pack, as they fell in around the foes around Dad, while Dad fought, and bled, and screamed defiance and lightning in their faces.

    Those were my bedtime stories. Those were my poems. People wonder why I'm occasionally a bloodthirsty monster, relentless and full of fury. It's because I CAN be ... without it being WHO I am.

    I posed a question to the new elf prospect for the wolves, about who HE was. He mentioned his loyalty would be to the pack if he joined ... but only second to his kin.

    That made my hair stand on end, and my skin prickle. I've seen that sentiment. Even on dangerous missions. Against true and told enemies. Somewhere, someone decides that since they share a race with the enemy, that they can't truly be an enemy.

    They could NOT be more wrong if they tried. The Eldreth Veluuthra are the perfect example of this. Other races are inferior, and their lives, unimportant. How does that even remotely matter to someone? It baffles me, and makes me wary of elves in general, since not only my father, but I have experienced scorn at being a "Half breed." I'll withold my reservations about him, as I am NOT a Wolf, yet, but I raised my concern there just the once. Since we were already talking.

    Now ... now I will set this journal down, and do some scouting. I need to see if the demons are stirring anywhere, so if we DO make any moves, we don't miss the signs of an ambush behind us, or the enemy having moved from where we thought they were.

    Hopefully my next entry will read of victory._


  • _Today was one of the more interesting days I've had. Which is weird, because I didn't slay any new vampires, didn't face off against any small armies of gnolls, and didn't find secret treasures, or long lost artifacts.

    No, what I found instead, was that the ranger fellow I met before, is actually a Druid! I had been excited enough simply thinking he was a ranger, since the Wolves could use some new blood, and the LAND could use some new wolves. More Druids though?

    Ever since we suffered such staggering losses at the hands of the demons, losing several of our elders, and having our sanctuary breached … I doubted whether or not we'd actually ever fully recover. It seems almost a waste to have the whole glen basically to myself and it's residents, with no actively meddling Druids about. I don't mind being the center of attention, but I miss what we once were. I miss the tales of what we were before my time, and before my Dad's time, even.

    I want to bring the Druids back from the brink, back into power, back to a point where we can sustain the balance in this land simply by there being enough of us, so that when the next threat to the balance pops up, we're not scrambling for allies so that we're not walking into certain death just to check it out.

    Speaking of simply walking in ... I let Faelar and Gel up to my house, to have them look over some gear ... and just as I was mentioning that things like that are how rumors get started, inviting boys up into your room like that, I turn around, and there's my MOM. There she was, snoozing away on the cushions, waking up to me running my mouth and embarassing myself.

    The funny thing ... I haven't seen her in YEARS. Like me, like Dad, like our kind in general (Woodsfolk that is), she took off for a while to go questing for something. In this case, she spent time with Auntie Rith, and apparently, DAD.

    We spent some time catching up, and getting everyone slightly up to speed on the big issues around the land, and shared tea and cakes while we went over gear together. It was ... nice. Domestic, and calm, and weirdly nice.

    I'm glad Mom's back, and that she got to see Dad for a while. She seems a little sad, so I suspect there's more to their talks than she told me, so I just hope Dad's ok, and that she can see him again soon.

    Speaking of soon ... the way people are talking, it's almost time to take the fight to our enemies, and end this demon menace for good. I need to find Aoth, sooner rather than later, and get the surviving Elders together with what allies we've earned on our trips, and get everyone prepared.

    I can't wait for this to be over, one way or another. Having it loom over me is exhausting._


  • _Looking back at my last writing in this journal, I realize once again, that i tend to write more when things are bleak. That sucks, but it is what it is. As I sit here in Norwick, after having an inpromptu meetup with a new Druid, Lomir, and a ranger named Gel, for once I see hope. Hope in new blood, and honest questions. Hope in pensive expressions, and helpful offers. Hope in shared beliefs, and, and similar mindsets.

    Which is why I hope that what's about to happen has a chance of success.

    It's been strange, knowing that we're on the edge of a world-ending event. Like, I wonder if neighboring lands have been watching us, to see if us being at the center of this ongoing planar collision is going to save them, or be the undoing of us all.

    I wonder who else even THINKS about this stuff?

    I've spent years preparing for this fight, and yet it seems unreal. From being a main target, to being avoided as one, and then explaining what's going on to people who had NO idea that our land is a couple mistakes away from being meged with the Abyss … honestly there are days where I feel crazy. Like pointing at a rainbow colored rabbit in the middle of a crowd of people that only I can see.

    Sure I'm a Druid so they'll listen, and nod. Surely she knows what she's talking about, since it's a rabbit ... but we just don't see it.

    I forsee myself becoming one of those crazy old women in a shack on a hill ... or a tree in my case, warning of dire portents that never come to pass, and cackling to myself when they DO, but so long after my mention that nobody remembers.

    I warn people of the fey. They haven't shown their face since the lady with the singing got an earful from me, and we parted with our uneasy truce.

    I warn people of the demons, but I've already rambled about that.

    I warned people about the Razenks, and now they're powerful, and will be hard to kill when someone falls prey to their ambitions, and they're "Suddenly a problem."

    Perhaps it's time I started looking out for me, again. I've gotten beat up pretty badly a couple times lately, and while this armor Z made me is amazing, it's limiting me in my other abilities, like being able to sneak, and the vulnerability to cold is ridiculous.

    Even though I'm not sure there's an easy end in sight ... perhaps I'll start on that project once our plane is safe from becoming the Abyss. Perhaps.

    For now, I need to gather up some of my old collected gear, and see if anything would be a good fit for Lomir or Gel, as I can't test or teach them anything if they die on their first few missions. Perhaps I'll send them on a fetch-quest or two for me, make em earn it. People get SO Squirelly about gifts!

    SPEAKING about gifts! I should update this so I remember later .... I encountered A's pet necromancer, "Seven Twenty" when I went deep into the Goblin Hold, following some adventurers that left a standard trail of bodies, but NO signs of magic use ... so I figured I was going in on corpse retrieval duty.

    Long story short, we found Seven Twenty in the lower levels before a coffin, flanked by undead umberhulks which were quickly dealt with, as she was about to kill a defector who left A's entourage with Quentin Reylerstroop, my old enemy.

    She almost got some distance on us, but I dispelled her off the cavern roof, and got to cross swords with her for a moment, before I watched the timing of her attacks, and risked a spell right in her face.

    I think I was nearly as surprised as she was when the spell worked, but her surprise was much more short lived. Sunlight burst into the cavern in a blaze of glorious golden power, and she was reduced to ash before me, and all over my boots, of course.

    Letting Seven Twenty go was worth it, of course, for the information ... but I still hate that she's out here lackeying around for her vampire lord, and being difficult to take off the board. I need to do some testing to see if True Sight can see through Greater Sanctuary well enough to stop her next time I see her, since the jerk is as big a cheater as me in a fight.

    Next time, woman. Til then, thanks for the tips. You're useful for a foe, and I can respect that. I'll still stab you, but I'll respect you while I do it. When it all comes down to it, you serve that which I need to destroy.

    I suppose I've rambled on long enough for now. Hopefully some plans fall into place shortly, and I'll have more good stuff to write about._


  • _As predicted, I encountered the fey again.

    This time, I was appropriately armed with something that would ruin her day, but words sufficed. There's an uneasy truce of sorts. Nobody bothers her in her little crossroads, or "Trod" as they're called … and nobody comes after her, and "The humans are protected."

    Now, she left loopholes there, and her singing is attracting people to her little lair, but it's as good as I'm going to get for the moment, and nobody else has gone missing or shown up befuddled again, yet.

    That I know of.

    Other than that ... things have been ... bad.

    I'll make it short and bitter, because sweet isn't an option.

    Raryldor's last words when he last departed Peltarch were, "It's only a Balor." Now, mind you, that word makes most adventurer's blood run cold. He marched off, and Dermin followed. How did they KNOW there was a Balor about? Well, Hen apparently saw one when skulking about Jiyyd. It saw HER too, so she skedaddled, but made mention of it in the commons.

    I imagine Rary wanted another demon head for his collection ... they of course, invited the rest of us to help or watch, but I figured it would be too risky, and can't afford to lose my life, or the strength I've accumulated so far. Being able to shapeshift into an elemental is incredibly useful for pulling one's ass out of the proverbial fire.

    It wasn't long before Jonni, in the commons with us, had a vision from Savras. Raryldor, had fallen.

    I don't think I've ever been around for any time that he's done so, and the news clearly came as a shock. Surely he'll come back, right? Answer the call, have his God pick him back up to the fight?

    He did ... and then Jonni took off running. It turns out that the vision continued, and Raryldor, brought back by Anna, was planning on going RIGHT back out there to the thing that had just killed him, while weakened, while it was ready for him.

    We showed up, those of us that were there, and followed, not wishing him to throw his life away again.

    Gods how I wish I had just taken Aoth and left.

    Instead, I went. Instead, she went too.

    Raryldor. Dermin. Aoth. All dead.

    They all answered the call, but we're all weakened for this experience.

    Surely things will calm down for a bit, right? Hah, not a chance.

    Instead, it turns out that Alvaniel attacked Hen for running her mouth about these mining trips she's planning, where her and Jonni are claiming the ore themselves, which is their perogative, they just can't expect many volunteers from the rest of the crafting community I'd imagine ... anyway, She attacked Hen, and some guards jumped in, and they died.

    Her trial was brief, her sentence hard. After a pretty staggering amount of gold levied against her for the city, the family, and just plain fines .. they took her head with her own sword. Remorse.

    So now, another of us, weakened. Another frontliner against the threat of demons, diminished. And for what? A squabble?

    I don't know how to stop any of this, so I keep at my own routine. I scout the land, I fight the enemies, I hoard gold and potions so that I can give them out as needed, and hope and pray that we can make forward progress soon. We know of three more Druidic circles nearby who we can petition for aid in our threat. Hopefully it's enough. And we STILL need to move on the threat in the mountains. Why it's come to a standstill again, I do not know.

    Waiting is almost the worst part. The worst part, is seeing what happens in the now, while you're looking too far ahead._


  • _I always put down that I'll write again soon.

    I always mean to, too. Then I get to reading my past entries, or get distracted by someone showing up, and then it's "now", and I have no time to remember the past. But it's important, the past. if I write down these occasionally meaningless seeming things, they might come back to help me.

    Or haunt me.

    It seems to depend. Right now, I'm sitting here in shock. Eventually, I might write back on what's happened since Korvan, but aside from Aoth getting the power to take the shape of a wind elemental, nothing world-shaking has happened that I can think of.

    Not with the fey on my mind.

    Everyone knows about faerie stories. We've all heard them. And bad children? Well, they get taken away by the faeries, and or replaced! Stories … right? Gods above, I wish. You see, dear reader (whether this is me, a friend, or someone found this on my corpse ), my sister and I grew up on faerie stories ... but ours, were not the good kind. Or the nice kind. They were the -true- kind. And faeries?

    They're not very nice.

    I was reading through Dad's journal after the incident, just recently, where we ran into some fey ... those fey had captured Zoma, who had run ahead. We tried to talk nice, but they wanted to know about the roots to the side of us, and why we were going to them (We were not, actually, we were trying to find a wandering tower, but anyway), and they also seemed to know who they belonged to. They were clearly from Silvia's tree ... and they were not fans of her.

    I couldn't imagine they would be ... the 'courts' in Avalon, land of the fey, are a big deal. You're either part of one, the other, or ... well, basically an outcast. Worse than that, even.

    To go out and start your own 'court'? Not only is it generally laughable, but for some reason, it's also dangerously bad manners, apparently. They seemed more than ready to harm us for even speaking her name ... so I babbled at the group and made sure that they did no such thing, and then, when they thought they held private counsel in Sylvan, I tipped my hand.

    They asked how I knew the language, and I was honest. I told them my father taught it to me, and then who he is ... and -that- diverted the conversation well enough!

    Just the mention of my father got them both wary and on edge, and as we parted ways shortly after, they gave us a warning. " You would do well to choose your allies carefully. I am sure there are stories and secrets you are unaware of."

    She's speaking of Silvia, but I don't know what about specifically. It seems our dinner date with her is long, long overdue ... and in reading Dad's journal, a page I didn't know existed fell out of the cover.

    Call it fate is you wish, but it's a list of 'dances' of the fey, which appear to be rules regarding duels. And oaths. There's some other notes too, one about an armor he loaned to a Kaetlyn, another about a half-dragon named Hyperion who wants his head, and one about visions of the Hungry one ... he even knows the name of that White Dragon, Ky.

    His FULL name, or close to it, it appears.

    Now I have more questions, but surprise answers too ... and a need to see Gnarl and Alvaniel. I need some Cold Iron weaponry, and a way to drop enough gear weight to carry it.

    I think I'm going to see the fey again very soon. Thanks for the help, Dad._


  • _Gods above, I've missed so much to write about.

    You know how it is, future reader. Or me. I know how it is, certainly. You have an epic adventure. You nearly lose your life. Something tragic or wonderful happens! You write down a brief note to remember, then go to properly write about it and it's … three adventures later. Four? A dozen?

    Lately, my sword has been my only quill. Blood, the ink. Dramatic, right? Ugh, I can't even stand my OWN writing right now.

    I suppose I'm going to have to gloss over some world-changing events, to try to get back up to the future. Present. Well, now, as this ink, still dries upon it's page.

    Last I wrote, Ras was in trouble. Rasuil, my father's right hand man. A mysterious old wolf, cunning and cruel to his enemies, cunning and kind to his friends. Rasuil, basically my uncle, and friend, who trusts me and protects me both.

    An old, old, enemy returned. One who was behind the death of his mate. Sending her back to him in pieces. One who trapped and kept her soul to fuel his own power. He captured Silvia the Fey, used her power to further his own, nailing her to her own tree with his vicious dagger.

    Pieces of the rot from that tree were used to infect Rasuil, turn him into a mad beast. Had Dad not taught me surgery, the mundane healing arts, we may not have been able to save him short of killing him.

    We fought shadows by the thousands, it seems. I even traveled the dreamscape into the hell he created there for Silvia to speak to her, to learn a secret, nearly getting all of us killed in the process, overwhelmed by shadows. That was something like a dozen dreamwalks for me by then. Big ones. One where I risked my own life, like I do ... but also the lives of others.

    Moving forward from there, we had a lot of trouble in those months. Ras wasn't himself. Or rather, wasn't the Ras I know. A lot of other people were starting to believe or fear that current was, was the Real Ras. That made me angry, but as usual, I stayed my blade, and for once, my tongue. I explained where I could explain, begged where that did not work, and eventually, there was a plan.

    The swords from Silvia were purified.

    The bugbears aided us in the frontal attack.

    We ended up encountering Daniel and Alina Sterncloude, and aiding them as well, as they aided us.

    We stormed the tree.

    We fought.

    We nearly died.

    Then there was Korvan. Larger than life. Terrifying. Bloodthirsty and malevolent.

    Aoth and I ... we worked together a LOT, then. Traveling as a small pack, the pair of us. So much that we ended up with a rhythm. A rhythm that beat to the sound of pumping hearts, clashing blades, crashing thunder, and dripping blood.

    Blood.

    We called to it, reveled in it, sang to it, and it answered. We both believe that we contacted the avatar of Malar himself, and presented a petition, for power. We had to kill Dafna's -entire- force, save a few that didn't come at us, and then, Dafna herself. We turned the woods red and iron-smelling, so much that people in the town noticed the visible haze ...

    He blessed us. I used my blessing on myself, Aoth, on Ras. We transformed into shadowy, terrifying creatures, but in our OWN power, not Korvan's, and literally tore him to shreds. His invulnerable cloak of mist made of souls, or whatever it was, couldn't stop us. We tore him apart, and Ras freed his mate, while Reyanna freed Silvia, and his reign of terror was ended.

    It left a mark on all of us ... and changed me as well in another way. A chapter of my life has moved on.

    When the elf camp was liberated, a spirit blessed my old sword, forever tinting it blood red, and making every true strike, bite with two more blades, as if a Bladedancer's spirit fought beside me.

    Now, with Korvan defeated, my bow has changed too. The gift of Talos imbues it. Every shot sings out a cry to his power, and I strike as true as lightning now.

    Change. I need to remember that change can be good. I'll write more soon, or maybe I won't ... but I need to remember that change isn't always bad, or we ... I ... won't get through this._


  • _Reading my own writing serves dual purposes.

    One, to make me able to remember my train of thought, and put my mind in the correct perspective to remember accurately the events of the past.

    Two, to make me fuckin' depressed.

    The last thing I wrote was about the possibility of having to take out Uncle Ras. Well, blow that for a lark. That ain't gonna happen. But … if it does ... it's going to have to be me. . . I won't let it happen any other way.

    So, let's see ... next in my life, was a trip. I needed to get my mind right, so ... I went to a place where NOTHING was right! Makes sense ... right? The Nexus was a way to while away hours, days, whatever ... time seems wrong there, direction is wrong there, the path changes, you don't. It's infinitely distracting. Hells, I walked for MILES through hallways, doorways, rooms, and expanses of nothing but floor, until I decided to leave, and ask around for help.

    Help was already there.

    Since Aoth had showed me the place, and we had tried to make it through on our own, she apparently came back, and with Raryldor in tow. Together, we traipsed through the place. I can lead someone through the first half or so of it, then I'm terribly lost. I don't have much of a scholar's mind. Raryldor remembered the place, and together, we made it to our destination.

    Avalon.

    Aoth and I had been prepared, knowing about the chaos magic that flickered through the place like endless spiderwebs draped across your path, flickering across your face distractingly every so often. A small, specially prepared ball of iron, called a "Feyguard" would help if our own wills were not up to the task.

    They were.

    We wandered, sought out sleepers, and monuments, relics of history countless years old. I was tempted to de-stone a sleeper, if such a thing is possible, but what cruelty would that have been? "Yeah, I saved you and brought you back into a world where everything you knew has changed, everyone you knew is dead, and by the way, here's a facefull of demons, vampires, and politics!"

    Yeah, nice.

    Unmolested, we went back, and soon after, I discovered that spellweaver keep is back. Somehow. It's all far above my head, but the others were pretty excited about the whole thing. Hopefully it doesn't end up concerning me much, hah!

    Soon after, I met Big Alley, had lunch with everyone, and managed to embarrass myself by falling asleep in a chair, waking myself up, and tipping back to hit the floor in doing so. Bam, flat on my back.

    More demon dreams. Startled me awake.

    I still feel hunted, and watch the sky on every walk I take. I'm waiting for them, and do not like how quiet things have been, as they bide their time, or wait for a sign, or do whatever the fark demons do when they're not actively trying to rend you limb from limb.

    On that note, I'd best go have a wander and play bait s'more, try to find out what's going on. If there are no further entries in this journal, I'm either captured or a snack. Come get me, or avenge me, blah blah blah, sorry for the trouble._