3. The Book Of Willow

The Book Of Willow


  • Perched on a fallen birch tree, sticking out across the still, dark waters of a pond, Willow contemplates her own reflection. A light breeze ripples the image of the watery Willow, drawing out an already long and thin face, sending wild and messy hair into undulating motion. Above-Willow makes a face, chuckles at her watery reflection and finally wobbles back to safer ground. Comfortably leaned against a sturdier tree, she writes:

    "Contemplation time again, as my streak of missing out on exciting events seem to continue unabated. Most recently there was a big green dragon, heroically slain of course, and rumours of more orc rumblings to the north. Gosh I hate orcs, with a feeling so primal and raw that it may just be the sole truly elven thing in me.

    Which brings me to today's point of contemplation: elves, and my inability to seem to relate to any of them. Not that I necessarily believe blood is thicker than water, but you'd think having half a tank of elven blood would make some sort of difference to a person, pointy ears aside, yeah? Only, how could I tell - I've only ever been ~me~, and that me is shaped and made with certain set components.

    Taking a look at two persons who have the same mixed origins as myself, the exact same composition and background as each other even, might bring more light to the subject, hm?

    Elaine and Leena, case in point, then.

    Leena has chosen to embrace her elven heritage, pouring all her efforts of late into helping the small but seemingly tight-knit elven community here with solving some age-old problem, setting haunted spirits to rest etc. She says her mother encouraged that, while her father was always more on edge regarding his elven roots - and Elaine has kept to just that latter's spirit. She is quite fiercely individualistic, though there is one 'innate' identity she would embrace, I think - the werecattishness that also forms part of the twin's joint heritage.

    Much like myself, neither of the twins seem to instinctively feel that being part elven is an essential and key component in their beings - though Leena seems determined to explore that side of her, and has found acceptance of a sort with the elves, even. Lainie on the other hand, isn't at all interested in fitting in - and neither am I, really. I find most of the elves I've met in Narfell are kinda weird, either aloof, annoying, or both.

    But it's not really belonging that's on my mind, is it? It's more to do with figuring out who I am, and whether being of mixed blood has any true relevance to that. I've always been a bit of a loner, mostly content with my own company or just the few people close to me. I've also always felt the odd one out - different in both outwards appearance and inside, awkward and angular where others fit with such smooth grace and ease.

    Since you found me, since I chose to follow the Windrider's path, I've become much more confident and content with being me. I know that loner isn't lonely, solitary is free and actually awesome! And being with Llama, well - I wouldn't say he's convinced me that I'm beautiful, but I know for a fact that in his wild, demented eyes, I am - and it kinda makes me view myself in a different light. All these things are good and really, more than enough to make me happy.

    So why wonder about this elf thing, why lament the lack of connection?

    I guess it's to do with my father, or rather the lack of one. I mean, obviously I had a father in the base, biological sense of the word - but from what mother told me, he never knew of my existance. That's the way she wanted it too, pregnancy came late in life and wholly unexpectedly to her, a miraculous gift that she had no intention of sharing with the wandering elven scholar whose path twined with hers for but a brief moment in time. If she secretly entertained hopes of a revisit from said scholar, she kept it well hidden. Yet I felt in a vague, undefined manner rejected by his absence, throughout my childhood.

    I did my best to court that elven side of me in my youth, learned the tongue and attempted to befriend the fair folk on my travels - but always felt wrong, too clumpsy and too ugly, never quite good enough. The sting of failing my ranger training was extra bitter for the trainer's easy elven grace, but is any of that to do with blood, really? I'd have been just as leaden of foot were I all human, no doubt, perhaps even being a full elf had seen me stumbling and snapping every twig, who knows? Those years bred a feeling of inadequacy in me that took Your grace to vanquish, but that certain more obnoxious elves can still stir back to life at times.

    I'd like to meet elves I could actually like, that I could find common ground with, I really would - but more and more, I've come to realize that it's not blood, not race that matters most to me - it's spirit, and kindred spirits, I've already found! While blood may be thicker than water, the spirit rises above all and mine should soar high, light and free as the wind I love best of all. Blood can sit and clot on the ground."


  • The cliff into which the Roost is set is steep, the stone slippery with vegetation in places, bare and jagged in others. Willow seems undeterred, her long but light frame supported by the Willo'Whip's branches fastened to an outcropping above. With a heave and a d'oh as she scuffs her bony knee, the half-elf reaches the top and perches there precariously, the western wind whipping at her hair and cloak. Managing to find a small, even place to plant her rear, Willow turns her face up to the sun, eyes closed as she breathes out a long, slow breath into wind. After a long while, her light green eyes crack open to take in the view of the Gypsy Woods around her, the Nars Pass a green stretch in the distance. She sits there for quite some time, in silent contemplation, while the winds whirl around her.

    "So ~tired~ lately, for no particular reason I can discern. The forest retreat did me good, but perhaps it also made me less accustomed to having other people around me? I'm having trouble navigating the sometimes sea of conversation around me, voices blurring together into a buzz which seems to take all my concentration to dechiffer. Normally, I just block it out, let it drift past and around me, but when I'm tired I can't.

    My need for solitude grows strong at times like that, my need for air, for winds to sweep away the clutter and leave my mind clean and free. Llama understands, I think, without me having to say anything - one of the best things about him is that he lets me be alone, that I can have my space, even in his company. Not that I always want space, far from it (closer is better where Llama is concerned!) but he never ~crowds~ me.

    In retrospect, I feel a little bad for having left the gates that night, 'cause apparantly there was a big attack by the hobgoblins, with enslaved umberhulks and even minotaurs backing! All the while, Llama and I sat on the hill behind the inn, just relaxing and talking about nonsensical things, noticing absolutely nothing until suddenly, at dawn, a huge hobgoblin face appeared over the forest, made of smoke and dramatically lit by the rising sun.

    We rushed to the gates, only to find all the drama over and done with, the two who had fallen in the attack freshly back on their feet already. Somehow, I felt doubly tired then, tired at myself for being tired in the first place, you know? If not for that, maybe no one would've had to die - then again, my perfect record is a thing of the past by far, these days.

    I want my energy back, the gusto and the groove! Perhaps a complete change of pace would do it, perhaps it's high time we hired that ship and went searching for the great Icelace furred dire turtle?"


  • It's a windy day up in the Roost, Willow chasing a cavorting sheet of paper all the way to the edge, where she wobbles precariously before snatching it up at the last second, flopping backwards to safer ground with the note crumpled up in her hand. She laughs to herself, smooths it a bit and folds it up into a square, writing 'To Jonni' on the back and tucking it safely into her pocket.

    After a spot of cloud gazing in that same position, Willow rolls over, scrambling back to the stone wall to finish off her apple and finally flips her little book open as the wind calms to a gentle swirl around her.

    "Since returning from my slothful hiatus, things have certainly been adventurous enough - and then some! Giants and orcs attacking the big city up north (Beth note finished for Jonni, remember to ask Louis about full version), huge and bloated hobgoblins hoarding treasure out east, a crazed vegetation monster trying to assimilate Rasuil into it's weird-awful tangles (he's being stubborn about treatment, but not impossible) and a whole bunch of duergar and their ~massive~ hogs of war, holed up in the Goblin Hold!

    All that, plus a budding romance between Jonni and Lainie (d'awww!) AND a bout of massive exploration in the Underdark, going down, down and down a flight of enormous stairs. Through Illithid ruins (wow, just wow.. not a straight line anywhere, I might love how these things think, if not for the whole slurp-slurp of brains such as mine), past sandy dunes and waterfalls, beyond an underground harbour which seemed only temporarily abandoned, through vast mushroom patches, the mushrooms growing in all shapes and sizes, both pale and colourful, even growing in curious rings in places…

    We were searching for an abandoned svirfnerblin (or smurf-nibblin') city that's down there somewhere, supposedly more easily accessible via the Norwick crypts - if you can really claim anything with the words 'mummy lord' in it is easy! Naturally we opted for the long way around, I mean, it's not the destination but the path and whatever you find along the way that's the real goal, yeah?

    We found loads of simply amazing sights, too! A big palace-like place with a shackled minotaur statue (or maybe it was petrified), beautifully preserved, but then also ruins in various states of decay... dwellings, mining shafts... a lot of effort went into this place, but at some point or other, it was abandoned. The why tickles my mind, makes me want to find out more. Llama presented the even more mind-tickling notion that maybe the denizens of the Underdark like to go exploring there too - and why shouldn't they? It's quite frankly a staggering place, more beautiful than you'd ever envision by it's reputation. So much water, for one thing!

    Whether they were explorers or simply roaming predators, I can't say, but we did eventually run into some company of the local variety - and that too was a completely new sight! Giant, dark, foul-smelling... cloaks! They're actually called Cloakers, and having seen them up close and personal, it's easy to understand why. They look like cloaks, but have got sharp teeth and ~incredibly~ bad breath, flapping in and out of one's field of vision and trying to weaken their prey with poison and panicky thoughts.

    We stumbled into one, then another and another, and before I could even dig my Remove Fear scrolls out of my bag, full chaos ensued! Jonni ran and swatted at his own cloak, Kris ran the other way, Shessa the third, while Llama stumbled off with a howl - and amidst all this chaos, I stood and rooted around in my pack, somehow without a Cloaker gnawing at me - for the moment. Lainie managed to make two of the horrid things freeze mid-flap, while Jonni recovered his courage and went about distracting them - and I ran madly, wildly to Llyran's side, just as he staggered to the ground!

    I got both him and Kris to their feet, but oh it was a close thing, so close - Jonni and Lainie were real troupers for holding it all together like that, and we half rushed, half limped back to safety, thankfully not persued!

    We never did find the svirfnerblin city... but I already know, we SO have to go back. There was such a wealth of things to see, so a bunch of tooth-adorned cloaks aren't going to deter me from returning! But uhh.. if we can find a way around that particular area, so much the better.

    I mean, I've already been bested by furniture, I don't really need to rub salt to the wound by adding ~clothing~ to the list, right?

    I remain of two minds about getting a guide to come with us... on the one hand, we wouldn't be stumbling headlong into a nest of Cloakers if we knew beforehand that that was their favourite hunting ground, but on the other.. you lose so much of the magic by those warnings, sometimes the whole experience is spoiled and any surprise blown out of the proverbial waters. I don't want that; I think I'd rather run for my life and ~hopefully~ escape with my hide intact!

    At the same time, I don't want to risk my friends lives with being too reckless. I guess it's kind of a balancing act, but I'm lucky enough to have friends who don't mind, even enjoy, taking the very same type of risks as I do.

    Lend them all your helping hand if we get in way over our heads, please? One of these days, we just might really need it."

    With that, Willow closes the book, snuggling down in the moss to watch the clouds pass overhead. Her fingertips trace the small bitemarks along the edges of her belt, a thoughtful expression on her face before she drifts into reverie.


  • Golden afternoon sunshine dapples the clearing in the deep woods, painting treetrunks with a warm mahogany sheen and glittering richly amidst the underbrush, where blossoms sway and blueberries hang ripe and sweet on their delicate boughs. Perched on a stone in this sea of sunlit summer riches, Willow reaches down to pluck the berries, one by one, into a small basket beside her. Her fingers are sticky with spiderwebs and berry juice, tinged in the same distinct purple as her lips and tongue. A light, pleasant breeze stirs her unkept hair, and a bright orange butterfly tickles her cheek as it makes its erratic way to the nearest source of nectar.

    Willow closes her eyes, blissfully breathing the moment in, the scent of sunwarm forest, summer and berries. Behind her, what appeared to be a moss-covered big boulder suddenly stirs into life, blinking wild yellow eyes open and shaking a great, shaggy head. The bear rises, stretches and yawns hugely, then eyes the basket full of blueberries next to the daydreaming half-elf. With a suddenly sly look in its feral eyes, the bear inches slowly, slowly closer, taking great care to place its paws gently and quietly on the ground. Creep, creep, creep… snap.

    "Don't even think about it, you thieving berry-fiend!"

    Willow swivels around with the basket clutched to her chest, narrowing her eyes playfully at the bear, which in turn gives a huge bear grin, purple-red tongue lolling out between fangs stained in the same blueberry colour. Then it slowly topples, grunting in obvious satisfaction as it rolls around on the ground, crushing whole patches of blueberries under its bulk.

    "…I was picking those!!"

    With a squeal of protest, Willow launches herself at the bear, which gives an amused snort and catches her in a bear hug, rolling around again. Bones crunch and snap as Llyran morphs back into his (presumably) original shape, planting a smug and blueberry smudged kiss to Willow's lips.

    "I had other plans", he murmurs into her ear, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    Far later, the bear slumbers again. The moon hangs full above their heads as Willow snuggles against his side, finding just enough light to write a short entry in her book.

    "Happy days.

    At times like this, living in the now without a care in the world seems the easiest, most natural thing there is, and the world itself full of bounty and joy. I know darker times are coming, but that just makes for a stronger case to enjoy the summer days while they're here, yeah? I was ~going~ to pick medicinal herbs, I was going to look for all manners of useful things, but instead found a pond and a frisky bear to splash around in it with. We follow random trails or none, fishing and foraging for our daily needs and setting up camp wherever we feel like, in sweet sunshine or cool shade. Life is good!

    I should plan ahead, but… not just yet. These are summer's most golden days, and I'm lucky enough to afford spending them in complete and slothful enjoyment. I'm no farmer bound to the soil or squirrel gathering nuts for the winter, nor am I even a penniless wanderer any longer. I will shamelessly soak up the sun, but not without giving thanks to you who brought me here, you who fill my life with constant fresh air and make this lovely life possible.

    Shaundakul, you're the man!

    And while Llama may not be 'the man', he is ~my~ man, and that's a miracle all in itself! But I think I payed him enough in blueberries alone to not have to actually thank him..."


  • Norwick at dawn, and all is quiet but for the muted bustling of farmers and animals about to begin their day in homesteads and stables. A warm yellow light glows in the kitchen of the inn, the tantalizing smell of baking bread seeping out through the crack in the window. The tall and reedy figure dashing past takes a deep and lustful intake of breath, almost slowing her step when her stomach growls, yet the early morning wind seems to push her inexorably along, up and up the hill behind the inn, to the very top. There, Willow spreads her arms out wide to greet the dawn, dancing around in the playful gusts of wind before she tumbles to the ground, laughing. Nose down in the dew-glittering grass, she watches the sunrise with a smile, scrambling up to a seated, peaceful position. As the sun begins to warm her face, Willow writes.

    "The good, the bad and the sad - all of these have struck of late, and given me much, ~much~ food for thought. A lot of news - new people, new places and just plain news - and though some of it is surely enough to bring anyone low to the ground, I decided to try to remain light, in as much as I can, and let the bad stuff go. Though not without learning something from it, to avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future (I'm an optimist as we established earlier, after all!).

    So, let's start with the jungles of Chult, quite possibly the most wild and alien place I've ever set foot in. It was so decidedly ~different~ that to slap the tag of 'good' or 'bad' on it just isn't possible, I mean.. on the one hand, totally new experiences are ALWAYS good, on the other hand.. everything, and I mean everything in there seemed out for our blood! Flying there on the Star Harpy though.. ooohhhh wow, that has got to be the best mode of transport short of Windwalking that there is! We flew so HIGH, the land below was nothing but a dotted map of blue, green and brown, while the whole ship seemed to hum and thrum… and the speed, oh the speed! And we didn't even leave the planet!

    It definitely felt like a brand new world though, once we climbed down through the dense, dense green canopy of Chult. The heat hits you like a wall, it's very dense and palapable, a humid heat that soon saw us wilting and covered in sweat, downright delusional at times, mistaking friend for foe. We were, quite painfully obviously, out of our element, yet determined to explore this new place and hopefully find what Captain Beeter had sent us for - the head of a great three-horned beast, known as the Triceratops.

    Despite the Spellunking helm shielding me from the worst heat, I was so sweaty that I rolled around in the nearest stream, figuring I might aswell go all out. It was nice, the water seemed cool and the mud provided some scant cover from the insects that seemed so curious to taste our blood. We walked along though the massive tree trunks, hearing life all around us yet seeing very little move, until.. suddenly, the vines and vegetation itself seemed to come alive, attacking and snaring!

    My Willow Whip went berserk, though whether she tried to defend me or just wanted to join in the mayham, I can't really say. We wriggled out of that trap, but soon noticed the jungle was full of them... and the ones responsible soon showed themselves, tiny people with sharpened teeth and no interest in us aside from our juicy, already half-stewing flesh! Cannibal halflings dropped out of the trees left and right, arrows whizzing through the air. Looking up, I noticed bones in the trees.. boots, belts.. remnants of others before us.

    Eeee... strategy is a tenuous enough thing in a company so mixed as ours, but add unknown terrain and foes dropping down left and right, and it was downright chaos. I ran this way and that, trying to be of help to all, and saw Shessa running too, seeming just about to shake a cannibal off her tail. She ducked behind a tree for cover, and I thought that was that, hurried to help Llama spear a second one to a tree. He was so ferocious, despite struggling with the warmth of that furry armor of his! But no sooner did I reach his side when.. I heard Shessa cry out. What, NO! I thought she was safe.. but here, the trees provide no cover, just another means of attack. She was face-down in the mossy ground, a stone knife in her back. Oh sweet Shessa..

    There was nothing I could do, nothing but resort to asking you the biggest of favours - but to ressurect someone like that, I needed a quiet place to pray and focus. We picked our friend up and carried on, managing to clear a somewhat defensible corner out and finding a few supplies to aid - even a scroll! I'd never used that before, it felt an oddly roundabout way, but I reached through the magic, calling for Shessa, trying to feel her somewhere beyond the veil - and she came! She blinked her eyes open, shaken, but alive, and I felt a rush of both relief and protectiveness.

    We couldn't stay for longer than to let Shessa find her bearings, and as we pushed deeper into the jungle, I felt even more acutely aware of how little we understood it, how lost and foreign we were in this remote place. The jungle was like a world unto its own, fascinating but deadly, so by the time we came upon creatures who didn't immediately try to eat us, hope stirred inside me. We desperately needed shelter and rest, we needed guidance find that elusive Triceratops.. but the creatures we were to ask this of were likely to see us as intruders. Which, we kinda were.

    Terry, through his own will and the general allowance of the group, spoke on our behalf to the Yuan-ti druid... yeah, Yuan-ti. I know, not the race with the best reputation here, and they seemed to rule over the saurials with such an iron grip that everyone of them literally hit the ground in their presence. But not one had outright attacked us yet, and I figured if we could only make them see we had no interest in anything but our most temporary hunt for the tri-horned beast, they might remain neutral. With a humble attitude and perhaps a gift or two, we might even buy ourselves that respite we so needed.

    But no such luck.

    Our scout Hen, while the rest of us had waited for the Masters as requested, had snuck ahead for a closer look at their sanctum. She was spotted... and the Yuan-ti weren't pleased at trespassing in their holy place. To appease them, a blood offering to their god was called for, blood from the trespasser. Hen refused, seeming terrified, and Terry soon declared the terms unacceptable, with a distinct tone of paladin outrage at the notion. But we were talking blood ~drops~, not elven sacrifice here - to me it seemed more like an apology was asked for, a show of respect for their god, their customs, their land. But while I was willing to offer that, Llama and Elaine, Shessa too, Hen refused and Terry took up arms to protect her, ending negotiations with a cut of his blade to the Yuan-ti's neck.

    Sigh.

    What do you do when your party leader makes a decision which inexorably draws the whole party into a conflict most of them dearly wanted to avoid? In a foreign land, surrounded by things that want to eat you, walking away is not an option. We had to stick together, and so we all had to fight and ended up spilling WAY more blood than originally asked for. I was within an inch of death when Llama ~threw~ himself between me and the saurial's halberd, with a death-defying roar! Within all the chaos and bloodshed, that moment is my silver lining, my beautiful, brave bear throwing caution to the wind to save me.

    And I'd need that silver lining to hold me up, 'cause.. around us, death spread at an alarming rate. Even Beorn hit the ground, all but gone when Shessa, sweet Shessa, stopped to rub a balm to his side. And in stopping, took a hit to her own side that sent her beyond the veil once more... I heard another cry, further off, Krissie too falling victim to the fight. And in tears and helpless outrage, a fight broke out between Elaine and Hen, spilling another of my friends blood onto the ground.

    Apparantly, that was enough to sate even the Yuan-ti's taste for chaos, and one of them stepped forth out of the screaming, angry jungle around us, asking if we had had enough yet. With two dead, the party in tatters and with Beorn practically twisting her arm, Hen sullenly agreed to spill her own blood, making a small cut in her hand to add it to the rest which soaked the ground.

    With a graciousness we could not have dreamed to ask of, we were allowed rest and the time to bring our dead back, before being ushered on to the path we had wished to take in the first place - though a forest denser still, past giant sabre-toothed cats and birdlike lizards with incredibly thick skins (I managed to get one more or less intact!), on and through to green, open fields beyond. And the end of the rainbow!

    There's treasure at the end of the rainbow, I always heard, and this one was as shimmering in riches as the rainbow itself was wide and brightly sparkling, an arc of colour stretching far across an azur sky! I wanted nothing so much as to walk that bridge of lights, but ahead our elusive prey awaited.. a large, bulky figure, three great horns on its head. But the rainbow! The treasure.. Beorn and Hen in particular cast long, LOONG glances at it, but it had a feisty little guardian, a tiny and gnobbly creature who flailed and shouted to get away from his pot o' gold.

    In light of everything we'd just endured, we did.. though Beorn winced like you wouldn't believe and quietly asked that we don't tell any other dwarves about this shameful missed opportunity. Leaving gold behind.. it must be some sort of sin to a dwarf, yeah?

    But there wasn't much time for regrets, the Triceratops awaited and MAN was it big, large as a small cottage with thick armor plated skin! We swarmed around it, tossing spells, arrows, spear and blade in frantic succession, and I felt like we desperately needed that.. needed one clean fight, a success and something good to bring from all this, to ease the sour aftertaste. I think we all felt that, the fight was intense and whole-hearted, and we won, we WON! Triceratops was a magnificent beast, and I closed its eyes and whispered good fight, good night, after it fell.

    As the Star Harpy whisked us back to Narfell, we pooled our findings and were given a reward bag full of potions by Captain Beeter, along with a special jungle item for us all. Mine's a belt that fell out of one of the trees back in the cannibal area.. and as fortune and fate would have it, it belonged to a fellow Windrider, exploring that same patch of jungle! Uh.. there are bite marks along the edges of it, so I think he or she won't be missing the belt at this point, but - I bet they'd not mind me wearing it to new adventures and sights yet unseen! Llama got bearboots.. so cute, and he looked awfully pleased when he carried me off for a survival snuggle, rrhhh!

    So, we ended it on a high note, and I don't harbour any ill feelings for Terry or Hen - he thought he was doing the right thing, and she was just plain scared, but it makes me think I've got learn to be more persuasive, more vocal and insistant on compromise and that middle path which nearly always does exist. With a humbler and more open attitude, I'm certain we'd have found it, without forcing anyone to do something atrocious.

    I think I stated it before, in this very book.. it's easier to make war than peace, 'cause keeping the peace is a complex balancing act, requiring people to bend on each side. But it's always worth striving for, even if I at times despair at how very little some are willing to give to achieve something which ultimately benefits everyone.

    Sometimes I just grow disillusioned by how little people care, too. Okey, so I don't expect everyone to feel the same way I do, obviously, but still. How callous do you have to be to make jokes about eating a recently killed creature capable of as much thought, will and passion as any one amongst us, irregardless of the fact that he was a badger? How hardened are you to not see the wonder of a creature like Catelas, with his deep green gaze and aura of outstanding wisdom?

    There we were, in the deepest parts of the bugbear woods, when suddenly I heard my name being called. 'Willow, where is the Willow, please hurry!' I'd been roaming around the main group, hoping to find some sign of our green planeswalker's landing spot, when I heard him. Jacob! But Jacob doesn't like me.. we had a huge disagreement, almost shouting match, when I saw him last, but here he was, clearly in a state of near panic. 'Help, please hurry!' He dashed off through the clearing and I followed, not caring that I left the others paces behind, elated that maybe, finally, Jacob saw me as a friend.

    And then I saw the bodies, scattered on the ground. Animals, great and small... and a group of bugbears in their midst, axes dripping blood. Jacob charged right into the biggest of them, fearless as only a badger can be, but... sweet Shaundakul, a greataxe can cleave the bravest badger in two. One swing and Jacob hit the ground, his eyes flickering before the green light faded - and then the axe swung down on my shoulder.

    I reeled with the shock of it all, staggered back and let my party deal with the bugbears. Then I tended to Jacob, but knew before I even tried that it was too late. He was gone, and away from the green light, there was no Jacob to pull back, the sense of self not strong enough for me to grasp on to, not even with your help! While tears filled my eyes, Catelas found us... and in the saddest repetition of Bill's death, he carried Jacob away on his great rack also. Two brothers gone, both bright and willful, in a family of equally strong sentience. A widow, children...

    I tried to explain, the female knight at least seeming curious, but the others didn't seem to care and I felt so empty and defeated. I had so much left to say to Jacob, a jumble of words and an urge to prove I wasn't his enemy, and then when he does ask me to help, I failed! Rasuil was there though, silently supportive, and I knew I had nothing to explain to him. He gets it, and as we stood there by the gates, I really felt I had a brother in him.

    I didn't cry until Vash't showed up, at long last and with a scraggly head of hair and uneven beard. He's definitely been on the road, but had some pretty remarkable news to impart from the farseer he had visited. But first, a hug that warmed my heart and a moment's sorrowful silence, shared, as the story of Jacob's death was told. He asked me to wait a while, but if I wanted to visit the badger family to pay my respects, that would be sweet. So I will, and Shessa, Leena, Elaine and Llyran will come too. I don't know what to say to them, but I'm going anyway. I'll bring a sprig of lavender if I can find it, the same sweetly fragrant ones that grow over my mother's grave, under the swaying boughs of the silver willow.

    From the seer, Vash't learnt a great many things. First and foremost, that our planeswalker isn't buried into the ground in the manner I'd envisioned - no, instead of crashing into one spot, he broke into a million tiny fragments, scattered like mist all over the Rawlins, sinking into the earth, seeping into the water, filling the air - in a sense, he ~is~ the Rawlins, though some parts (and I think some creatures) are more soaked than others in the essence of this being, known as Soren-something-something-something.. it's a long and complex name for a creature of next to divine power.

    While him being scattered in this way certainly makes it hard for his opponent, the shadowy bleh creature of Llyran's vision, to hurt him, what Vash't learnt is also definite indication that he intends to try anyway. Magn-a-something-something-something, a creature born from fiendish brimstone and sulphur, appears to have been created as Soren's opposite, and their fighting is as eternal and unrelenting as Selûne and Shar's. Through space and time, they have struggled, and Magn's not about to let a little thing like Soren's life force being spread out into a forest stop him, oh no.

    Strong indications suggest he already uses the bugbears as his agents, and the most likely plan of attack we can think of is that they'll try and taint the very spirit of the woods. Magn-bla-bla-bleh will try everything and anything to enfuriate Soren, and... while we can't really take him on directly and win, we can at least hope to recognize him in whatever form he chooses to take, 'cause that stink of brimstone and sulphur sticks, and it's a safe bet that he doesn't care about anything but his opponent. Hopefully this will make him predictable enough that we can find the right work-arounds... 'cause we can't have the whole Rawlins suffer for this strife, and we can't hope they'll ever call it quits.

    Soren's not dead, he's very much alive, Llyran felt a distinct and powerful presence in the woods, when he took animal shape deep in the Rawlins. And I think he's also very much present in the strongly sentient animals, in Catelas, Granger and Potter, maybe others too, though these do seem different somehow. Whether or not he can ever really recover his old self, to pull together as it were, is something we just don't know. But what I do know is that if I'm to pick a side, I'm definitely with the green.

    Oh, I know it's not a natural thing and first and foremost we've got to look out for nature itself - but I can't help but feel that Soren's got that same affinity. I mean, how can you merge with something without truly empathizing, without having it influence you as much as you do it? I look at Catelas, wise and majestic, I look at Granger, Great Old Potter and.. I think all of them display a side of who this Soren is. And what that shows me is not an evil or ruthless power, no, it's one that cares and protects, it has humour, wisdom and heart. Magn's the opposite of all that.

    I know which side I'm on - but I don't know how to help, yet. Working with the animals is the key though, I'm more sure of that than ever before, and maybe now that there's a clearer foe in sight, they'll even pull together like the family they are. But I shouldn't say just animals, lately even the trees have begun to show signs of that same sentience, bending their boughs down and rustling leaves as if to say hello!

    Norwick's a logging and lumber sort of place.. I shudder to think what will happen when the trees start resisting being cut. Llama's going to talk to the druid's circle, we need every bit of help we can get here, and Leena has an idea on how to test whether it's possible to actually talk to Soren.

    I feel kind of helpless at the moment, but I am and remain an optimist. Like Tweety said, we've a heavy cloud to rise above, and they'll need our love before the rain falls. That, at the very least, I can definitely give."


  • Night has fallen over Peltarch and its foothills and farmlands. Unbeknown to the slumbering peasant, up in a hay loft a single red light shines, spreading it's soft glow across a nest of furs and bare limbs. A light snore from one nesting bird seems to stir the other, Willow's hay-strewn head of hair emerging with a sleepy yawn. With a fond smile to her sleeping bear, she squirms into a comfortable seated slouch, tugs the portable streetlight a little closer and flips her book open to write.

    "Still tired, but a good tired, the calm and satisfied langour of a richness of new experience, thrill and laughter. I feel myself again, at once content and curious, like there's something new and exciting behind every corner, just waiting to be discovered.

    There's been so much adventure of late that I hardly even know where to start, a pleasurable problem to say the least! But okey, okey… let's take it from the top. One foggy morning, I was heading out to poke around in the Rawlins, alone and in cheerful mood, despite spotting a couple of those annoying shinbiter goblins ahead. They're really quite measly though, so I flailed my katana and sent a few running in panic from the mere threat, while a bolder couple ran forth, snapping and kicking at my shins. Then suddenly, a more robust goblin emerged, clad in what looked like mange-AND-flea-eaten dogskins, crudely attached to his person. Shouting bloody murder, Mangy came at me with two knives, sticking both into my kneecaps repeatedly.

    Oww oww.. seriously, OW, quit it!

    Shaundakul, if I ever forget to thank you for being on my side, twist my ear until I remember, 'key? 'Cause setting my katana on fire ~really~ helped, and mister mangy-mad-for-kneecap-puncture-wounds didn't like it at all, haha! The same goes for the five or six robbers by the lake, who thought a skinny traveller would be easy pickings. Not when the wind blows her forth at gale speed, she's not! Swiiish, swooosh and schwiiing, and then they were defeated, thanks big guy!

    I was too late to save their first target, but hauled the guy back to town so that he'd at least have a chance to be recognized by friends and family, and then thought nothing more of it. Until a few days later, when a party of posh looking travellers came through the gates, complaining loudly about the robbers accosting them on their way to Norwick.

    Robbers, huh? Highwaymen aren't high in your esteem or mine, everyone should be free to go where they will, by trails wide or narrow, so I volunteered to help deal with the problem, alongside Shessa, Silver and a priestess called Trish. The nobles (they really were nobles, an actual Duke and Dutchess!) had enough guards that they were relatively unscathed, but the robbers had made off with their collection of books and we were offered a reward to retrieve them.

    We set off towards the Rawlins in high spirits, and I figured we'd start at the point of the last ambush - and predictably this was the exact same spot the bandits had chosen again. Sheesh.. I mean, if you're going to live a life of crime, breaking rules and regulations, why STILL fall into a routine? I liked them even less, just for that, and as luck would have it there was a trail to follow despite the rain. It might pay off to have heavy guys along for your heists, but the heavier you are, the bigger the print you leave behind.

    The tracks came and went, most easily spotted in the softer, muddier terrain, but with Shessa and me on constant lookout while Silver and Trish kicked butt in front, we managed to weave our way through the eastern Rawlins, past all the hobgoblins and even the dread umberhulk, all the way to the Scar.

    'What's this place?', asked Silver and Trish, having never been there before. Shessa and I tried to warn them about the local flappies, but when the fight broke out, it all became a right chaotic jumble. First the footpads, easily defeated, but once the bandit camp came into view, a pair of burly half-orcs with halberds came running - and at that exact time, the first wyvern landed, soon joined by another. Flamestrike softened the half-orcs considerably, but the wyverns, oh the wyverns! They were swooping in and out, poisoning Shes and Trish while Silver gave chase - but we weren't done fighting bandits yet!

    Their captain remained, a robed woman who was obviously a spellcaster of one flavour or another. 'Charge her!', screamed my adventuring instinct, 'casters first, casters first!' but I'd gone for beefing Silver up instead of myself, 'cause well.. he can actually fight. But he still had his hands full with the wyverns.. uh oh. This won't end well, Willow, I thought to myself and set off running towards the bandit, katana held high.

    'EEEEEEEEEE!'

    My mighty battlecry did little to scare the bandit leader, who I ~think~ had me pegged for a wuss... (perhaps rightly so!). She tried to dispel my protections instead of actually focusing on hurting me, like she figured I'd be swatted in one go once that was accomplished. But she failed, your blessings were too strong - so she tried again, and again, while I ran closer to finally take the predictable swing-and-miss at her. But Shessa switched targets, her arrows flying true as ever, pew pew PEW, and after what was surely seconds but felt like hours, the other two joined the fray. Victory!

    We recovered the books - Llama almost laughed his butt off when he heard of bandits who managed to steal only that - but in the accumulated trove of goods, there were several other interesting things - a stealthy cloak, a flashy red one too, an elven-styled helmet, a curious amulet and several useful potions. Once safely back at the gates, we got our rewards and a very pretty amulet from the Hornleaf family, then divided the rest of the spoils. Tymora smiled on me, and the flashy cloak is mine! Shessa was over the moon about the skulking cloak she got, and Silver opted for perhaps the most curious item of all - an amulet for detecting thoughts.

    I don't think I fancy using such a thing myself... honestly, most people just aren't that interesting, and I suspect I'd like a fair few even less if I knew what was truly on their minds. In the wrong hands, such an amulet can be downright dangerous too, and I'm sorta leaning towards Danika's opinion that such things be destroyed. I got a very strange look from her, followed by a huge smile, when I described the Legion (who will be the true keepers of the amulet) as 'square thinkers'. I mean, I don't think any of them have bad intentions, but... you know!

    One very obviously suspect guy showed a blatant interest in the amulet, a robed fellow with a helmet shielding his face at all times and this ~hugely~ annoying slow walk. He claims he's old and frail, but I think that's bollocks, just as bogus as his so called name, 'Woodstaff'. Yeah.. riiiiiiight. For some reason, he was invited along for a patrol of the family crypts with me, Silver and this funny Waukeenar priest called George (he's so brightly armored that he looks like a very expensive piece of candy!). I guess they bought the poor old man story, but I didn't, and it turns out that whatever else he may be, he's a certifiable ~douche~.

    Grr! It's like.. alright, let's assume he really is old. Some people are of the opinion you've got to be all sweet and helpful to old people for that reason alone, and forgive them any bad habits like they were kids. But I think being old is no excuse for acting like a jerk - in fact, you've had your whole life to learn how to be a decent person! If you haven't learnt by now, you're obviously a lost cause. And I ~don't~ like jerks, no matter what age, race, gender or creed they happen to have.

    This particular jerk won the toss-up for another little treasure we found, after clearing the crypt of some nasty graverobbing Cyricists. There was a whip amongst the stuff, a sturdy and barbed thing which looked nasty, but definitely useful for people who know how to swing 'em - like me, yeah? So first the guy SNAILS forth at excrutiatingly slow pace, taking FOREVER while he pretends to agonize over the choice - only to take the whip. I ask him to at least not sell it to some uncaring shopkeeper, and what happens? A couple days later, I meet a very nice whip specialist called Higgy, who had just bought a sturdy, barbed whip at the Stargazers Emporium...

    But - I'd promised myself to not get so annoyed with people, yeah? And it's kinda working! I'm not all the way there yet, I do still get that twinge of irritation (like for instance that elf mage insisting he's a better hand at bandages than me, without even knowing what I can or can't do). But it doesn't get to me to the point of ruining my fun, and neither did the whip incident. And to make matters better, Higgy sold me her old whip, a supple, slender thing with a lovingly worn handle and precise aim. And as chance would have it, another whip much like the first was found in a different adventure, and is now in my possession. So I have a spanking new cloak (re-coloured to my liking) and not one, but two new whips. WIN!

    Oh I know, I shouldn't get hung up on material things, but I like new, I like useful, I ~love~ whips and the curious and unusual. Like the portable streetlight! Oh, that's the most fabulous and explorer-friendly item EVER! But I only love things up to the point where they slow me down, and since my spellunking helmet lets me see in the dark, I thought it better if Llama had the streetlight. Besides, like I told him - this way I'll know if he's waiting for me, in the Roost or elsewhere. I'll spot that red light and know his warm arms await.

    New places seen:

    Beyond the Ogres Gorge - here, there is a vast and open forested area, full of steam and the bubble of water, as though the deep rifts run all the way down to hot bubbling magma deep in the earth's core. Dire animals roam in these lush and humid woods, but most of all there are ogres. Ogres, ogres and ogres, as far as the eye can see and then some. Cover is sparse and temporary, as they come charging at you from seemingly every which way. I nearly peed my pants when that extra big one came sprinting up behind me, greatsword swinging! Running is good!

    A Plane of Ice and Fire - talk about exploring, right? How often do you get to go to a whole other plane - it was a chance I couldn't pass up on, and that Ice Spirit was so sad, weeping crystalline tears at the impending loss of her homeland. Fire was claiming it, she said, and soon all would be lost. I'm pro neither cold nor heat as such, but come on... taking another's home over like that is kind of bully behavior, not cool, fire. Not cool!

    So me and Llama, alongside a whole bunch of curious co-firefighters, stepped into a portal and came out into a raging battlefield. Icy slopes, dripping with water, and fire crackling and roaring all around. There was a champion, Kossuth's chosen or something - but before we got that far, there were fire elementals, mephits and salamanders all around, and creepy spiders spreading panic around them.

    To say it was rough going is putting it mildly - within the first descent, we had two casualties and several near deaths, and another as we got closer. At the top of the plateau, the champion awaited.. a MASSIVE fire elemental. He wouldn't really reason with us, but had an offer - either we burn, or we help him slay the Ice Spirit. Opinion differed slightly, but most agreed to stick to the chosen path, and the fight was on!

    Oh, the sweaty, sweaty fight.. I was out of healing, out of useful spells but for the final push of wind I sent under Terry's feet, and eventually, in slight desperation, I clutched a quiver of frost-tipped arrows from my pack, to make at least some contribution to whittling this fire behemoth down. And down it went, but with SUCH a fight that I have to applaud it, really I do. Fire is awesome, but Ice has a place too, and our spirit was grateful for the chance to rebuild her home. We each got a wonderful little ring of ice, and a hoard of treasure items to choose from - hence the portable street light and the whip! Best of all, I got to adventure with my honeybear again, RHHH!"


  • Devoid of her usual energy, Willow sit slumped against the walled enclosure in the Roost, her fur cloak bunched up in a ball in her arms. She hugs it to her chest, breathing a long, slow sigh out, then props the cloak behind her back, looks up to the sky and then begins to write.

    "So tired.

    The last few weeks have been eventful, to say the least, and while I feel like a wrung-out dishrag right now, I decided it's high time to write it down, both so that I'll remember, and to remind myself of all the good stuff contained within the recent past.

    I feel a bit thinned out, translucent, my thoughts not quite so firmly rooted within myself as usual. In my constant fight against gravity, this should perhaps be a good thing, but my limbs are as heavy as my mind feels light. I know this feeling, I know it'll pass, but a third death feels like the beginning of a trend. Returning from the fugue is depressing and disorienting enough that I really have to start considering ways of avoiding a return visit.

    Note to self: you're way too easily bowled over, Willow. And why do you prepare Sanctuary if you never use it? Think, woman, think! At least Leena didn't join you this time, that's some consolation, but you're beginning to rack up a serious debt with that portly Tyrran priest.

    I'm reflecting over my flaws recently, not only in the staying-alive department. I've let other people get on my nerves a bit too often of late, and that's not a good thing. In my rational mind, I know I'll only waste my breath trying to change others, rationally I know all I can control is my own reaction, but I do have certain pet peeves that are hard to get over completely. Like people talking about me as though I was not there (obvious attempt at belittling), people telling me how I should spend the blessings You grant me (I'm the one you hold accountable so I'll decide the how, when and where, thank you very much), people telling me to not do this or that, to shut up when I've as much of a right to speak as the next person, in short, people telling me what to do pisses me off. Especially when they've not a single shred of authority over me.

    But anger, much like fear, regret, frustration and sorrow, are heavy feelings, fetters for the soul, and while you sometimes can't help but feel them, nothing good will come of wallowing in it. Besides, when it's other people who cause those feelings, giving in to them means you're in essence letting them decide - perhaps not what to do, but how to feel. And you can't let them, Willow!

    She came to me in a cool, sharp gust of wind, up on the hill overlooking Norwick's gates, and I can't help but think you sent her. Her very presence sent prickles down my spine, the essence of air in perfectly fluid feminine shape. But her arms were folded, as though about to scold me, and she gave me this long and searching look that made me terribly flustered, before she spoke.

    'Ignore the ramblings of those set in routine', the elemental said, her voice a chime of clearest wind, crystalline. 'Be free as the wind. Changing. Sweeping. Flowing. The Winds are always moving, these lands are set in the ways of old. The Wind Rider favours those that are free.'

    As I stuttered something I can't even remember back, I let go my anger and she unfolded her arms with another long, searching look. Then she leaped into the sky, so easily, so freely that my heart ~ached~ to join her. I followed her trail across the sky for as long as I could, waving madly!

    Shessa said I'm the freest person she knows, but I know my struggle with gravity is both internal and external. I can empty my pack completely, wear only the lightest of silk, but still be chained to the ground if I let fear, anger or dread dull routine get me down. I've got to embrace that which lifts me up, and ignore the rest, refuse to be dragged down into boggy dramas or fruitless despair. It really is my own choice.

    So, on to things that lift me up.

    I've met some more Wolves, had a long talk with Danika and a walk around the lake shooting goblins with Yngdir. We even fought together when the bugbears got it into their heads to challenge the town's defences, and man - when the arrows started flying, I felt very much the pup! With Rasuil, Yngdir and Danika on the hill where my air elemental landed, the bugbears got seriously peppered, in fact their leader was shot down before he got to the gates themselves. Gates which, in an odd twist of fate, held throughout several waves of attack!

    I'm not sure what sort of impression I made, nor if I feel any closer to any one of them but Vash't yet, but I'm cautiously optimistic. Danika is a delightfully free spirit, and we seem to think alike in a number of areas. Yngdir is more on the grim side, with a tendency to lecture that reminded me of when I first met Vash't. Less don'ts, but definitely a side-dish of "save your healing for so and so time" that falls neatly into my pet-peeve category of above. But we don't know each other very well yet, he'll just have to learn to trust that I actually know what I'm doing. Rasuil is pretty laid-back and probably the one I feel most comfortable with, but then we've spent some time together already in various wanderings and adventures. He's got a wry sense of humour that's hard not to like, even when he grouches.

    Finally, the high-light of recent times, and of course it's Llyran-related. Only, he doesn't even know it himself yet! I was selling off some goblin junk, or rather ~trying to~, when the gnomish shopkeep flipped his lid about it. 'No more goblin junk, I'll even make a sign that says so!', he exclaimed, all in a hiss about it. Somehow we got from debating whether the knives I was offloading were goblin or ghostly junk, to if I was a warrior type for having a green - or black, as I claimed - cloak, and then onto the question of what sort of animal would have green fur.

    'The Extra-Rare Icelace Furred Dire Turtle', says mister gnome, blithely. I gaped.. dire turtles, really? Where!? The gnome goes on to say that the way he heard it, the turtles often gather on an island near something called Lacedon Reef, and that they're bigger than a man with incredibly tough shells. But - if it's a dire turtle shield I want, he can get it for me. 'Only 6000 gold', the gnome says, then adds "..well, if you get me the ingredients. I'll pay you 5000 gold for that!'. So if we can get the shell, the gnome will enchant it into a shield for essentially one thousand gold, and Llama will be one happy, well-protected druid, RHH!

    It's all very exciting, and I can't wait to tell him. I've kind of already made certain arrangements, asking our friends to help and hiring a ship via John Isle. Although he wouldn't lend us his own, once he heard the words Lacedon Reef.. 'cause apparantly it's haunted, with loads of sea ghouls in the waters! But he'll find another ship for our use, mentioning the name Drelan, so I think we'll be well set!

    The only worry now is the lack of space to run around on, on a ship.. since, let's face it, most of my friends and definitely myself are kind of squishies. But we have loads of other useful skills, and Jonni might just suffice for actual tough-guy'edness, yeah? Just in case, I feel like I ought to practice my undead smitery… and leave Llyran to figuring out how to talk a dire turtle out of it's shell.

    New places seen:

    The Gnolls Den - it's this huge cave full of their denmothers, angry bitches with viciously sharp scythes and loads of their flearidden younglings. Only this time, there was more to it still, as a dark chanting came from within the deepest part of the cave. Oh man.. it was like a sea of fur in there, with axes sticking out of it like nasty flowers about to cut you a new one. But we managed to stomp 'em all down and free a hin prisoner, bet you Morrie would like to have heard that!

    The Giantspire Ogre Cave - past the beach, there's a cave which I was repeatedly warned of going into, 'cause of the dangers inside. Traps and loads of toughass ogres, they said, only now I had the perfect opportunity. A Defender actually asked for help from adventurers, told us to bust up a party in there 'cause they were getting out of control. So we did, a to say the least varied party of all kinds of skills and competence. There was a lot of bleeding initially, but by the time we hit the back of the cave where the worst of them awaited, we were all working more like a team. Triumph, and treasure! They were snacking on 'party meals' of elf, human and hin... so even with the streak of pity I felt for that one remaining little ogre we spared, I don't really regret busting that horrific feast up!

    Maria's mage's tower - bigger on the inside."

    With that, Willow yawns, snuggling down in the dry moss with the cloak as her pillow. As she drifts off to sleep, a smile is back on her face, the night breeze stroking her cheek in gentle good-night wishes.


  • The vine leading up to the Roost rustles and shakes, as though tugged on from below in slow but steady rythm. After quite some time, a hand emerges, long fingers digging into the cliff's edge as Willow hoists herself up with an audible grunt, landing belly down with her legs still dangling down. Then she just lies there, breathing slowly in and out as though waiting for something, or simply trying to regain energy that's simply not there. The evening sun strokes the young half-elf's cheek with a gentle golden caress, and after a little while, Willow sighs a long, weary sigh, squirming up and staggering over to the small shelter further off. In the last of the light remaining, she writes:

    "Alone.

    I was never really bothered by being alone, in fact solitude is something I've a craving for at times, at least the sort of alone where you're free of other people and their opinions, expectations and demands, outspoken or implied. Being alone in the company of others is a bit sad and something I try my best to avoid, but the fact of the matter is, more often than not I find myself the odd one out. Probably because, well.. I am pretty odd. But out in the wild, I enjoy being by myself. I guess that's because I don't really ~feel~ alone there (nor am I, there's life buzzing all around), I feel like I fit in, I belong without having to do or say anything.

    And in all the wild places I love best, there YOU are too. Someone asked me the other day why I'm here, seeming to find it flippant that I 'just' want to see the sights - but I think I just explained it too poorly to make them understand. In those moments of discovery, of thrill and awe at sights both beautiful and unexpected, I feel not only not-alone, but completely in the moment, connected to the world and everything in it - you especially! I feel the presence of the divine tightly intertwined with the wonder of the world itself and it makes me feel more alive than anything!

    Ironically, in my never-ending quest for this wonderful state of mind - a state I try to share with others in encouraging and accompanying them to new discovery - I have stumbled into sudden death once again. This time, I was running around in the old Gypsy camp with Leena, in such carefree spirits that I literally threw caution to the wind. We entered the eerie grown-over tree-house where chaos reigns supreme and found ourselves bested by… furniture!

    Yeah, that's right - death by furniture, seriously! That has got to be pretty darn high up on the top-ten-silliest-ways-to-die list, yeah?

    The thing is, it was a horde of poisonous frogs that drove us out the first time, a close call which left us PUMPED with crazy adrenaline - so crazy that when Leena said there'd been treasure in the chest they all leaped out of, I didn't think twice about following her down again, with Shessa in tow. I mean, come on.. we'd killed all the monsters, yeah? And after danger comes reward, surely! It's how classic adventure is structured, only chaos doesn't care about structure - and our chaos threshold was sooo much lower than any of us anticipated.

    I remember very little of that second descent, only our gleeful confidence and relief at the lack of additional frog-leaping. A tilt of perception, an echoed scream that seemed to move through air thick as honey, the nightmarish dance of the furniture... and then all was still, clear and white in the beyond. I was alone for just a moment, before Leena joined me, shame-faced and stunned. We held hands, rooting for Shessa's safe return, but lady Luck wasn't on our side today. She joined us after a valiant effort to drag our bodies out, and that was that.

    We were dead, with no one knowing where we'd gone.

    Oops?

    Suddenly, I couldn't help but to laugh. I mean, come on! Killed by furniture... it's too bizarre to take seriously, despite the cold, undeniable fact that we were in the fugue with no help in sight! And whatever else it may be, it sure wasn't boring and routine - no, this was a true novelty!

    I kind of thought that would appeal to you, and as we knelt together in prayer, I was ~sure~ I would get to see you again, that you'd come take my hand and laugh with me, a deep booming laughter that would spread to us all, even shake the sadness out of Shessa!

    Someone did listen, but it wasn't you, nor Mielikki or Mystra - no, instead came the somber figure of a man, tall and imposing with a striking moustashe and white armor. He looked down on the three of us, and suddenly I felt a silly little girl, caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

    'What am I to do with you?', he wondered out loud, his voice deep and resonant like the toll of a mourning bell. Stuttering and stammering, we made the plea to return to the living, and this the man granted. 'It will come at a price', he said, looking to each of us. We all agreed, Leena blurting out his name at last. 'Are you Kelemvor..?'

    He granted her a slight smile, then he was gone. And suddenly, for the first time, I was actually afraid. I don't know why, maybe it's because of how overwhelming it all became, but I grasped Leena and Shessas hands, tightly, only to feel them slipping away one by one, leaving me behind.

    Utterly alone.

    Now I was shivering, throwing ghostly arms around myself and waiting, hoping, clinging to faith. I'm ~yours~, but you had neither come to claim me nor send me back - though perhaps like me, the realm of the dead simply isn't where your strength or interest lies? No wind stirred here in the fugue. I felt so desperately alone, cut off from everything that matters to me. Llyran said he'd find me wherever I go, but here? I'm not sure even he could find me here...

    And then I gasped, drawing in a painful, precious, giddy lungful of air. A portly priest in fullplate towered over me, gently pulling me to my feet and ushering me out to safety once I had collected my things. Leena and Shessa awaited, each looking as wobbly-legged and wide-eyed as myself. The priest emerged, I don't remember his name but he soon departed with advice that we praise our true benefactor - Kelemvor.

    Praying once more, a white light washed over us, one by one, and I felt my temples throb and ache, a pull inside leaving me weary like a wrung-out wash cloth. I know the sensation from before, when I awoke in the Chauntean shrine in Norwick with Llyran's worried eyes awaiting.

    He wasn't here this time - always before when one of us have died, the other was there to hug, scold, kiss and support the other, but not this time. It made me a little sad, but I hugged the others, told Leena not to blame herself and told them both this feeling will pass - and it will! It really will, and us three will have a story like none others, of intrepid exploration, bold frog slaying and silly, ~silly~ death by furniture.

    And we got to talk to a god! I still wish it had been you, but hey, I understand. You're a busy guy and people still living need help to not die, right? I'd make the same priority, but I do hope you approve of what we did - I admit going back a SECOND time was downright stupid, but I think you'd agree that we shouldn't be too scared of dying to live properly and ride the wind, letting the moment sweep us along.

    Those moments are worth dying for.

    Still, I sure could do with a bearhug right about now..."


  • Up in the Roost, a pale dawn creeps across the horizon, sending a nearby robin into an energetic early bird tweeting session from its hidden perch. A mound of bearskins stir into sudden life, Willow's unruly head of hair emerging. She blinks sleepy green eyes, yawns and burrows half-way down into the furs again, opting for letting herself slowly surface from sleep's soft embrace as she watches the sunrise beside her still sleeping druid.

    Said druid continues to sleep blissfully as Willow devours a simple breakfast of boiled egg and slices of apple, chirping to the robin as she takes a morning skip around the Roost, hair swirling around her head. A light prod from a long fingertip to the druid's side produces nothing more than a bearlike grunt, Willow chuckling and smoothing the furs over the sleeper instead. She flips open the little book, still smiling as she writes.

    "Quiet times.

    Those aren't so bad, really - like most things they're what you make of them, and I've opted to fill my quiet time with a lot of goblin shake-downs, exploring and adventure, rather than frustrate myself with focusing on what ~isn't~ happening. And like a busy little squirrel, I've gathered a lot of proverbial nuts for whatever's to come next - so many nuts in fact, that gravity will have to yield its most relentless hold on me - Beorn says my gold will be enough for both breastplate and shield, in lightweight steel!

    He hustled and bustled, and the shield's already a done deal! Oh, it's beautiful, adorned with the image of three throwing axes hurtling through the air! Axes for the smith, wind for the shield's owner - perfect! As for Llama, he's content with my old pretty brass, until we find that dire turtle that is (and we will!). The armor comes next, though I forgot to ask Beorn to fasten little windchimes to the sleeves like I meant to… I also wonder what to do with the old trusty green, once I've got my steel? Maybe I could find it a suitable new owner, though I've found most people favour either lighter or heavier armor. Fingers crossed that I don't have to just pawn it off at the market, I AM rather fond of it! Just not enough that I'll let it weigh me down.

    New places seen: the snowy slopes of the Giantspires, where great big packs of wolves and worgs roam (including beautiful winter wolves, rhhh!). Tucked away in a snowcapped hillside, there's also a cave PACKED with stinking orcs of near every flavour of nasty, including a very big, very bad boss orc. Which we defeated, HAHA! In your face, whateveryournamewas!

    The Scar - night-time AND day, and all of the nearby woods. The view out there is great, if not quite so grand as the drop in the swamps. There's an intriguing cliffside cavern, currently inaccessible... which only makes me more eager to find a way inside! And there's that awesome circle of standing stones, which the wyverns seem to love so much. Too much for spending the night camping out there, unfortunately!

    And, I think you'll like this part, I haven't just been seeing the sights, I've been ~sharing~ them with others! I took Elessar and Kessmiah out wandering to both the swamp's edge and the Scar just a few days after exploring the latter myself, and got to partake in their first times to both locations. Encouraging others in exploring is almost as good as exploring oneself!

    I've also made new friends, noticably a bard with a love for exploration and treasure-seeking, called Helena. She's got a whip too - only hers seems a little more on the practical and fancy side, rather than being an animated menace/death trap... it's ok though, Willo'Whip - you're still my baby. Just, you know.. if you could try not to trip my legs while I'm trying to fight, it'd be appreciated!

    Helena and I actually found treasure in the smaller of the orcs cave, mightily defeating the two hammer-weilding thugs guarding it - which, considering our lack of actual martial prowess, was pretty impressive! I could SO not have done that without you, Shaundakul. You're the BEST!

    So is Llyran, though. Bears sure know their lullabies, and he sang me one that's got to be guaranteed to send any lumbering beast to bed for the whole winter. There was just something soooo sleep-inducing about the grunt-grunt-grunts... actually, I'm getting sleepy just thinking about it.. "

    The text trails off in a wobbling line as Willow yawns hugely, burrowing back in under the mound of furs to sleep as much or as little of the day away as takes her fancy, snuggled up beside her bearlike druid.


  • Flat on her back on Ukka's hill, Willow gazes at the puffy little clouds making their way across a blue sky, far overhead. Her long thin arm reaches up, fingers gently tickling the underside of one of the clouds, chuckling to herself as it stretches out into a new, elongated shape. After an hour or two of this favoured pasttime, the young half-elf flops over on her belly, fishing out the little book to write.

    "What a perfect, perfectly relaxing day, all warm sunshine and cooling breezes, and the most perfectly adorable clouds for company! I've been hatching a plan to catch one of the latter, to Air Walk up and cast my spidery web around it, then fuse cloud and armor into one magnificent light and airy creation - but upon reflection, maybe ~catching~ is the wrong way to go about things? You can never really catch the wind, it's by nature flightly and untamed, but you've taught me how to ask it to do certain things - hurl lightning down, slow my opponents, haste my allies - maybe what I really need then is simply to learn how to ask?

    I think I could offer a cloud a pretty good deal - sure, it would be grounded to an extent, but I'd take to the air if it felt homesick and I'd show it sights no cloud has ever seen - well, probably? I doubt very many clouds go spellunking after all, but air is free and travels where the wind wills! And so do I, so it should feel right at home with me, yeah?

    Catching a dire turtle and wrangling it out of it's shell is probably no easier, but I'm determined to try and get Llama his shield. I mean, he's still a little too fond of charging in to not have something better than a skeleton's bashed up old towershield for protection! Since I don't want to change who he is, it makes perfect sense to focus on getting him fitting equipment instead! That pirate guy John might even help us, I think he's some sort of ranger of the sea. He's a funny guy, a fact which is confirmed by Andrew's dislike of him, haha! Andrew's a good guy and all, but sheesh - I think he was born wholly without funny-bone. It's a pretty devestating handicap, but he's got a couple of friends nonetheless so I won't feel too sorry for him!

    And speaking of big guys with swords, I ran into that Cecil fellow again (such a wrong name for him, I have to find a better one). He's pretty funny too, knows how to enjoy the simple things like running and roaring out loud! I just HAD to haste him, it's like he was meant for it! He's got this serious paladin-speechy side to him too though, I hadn't expected that, but then I hadn't expected a headless barbarian with a huge axe to show up out of the darkness either! MAN was that scary… and it boggles the mind to think of how a headless guy can talk that much, but he did!

    First the threats, then the 'join me and rule by my side' crap.. it was a bum deal and Cecil knew it, he isn't dumb like you'd expect of a big brutish looking fellow! Once the fight was on though, you could totally tell the headless guy had NO love of magic. He ran straight for Elessar, swinging his axe and shouting 'Die demonbinder, diieee!', but Cecil threw himself into the path while I ran up behind to heal them, Rasuil's lightning arrows whizzing through the air.

    I was just about to set Cecil's big-ass sword on fire when I took too close a look at Mr Headless Wonder... and suddenly, I ~saw~ his head! It was hovering just above his shoulders, severed, all bone with bits of dried skin hanging off it in patches. Those empty eyesockets stared straight at me... and I swear he grinned. Then the head flew at me, mouth gaping open to spill out a flood of maggots!

    I panicked and ran, but in the distance I could see a big black shape appearing, roaring and lifting a giant paw at the axeman - the black lion, the one that had appeared earlier in warning of the undead attack. Those long-dead bodies still lay all around us, brittle bone and putrid zombie flesh, clad in tribal rags of times long since past. But with the lion's intervention, the headless axeman vanished, was banished maybe! But not for long, I bet.

    There's something about Norwick and undead, something which goes a long, LONG way back, settled deep into history and the soil itself. No effort seems to keep the dead from rising, and from what little I know, that's been the case for as long as anyone can remember. Is the headless axeman a clue to that, a walking remnant of some ancient wrong, some grave injury that left a scar even to this day, a grudge so deep it's still carried? (grave.. yeah I saw that, haha!)

    I don't find much satisfaction in fighting undead, unlike a lot of others around here. Maybe it's the sense of futility in that they just keep rising, but really, they also just plain ~depress~ me with their groans and twisted, joyless natures, bereft of all that makes life worth living. Unlife is a horrible fate and maybe I SHOULD spend more time fighting it, but I'd rather live and help the living. I think you agree!

    But when the undead threaten the living, yeah... then I'll step up to the plate. Lightning worked pretty well out there, just a pity I didn't get to flame the big bad! Next time, maybe.

    P.S. No sign of mister Formerly-Deadmeat, but I've told my friends and now Cecil too, which means the guards will keep an eye out aswell. It's wait-and-see time, for now."


  • Crosslegged on the tower overlooking the gates, Willow sits with a troubled expression, staring out across the Rawlins. She sighs, a light wind sweeping a strand of hair across her face in a gentle caress, then bends her head down to write in her book. Tiny letters in black ink swiftly filling the page which is then torn carefully out and folded into a small square. Standing, Willow scans the treeline for a long moment, then trots off through town with a purposeful expression.

    In her hand is the folded up note, which reads:

    @27f4462a02:

    Hey bro!

    Bad news - I found a stranger's body in the woods yesterday, a guy who had a gang-like tattoo on his hand but little else in the form of identification. More importantly, he'd been killed by mauling, stomping, clawing, biting, pecking.. his throat had been ripped out and he wore THE most horrified expression!

    I was too late to save his life and too late to catch sight of those that did the deed - but I think the latter is kind of a no-brainer, sad to say. For a shameful second, I thought about simply burying the guy out there in the wilds, just so that tensions wouldn't rise beyond control - but I guess they already did, huh? And in any case, it would've been a douchy cover-up thing to do!

    In the end, I settled for my own sort of damage control in that I hauled the heavy sonnova-whatsit back to the gates, and asked Shaundakul to lend him a helping hand out of the fugue - and it worked! Oh, it was ~amazing~, winds whirled around Mr Deadmeat and then he wasn't dead anymore!

    I was reeling with the wonder of what I'd just done (it was my first raise!), but mister No-Longer-Deadmeat was wild-eyed and panicky. The lecture I'd planned to give him (starting with 'I saved your life so listen good') was lost as he backed off, then bolted at breakneck speed! I was encumbered (as usual) and so I couldn't catch up! Let's hope he doesn't spread that panic around town, or that if he does, people will dismiss it as crazy-talk, yeah?

    I'll stick around Norwick for now, maybe I'll find him or he'll find me, and the details of events will become clear. But yeah… bad news. Tell our friends!

    -W


  • Late afternoon, a light drizzle falls around the Roost, tiny raindrops clinging to every grass and leaf, shimmering like jewels in the mossy recesses of the cliff face. The vine shakes, a small scattering of water falling down on the climber, who soon pops her damp head up over the edge. Willow hoists her lanky frame up, seeming in a sunny mood despite the weather as she takes a few skipping steps up to the shelter. Suddenly something catches her eye, and she halts, backstepping to delicately pluck a tiny note from the rock wall. Though slightly damp, the text is still perfectly readable, Willow's mouth forming a curious 'o' as she does just that.

    "Oooo…"

    @2f7062c0dc:

    Hey kiddo,

    Been searching for the Spheresource near the place where Llyran went with our dear white elk. Difficult, Bugbears seem on alert, might know something is up. Can't get too close.

    I'm currently tinkering on a workaround, but I can't go in to detail in case this gets spotted by some shifty neerdowell. Will try to run in to you and Llyran soon enough.

    Wish me luck, and I'll fill y'all in next time I see ya. Our superneuropsychokineticpowered animal friends are currently trying to run damage control on the tide of dissent. Many, many goblins have been being slaughtered by Jacob's lot, and I fear it's only a matter of time before the wrong citizen picks on the wrong critter… or, even worse, vice versa.

    Keep your eyes open for me, will ya?

    Thanks sis.

    -V

    "I will!", she shouts out to the air, spinning around before tucking the note into her little book, adding a few words of her own.

    "Family.

    I have that now, of a sort! I have my bear and my wolf brother, and more to come once I'm a Wolf myself. You know, it's funny with Vash't… I think he kind of appointed himself big brother from the get-go, but it wasn't until he loosened up that we really hit it off. We laugh, we sometimes wax philosophical and tease each other like I imagine real siblings do. I mean, I never had any before now! But I like to think this easy, comfortable warmth, care and friendly taking the piss out of each other is just what it should be like.

    The sentient animals act much like a family too, but the sad thing is that they're a family divided. Jacob keeps letting his grief and anger fuel his actions, and it's really only a matter of time before push becomes shove. I know I can't control it, but I can do the things I have and will continue to do - talk, urge others to caution and spread the word of what's really happening.

    Leena thought we should go for the source, and with both Rasuil and Vash't looking, I'm pretty sure we can find it - but the bugbears and the mystery Shadow is a concern! Another concern is how many of our friends and allies that I haven't seen around recently... no Morrie, no Merry, even Lainie's been a scarce sight, as have Jonni and Elvira. Although come to think of it, it might be that I haven't seen them because I've been sort of hiding away with Llama at times? Not that I can regret THAT!

    It's ok though - if kick-ass time comes for say, bugbears, there won't be any shortage of people wanting to join in, I bet! Fighting is easy compared to keeping the peace, which is probably why the former has the bigger allure. But fighting just for the sake of it always seemed pointless to me - practice makes perfect, sure enough, but ughhh.. the thrill for me isn't in repeating the same swing of my blade a million times, it's in making new discoveries! Although I'll grant you that some insight comes only through repeated effort, the ~grind~ is a killer of joy and lust for life! Boo, hisss!

    No new places of late, but I have managed to summon a brand new friend - a lovely air elemental! The downside is that to manage that, I had to purchase that silly book of summons.. another pound of weight, and now I'm ever only an apple from encumberance.

    Speaking of which.. yum, apple snack time!"


  • High up on the western wall of Peltarch, Willow perches precariously with a giddy smile plastered all across her face, light green eyes turned towards the Icelace Lake, which glitters like beaten silver in the distance. A cool and crisp wind comes from the lake, stirring tangled, moss-strewn hair and crumpled cloth, sweeping across the young woman's face like a calming hand. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment as her smile softens, then hops off her perch to take a seat in one of the little turrets to write.

    "~Llyran, Llyran, Llyran~

    He's still asleep. I don't know ~anyone~ who can sleep for as long and as deeply as he does, you can literally poke him with a stick and he'll hardly even stir! He really is such a bear! I left him hibernating sweetly in our misty make-shift Den of moss and vine, I just couldn't sleep anymore myself, I'm too giddy to stay that still! Instead, I've foraged bread, cheese and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, trying not to eat the lot before he joins me… such a slow-poke!

    Does the way I look at him make him feel as weird and wonderful as his gaze makes me? His eyes at once wild and awed, as though I was a dryad, lovely beyond compare, stepping out of her willow with not a single leaf on. The Willow in Llyran's eyes is a me I haven't met before, making me wonder if love isn't only about exploring the other person, but also about self-discovery; a dizzying back-and-forth exchange that builds to something more than it's parts. I'm ~more~, for loving him. I hope he feels the same way!

    Mushy stuff aside, I've loitered up north, hoping for a glimpse of that dragon everyone's been talking about, but no luck yet. I've also been adventuring far and wide, yet all this time spent away from the Rawlins makes me sort of itch, even worry-wart about stuff there.. it's like Vashism really IS contageous, 'cause I didn't use to worry about much of anything! Fingers crossed that he managed to persuade the folks in charge there to try his idea, we need something positive to give back, then Jacob might listen. So far it's been all about learning and avoiding things getting worse, but maybe, just maybe we can start making it better.

    New places seen:

    The CoooOOooold caves.. veeery dangerous, deep and full of history I'd love to know more of - and indeed cold, though the Spellunking Helm kept me nicely temperate throughout! Despite the considerable danger of a multitude of monsterous ogres below, it was actually the gnolls that won the biggest bastard award. Climbing up, I thought for sure I was deadmeat, facing a veritable WALL of furry fury... but Beorn somehow managed to piss them all off and nearly die for it, only he didn't! Stubborn tenacious dwarves, hooray!

    The Other Side... of the swamps! Going up through the ruins of Jiyyd, you come to a different set of ruins, of smaller buildings and more swampy marshes. They're full of giant snakes, acid-spitting bugs and TROLLS! Man, they're ugly! Fire is your friend, but so is distance in my case. Explored a cave there too, it was abandoned but big and full of bones, as though some giant beast had laired there.. oooOooo..

    No treasure with a handy dire turtle shell shield for Llama or cloud armor for me - we'll just have to go looking even further out of the beaten path, RRHH!"


  • A quick jotting down of notes, Willow sitting on the tower by Norwick's south gate, long legs dangling down over the edge. The wind comes from the Rawlins, carrying with it the heady green scent of pine, leaf and moss. Willow breathes in deeply, a wide smile spreading across her face as she writes:

    "Debt-FREE!

    At last, at long last, I'm out of debt and it feels more liberating than I'd imagined! I mean, it was a debt to a good friend, one who'd never pressure me or even cared at what pace the coin was returned, but still… I just don't like to feel indebted, and if not for the sheer ~awesomeness~ of the spellunking helm, I'd never have chosen to borrow that much, even from a friend.

    But it's all repayed now, and the helm is truly mine! My own... my ~precious~.... erm... perhaps I shouldn't give in to complete glee for a mere possession! But it IS the single most useful and valuable thing I own, if not the most remarkable looking!

    Best of all, now I can let myself dream ahead, to new investments. Quality goods weigh less, and in the case of weight, less is most definitely more! Steel, platinum... and while I'm dreaming, why not the fabled mithril? Llama is still hoping for a nymph-inspired skimpy leaf armor, but we both know he's pretty nuts... besides, I like to not bleed so much that I have to help myself before others!

    If I'm to be practical about it, freedom from encumberance will probably mean a slooow and steady upgrade, or a downright return to indebtment (Beorn omniously said he'd make me something I couldn't refuse when taking my measurements...). But you know, step by step is fine, it's good to have those little goals that are achievable, spreading a feeling of accomplishment and joy when you get there!

    But if you're to dream, you might as well dream BIG! So! Where's that glimmering dragon's hoard hiding, protected by a mighty but conveniently dead owner who just happened to choke on the shiny knight come to slay it?

    I've been looking!

    New places seen:

    Oscura's mines - Derro are so hard to hit, and sooo loud! And my snot is still a weird yellow-orange from the peculiar dust down there.. no treasure, but very exciting!

    Underdark cave - past the antmen, there's an opening that leads to well maintained mining tunnels, so nicely lit up by luminescent lichen that they must be dwarven made. There are shriiieeeeking giant bats inside, toxic and mean little buggers too! Llama speared at least one, rrhhh!"


  • It's a clear and windy day up on the Roost, Willow skipping about in random loops and circles, hair and cloak whipping around her lanky frame. She shouts and hoots, laughing when the wind brings her own voice echoed back, turns a somersault into the soft moss and then finally grows still, panting and red-cheeked. She smiles brightly, long fingers reached up to tickle the underbelly of a puffy cloud streaking across the blue sky, then rolls over on her belly to write while the wind still tugs playfully at her hair.

    "Growing up.

    I was always terribly slow at doing that, partly due to my elven blood but partly because I could never quite see the appeal in it. Why ~is~ everyone in such a rush to grow up, anyway? Is it about gaining independance and knowing who you are (because that part I get) or more about living up to expectations (ugh)? Do some people in fact enjoy duty, responsibility and that heavy stuff for their own sake (double-ugh), or is it just the necessary evil everyone gets in trade for being allowed to make their own decisions in life? Do some people hurry to grow up just so that they get to be the ones telling others what to do?

    I sometimes think the desire to become adult is mostly to do with being taken seriously - children want, think and feel SO intensely, only to have it all made light of for their being just that, children. It's a frustrating feeling, made worse by the realization that your parent was typically right too - I remember it well, though in fairness my mother always took me seriously in a way. She always listened and never belittled me, though there came a time in my life where I resented the fact that she seemed to always, ALWAYS be right. Now, I sometimes find myself missing it; that one simple right answer.

    But there isn't always one, is there? Or rather, maybe there is one for me, but what's there to say that my truth is the only one that's right? The world is too complex for the answers to be that simple, but some people find their truth and are then completely blind to other points of view.

    Like Jacob… gah! Is it a badger trait to be that stubbornly belligerent, or is it just the pain and grief for his brother's death that's burrowed deep inside him, making him too prickly to listen to reason? He got to me, I have to admit that, and it's not like he doesn't have a point. We ~do~ mean to act like the well-meaning, all-knowing parents here - we presume to know what's right and what's not, and strive to take away the new sense of self-awareness he and the others have gained.

    I reacted badly to his accusations, felt hurt for being treated like the enemy when I'd been so sure I was helping, but Granger's right. I have to stay calm or it'll just make matters worse. In short, I have to be a grown-up about it. It's just difficult, because while part of me sympathizes with him, another part feels angry that he's preaching his version of the truth to a big group of scared and confused animals, newly awakened and not half as bright as he. In fact, they're kind of like children, but he's not being a very good parent! Parents are supposed to protect and guide their children, yeah? In his anger I think he might end up using them instead, and that's NOT ok!

    But I can't win any of them over by doing the same thing, now can I? I can't go around preaching my truth and insisting it trumphs Jacob's, yeah? A gentle hand is best, a soft calm breeze to soothe anxiety and fear. Maybe if I just show that I really do care, that mine is a hand held out in offer and not order? I'm not saying I have all the answers, but I am looking for them. I am trying to keep an open mind and a warm heart, and really listen seriously.

    'We may need your love before the rain falls', said Tweety, and that's what I'm sticking to! Love. I think it goes a long long way, don't you?

    Knowledge is the second part we need, and it's Llama who had the great revelation there, so much so that even Catelas was flabberghasted by the sound of it! My bear came lumbering back to the Roost in this giddy state of elation, so enthused and so exhausted, all at once, with the most amazing, unbelievable tale. But it fits, it really does fit!

    They headed deep into the Rawlins, he and Catelas, and the bugbears there scuttled off in fear of the white stag's magic. Green lightning sizzling between his antlers, shooting their hairy butts, bzzzt, bzzt! Once they were close to the center of things, Llyran shifted into a bear and BLAM!

    A vision, or maybe more like memories shared, he isn't sure, but it blew his mind to the state that he had stars in his eyes when retelling! It was so cute that I'll try and use his own words, as best I can remember them!

    ...'key, now you have to imagine Llama's voice when you read this:

    'I was in a forest at first, I think, there was green everywhere.. brilliant green, like a massive torch in the sky, it was all I could take in at first, but then.. booom! Everything exploded and there was bugbears flying through the air like little dolls, it was almost comical, but then everything started rolling and folding and I think I got sucked up like they did cuz it was all pretty nauseating.. and then.. and then! I was with the stars! Ooh, they looked so pure and bright like I've never seen them before, it was soo amazing.. but there were other things.. angels and demons, but not really either. One had wings and it looked like an angel, and the other was this shadowy.. bleh thing.. and the angel was chasing it everywhere.. I mean -everywhere-. Through the heavens, across different stars and planes, through time and death and just.. -everywhere!-

    The shadowthing was all messed up and ragged from the chase, I can't even guess how long they were at it, but it was tired.. and clever. It set a trap for the angel and led it right into a dying star that was shooting all kinds of things out of it, and he got caught! Ooh, it was like hitting a rock as hard as you can with a stick, he just.. pooom! Shot through the heavens like a green comet. I could tell somehow, it didn't kill him, but that's still pretty bad, I mean, that's gotta mess you up. And he hurtled towards this giant blue marble streaking his green trail, but behind him.. ooh, behind him there was a shadow coming, so ominous, and I could smell it.. brimstone. And then I was just a bear again! But the forest was different, it was.. calming and peaceful and soothing.. it felt alive, and rhythmic and.. just, amazing!

    That green light that was seen in the sky, I think that was -him-, and I think the shadowthing is coming for the angel.. but, it's not really an angel the others said.. it's an ancient planeswalker and I got his memories somehow, just those ones though.' ((thank you Mhilan for the storytelling!))

    I'm spreading the word, retelling the tale, and I know it sounds crazy, but it's got to be true! The animals don't remember it as clearly, but what few bits they do recall match up - the green light, the smell of brimstone, Granger mentioned all those! And the ferryman near Jiyyd - he actually ~saw~ the light, a brilliant green light one dark night, lighting up the entire skyline over the Rawlins. It's amazing to imagine this angel-winged planeswalker buried like a brilliant seed into our earth, but it makes sense!

    The question is just what to do about it, now. Do we go looking for him, try and wake him? Llama's sure he isn't dead, but he's got to be out cold from a hit so hard it flung him half across the stars! But if we find him, aren't we in danger of leading the shadow thing to him? I mean, if they've fought for all this time, it isn't going to pull it's punches now, it'll try and finish him off. And that's not good! Whatever and whoever this green angel is, he loves the wild. He must, to have this affinity to the animals!

    I've asked this other Wolfman to help look, to go to the bugbear area unseen and sniff around for clues, without attracting attention. After I'd told him everything I know, he surprised me by asking if I belonged to anywhere.. like, a group I guess? Because he figures there's some people who would be happy to have someone like me amongst them, and would I consider it if they asked?

    Vash't kind of sniffed around that same bush before, I think... and that time, I dodged reflexively, feeling the weight of dread ~responsibility~ threatening. But now.. I don't know why, maybe it's the way things are in the woods now, the fact that I so want to help, all this thinking I've done lately.. but I feel like I might be ready to shoulder it. Maybe it wouldn't weigh me down, maybe it would actually make me stand taller? Maybe I'm just a little bit grown-up after all.

    New places seen:

    Icelace Beach - hill giants and manticores roam there, but with Llama, Vhin AND me calling down the lightning, it was a literal thrill! Spied weird nests on high spots, and a menhir! It didn't flicker with lights though, so that's good.

    Mintas Forest - a vast woodland full of dire animals and scary, scaary fiends, followed byyyy...

    Mintas Rhelgor - a big and eerie ruined city, full of tantalizing glimpses of a past I don't know yet! I tried to ask those I came with, but they didn't know either. Those ill famed Nars demonbinders, maybe?

    Rawlins caves - one full of hobgoblins, their huts and a mammoth cookpot (ew!), the 'X marks the spot' cave (with Beholders! I was so scared!) and the big mining shaft cave, with hobgoblins and bugbears - and oh, OHH - further down were earth mephits and big earth elementals, and spiders.. like, the Queen mother of all spiders! Sooo huge! And a passage to a plane of Earth.. we looked inside, the gravity was INTENSE but you let me walk freely and not be flattened! And I spied platinum ore.. just WAIT 'til I tell Beorn and Gralin, haha! They're so going to drool."


  • "Tweet-tweet, tweedle-weet!"

    The sound of Willow's chirpy voice beats her to the Roost, her messy head of hair popping over the cliff's edge a moment later, then the rest of her lanky self scrambles up. She hums a while longer, skipping over to check on the apple seeds planted in a sheltered corner, then thumps her pack down to sit comfortably in the soft grass and moss, leaning against the low stone wall. The book is flipped open, quill quivering playfully in the air before pressed against paper to write.

    "A little bird told me…

    Haha! I can actually use that line now and have it be completely true! That in itself is just so funny that I find myself giggling in glee, but the bird itself, oh! Tweety the Bird, a spry little sparrow with bright beady eyes and a beak you'd swear was smiling! I always liked birds and I think you do too - they are born windriders after all. The little ones in particular seem so merry and free, and this one seemed to have the essence of all that in it's windchime voice.

    'Are you the Windwalker? Yes, of course, I can smell.'

    The bird launched into a rapid, charmingly disjointed message while it balanced on the edge of my shield, so close to my face that I felt like leaning forwards to peck it's tiny head. A clue has been found, I should tell the Wolfman and keep our friends and allies informed; the Beast, the Woodwalker, the Wildling, the Shadow and the Summoner, alongside others we can trust (like Leena, Lainie's mystery sister that I've finally met! She's nice and a lot less hung up on dresses!)

    'We've a heavy cloud to rise above, and we may need your love before the rain comes.'

    With that, the sparrow hopped from shield to shoulder, flitting against my neck with a tiny chiming giggle before it flew off. My heart swelled in my chest! Catalas the Stag, Granger the Wolf, Potter the Great Old Bear, Bill the Badger and Tweety! They have my love, and whatever I can do to help.

    Yeah, I might have failed spectacularily at being a ranger, but the reasons why I chose to try remain, you know? A love of the wild, pure and simple. It's one of those loves that needn't be reciprocated, it's enough to just love and not feel that same deep connection to nature that proper rangers and druids do... but today, I felt loved in return, I did, I did!

    I need a new Ormpur, I told Llyran the other day. He said this mystery could be it - it doesn't have to be a place, the quest is what counts, the mystery and the unravelling, the search for the strange light, for truth! He keeps claiming he's not a wise man, but I think he is - it's just the wild and reckless bear charges that detract from the overall score… but then, I always did think he was born a bear, and learned to take a man's shape after!

    I'm seeing new sides of him lately, well sort of! He's protective of me, worry-warting almost about the Chaos Shard and giving a bear-rumble-grumble about tearing the planar rifts a new and bigger one if I got hurt somehow. It's so cute! And silly! I'm not the one who keeps charging the big bad, now am I?"


  • Sprawled out on her back in the soft dry moss of the Roost, Willow lifts the shard up against the afternoon sun. The light filters through the curious crystal to paint her face in every colour of the rainbow, shifting and flickering from one hue to the next. Her lips are half parted in amazement, eyes wide with wonder as the gem goes through it's gentle transformations, lazily twirled in her fingertips. Finally content, she tucks it inside a pouch, pushing her lanky frame up to write.

    "The Chaos Shard

    Condensed astral matter, born from the rare and temporary convergence of two chaotic planes, swirling in the Astral Pools connecting the Multiverse. A planar pebble, a dimensional diamond, a chunk of sheer chaotic energy and endless possibility.

    Wild, raw power.

    It's beautiful and it's frightening, all at once.

    The possibilities tug at me - the chance to go beyond the boundaries; to be anything and anywhere I like, in this world or another. An explorer of the Multiverse, a plane walker, a rider of the astral currents - or a gibbering lunatic, a wet puddle on the roadside of existence? The possibility of my mortal mind being too small to see such sights with sanity intact is something I'm willing to risk, but what stays my hand is this:

    I never wanted power; it comes with such heavy pressure and too much attention, jealousy and strife. You only have it for as long as you can defend it against those who want to take it from you, yeah? That sort of existence doesn't strike me as very enjoyable or desirable. Even the well intended responsibilities my mother tried to foist on me felt too heavy and stifling; I want to travel lightly, to be free as the wind, though a friendly wind as I pass through the world - an unexpected fresh breeze through a dank cave, a cool puff of air across a sweaty brow.

    The shard is also a curative. It's potent herbal paste and fresh linen bandages to Narfell's cuts and bruises, to old injuries that never healed right. I am a healer, and despite refusing the role she intended for me, I am my mother's daughter and can't help but to want to fix what's broken.

    Is this what you want me to do? Is this why you brought me here, of all places, or was it just chance and the why for me to fill in?

    'Do you need a why?' You sound amused in responding, the wind tousling my hair.

    Leylines, menhirs, demonbinders - a history of injuries I know so little of. Narfell's a big and difficult patient and I feel afraid, I feel the pressure weighing me down. But my shard is just one of many, and my effort is the same; really I'm just one of a team of healers, an assistant with clean bandages and water on a tray, yeah? I can assist, I can be a helping hand and let those more in the know guide the course.

    You know, I'm perfectly happy simply passing through places, seeing and experiencing without wanting or feeling the need to influence them this way or that. But if I can help, I will, and if helping helps the seeing and experiencing new things, all the better! I've a feeling that in giving up this wonderous shard, even with all the possibilities it holds, I'll not lose out on anything I really wanted. I'll gain something new, as yet untold.

    The best things aren't those you reach for, but those you never thought to find."


  • Willow sits with her back to the low stone wall, up in the Roost, her eyes closed, though not sleeping. Far from it, the skinny half-elf seems to listen attentively, long legs crossed and her hands resting in her lap, holding a rather ugly knitted leather helmet. The wind whistles through the cracks of the wall, tugging at sandy hair and rustling through grass and leafy vines. After a long while, Willow cracks her eyes open, a thoughtful expression on her face as she opens the little book to write.

    "The third time's the charm, huh?

    While the spirit in which I wrote that before is true enough, I have a hard time shaking the sadness and frustration of another third time, decidedly less charmed. Llyran did his brave and reckless bear thing down in the crypts, a jolt of electricity stopping his heart just as I rushed up the platform to join the melee. Seconds turned to hours, drawn out as though immersed in honey, slow and sluggish, while I tried and tried to get his heart beating again - and it worked! It worked, he breathed and not only that - somehow, he rose all the stronger, as though he'd learned from the experience somehow! But the third time.. oh, the third.

    Down in the caverns underneath the ruined Jiyyd above, we were fighting for our lives. Orcs again, the roaming fiends and another spirit of dooOOOom. This one seemed set for vengeance and somehow, with unerring accuracy, picked out the person responsible for the defeat of the last one of his kind - Llyran.

    Battle raged all around, and Morrie was almost down, clutching his side and reeling. I rushed over, slapped a balm on him and.. and.. my back was turned, I didn't even see it! Like the first time, I didn't even see it, just a strangled cry and then it was too late! Eyes glowing eerie vengeful light, the spirit turned on me next, and I couldn't reach him, I was forced back and bleeding heavily, stumbling behind the nearest corner. The others finished it off while I drank potion after potion with shaking hands, then rushed to my bear's still side.

    All my knowledge, everything I'd learned put to the test. I did everything right, except it was too late - he was dead and beyond my aid and suddenly I was right back in the cottage by the riverside, right back in that long dark night, holding my mother's hand even while she let go. I couldn't stop crying.

    The fighting wasn't over, we had another room to clear and a long, long way back to the nearest temple, but I was out of spells, out of hope, out of breath as though someone had punched it out of me. Somehow I managed to carry him, but that's all I was good for. In the next room, the others were shouting for help again, but I couldn't, I couldn't without leaving him behind and I wouldn't!

    Thank you for leading me here, to find such good friends - they kept it together where I couldn't, Morrie kept us safe and moving and Elaine carried Llyran in her umberhulk claws with such gentle care that I started crying again. 'He'll return', they insisted, and I knew he would, I knew and still I cried. The third time was the worst, and it has got to be the last. Llyran rose groggily, held me tight and then went to rest. He slept so deeply and for so long that when I returned, I had to check that he still breathed.

    When I returned? Yeah.. I kept at it, we returned to see our path through to the end. I told myself it was for his sake, but really, I needed not to drown in that sorrow - a weeping Willow is not who I want to be, and stubbornly we returned to reclaim the adventure and our spirits. It turns out that had been the worst of it - and instead the best bit was ahead, because a cave opening lead us through to open, snowy fields and a road stretching ahead. Wolves, worgs.. and beyond, at long last, Ormpur.

    Ormpur!

    There were ruins infested with undead, a great big fortress with scattered, empty crates. There was a mysterious mage's tower, well kept but empty, there was a peaceful glen and a cool, spacious cave. Ormpur had everything I'd envisioned, but there was a hollow feeling inside me. Ormpur.. and Llyran wasn't here to see it.

    The cave was tranquil, the water clear and cold. I caught my sad reflection as I leaned down to taste a handful, and suddenly a breeze sent ripples across the water, scattering the image. You stroked my cheek and whispered that everything would be ok, and that awful restriction in my chest suddenly let go. It ~will~ be ok, because I choose optimism and I will try all the harder to keep him whole the next time, and the time after that, for as long as we both live. And if I fail, I'll pull him back even from behind the veil, I will! You'll show me how, but not if I give up now.

    I emerged from the cave feeling better, stronger and calmer. Not happier, but calmer. Everything isn't fixed in one instant, but it will be.

    The following days were hectic, and Llyran just slept through it, hibernating in the safety of the Roost while I climbed down into strange new caverns, fighting hell hounds and kobolds and finding more pieces of what appears to be a connecting puzzle. It IS all connected, the lights, the spirits are at the center of it all, an unknown ancient power that's sought after by orc, kobold and who knows what other wicked races. The kobold note speaks of wells.. and the word fits. Those pools of light where the largest spirits were found, in the Howling Woods cave, beneath Jiyyd, under the swamps - they're it, aren't they? Maybe the gems we found will be clues, they seem wrought of the same chaos matter somehow…

    I still wouldn't slow down, though the second dungeon very nearly killed me. Kristelle and I were down and dying, from the hail of magic past that narrow bridge, but Jonni saved us both, and Morrie too survived by the skin of his teeth! And I dispelled the portal that spat the bearded devils out, haha! Thank you scroll collection!

    I've seen parts of the Underdark too while waiting for the bear to awake, tromped through the kobold warrens and the swamps, fought angry fishmen and gnolls, until my purse felt heavier than it's ever been. And then Lainie poured more gold into it, and wouldn't take no for an answer! With one final effort, the total added up: 15 750 gold.. a king's ransom, and coincidentally the price of one knitted camel-hide helmet, for spellunking and adventure and seeing all the sights of the world - even in complete darkness!

    A helmet, and a waking bear. He's up and smiling again, and I feel the richest woman in the world."

    Willow closes the book with a smile, her hair whirling around her head as she springs to her feet, suddenly without a care in the world.


  • A brisk and windy day finds Willow seated at the very edge of the Bluff, her light green eyes squinting across the glittering river to the ruins beyond. Her hair whips around her head, and a wide smile of anticipation stays on her face as she writes.

    "Ormpur.

    I think we're finally ready. We've practiced our fighting, filled up on supplies and even found some helpful equipment in that orcish treasure trove in the Howling Woods cave (Morrie and Merry each loved their gifts, yay!). Individually, we're just that little bit stronger too, but what really counts is the way we work together. Teamwork is the key, and between us, we have just about the ideal mix of skills to see us through any dungeon, creepy crypt or dark forest.

    Preparation has taken its time, but as you know better than anyone, the road is an experience in itself, sometimes more so than the destination! I've learned such a lot, and had amazing, unexpected adventures while Ormpur yet evaded me. The Howling Woods cave with it's mysterious multi-coloured spirits of DooOOOoom.. the trek through the Norwick crypts, all the way down to what is a passage to the Underdark and back (we fought a Mummy Lord! I was helpful even though I couldn't hit it!), the brimstone and fire of the Kobold Warrens. Third time's the charm, as they say, and our last few outings have made me feel quite confident that that's true.

    Operation Umberhulk was the crowning jewel of our practice regime, although that too held a few surprises - mainly that the BIG group of badass hobgoblins awaiting us had lost control of their beast, and so they fought each other! We never got a chance to test how strong the hulk was, but given the number of hobgoblins it took down before it fell, I'd say VERY!

    We did really well with the hobgoblins themselves, and even spied caves to explore at a later time - one had hobgoblins and some sort of mine in it, the other was dark with not a creature in immediate sight, though the big red 'X' outside it seems like a warning sign to me. Although on treasure maps, X marks the spot… Our invisible scouts only took a quick peek in each, because by that point our spells were running low and we had to return.

    Notes to self: Windrider shielding spell is wonderful, not a long duration but enough to make preparing them worthwhile! Also: might want to save one for yourself - Slow Wind is an AMAZING trick, but need to run in fairly close to cast! Totally worth the risk though, both for making an escape and buying time to deal with large groups of enemies.

    The perhaps oddest experience of all, concerning our - or actually my own - progress, is this: the other day I suddenly found myself playing guardian to a group of less experienced adventurers! I even had to fight the odd Vash'ism slipping from my mouth, but I managed to contain them (I hope!) and give practical advice instead of don'ts. I kept them all alive and whole throughout, too!

    Lately I feel overall ~useful~, and I think I've proven to myself and perhaps others that I can be of help even to the tough and experienced adventurers out there. The fact that I'm wearing something nicer than a rusty orcish chain helps make a favourable impression, too! These days, I may be green but I'm no longer wet behind the ears."


  • "Even when I shift, you smell like home."

    The light of the small fire dances across Willow's smiling face, granting a forgiving softness to the young half-elf's otherwise sharp and narrow features. In the still of night, in this tranquil moment under starlight and the glow of the campfire, she is beautiful, quill poised over the pages of the little book in her lap, suspended in action. A sudden rumbling snore breaks the silence, Willow smothering a snort of laughter as her eyes drift fondly to the grizzly-clad druid slumbering nearby, snug and warm underneath his layers of fur. A gentle breeze stirs the flames and with a happy sigh, Willow writes.

    "How strange and how wonderous is it that you can turn to mist, leave everything and everyone you knew behind, come to a wholly unfamiliar place and yet find yourself right at home?

    You smell like home, he said; not the home he came from, but the one he wants, the one he sees in his future. I gaped, stupidly. That's exactly how I feel, isn't it? That's why I'm Mellow Willow in his company, why I feel so at rest, so at peace, so ~right~ with him - so right at home.

    Everything fell into place, I mean literally FELL into place, crashing down around me in that cave. The smell of brimstone and burning mushrooms, the tears in my eyes, the ache in my chest as though I was about to burst; pounding, pounding, pounding with all my might to get his still heart beating.

    I didn't do it right, I was too frantic and could scarcely see through my tears. He had saved my life in the other cave, pulled me right back from the brink of death, killed the bigass spirit of DooOOooom that was wailing on me as I lay prone and helpless and then stopped me bleeding out. And now here he was, still and unbreathing. Worst of all, I hadn't even seen it happening, I thought he was safe while I panicked trying to rescue Diadne from the black tentacles choking her life out! Screams for help all around me, and suddenly his voice too - far too suddenly quiet.

    Beorn and Gralin stood quietly nearby, grim and bloodied from the fighting. Even Ludo was silent as I worked the only thing I had left, just my hands and whatever skills they possess, to the three seemingly lifeless bodies before us. Llyran, Zahra, Diadne.

    The pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, the acrid fumes of each breath, burning my lungs. Llyran, Zahra, Diadne, Llyran, Zahra, Diadne - Llyran, Llyran, Llyran.

    He breathed, a sudden rasping breath, eyes wild and unfocused. A cooling breeze stirred, caressing my cheek. 'Calm', you whispered, but I had work to do and wouldn't listen. Zahra next, her first breath as agonized as his, and again the wind swirled, sweeping my sweat-soaked hair from my brow. 'Calm, slow down', you insisted, and Llyran sat up, groggy but alive. My skin prickled despite the heat of the room and suddenly it all became clear.

    Did you guide my hands, or simply calm them? My mind was so clear and so focused, every motion deliberate, the right force, the right momentum. A slow, cool breeze. Diadne's eyes opened with the flutter of a butterfly's wing, alive, unharmed.

    I rose on shaky legs, Llyran staggering to his feet in a show of toughness that fooled no one. My cool melted as swiftly as it came, something crumbling inside me. I yelled, called him stupid and then I kissed him.

    It's something of a blur after that, I don't even remember walking out. All that lingers is that feeling of walls falling down, of revelation. We sat at the commons, slumped against the wall. I had a piece of brimstone in my hand, I must have grabbed it in the cave… I played with it idly while we talked of nothing much, placing it against my chest as though were it a diamond in a dutchess' necklace. And suddenly - it kind of was!

    That cool breeze again, that sense of calm and clarity filled me. The stone hangs in an amulet around my neck, fastened there by magic alone, don't ask me how! Although I suspect you have something to do with it, don't you? But perhaps not! In amazement, I looked at Llyran, and found a similar stone sits on his finger!

    We talked, later. He kissed me when I tried to apologize for being angry with him, and that too fell into place. His arms feel like home."

    With that, the book is closed and Willow returns to her rest, cradled by soft moss and the warm gentle arm of a bearlike druid.