3. The Book Of Willow

The Book Of Willow


  • On the river barge heading south, propped up comfortably on some burlap sacks of undefined goods, Willow sits with her face turned up to the pale winter sunshine, her sandy hair fluttering in the chill breeze. Now and then, she drops in a few crumbs of the bread she's eating to share with the fishes, while writing:

    "For all the wisdom of the snooze -> lose equation, I managed to do just that when the time came for meeting with the gnolls. Judging by the rumours I heard, there was progress of a sort - the cure that's been concocted works, some Talonite druids got the slap-down, but there's still more work to be done and the source of the disease isn't yet dealt with. Probably there'll be more chances to pitch in somehow, I'm just kinda peeved that I said I wouldn't snooze it all away and still did!

    Thing is though, I don't really like planning my time, or worse, planning adventure. I like spur of the moment best, going where the wind takes me and following my whim, I like surprises and the unknown! But there's only so much you can do on your own, and lately I've found myself a little frustrated. The things I want to do, the places I want to go, I can't seem to manage without having to plan them as there's either a shortage of time or of participants.

    The Coldstones, The Lost City, that mysterious lava cave deep into the Giantspire ogres territory. The Warrens. Far off and very dangerous places, the sort of places that'll see me squished before I can say 'wow' even. So now, I think I might have to compromise. Better to plan than to not go at all, yeah? I can do that classic explorer thing and mount actual expeditions… though most ~sensible~ people are probably gonna ask what the purpose is besides exploring. I could lie and say there's rumour of fabulous hidden treasure I guess, or this rare medicinal plant or other, but maybe the expedition's better off without sensible in it!

    Ooo, or maybe I should go talk to that Helena girl, she seems to have the knack for finding actual treasure... maybe if I pointed out the general sort of areas I wanna go to, she could find something promising enough to make other people think the effort's worth it? Sadly I do need help, kind of a lot even, to reach those places I have yet to explore.

    I wonder if going to the same old places is why some people lose their sense of adventure? Yesterday, we went poking about in the kobold warrens after reports of there being some sort of ruckus with their king (of course killed by adventurers). The group all but sauntered inside, managing to get split up several times as though focus on what we were doing was real low. Is it that the kobolds posed too little of a challenge or is the repetative pattern of going to the same place just so strong that it prevails, turning adventure into dread routine by virtue of the setting?

    We could hear excited yips and yaps from deeper within the cave, but it was as though the monotonous fighting and looting overcame the natural curiosity of what was going on. When we got to the end, after fighting through something of a horde of scalies cheering and jeering, we saw them - the yapping kobold king and the yipping pretender to the throne, seemingly oblivious to anything and everything but their own squabble for power. Meanwhile, their empire kinda crumbled around them...

    Just two kobolds left, and we stopped and stared as if they were gladiators in a ring or circus animals parading. I don't know if it was cruel or kind or just plain peculiar, but I found it uncomfortable. Didn't sit right, somehow, neither to strike at them while they were held by spells, nor to spare them just so's to see who won, manipulating their minds and tossing grease about for fun. I felt like the party was a big, disjointed cat, idly playing with a mouse, only the mouse didn't really clue in to the game until after a while.

    I felt kind of sorry for the survivor, then - it was too easy for us, too safe and too callous. Instead of the treasure the party snatched away, I gave the lonely king a grenade belt and some dragon breath potions, cool stuff but bound to be used against the next batch of adventurers - but you know, that's fair! Easy winning is what make for those callouses, and in fact most of the group left without showing any interest in what happened next.

    Me and Lainie lingered, but really, you can't spare one out of a hundred and expect the hundredth to thank you for it. Maybe it's even cruel, but I felt sick of killing just because we could. Why not NOT kill someone, because we could? So even when the kobold king inevitably flipped his lid, seeing the carnage and the bodies in the wake of our party's path, we didn't kill him. I feel conflicted about the whole thing though... makes me think on power and the responsibility that should, but doesn't often seem to, come with it.

    It's cleaner somehow to imagine yourself the mouse and not the cat, or the underdog fighting against the odds. When all odds are on your side, when you're pretty much guaranteed a win, you've got to start wondering what you're really doing. Like my little lakeside runs through goblins... fighting just for the hell of it, because I feel bored and want some excitement. Not exactly a nice thing to do, gotta admit!

    Maybe that's why a lot of adventurers love combatting undead - you can fight and fight and fight, wading through countless hordes, without ever running into a moral greyzone and questioning the slaughter - I mean, they ~are~ already dead and turning them properly so is a guaranteed good thing. Huh... I guess that is in a weird way their silver lining, dull though they may be!

    The healer in me has leanings towards pacifism, seeking to preserve lives instead of taking them, but the adventurer in me is undoubtedly more hard-hearted - and the explorer knows that you have simply got to be able to fight in order to go places off the beaten path. But I think I've got to draw some sort of line. If someone or even 'something' is not a threat, isn't actively trying to hurt me and doesn't even have anything I really want (like apples... sorry goblin tossers, but I love apples! Toss them my way and I promise I'll stop chasing you), then of course I won't hurt them! And if these persons, creatures or monsters want to talk, then I'll talk, and if they need a helping hand, then I'll offer it freely.

    Except orcs. I really don't like orcs, though half-orcs get the benefit of the doubt!

    I never claimed to be a good person, but I want to be a person who isn't cruel or callous. I want to stay curious, stay tolerant and use your gifts with increasing wisdom as their power grows. Sometimes I find myself yearning for more power, because I want to be able to see all those cool but dangerous places (and live to tell the tale), but power undoubtedly comes with its own complications. The more you have of it, the more mindful you must be of your actions. It's a double-edged sword, isn't it?

    Especially if you're the sort to want to follow your whim!"


  • Nestled in a treetop, overlooking the misty swamplands near Peltarch's grey stone walls, Willow lets the wind rock her gently. Her white cloak flutters and dry leaves rustle as she shifts position, turning slightly more upright to write.

    "You snooze, you lose.

    I've been snoozing a lot lately, neglecting adventure, danger and exploration on a larger scale for the littler things, the personal and sometimes solitary preoccupations I love so well. And in doing so, I've undeniably missed out on a lot of things, including the Smurfnibblin' ruins (Shessa says she's been there ~twice~ now, twice! And so has just about everyone else I know, so what's the point in even calling it exploration anymore? I'll see it when I see it and hope I find something fresh in the sight), fighting the big bad lich (not that I was ever really that keen on that one) and a variety of different bits and bobs of happenings.

    The most unexpected bit of news was Vash'ts revelation of being in ~looove~, all goofy grins and starry eyes over a girl who, it turns out, is none other than Jonni's sister. And snarly werewolf Ael's daughter, which apparantly earned my bum of a brother in spirit some beatings already. Not that he mentioned much about that, he just seemed happy, eager that I should meet his girl. I haven't yet, but I think Llama has - she's that girl Leanna teased him about when we last met, the pretty blonde that he supposedly flirted with (like he knows how to flirt, haha!).

    She wanted to create a fishing pond near the city, so that's a plus in her favour already, besides making Vash't smile like a brain-dead kitten. I'll do the meet and greet sometime soon, but speaking of Leanna, even thinking about her seems to trigger her arrival sometimes. And right now, I don't think my poor ass can take much more punishment!

    See, Lil' Ms Chaos Supreme turned up just as we were about to go poking around the Kobold Warrens after rumours of unusual numbers there. SCCHHHWING, BAM, up turns Leanna and says ohhh nooo, don't go to the kobold warrens! (wink wink, nudge nudge) The bunnies are onto her hanging around the city and have shacked up with the kobolds there, massing like.. an army. And not only that, these bunnies are elite battle trained ones, mean as can be!

    Naturally, we jumped straight to it and Gnarl even bunny-hopped ahead of the group, straight into an ethereal battle bunny ambush… He nearly ~died~, and as I rushed to help, I took a bunny bop to the knees and toppled into the grass, nibbled and kicked in the ribs for my efforts! Jerks!

    Before we entered the Warrens, we had to patch up and dish out some extra spells, and good that we did, 'cause maaan... those bunnies are seriously terrifying! I ran in complete fear at one point, convinced I was turned into pure carrot for the nibbling, and in trying to help Gnarl overcome his own terror, got knocked over again.

    Ow!

    It was messy, it was painful and scary like all HELLS to get up there in front and pretend to be a fighter, just so the bunnies wouldn't gnaw at Lainie, Shessa and Marty. I'm no better at frontlining than either of them, but I am just a little bit better at enduring bunny bites. I was knocked over a couple more times before Leanna turned up again, seeming to find it all very amusing! Though she warned us about the Bunny Wrangler, a powerful creep who'd managed to turn himself back into a dwarf, but not a very nice one... not nice at all.

    Glowing pink and clad in a poncy robe, he appeared in the penultimate room of the Warrens, throwing a green hand of Inappropriate Fondling at Gnarl and then fireflames all around before retreating further in where an ambush was set up. Gnarl and Marty ran straight after, but managed to get just the one or two bunnies on our tails besides mr Wranger himself. But that distraction was enough to give the pink creep a head-start in shaking us off his (by now bleeding) trail. When he disappeared out the cave mouth, I knew we'd lost him.

    Damnit! All those bunny tackles to the ground, and nothing to show for it but bruises - but(t) on the other hand, I've got to admit I haven't had excitement like that since... well, since Furtle Island, really. And while we didn't exactly rescue anyone this time or found remarkable treasure, I did survive, so yay! Really got to stop that whole dying horribly trend somehow, though at least ethereal dire battle bunnies make for an interesting cause of possible death.

    The next possible doom isn't nearly so exotic, 'cause it seems another thing that happened in my absence was the arrangement of a meeting between goodly adventurer types and the big bad gnolls, with regards to the sickness they're still plagued with. Jonni seems to be a dab hand at the diplomacy thing and in agreement with a gnoll bitch with a bitchin' big scythe, the two sides will meet at the full moon to begin working on a solution.

    Of course, no one trusts the gnolls - with good reason I'd say - and the gnolls probably have just as little reason to trust people. I'm a healer and a helping hand to those in need though, which kinda does include gnolls, if they'd only stop trying to murder me first. I'll do what I can, but I just can't help but feel like I'm about to get knocked onto my butt again as thanks - or cleaved in two by those big-ass axes!

    Note to self: pack Invisibility and for goodness sake, remember Sanctuary if it all goes downhill towards Shit Creek!

    But for now, I think I earned a nice long snooze. You snooze, you lose, but if you don't relax now and then, winning will lose its luster 'cause you've lost the energy to appreciate it."


  • The Gypsy Cliffs are sheer and slick with recent rain, though slivers of pale sunlight filters through the grey clouds above. Willow's white angel-wing cloak flutters in the breeze as she pauses her climb, one hand lodged in a small crevice and the other firmly gripping her Willo'Whip, which is writhing its branches in some anticipation. She narrows her light green eyes, trying to judge the distance to the next suitable rock outcropping. It is a fair bit further up, soggy moss sticking to some of its outer edges.

    A seagull's hoarse cry breaks the silence as it circles closer to the stick-figure climber, riding the upgoing winds easily. Willow grins and pokes her tongue out at the bird, then suddenly heaves herself up, the whip snapping out just as her foot begins to slip. Before she falls, the ever unpredictable whip coils around the rock above, and a laughing Willow dangles to and fro, eventually swinging her way to a small ledge to rest.

    "Haha! That was awesome!"

    The seagull snickers and lands a little bit further up, where a huge, crumbling nest of some unknown bird can just be glimpsed. It flaps its wings, poking a bright yellow beak into the old nest's sticks and debris.

    "Hey, wait for meeee!"

    Scurrying the last stretch and nearly falling again, Willow finally heaves herself up over the cliff upon which the nest is resting, panting heavily. After an excited inspection, she shares some bread with the bird.

    "Okay, so no Roc yet, but this is totally the sort of place where they'd wanna live, yeah? Or a giant eagle.. ooo.. you'd make a ~great~ one of those, literally!"

    The seagull gives another hoarse snicker, pokes its beak into Willow's hair to stick a couple of half-wilted flowers there, then takes off to enjoy the winds around the cliff face. Willow smiles, watching the bird's lazy arcs before writing briefly:

    "Life is good.

    I haven't done a whole lot of noteworthy stuff of late, but life really is good. I have this warm feeling inside, like a glow of happy anticipation, as though only good things lie ahead of me. We're off to meet the folks soon, Llama's family that is, when the season and the winds are right. I was nervous before, but now? Now I'm just… I'm really just looking forwards to it, Llama's contageous that way and besides - anyone who created him has got to be just crazy enough to like me too, right?

    Not even Leanna could shake us up, even though I think she seriously tried - she gave Llama this ~outrageously~ passionate kiss and everything! I objected mostly 'cause I kinda felt I was expected to, but really, I'm so entirely secure with how I feel and how he feels that it was mostly just funny. He looked so funny afterwards too!

    A bit less funny and kinda disturbing was Leanna's next notion, which was to sorta.. well.. live vicariously through us, in a sense. She wants to plant some of her essence in a future child of mine and Llama's, and in a way it's flattering - I mean, she ~is~ a demigodess and all that, but first of all I don't want kiddies just yet! And secondly, wouldn't a child with parents like me and Llama be plenty - and I mean PLENTY - willful enough already? Seriously, I'd have grey hairs in an instant if they were anything like Leanna too!

    I'm sorta counting on the fact that she'll simply forget the whole idea, 'cause we stalled and evaded answering anything for sure. I mean, it already melts my brain to even think about starting our own family - but I think it's a good brain-melt rather than a bad one. It's just way too far off to quite envision clearly, but what I do dream of is us two travelling the world together. And going to his parents will be a journey by itself!

    Another happy factor is Vash'ts return. We had this long talk by the fire, on one of those lazy days when there was hardly anyone about and no ants in my pants that had me running this way or that. We talked about family mostly - we've kinda already established a sibling relationship, family in spirit and so, but I've never asked him about his real family. So I did!

    His story just blew me away. It made me both sad for him but also proud, and above all else, it made me feel closer to him. The real stuff always does, and I'm glad he shared it with me. I reigned my healerly know-how in and the what-if's that were on the tip of my tongue at times, 'cause that's history and a done deal long ago - instead I had to wonder at loss and what we make of it. I think the people that are important stay with us - I can still find myself arguing internally with my mother, which is totally warped but somehow soothing! And in telling me about his family, I kinda felt it was the same with Vash't. They're the people that shaped him, they're why he is the way he is, and if you look at it that way, they're not really gone. Not while we remember.

    Leaving the afterlife aside, I think that's a powerful thing in itself. But it isn't static, like all things memory too is subjective to change, and while it can be hard to accept that the details fleet away (sometimes I can't quite remember my mother's face, which really does hurt), the important bits stay and evolve, even. I can look at my life now and know she'd approve, I can even imagine what she would say about my Llama-bear (all good things, in between huffs and puffs of supposed disapproval). I think she might even side with him on a few things over me, and they'd end up teasing me!

    Time and the winds sweep all things with it, all but the the things we carry inside, deep in our hearts. When I discover new things, I share them not only with You, but with her."


  • Up in a hay loft somewhere in Norwick, dry straw suddenly rustles and shifts as a dishevelled and yawning half-elf wakes from her slumber, blinking dust from her light green eyes. Warm twilight filters in through the odd crack through the wall, Willow half-rising and then snuggling back down into her nest of hay. She snacks on a green apple while writing, the crisp crunching sound breaking an otherwise languid silence.

    "I feel at home when the unknown surrounds me.

    I talked to Mark before sleepiness got the better of me, and tried to explain how the above really isn't contradictory at all. Not sure I completely got the point across, perhaps it's a Shaundakulite thing? But the way I see it, too much familiarity and comfort breeds lethargy of the spirit. It's a growing ground for falling into mindless routine and kinda… well, ceasing to appreciate or even ~see~ the world around you. The brain is often lazy and seeks to simplify, filtering away the stuff it deems irrelevant. So in a way, the better you know a place, the less you really see it.

    In contrast, going somewhere totally unfamiliar, where most people claim they're lost, well! Instead of routine awareness, you have to take it ALL in, 'cause it's all brand new, and you can't tell important from unimportant even if you tried! It's kinda like the jungles of Chult, really - we, being new to the place, found it wildly chaotic 'cause we were bombarded with all the unfamiliar scents, sights and sounds - but to the natives, there was order and structure.

    It's not that I don't want to get to know a place, not that I don't appreciate that the familiar can hold subtle nuances and detail the casual passer by may well overlook - but I never feel ~lost~, going somewhere unknown. I feel more alive, more awake, aware and closer to You! Since I no longer have a home to call my own, nor any family ties, I just decided that the whole wide world is my home. So how could I ever be lost?

    I talked to Silver too. Man, paladins are sooo strange. As though the strictness of his vows weren't enough, Silver adds more restrictions, to reign himself in from.. I dunno what, really. Life? He won't taste a drop of alcohol, which is real odd for a dwarf, but worse, seems near religiously intent on routine, following the same patrol beat over and over again. Is repetition soothing to some? Maybe it's a way of trying to convince yourself you can control the world, by shrinking unknown factors more and more. Maybe it's about perfection, filing away at all the little rough edges by doing something over and over and over, until nothing flawed (or interesting) remains?

    Whatever his reasons, it's very alien to me. Equally alien - and possibly in the same ballpark - is the self-imposed martyrdom syndrom. Salin's friend Mat, case in point. From what I heard, walking in on a conversation between Leena and Salin, the guy is so determined to pay a debt his parents owed to Salin's that it doesn't seem to matter that Salin says Mat owes him nothing. It's rediculous - either the debt is already settled by the simple fact of the debtor and debtee both being dead, OR the debt is transferred to the sons - in which case Salin's word should be good enough to square it, once and for all. 'I hereby absolve any debt you think you owe me' - end of story, right? Apparantly not!

    Instead, Mat made some vow to Tyr to pay though the loss of his sight, for a year. Wow. What purpose does that serve, honestly? To me it feels like pointless hardskip that doesn't do a thing to help the guy Mat claims to be indebted to. If anything, it makes Mat more dependant on Salin!

    I honestly don't understand why people have such a hard time letting things go, grievances especially. It almost makes me angry sometimes, it DID make me angry when Shessa had another relapse of sadness recently, this time revealing a bit more of the reasons why. And it is sad, what happened then - but it's in the past! Everyone that matters to her has long since forgiven her, everyone but the most important person - herself. She keeps beating herself up about it and sinking into this sad puddle of tears that makes me so frustrated that I just wanna shake her by the shoulders! I had to shake that feeling off though, 'cause the more upset I got, the more sorry she felt. She even started apologizing for being sad, and I just.. ugh. I just sighed and put my arms around her.

    I'm not angry, Shessa. I'm just frustrated that you can't seem to forgive the young you, because I know you would if it was anyone but yourself. That the kindest of person can be so cruel to themselves, that's what makes me upset. You've suffered enough, it's high time to let it go and free yourself from the past. I just wish I could teach you how.

    On a brighter note, Vash't returned (HUZZAH!) - and promptly got himself stuck in a pile of rubble, to be rescued by Leanna herself! Or well.. actually she was kinda round-about in the rescue, 'cause she turned Shessa and me into great big umberhulks to dig him out! Wooahh.. first time shapeshifting, and I think I'm hooked. It was ~amazing~ to experience a whole new body, and my senses were so altered that I was almost giddy. Each little tremor of the earth seemed as clear as daylight, and I was strong! So strong that I probably coulda clipped a kobold in two with one pincer!

    We headed towards the swamps to try just that, when another (and actual) umberhulk bust through the ground. He - it was definitely a he, I could tell by.. I dunno what, but to Umberwillow it was obvious - tried to like.. court us! Made eyes (multiple ones) at us, clicked his mandibles and like, danced around in hopeful romantic advances. But yeaaahhh.. I may like new experiences more than most, but I have to draw the line somewhere! Horny Hulk was shot down quite brutally by us both, and burrowed back down in the ground, morosely. Meanwhile, Vash't nearly peed himself laughing!

    He says the big three left the Den by now, and that the sentient animals seem to have retreated further into the forest, probably to try and avoid clashes with townsfolk. It's reassuring that there's no immediate conflict looming, but I can't help but wonder what Captain Asshat's minions are up to, in the meanwhile... but there's no point in dwelling on it, we'll just have to stay alert and react quickly to whatever's next.

    And I can tick one place off on my go-to-places, 'cause we finally went to that underground temple, behind a gazillion spider guardians! It went pretty smoothly too, with just the odd poisoning but no loss of life or limb. Lainie turned the big queen spider to stone, but I couldn't even tell in the mass of writhing limbs, at the time! And going back, Llama let loose a burst of thunder that had his bear-pelt all spiky after... this has gotta be what Leena means by Talos Hammer. He showed me again, out in the hills fighting orcs, and WOW! That's like.. literally electrifying stuff!

    Next, I reeeaaally want to find that trail up into the Coldstones. Or ~make~ a trail, if need be. I have this nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, that's where your shrine awaits. And if it doesn't, perhaps I can find the perfect mountaintop to build one!"


  • Next to the stone sphinx at Hero's Bluff, Willow sits with her skinny legs crossed and a jumble of curious finds in her lap. The wind tugs and tosses her sandy hair as she bends her head down to read a slightly crumpled note, light green eyes filled with curiosity. She sniffs a vial, wrinkles her nose at a few other bits and bobs, before setting it all aside to write:

    "Roaming.

    I do that a lot, when I can't find anyone decent to spend my time with. Shessa would probably call it scouting or patrolling, but it isn't, really. I've no specific intent but for ~moving~, randomly poking about, and I generally try to avoid places where there's any great deal of danger or fighting involved. Restless leg syndrom, my mother called it, mournfully adding that the only (and temporary) cure she knew of was to let me exhaust myself fully.

    So I did just that today, running gleefully to the ferry crossing, shouting at a few shambling undead as I passed the outskirts of broken Jiyyd and out on to the battlefields. It's one of my favourite places for just messing about; lots of room to run and more often than not, you find something curious poking out of the ground. There's the menhir stones, wraught in mystery, a good few cool high spots and plenty of caves for spellunking. All in all, it's a good place for random exploration just for the sake of it, even if I've seen pretty much all the nooks and crannies before, by now.

    Well, except that alluring lost temple place at the bottom of the spider caves - totally have to get there soon, it sounds just like my sorta place!

    But I'm not gonna tackle a cave full of spiders and their mother Queen on my own, now am I? So instead, I settled for the old riverbed, where past events have left gruesome remains. It's a bit of a sad and quiet place, but it's also mysterious and has that out-of-the-beaten-path feel to it that I enjoy. I've been there a few times by now, sometimes to rest and sometimes in the hopes of finding clues to unravel its past mysteries.

    It's always been deserted, with nothing and no one but the dessicated long-dead inhabitants bones for company - except today!

    There were carts laden with what looked like bones, and a shovel next to the heaps exhumed from the ground.. gross, graverobbers, necromancers? A black crate nearby proved to contain no specific clues, but up on the ridge, there was suddenly movement. People, and they didn't look pleased to see me!

    Suddenly I felt acutely aware of how alone I was, that no one really knew where I'd gone, but that small concern passed as swiftly as it came 'cause I was already spotted. There was nothing for it now but to fight or flee, and I was way too curious to turn tail now. I fought, setting off with the wind at my back!

    Whoo, I love being hasted, but the priest opposing me was much less pleased and meanly dispelled the effect. I nearly tripped over my own feet at the sudden change of pace, but cut his next spell short with a slash of my katana. Ha-haaa, take that, you rotten spoilsport! His cronies came running for backup, but I was on fire (my katana literally so) and the fight was won!

    Following the direction they'd all come from, I found a burned out barracks, a number of equally scorched yet sturdy crates and barrels set alongside it. The beams looked real unsteady, so going inside wasn't an option, but when I poked around at the boxes, they were surprisingly intact underneath the layer of soot. Two were even locked!

    Well.. I was all alone, and I'd not come this far to let sleeping dogs lie, right? So I flashed my knockers and ta-daaa! The locks went click, clack, clock and opened up their treasures. Inside, ~the~ most unusual arrows I have ever seen and a note hinting of collaboration between this group and some other nebulous faction. The signature - and the general appearance of the thugs themselves - reminded me of that small camp we'd busted up near Ormpur, and the other finds seemed much in the same vein. Bundles of bone, vials of blood, necromantic scrolls.. eww. But also a curious grenade belt and a few useful potions.

    Lainie said something about the goodie-goods she'd worked with, back in Ormpur… and these arrows, sheesh - they seem especially designed to wreak some serious damage to just that type of guys and girls. I think I'll show her this new stuff, maybe she knows more about it than me. I took a few remaining cultists out on the other side of the ridge, stepping squarely on a negative energy trap in the process (OW!), then stared at the remaining two who stood frozen and unwilling to fight me.

    Alright, I can get some answers, I thought. But nooooo - they wouldn't talk, witless with fear and just stood there, shaking. I'm really not ~that~ intimidating, so I'm guessing that whoever their boss is, he or she is a serious badass. I left them there, feeling like whatever came would be worse than what I could dish out at them.

    There's never any telling what a random run-around will result in, sometimes it's simply about the running, sometimes you find an unexpected gem of beauty and sometimes just the odd and curious. This time, my poking around unearthed something decidedly nasty, but with You at my back, I can handle the unexpectedly wicked too. Sometimes I think that even the ugliest find is beautiful in a way, because of that element of discovery, the surprise and the thrill.

    Sure beats sitting around staring at a campfire all day!"


  • Up on the hill overlooking the south gate, the furtle shield is stuck into the ground like a make-shift shelter, while the dim red glow of the portable street-light illuminates an otherwise dark and stormy night. Lightning streaks the sky at times, a rumbling thunder rolling out across the Rawlins in the distance. Huddled between the shell shield and Llyran's warm, bearclad bulk, Willow writes:

    "A big, stupidly happy grin settled on my honeybear's face when he unpacked the furtle shield at long last, seeming to not even notice the seriously heavy stormclouds gathering above our heads. Lightning struck nearby, and Llama just grinned, like a child with the bestest, shiniest new toy ever! From being the guy who kept forgetting to even use a shield, he seems to want to hold this one all the time - and that's awesome for keeping him safe and sound! He did this incredibly cute thing too, where he turtled behind it and peeked over the top with fake caution, haha!

    Waiting for my bear proved far more busy than I had expected, too. After a short but sweetly exhilerating raid on the bugbear mines with Jonni and Lainie, there was an attack on the gates, larger in scale than anything I've ever experienced before. Jaded Norwick adventurers would scoff when I say it was all goblins, but the thing is, they weren't ~all~ goblin. All of them - and they came in wave upon wave, hundreds by the end I'd guess - all had red eyes and weird growths, like horns or fangs or a tail. Fiendish goblins!

    They were seriously tough, and we had to retreat at once to sound the alarm. Luckily more people came swiftly, and together we held the line for a while. But spells were running low, and the goblins just kept coming. One got a good swing at me and cracked a rib, in just one hit! And there was sooo much fire, grenades and spells flying, the grass turning black around us, but luckily my helm protected me from the worst and I could focus on running in and out to slap some healing out, or stay back and shoot my bow.

    When people like Beorn almost die, that's when you know things are rough, but just then, something very unexpected happened. Out of the treeline, a huuuuge figure emerged, towering over the goblins that she sliced through with her bigass blade - a frost giant! After the initial shock wore off (and the dwarves had been convinced to hear her out), Jonni could trade a few words with her. It seems she was sent to help out, strange as that may sound, and when the attacks continued she was a literally GREAT help!

    Ragnhild (that's her name, and oddly the name of Jonni's own grandma) left soon after dawn, when the attack stopped at last. She wasn't real cordial, and it seems to me that she was there more to stop the goblins, and less to help for the sake of Norwick itself, yeah? Afterwards, Jonni said she'd revealed a few more details to him - that the 'White Snake' was the one that sent her, from the Coldstones… and a gut reaction kicked in, inside me. White Snake, fighting fire, a sort of ally but not exactly friend? Ky...

    From what Ras told us, I'd say that hunch could well fit, and I immediately wanted to rush off and find him, find a trail up the mountains, see the Coldstones and discover everything we could find out about it! So when Jonni started being practical about it, saying we had to prepare and bring suitable gifts and stuff, I wasn't really in a mood to listen. In fact, I was kind of a pest about it, 'cause things continued to a disagreement about keeping this all on the down-low, at least until we knew more. And keeping secrets is almost as big of a pet peeve of mine as people ordering me about...

    Poor Jonni, my ranting wasn't really aimed at him, and he made some perfectly valid points besides - such as for any kind of peaceful mission to work, the bashy-bashy-make-war-people can't really be involved. And it's true, we will learn more if there's less square-headed people around. It's just... I really, ~really~ dislike hush-hush stuff. If everyone kept their cards close to their chests, how would anything ever change, you know? If you give, you also get, and everything flows so much faster!

    But alright, I'll concede to err on the side of caution on this one, 'cause really it is still just a hunch, a guess that might prove completely off the mark. We'll see, first off I'm thinking we'll have to talk to Ras...

    Secondly, 'cause the place where those fiendish goblins usually reside is the omniously ill reputed Lost City, I think we should also go poking around there. Apparantly it's really dangerous, but I've wanted to go exploring there ever since Leanna gave me and Llama that sneak preview of the place... now, there's finally a good and valid reason that will even persuade the more cautious folk that it's worth the trip!

    And speaking of Leanna, she showed up again, just last night! There were a clutch of wicked bunnies too, and a miniaturized squeaky-voiced Balor, and the roar of a dragon passing overhead! Leanna is such a whirlwind of chaos and grand things happening, that I think it's hard for most people to wrap their heads around. Sooner or later, someone snaps and this time it was Salin's friend Mathias. He actually tried to tell her, in a parental sort of tone no less, that enough is enough! Uh-oh.. yeah, that didn't end well.

    No matter that she can totally act like a child on a sugar high, Leanna ~is~ a demi-godess, and very much not fond of being ordered around by mortals. Things came to blows, and Salin got inbetween too and ended up hurt... and then Leanna took off in a mood. It so didn't have to end like that!

    Anyway, as always with Leanna, there's kernels of reason and truth in what she says and does, and this time she had a warning about a red dragon passing through this area. 'cause we asked about dragons, she also said there was a big silver one here, and we should so see him 'cause he's amazing - she made the most awesome illusion of this dragon, wow, just wow! Argentius is his name, but unfortunately for us, he's sleeping. But drawn by the speaking of his name, his daughter appeared after Leanna had left! Argen'tia, silver-winged and beautiful, a half dragon she said. She and her brother keep watch for other dragons in the area, and she was tracking the red currently.

    After she took to the skies, I had the most overwhelming urge to soar up into the clouds after her - so later, when I thought I saw a big shape moving in the stormclouds gathering above, immense wings flapping... I did just that. FWOOSHH! Straight up, into the sky, and possibly into the maws of a waiting dragon! The clouds were thick and vision too foggy to see much of anything while there, though... my wings grew soggy wet, and I had to descend very swiftly indeed, but wow.. just wow! I'll never tire of those flights!

    The storm, and whatever beast moved inside it, moved northwest, disappearing with unnatural speed. We couldn't follow, so settled instead for a bit of well-deserved sloth by the gates, my Llamabear and I. He's good at sloth, so good that I think I'll succumb to the same, myself..."


  • Up in the Roost, Willow sits crosslegged on the soft moss, intently focused on weaving vines, leaves and grass together to a make-shift gift wrapping of sorts. Her Whip of Willows uncoils, seeming intent on "helping" the endeavour and branches suddenly twist and writhe around the large object layed out in the moss.

    "Hey, quit it!"

    Willow laughs and wrestles the whip back into submission, then cooes softly to it before it is released, resting against her skinny hip. Smiling, the half-elf continues her work, wrapping the greenery all around the big, shield-like object. It is a peculiar looking thing, buckled and curved like the back of a giant turtle, but clad in some manner of ragged algae or fur. Willow strokes the surface of the shield fondly before finishing her wrapping off, adding a random scattering of wild flowers to the leaves and vines.

    Work done, she skips to her feet for a victory dance, frolicing around the small clearing with her new white cloak fluttering behind her, light as a feather. A sudden gust of wind seems to tug the cloak apart, soaring angel's wings flaring out at her back for the briefest of moment before it is once again a cloak. Tiny windchimes fastened to the wrist guards of her new armor make a light tinkling noise as she dances herself dizzy, finally landing face-down in the moss.

    As Willow awaits her lumbering bear's return, she writes:

    "The Furtle Shield is done!

    Oh, it's a heavy and cumbersome thing, but strong and tough like the man it's intended for. Llama's going to ~love~ it, but I think he loves how we got it even more - because unlike what we expected beforehand, we didn't have to kill a single furtle to get it. Rather the opposite, we saved them!

    We set out on the Tinselbliss (alright, I'm told it's actually called the Tinieblas, but my name is better!) with slight apprehension - Cap'n Bub seemed a few cards short of the full deck, and the way the ship scraped the side of the docks as it swung into port wasn't reassuring. Still, spirits were nothing if not high, with such great company as ours! It was me, Llamabear, Lainie, Jonni, Shessa and the surprise addition of Damien Meynolt, for once not complaining about dirt every other sentence. I might've told him I'd boot him off the ship if he whined, so…

    It was a stormy day, and freakish lightning hit just as Bub belatedly called for a tribute to the Bitch Queen. Most of us weren't gonna make a fuss - tribute where tribute is due - but Lainie just had to go mentioning Talos and Valkur, promptly getting her little butt zapped for it. I mean sheesh - didn't we agree in Chult that it's smarter to just respect local customs? If it's an Umberlite ship and we're out on the waters, I'm gonna pay tribute just like I woulda offered my blood to the Yuan-ti in the jungle (if it was my blood they'd asked for, that is).

    We weaselled out of harm's way with a collective handful of gems and gold to the deeps, and then sailed 'over the letters' as Bub called it. Lacedon Reef, where ships capsize and their crews roam the sea bed, hungrily stretching undead arms up to the living. A thick fog settled, and everything became eerily calm - then came the scraping.

    Were we tearing the hull against some jagged part of the reef? In concern, I dished out the Waterbreathing spells I'd prepared earlier, and the fog grew so thick that really, it kinda was like breathing water. Scrape, scrape, scrape.. and then watery hands gripped the railing, ghouls sloshing up and onto the deck!

    ~Man~, were they gross! Bloated and unrecognizable as ever being human, skin all pasty white and sponge-like - but their nails were sharp, and their teeth hungry for the flesh of the living! They came in waves, some fell easily to a holy shout and some but wobbled and shambled on - a few were gigantic, lizardlike, and one very tough. Water seemed to bleed out of his pale bloated skin, making the air even more fluid. But with Jonni and Llama in front and Shessa blasting divine light from the back, we got that one down for the count too. And then the fog lifted!

    We were through the Reef, and ahead an island glimpsed, glittering like a jewel in the dissipating mist. Land ahoy, Furtle Island!

    We waded ashore after having made certain Bub and the ship would wait for us, and found an island of almost tropical warmth. Sweet fruits grew on the trees, and the air was humid. Such a nice and bountiful island, no wonder furtles flocked here, I thought - but there wasn't a furtle in sight. Instead, small lizardman-like creatures awaited us, not far from the beach.

    I asked about the furtles, saying we'd come in peace and all that - but the little lizardguy's eyes grew wide in alarm. He seemed afraid, running off to fetch a larger one which I spoke the same message to, hoping my draconic wasn't so bad as to jumble the attempt completely. The big one heard me out, then closed his eyes for a moment as though conferring with someone or something else - then looked back to us and said the following chilling words:

    'You will be our dinner.'

    Hey! I don't think so, douche! From that moment, the fight was on, despite our initial intent of being nice-guys. You just can't be nice when the other side has no intention of playing along, you know? And if we'd known then what we know now, there'd been no niceties at all.

    We fought our way up a hillside, seeking the high ground for better view of our surroundings, fighting through scalies large and small. And at the top, the true power - a Yuan-ti. Yuan-ti, just like in the jungle, only this one wasn't interested in taking anything less than ~all~ of our blood. We won the hill after Llama speared the snake to the ground, and from above spied a long stretch of beach with a shipwreck.

    A beach, now that seemed the best place to look for the furtles! Or rather, ~the~ furtle. See, Jonni had had a vision before we got onboard the ship. In the vision, he saw something like a blocked road, Llama and a furtle. Llama cast a spell, seemed to talk to the furtle, and then followed it down the road. Like, the furtle was the key - and we certainly had rather a big stumbling block in the very angry scalies all around us. It wasn't just the saurials, there were sharks in every stream, dinosaurs on foot and wing and cockatrices. The likeness to Chult was definitely there, in the screech and rustle of angry things lurking in the trees!

    Fighting our way to the beach, we found him in a small enclosure - a very big, very sad furtle. The wooden beams didn't seem like much to contain such a powerful creature, but he merely stood there, still and apathic as though life was not worth living. And Llama, while speaking to the furtle, grew uncharacteristically angry, a hard look flashing in his yellow eyes.

    'He's the last of his kind', Llama explained soon after, beargrumbling. The Yuan-ti had killed all of his kin, taken his beloved mate away and left him all alone and miserable. So miserable was he that he promised his own shell away, if we would give him the one thing left to savour - revenge. Hey, no objections here! Not only were those douches trying to have us for dinner, but they'd killed off an entire species? Not cool, not cool at all!

    We followed the furtle's directions to a cave, blocked off by large boulders. Llama seemed to know just what to do though, cutting his own hand to smear the blood on the rocks. With a quiet murmur, the stone crumbled before us - and the road was clear.

    We prepared as best we could before entering - there was no knowing how far the cave stretched inside, no knowing where or if we could refresh our very depleted blessings, but we weren't about to stop now. Inside though, there was no cave, instead something more like a ship's interior awaited. We fought past the first guards to find a door before us, trapped and locked, but with a little fiddling and a few trinkets used, that too opened.

    But it opened onto sheer mayham. Oh dear, oh gosh.. if I could've gone back, I would say I'd prepared differently, drank all my emergency potions first, but how do you ever know if the fight to come is the final confrontation? You can't scout behind the locked door, after all - and so I won't have any regrets about what came next.

    Saurial guards, Yuan-ti casters, a skulking assassin - it all seemed to hit us at once, a wave of death pouring out of the doorway. Jonni was dazed and staggered backwards, black tentacles sprouting from the ground. I got my Freedom spell off, slapped it on his back and thought in panic that I would Slow our attackers, perhaps buying us just a little time - but I had just ran out of time, myself.

    The Yuan-ti priestess' eyes locked on mine, a scaly finger pointing at my chest - and then it was all over. My vision turned black, then foggy white as the too familiar, dreary light of the Fugue claimed me. At first I was just annoyed, then anxious - if the rest died, who would bring them back when I was dead? Oh, let them live, let them win, oh pretty please Shaundakul, Mielikki, Savras and Selune, let them not join me!

    I paced and fretted, but was eventually joined by Damien. Time seemed to cease to exist - perhaps it really doesn't exist in that place, who knows? - but I couldn't be still. They had to live, they had to win this fight, PLEASE! I drifted through a fence, stared up at the spiral stairs disappearing into white clouds above. It wasn't my time, not yet - not without my bear.

    And then the pull came, a slow tug at first, before gaining momentum, slamming me back into my mortal coils. Breathe!

    I breathed, and as my vision cleared, saw satisfyingly dead scalies around me, exhausted friends with ready hugs, and something else. Something wholly unexpected, something which lifted my ragged spirits - a furtle! A living, breathing furtle, smaller than the first but alive, alive! And even better than that - it was the big furtle's mate. I don't know what the Yuan-ti had been doing to her, but there were glowing lights all around her prison - a soon broken prison, now!

    Damien too was brought back, and with a jumble of things collected, we hurried after the furtle as she darted off towards the beach with surprising speed. The reuniting of the furtle lovers was enough to bring tears to even the most hardened of salty sailor's eyes, I dare say! It was simply beautiful, and I would die all over again for that happy ending to be possible, I would! Before they waded into the Icelace together, the big furtle dug up a shell from the sand - the shell of his own father, I think, now gifted to Llyran to make something worthy of remembering him by.

    In the end, we didn't need to kill a single furtle to gain the shield we'd daydreamed so often about, but instead may have saved the species from extinction. ~This~ is my kind of good deed, and my only regret is that I didn't have a peek hole in the fugue to watch a fully spelled up, roaring mad Llyran wreak druidic vengeance on the remaining Yuan-ti. It must have been quite a sight, RRHHH!

    And if I had any lingering weariness in me (death does take a lot out of you), it was all negated with a single, heavenly leap into the sky! Recovered among the Yuan-ti hoard was a cloak of lightest, softest white which does not only look like something an angel would wear - it has the power to turn into actual angel's wings, for one to fly straight up into the sky with! It's so thrilling, so magical and wonderful that I have to keep myself from doing it ~all the time~! The magic is limited, and I don't want to wear it all out, not quite yet!

    Lainie admitted afterwards that she would've liked the cloak too - and honestly, who wouldn't? But she thought it perfect for me, and just let me have it - which I very much appreciate! She's such a sweetheart, and perhaps we can swoop and fly together, white wings and raven black!

    All in all, I feel more alive than ever - light as a feather, free as a bird, as though the wind could take me ~anywhere~. It's just what I wanted, what I longed for during those slow and weary weeks. And it just goes to show that living safe isn't really living at all.

    Now, I'm eagerly awaiting my bear's return to the Roost. I can't wait to see his face when he sees what Feldegast made of the shell, and I am so happy that we made this dream come true, together. Llyran, you're the ~best~ and you totally deserve the best!

    And as cherry on the cake, Beorn finished my armor! It's a dreamily light and flexible creation, made of steel wire which seems braided together in a very intricate fashion. The inside is lined with soft bear fur - the very same bear that nearly ate him in Mintas forest that time - and he fastened tiny windchimes to the wrist guards, so that the wind can always sing around me! It is the best armor ~ever~. I might have to break the promise I never technically gave and hug him again..."


  • Green cloak snapping in the brisk northern wind, Willow skips along the top of the Jewel's sturdy stone walls, until spying a Defender on watch in one of the turrets. She waves enthusiastically, then turns and skips back before the baffled man collects his wits, barking a belated order at her retreating backside.

    Down at the waterfront, Willow keeps skipping; happy, random steps with all the grace of a frisky moose calf. She whirls around, then opens her arms out wide as though to embrace all of the glittering Icelace before her. Later, perched on a crate near the Black Sails warehouse, she writes:

    "Furtles Ahoy!

    Plan Llama-Dire-Turtle-Shield is in motion, the ship is booked and the usual suspects rounded up. John Isle still won't let us use his own vessel, but he said that the 'Tinnie-Blas' would do nicely. Sailors and their superstition, seems a deeply rooted thing indeed! But if ~that~ many ships really crashed against the Lacedon Reef, maybe the rumours of sea ghouls aren't just rumours… good thing I've got my Flaily-Turning-Stick, if so!

    I'm not quite so crummy at fighting undead as I would have people believe, actually. I mean, when I shout your name and do the whole holy symbol thing, they turn and flee same as they would for any faithful cleric. It's just that undead are SO depressing, real negative Nellies, and I don't want my high spirits sucked down into the dirt, you know? But to set their spirits free, well - that's got to be a certifiably Good Thing!

    I'm not so sure I want to be tossed into the Do-Gooder-Crowd though, where the 'Right Thing' must always be done and this cause or other championed. I'm not big on causes, generally - which is not to say there aren't some things I'd fight to the death over, of course! Salin insists that I'm a hero whether I see myself as that or not, but I'm pretty sure I'm just a helping hand to my fellow travellers in this great wide world. Others may be the hand that strikes, the hand that pushes or directs a course of action, but really, I'd rather just offer a hand up to the guy that stumbled, without telling him how he should or shouldn't live his life.

    Back to the topic at hand though - furtles! I bought Llama this really awesome pirate scimitar, and we've practiced our arrr an' yarrrs, playing daring privateers for days! I'm going to ask You for some Waterbreathing coolness, in case we have to go swimming (or sinking!), and we have at least three fantastic friends helping out. It should be a breeze, right? Sure, a dire turtle is like, several times bigger than a man, even a big bearman like the Llama.. but if we can take down a Triceratops, we can totally manage a furtle!

    We might still need a helping hand though - so I'll find my best high spot for extra prayers!"


  • Above the entrance to the Wolves Den, a pair of long skinny legs dangle down. Willow contemplates the afternoon's light and puffy clouds, seeming content to just sit there for a while, waiting - though as the sunlight begins to fade, she fishes up her book to write, tearing the page out and sticking it to the gates before trotting off towards the Gypsy Woods.

    "Rasuil!

    I was running about near the Rawlins Lake when suddenly, I had company of a more unexpected nature. Amongst the usual goblin rabble, one of their assassins hid, trying to hamstring me while I was busy fighting. As luck would have it, that's about when Lainie found me, and we made short work of the little jerk and his three stabby friends.

    But there was something disturbing going on, this omnious feeling that kept building and didn't seem to have anything to do with the goblins themselves, except I expect they felt the same thing. Something was wrong, like.. really, ~really~ wrong!

    Lainie and I huddled instinctively closer, back to back, while trying to assess the situation. Then I saw it, shuffling out of the treeline with its vines and branches writhing, an angy mass of brambles and thorns! I shrieked and blasted it with holy fire, and it hissed - Lainie followed with blasts of blue magic, and we managed to put it down - but the vines… the vines like.. re-knitted themselves, and now they shot out towards us, dragged us in and bit deeply into flesh and skin. I was poisoned, weak as a kitten, but managed to get a blessing off to reverse the damage. I ran, Lainie ran, but the damned thing kept pulling us back in!

    That's when I coated my katana with darkfire and FWOOSH, SWOOSH, sliced through the thick vines and then it collapsed, a heap of seemingly normal vegetation. We set it on fire after, just to be on the safe side, and healed ourselves up - but the bad feeling lingered. This wasn't over, but.. from the north, a cool wind came, bringing with it a building storm.

    As the clouds gathered and darkened overhead, the next vine monster came - and it was remarkably resilient! We ran and fired off our spells and arrows, and the first ones hit their mark. But then.. the next spell just fizzled, like the tangled vines absorbed it, and my arrows too seemed to be swallowed up by the jungle (or I'm just a lousy shot, entirely possible especially with the panicky hit-and-run I was trying to pull).

    The thing just kept coming, but as we crossed the river, the storm seemed to reach a crescendo above our heads. CRACK, ZZZAP! Lighting erupted from above, blindingly white, scorching the living daylights out of the vine monster! The following thunderclap near defeaned me, but we shouted out in glee, knowing that someone was most definitely on our side - but who? My Wind Walker, the Storm Lord - no, neither, because soon afterwards, a light snowfall began.

    The snow gathered in drifts around us, then seemed to shift and stir into the shape of a giant white wolf. Jerrick's favoured shape, I needn't tell you, and he sends you his best regards! Besides mushy stuff like how you're probably his best friend and he misses you too, the reason he came was because of this whole vegetation mess. And after seeing them for himself, after hearing about your situation, he said that you should call for him in your dreams. He can help, he thinks - so do it! Do it, or I'll forcibly nurse you, despite protests or pleading. I'm relentless when it's for someone's own good, and you know it!

    ~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