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

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


  • _Demons.

    It was the day after our meeting with Yulia and Synara. We discussed getting them out, without having to resort to 'means', to let them continue their vampire hunt. Frankly, I think they're the only not-the-usual-adventurers actually doing any-damned-thing, so I'm happy to get their freedom.

    That, and there are Druids in their ranks.

    I walked outside, and there was a darkness outside … that was not the evening darkness. Nor clouds. It was like ink on the sky, definitely a sign that something was moving.

    Heroes Bluff was windy, cold, and snowing slightly, when I arrived to see the crew all there. Theaon, Ros, Raryldor, Alvaniel, Salin, Aoth, and Anna at the end were the crew, with a small host of Legion Soldiers, and Hin Valley troops, who were righteously fired up by Roslyn being a badass, and leading like you'd never guess she was capable of.

    Leading enemies to traps? Yea. Leading someone on in a conversation that ends in a dick joke? Of course. Leading troops? Just, wow, Ros. Good on ya.

    The attacks, they came in waves. I stood with the archers, Fayt at my side, and awaited them. They came on steadily, quietly ... until they saw ME and Aoth. A whole group freaked right the hell out, and branched off, and came right at us. Suddenly my plan of protecting the archers seemed a little shaky. I brought hell down right on top of them, but they held firm, and fought it back.

    Wave, after wave, after wave. Demons poured across the gap, and Salin, who had my back, kept the archers safe with me. Raryldor, apparently born to do this shit, used Correlon's mighty boons to destroy several at a time, whereas I usually had to take em out one by one. Thankfully, the flyers aren't much of a match for me or Fayt, but numbers always catch up. Archers started to fall. We picked em up, sent em off between ways, and our numbers dwindled.

    Aoth was down below, raging about as a mighty bear, and simply swatting demons like they were playtoys. She's come SO far since we met. I feel like, at this point, I'm only more powerful by dint of being born here, so I had a head start in the adventuring game. She's a force to be reckoned with! And the Druid who came, not an elder thankfully, as I sent word to the glen for the elders to stay the HELLS away, was amazing. A skilled young man fought beside all of us, and followed orders perfectly, and not only fought, but healed soldiers as he did the whole time.

    Alvaniel held the ramp by the landing, where the demons who could NOT fly were ferrying themselves over on rafts. How amusing, to think of demons building rafts, with their claws and fangs and other miscellaneous appendages that were never meant for raftbuilding.

    Amusing til they actually started making it across, anyway.

    The rafts, at least, sucked. Between Salin and I, at least a quarter of them didn't even make it. Fire and lightning and ice struck their little boats, and tipped them into the water, or destroyed them outright. Flamestrike + raft = bad day.

    By the third huge wave, we were flagging, and a lull passed over both sides, so we took that time to recoup, and check in. The Druids took turns resting up, everyone else made plans, shored up positions, rotated out soldiers, and I reminded folks that if the Druids fall, to TAKE or BURN or remove our bodies so that the demons can't get them. At all costs.

    It was a grim reminder, but it had to be done.

    We prepared ourselves again, and more boats came forth, so Salin and I got to sinking them ... but these boats carried something more.

    Sure, there was a Glaebrezu, and a Nefalnshee, but those weren't what turned the tide against us. Throughout the battle, there had been a couple Vrock strewn about, which which quickly and summarily, erm, strewn about. Fayt and Aoth got to them, heh. This time, there was a whole pack of them, descending like hooked horrors, all at once, and they immediately spread out. Not a problem, right? One for everyone! Except that ... well, they summon. Specifically, they summon succubi. After summoning more succubi. There were more than a DOZEN. At once. Succubi, which have some strange ability to drain a person away to nothing.

    Or more specifically, three people.

    Theaon, Alvaniel, and Ros, all dropped.

    And within moments of each other. I could SEE the succubus's spelleffects going everywhere. There had to have been close to a dozen of them, or perhaps that's the terror talking. Raryldor aside, those were the heavies!

    I was hit by their little bolts of power, once, twice, a dozen times and more ... as I fought Vrock after Vrock. I ran about a bit, used my summon spell, tried to think of something clever, and all I could think of was getting to Aoth. NOW.

    We fought back to back, Rary made his way over to us eventually, and one by one, we cleared the field. Sure we could have gone after the succubi first ... but that would have left a Vrock at our back, and I was having trouble keeping up with stripping the diseases from the living before they took hold, as it was.

    The Vrocks perished, the stragglers were wiped out, and I was already on my knees over Theaon's still-warm body, applying magic and mundane methods of getting him going again. It's a magical effect, the drain. It leaves the body once you die. In between ... there's a golden moment. If you get there in time, the body's not too far gone, the soul not too far away, and you can bring them back.

    Theaon. Alvaniel. I got them both up again, bewilderment etched across their faces. They apparently took several hits each, at once, from these succubus attacks, and everything just ... went black.

    I looked over to where Anna was. She and Ros were talking, Ros made it back too. She wasn't happy, but she was alive. That's what mattered.

    There was no gold. There was no treasure. Only a smidgeon of glory, and of course, knowing that we kept out that one tendril of blackness from the land there, that would have quickly taken hold, and washed over the entire bluff like a wave, had we not been the breaker.

    Good enough, for now, I suppose._


  • _I've been procrastinating.

    I don't -want- to write about this. I don't want to go through it again. I don't want to watch myself do it over and over and over again … but I will. Maybe if I stick it between pages, it'll stay there a while, and leave me some room in the rest of my head and heart for everything else.

    I'll get there eventually.

    I met Lillia again. The last time was SO long ago, back when Lycka was adventuring with me and others pretty regularly.

    We filled Lillia in on some stuff. She regretted making any others after "A", and Lillia complimented us.

    "You have been made to make terrible choices, and they have not slowed you down. I have always, always admired courage. For it is the one quality my kind, at our heart, truly lack. Every vampire is a coward at their core."

    I guess that makes sense, now that I stop to -really- think about it. Vampires weren't always vampires ... and most accepted this willingly, otherwise they'd take a sunbath. They feared death, or what comes after SO much, they instead took up eternal torment, and whatever damnation follows, as opposed to hastening their judgement.

    We talked more, but Long story short, Lillia thinks that cavern is a good place for turning kids, and that Norwick isn't exactly a -real- goal of Quentin's. A is, and messing with ME is, since he thinks I have what he wants.

    I mean ... I might, but I'll never tell HIM that. I'll take -that- to my grave if I get the chance.

    I went to Norwick, then, and told the officials and the churchfolk what they needed to do, to make sure that they didn't last back out by sending the kids back as vampires, and to keep an eye out.

    Since I'm so behind, here ... I already know what they did INSTEAD of that so far, but I'm not writing it down yet. Not yet. I'm just, not ready. I have to get over it sooner or later, but right now, I'll start crying in Peltarch, and there's people around. Not ok.

    We chatted with Lillia a bit more, talked about the day I dueled Liderc, and much to his surprise, his actual stated out loud surprise, I held his ass off. Nate and Shesarai and Lycka were there, I think it was Lycka he was after at first, though once we were face to face, he leaned in close.

    "Tell me where it is!"

    I bought Lycka the time she needed. Once she was ready … her and the others misted his ass while I held his attention. I'm almost looking forward to seeing him again. It'll be nice to settle that unfinished score.

    Back to Lillia (Man, I need to get my head clear. I can't even write a coherent story, here), she basically never said she'd help us, or do anything special other than walk around in the sunlight and pretend to be human, and chit chat a bit.

    She doesn't think he's trying to revive A with the kid's blood, dripped off of Michaela's fangs ... we talked about Bodaks being able to make more Bodaks by their "Touch of pure evil." All in all, not much gained, unless the clever pair are able to glean more out of her words than I was.

    I'm going to have a drink or three, sleep, and try again at this in the morning. This writing's a mess._


  • _Things are hurtling at us now, quickly, and with no sign of stopping.

    I've met with Lillia, who I haven't seen since I was a girl, just starting out this adventuring thing … and learned that it's likely that Quentin's going to turn those kids. That bastard. There's evil, and then there's ... well, that. He's apparently taking a HUGE gamble pissing off the courts as he is, so he's confident, desperate, or just plain crazy.

    Probably all three.

    I spent about a day and night in Norwick, setting preparations in place in case this happens. Hopefully they listen.

    Leftovers from a fight with Quentin and like 78923469 wights, popped up. Someone, it turns out, had found them, risen them, and claims that she was going to try to walk them into the icelace. She didn't specify is that meant bringing them through Peltarch first ... but the group I was with ended up fighting them all. It pays to have a priest around, that was easy that time ...

    Turns out, the person playing with casual necromancy that felt like the "Control dead" type, rather than the "Create undead" sort ... was Talbot's sister. Thanks to Aoth muttering in Druidic, I found out before I stepped on my own foot, and merely told her that I was present at the end of him ... rather than the one who chose to step forward and 'execute' justice.

    I wasn't ABOUT to trust the 'system' in Peltarch to do it right, or for him not to have a backup plan for his escape. Nope. Too many people that I care about for him to take revenge on, he wasn't getting a chance. It was my blade that took his head, and on my conscience, his sentence.

    Sure, we had made a rough group decision, but at the moment, as expected, people shied away from what needed to be done. So I did it, and I don't regret it. Not a bit. Though I regret the way some of my friends looked at me, after.

    Dammit, I need a drink, and a hug, or something. I need to write something positive ... positivity helps, right?

    I helped kill a black dragon recently, a treasure hunt gone badly for a group of adventurers a few tendays ago, resulted in US finding their goal, and it's guardian. Turns out ... I can get up there in the front against such a thing too, in the moments when Rary had to temporarily fall back.

    Then, while rumors spread of MORE treasure about ... I took a trip with the hin, Sil. We went all the way to Mintas, and found a cache of gold!

    We even managed a dreamwalk before all -this-, woke up Doona, and she's up and about and hasn't tried to kill anyone. Yet.

    See? Good things are there too. I'm going to go pet a kitten or something now._


  • _Woken up in a cold sweat again …

    I'm not sure what the HELL my problem in, but I keep getting into things that are leaving scars on my mind. I'll start at the beginning of this little fiasco ...

    Coming back from a treasure hunt/patrol ... our group came across none other than Seven Twenty herself, sitting at the fire. Well, standing. Expressionless. As usual.

    ... weirdo.

    We came to find out just -why- she's so emotionless and detatched, and inhuman looking when she 'tries out' expressions. Cause that's what it looks like ... as if she's trying on someone else's face for a minute to see if it helps her blend in. Ew.

    Apparently, she was abducted by mind-flayers as a child, then when those mind flayers were wiped out by a vampire's group, or a vamp themselves, the child was taken in by them. She appears to have "Partial Digestion" of her brainmatter, hence the lack of proper personality and ability to blend in.

    Perfect for a vampire's pet.

    Once most of the chitchat was through, she detected something that she'd apparently been expecting ... and Quentin, or Quintin, I can never quite tell ... Reylerstroop, attacked the town with wights.

    I left my wolf near town to howl in case he saw another attack happen in there, and ours was diversionary ... and we were soon embattled by wights. Scores of them!

    Aoth, myself, Isolde, and Nate, all fought like hell, and then got to fight Quentin himself! He used to scare the hell out of me. We've squared off a few times ... but now, I'm his match. His dispels were annoying, but I don't rely on spells alone these days, and he was constantly running, healing, and finally used Greater Sanctuary and disappeared.

    Bastard.

    Well, it turns out that he WAS a ruse, and BODAKS crept into town, stole 5 children, and brought them to some secret lair of Quentins (Possibly somehow underwater!?), and are being used in some ritual to awaken his Vampire lord.

    I think. I'm still hazy on the details ... but I found the latter out with a Greater Scrying, watching them do it, before Quentin noticed me, and tried to coerce me into giving IT to him. I cut off the connection, and I don't think those kids are going to make it, since we have no way of getting to his lair that I know of.

    And what the HELL would we do if we did?

    The screaming, half-formed, dessicated, horrific face of his master still echoes in my head. I withstood it, but barely, and if it weren't for my force of will, that and Quentin's antics could have very seriously hurt me.

    I need to be more careful.

    Even saying that, though, even putting it on paper ... will I really?

    Not while there's so much at stake, I think.

    Not now._


  • _What. A. Day.

    Talking with Aoth, who miraculously arrived at my fire while I was huddled up after my nightmare vision things … helped a lot. Aoth, the gifted Druidess with the ever-sharp mind. She helped get my mind back together, and then ... well, things got interesting while we got ready for a hunt.

    Apparently, a group of adventurers had come through town a couple tendays ago, and despite their boasts of how they were going to liberate some treasures ... they never returned.

    We went looking, though there was no warm trail, or good leads, save some information from a scout about goblin movements, but Aoth's sharp hawk eyes pointed us more in the right direction.

    Sure enough ... we found something. Corruption in the woods, and traps. OH GODS, so many traps. And of course, no Roslyn to deal with them. I got zapped so hard I nearly died, roughly five times. Thankfully, Raryldor was with us, and he's a seemingly endless font of healing and magic. It makes me realize just how truly wide the gap is between the power available to a priest compared to a Druid.

    Regardless, we pressed on. We got past the traps ... excepting the ones on the chests we found, which belonged to a Black Dragon! The scorching on the trees, where the bark was burned away with no sign of fire, was a pretty good hint. That, and the sulfrous, acidic, awful smell in the air.

    First, it was spiders. Then, goblins, with corruption and burns visible on their knobbly green flesh. Then, all hell broke loose. We ended up between a couple groups of the goblins, spiders, and even bugbears, all festering with corruption, and all mad with bloodlust, and ... fear, I guess! It got to the point where everything was attacking everything blindly. No cohesion, no plan, no orders, just screaming fury and fear so thick in the air you could taste it.

    Fine by me.

    I had saved my spells so long until this point, so I couldn't be stripped of them by random casters, and the corrupted casters seemed way more interested in fireballing us ... unfortunately felling poor Anton, was that his name? I saved him once, but the second time ... it was too much.

    I waited, checking between volleys of arrows for my chance ... and finally it came. The two groups merged somewhat before charging us from a fairly unified direction, and I screamed what I had warned my companions to listen for.

    STONEHOLD!

    The earth reached up and grabbed every creature with a mind too feeble to resist its call, and while Raryldor's Storms of Vengeance and other spells hammered down with my own lightning, our foes were immobile, giving our bards and the rest of us some precious time to breathe.

    Isolde and Nate make an excellent team. Their singing bolstered me so much I felt untouchable. Blows that seemed to get past my stoneskin I easily shrugged off, my very blood singing with the glory of battle. In to take on the more aggressive runners into our group, out to pick off casters with the bow, death coming on swift wings for our enemies.

    The ground was so littered with corpses that I never even SAW the adventurers that we came looking for until after, when we were sorting for our plunder. I set their crushed, sizzled, charred, and slashed up bodies in a pyre separate from the enemies' , and put fire to them, sending them to the afterlife with a little dignity.

    It was the least I can do. Now ... it's nighttime in Peltarch. Turns out I figured out which gems from the Dragons haul sell the best, and I'm happy I chose the ones I did, though if I'd changed tactic JUST a little ... bah, I'm good.

    Next time, though.

    Now, off to investigate this rumor about Cera's tree..._


  • High up in a tree, in an otherwise empty bed, a figure rolled in her sheets, before kicking them free, as if feverish.

    Despite that, she shivered.

    The light frame stilled, her breathing growing shallow, as if afraid to breathe loudly, though she was quite firmly in the throes of sleep and dreams, while around her, the -real- world busied itself as if she were not there, as usual.

    To her though…

    Hours later she wakes with a start, flinging herself from the bed, as if to roll to her feet, groping for her weapons, ready to fight ... though it doesn't go that way at all. The flung sheets grasp her feet, and she hits the floor of her treehouse hard, knocking the breath from her in a rush, and making her vision spin, bright flashes spinning across her field of view.

    A shuddering breath. A groan as she crawls to a sitting position, and a brief rustle of pages as she digs out her journal, and hastily begins to write, her hand shaking still, but steadying with time.

    _But I woke up!

    It's been hours since the dreamwalk. Half a day, even! But I felt like I was … there. I need a bath, and a run, or ... something. A hug? Gods I feel awful. It was ... Gods, I'd better write this down properly. Here goes ...

    It was the woods again. The feywild woods, misty and hidden, despite everything being visible. Was that a creature? No, more mist. So much mist. White, curling, never sitting still. I've seen this a dozen times. I've walked these lands, been to Avalon, taken others there ... it should be as familiar as it seems ... but at the same time, I'm lost.

    Nothing for it then, I thought, so I walked. I knew I was dreaming. Proper dreaming. I had to be, right? I didn't -walk- here. I went to sleep. Artemis was there. I was ... am, safe. Home. Right?

    I don't know how long I walked. Time moves whichever direction is pleases here, er, there. Whichever ... I think. At any rate, as I walked, I felt it. Watching eyes. Yet, I saw none. Was something watching without eyes?

    No, don't think like that. You're the master of your own dreams, even outside them. You KNOW how this works. Get your shit together, Rayfe. Dad did this dozens of times, taught you how, you're at home here, as much as anywhere.

    Nothing to fear here. Fear kills, paralyzes, takes over. Uljas kept tasting it. I could taste it AROUND him. When it hit, his howls that started as battle cries, turned different. Raw. I shrugged the feeling off like the first winter chill on your skin before a run. No problem. Old hat. Easy.

    Why do I feel ... hunted?

    The woods are mine, even here, dammit. Still ... keep walking, don't think about that. Just ... go. Weapons, check. Potions, check. Brimming with magic? Check. It's fine... it's fine. . . did something whine? Was it ... me?

    I won't speed up. Don't run, they'll only chase. You won't die tired. I won't. No, not dying, just ... walking. Breathe. Keep walking, you'll see ... there. I DO see.

    Shit.

    The mist is different now, and it's all in front of me. AND behind me. How long has it been, have I been...? No! It's fine. This is where you find answers, if there are any. It's just a dream, though. Like that ... tree. The big one. Ignore the dark mist. Not dark. Black. Ignore it anyway, you can still see. It's just ... like light. It can be dark, without anything being -wrong-. Like nighttime. See?

    I'm having trouble fooling myself, but if this is a dream, I'll wake up fine. That's how it works. I'm no prisoner to my dreams ... like poor Doona. We helped her, it's fine. She'll make it. I'll just ... find something. Find a point, like that ...

    Tree.

    Oh no.

    I can see it, as if I magically ended up in front of it. So tired ... It's so tall, but I can see up. Dark mist or no, I can see ... and there she is.

    She's not moving, limp. Silvia, pinned with that knife, like a fang, through her heart. It's ... drinking. Feeding. Draining. But that's not right, this is just a dream. I'm ... remembering the vision. Right? This isn't real, not alive, not a scry ... and I'm cold.

    There's no noise. Not even a whisper. Not even a breeze. She's silent, as is the tree, as is everything, nothing moves, except the fog, that's making it happen. Everything LOOKS like it's moving, but it's not. It's -here-.

    She's not moving, limp. Silvia, pinned with that knife, like a fang, through her heart. It's ... drinking. Feeding. Draining. But that's not right, this is just a dream. I'm ... remembering the vision. Right? This isn't real, not alive, not a scry ... and I'm cold.

    There's no noise.

    There's no noise.

    There's no noise.

    NO! No loops, dammit, keep writing. I -am- writing. I'm awake. I'm fine. I'm ... WAS, being watched. Right?

    Maybe it's the court. Courts! Both. But ... dammit, she's with neither. Like Doona, with her misfit creatures, so much like Doona's pups, the packless.

    They can't be watching, can they? They don't care. They're uninvolved. Maybe they're betting, like one of their games. But ... do they see ME? It's just a dream, not a DREAM. Right?

    Why do I hear singing ..._

    The quill races across pages, cutting lines. Leena is swept along, and her tenses, past and present, become more separated from the 'present'.

    _I hear singing …

    It's Aesso, clear as day. A battle song. I see her now, dancing between two pairs. And pairs, they are.

    A male and female, clad in heavy armors, alike to one another, but the woman is 'shining'. The back to back pair are fighting, and I know what I'm seeing. Silvia is no longer ON the tree, she's in it's labyrinthine branches, fighting, with Horgrim mirroring the other pair.

    It's Alina and Daniel Sterncloude, fighting Aisha the Claw and Praxi, I know them somehow, and nearby, Horgrim the Ogre beside Silvia the fey, battling for their lives. Magic flies, swords rip pieces of armor and flesh from animal and enemy ...

    I don't see the leader, Korvan, until Horgrim does, as he'd appeared to take on Silvia, and Horgrim intervenes, snarling. Each pair is a perfect compliment to one another, a true team, with Aesso binding them in the middle, protecting, and protected by both, yet so small in comparison.

    Korvan retaliates, as if he had planned it, and he's ON Horgrim in an instant. Horgrim's blast of necromantic energy doesn't seem to phase Korvan in his black cape of fur, and it swirls as he casts a spell right up in Horgrim's face, something I don't recognize, and then clawed hands are on Horgrim's eyes, IN them, and they're destroyed in an instant.

    The roar, more scream, has Aesso and the Paladin and knight pair turn from their fight, and assault Korvan. Even he can't fight off all of them at once, and he turns ...

    I see blackness for a moment, and but I still hear the roar. The scream, and ... sniveling, Horgrim's agony washes over me. Silvia applies a glowing green balm to his eyes, comforting him with her other hand on his arm, and he calms.

    There's compassion and respect, loyalty and care, throughout this group. They're a court, friends, allies. Korvan isn't present now, having been clearly injured once teamed up on ...

    And now I see Silvia again. Back on the tree. Like an animal pinned to be gutted after a hunt. I can't leave her there, I'm already walking toward her ..._

    A line is drawn across the page as the Druidess shakes her head, and closes the journal. Tired eyes scan her home warily, and exhausted, she rises to make a tea to help chase away the fog, and dreams, and cold. Still cold… why so cold?


  • _Szath Durro!

    The greenish cast of his skin and his lisp would seem comical if he didn't also tend to have the flat, dead eyes of a reptile when you're speaking to him, where you can see your face reflected back at your with his mocking expression plastered on.

    That's the Malarite who wishes to join the circle, or at least parley with us, probably to escape the wrath of his own former clanmates for wanting out of the way of Rasuil's path of destruction.

    I don't know what his true motivations are, but he's not doing himself any favors being a snarky ass. He seems so OBVIOUSLY up to something, yet here we are, trusting him to come peacefully to a meeting, and expecting to have to believe things he says.

    I'm not sure what to do, or how this is going to go, but we've got to see it play out, one way or another.

    After that … well, the Aurilites need our help with a lich it seems, we need to boot the demons off of the portals in the rawlins and close those up, I need a Helmite Champion to wear the relic I have on my person, and re-open the temple of helm in Jiyyd (more demons, yay), and finally hope to close the rift between planes that's threatening to turn Narfell into a hellscape.

    Nothing that can't be solved by dinner, right?

    At least Anna helped me out today, going Gnoll hunting. I'm finally not flat broke now, and got to have a Dire Tiger run. Now to go check on Doona. Damn riverboat guy wouldn't let two of us ride on a ticket. Time to run!_


  • _Labur and Gnarl make good traveling partners. A trip to the ettins with barely a scratch helps clear the mind for things to come.

    I need to remember the name of the Malarite 'envoy' who wants to speak with the circle. I need to make sure that Doona the Scale isn't harmed unnecessarily. I need to end Korvan, free Silvia the fey, and fish Rasuil out of a darkness that I don't actually know the true depths of, though he's told me much.

    My mind was full of these things as we traversed the caves, and the dangers therein, and it all felt … routine. Simple. No screaming demons. No howling Malarites. Just ... fighting, mining, chatting away, and of course, ales. Dwarves are good company all around.

    Speaking of company ... things are getting strained. Hin protecting hin, I get, but this new one, Sil, seems to have some things to learn. The line between ally and enemy has been wickedly hard to discern lately. I understand Rasuil's vendetta, and mine would be just as bloody had it been Artemis that was treated as Rasuil's mate was. Maybe worse, with the power I've managed to wrangle in these past few years.

    Isolde is more than worried about the darkness in Ras, and I think that Ros has been figuring out just how to take him out, should the necessity arise.

    I won't let that happen.

    When he was turned into a beast, we all worked together, and brought him back ... but watching the form take shape, the muscles and hate literally turning his body into a were-creature of shadow and hate ... you have to wonder how much of that was already inside him.

    My imagination and knowledge team up, sometimes ... and I hardly -have- to wonder.

    I have to do something, and soon. I'll arrange this meet at the Druid glen, sort out what can be sorted as best I can ... and we'll fight the rest. I just ... I wish father were here. Somehow his hard-hdeadedness prevailed when it should not, people putting trust in him to make things right, and it usually worked out. He was a leader with ranks, positions, trust. I don't know -why- people trust me as they do, but I have to use my own skills, and not try to be him.

    Dad, I hope you're watching. Things may very well go to shit faster than I can shovel. I guess in the meantime, while I wait, I'll say another prayer for Ronan, and hope he can hear me. I need guidance. A Druid is seldom lost, but try telling my mind that. Especially when I'm trying to sleep. Perhaps ... perhaps it's time I visited Irmunsil.

    Perhaps past time._


  • _A long time ago, or so it seems to me, I began to take up my father's mantle as a Druid of the Rawlins. That, by default, meant that I was an adventurer. My sister and I both trained since we were young to take up arms as our parents did, though that's not to say our life was without comforts, and love, and the playfulness that comes with being a child.

    No, my childhood was great. I had a wonderful little family, and a just as wonderful extended family. Ael and Lycka were like an aunt and uncle, and our parents would take turns watching one another's kids here and there. It was pretty great!

    Back when I first set out, Mom gave me a sword. It was made of platinum, and it saw a LOT of battle, early on. It was the sword in my hand when I helped liberate the trapped souls in the elf camp, and a blessing from one such spirit still inhabits that blade. I don't use it much any longer, since I finally acquired a well made scimitar that fits better with the training that my father gave me.

    Dad provided the bow, and it was etched with lightning bolts all up and down it. I was told early on, and can sense even now, that it has a secret, that maybe in time it's true power would be unlocked! I've strived to unlock that secret, and figured that perhaps gaining favor with Talos was the way to do that. Clever Dad found an easy way to make sure that I gave the furies their due, that's for certain.

    I've slain more foes with lightning than I have any other magic, and that bow has reached out to would, harass, and slay many foes at even the farthest distances. Battlefields that would have taken days to clean up, I have lugged the bodies into a pile, and called upon the stormlord, dedicating my part in that battle to him, offering up a sacrifice of the destruction we wreaked upon our enemies. Many times, was he pleased, and he took them in a flash of light, leaving behind nothing but ash, and some spots in many people's vision.

    Still, the answer never came.

    I've heard that good things come to those who wait, so I was patient. For years, I have been patient. I've spoken to Talos in dreams, I've called for his aid in hunting down enemies. His power and that of Akadi, through Aoth, even helped blast a fallen angel out of the sky as he fled us.

    Still, no answers. No change. Nothing.

    Good things may come to some of those who wait, but I am clearly meant to chase after what I seek, so I did. I decided one day, to simply go to the small grove near Peltarch, and scry upon my bow, to see if there's something hidden I simply needed to look for. Another part of it, perhaps, or some clue as to it's origin. I asked, and scried, and an answer came, though it was not what I sought at that moment.

    The storm raged, centered on me, while my companions stood by and watched. The lightning flashed all around me, but as usual, I was not harmed … until I was. The lightning struck me, making my body rigid, and threatening to break my concentration.

    I held.

    The land around me darkened, the winds picked up more, the lightning was making the land brighter than day, and darker than a dreamless sleep, rapidly switching between the two states in a way I've never seen. I kept my composure, stared ahead of me where something seemed to be forming, and it struck again. It nearly took me from my kneeling position, and I felt my own flesh start to crack, seared. The pain was terrible ...

    Still I held.

    Once more this happened, another blast, just after a slight pause, as if the storm itself waited for me to abandon my fool's errand.

    I did not, and I paid for it. I paid in blood, and pain, the destruction of my flesh, and the attempted shattering of my will.

    I was undeterred. One does not face down a test from their Gods, and flinch! Granted, it almost killed me, and I think at that point an errant breeze might have, but I held, and then the storm abated, parting like curtains, to reveal an image to us. An image that spoke to me.

    Liberate me!

    It was Silvia, and she was in a tree … her own tree, I would learn, in the place she named the Deepwood Court.

    We were right, she IS held, by Malarites, enemies of the Wolves of Narfell and Rasuil in particular. And now, I know where she is. It took a meeting with Horgrim to figure out where it is, and -that-, was hard fought information. We spoke at great length, and it rose to straight up arguing, me staring up at an ogre with glowing green eyes, claws, and fangs, all but shaking my finger at him ... that would have been rude ... until finally he looked at me, sighed, and said,

    "Your words ring with the bells of reason, Druidess, and the debt of obligation is already in your favor."

    And here I was, ready to face some serious consequence for arguing with Horgrim Blackweave himself, in the Bardic college's own hall, surrounded by fancy teacakes and roast chicken. Boy would that have been an embarrassing end.

    Armed with what information I have, and making plans to lure the Malarites out and take them all down with Rasuil and whoever else will help ... my search for my bow's secrets can wait.I have some hunting to do._


  • _War.

    It's one of those things that's more simple, yet more complex, than most people ever give it credit for.

    There's the simplicity of the "Us vs. them" mentality, but it's seldom that simple. Each sides thinks it's in the right, deserving of the win, whatever that entails. Sometimes the soldiers in the wars are willing, sometimes not, and often, I don't feel like they're fully informed of -what- they're fighting for.

    We, the faithful in Isolde's plan, made it to Regal's Fjord, to end one such war, with unwilling participants led by a madman. Talbot Anderson, he could have been so much more, but instead was a man seeking power, who found it, and subjected soldiers to a transformation of gears and magic and subjection of their will.

    He argued that they were the rejects of Peltarch, nobodies and criminals and scum, that he could put them to a more noble use, a calling! HE would protect Peltarch from all threats, foreign and within alike!

    Frankly, the man became a monster, with "good" intentions and the most horrid execution you've ever seen. Frankly, I wanted to ram my sword down his throat mid-speech…

    Anyway, we fought in Regal's Fjord, and it was a total clusterfuck. We underestimated how the force would take over the gates and walls, and with a single catapult launch, they were in.

    Defend Isolde!

    Brave Isolde started her song, began the magics that would turn the soldiers back to our side, back to their own minds, would take away Talbot's army that he so badly wanted to expand. I'm sad that I've killed so many of these men ... dockworkers turned soldiers turned puppets, but Isolde saved more of them, and we backed her up while she sang the songs, even dispelled the wild magics that sprung up around and lashed out at us, all keeping her singing.

    The fight culminated as the soldiers brought in a tremendous creche forge piece, setting it up to take over the town and spread the influence of the machine-hive throughout the town and take over everything and everyone in it, like in the mountains.

    NOT THIS TIME!

    I set loose a swarm of biting insects, summoned them from under the earth itself, and they began dismantling anything they could get jaws on, flesh and wires alike, while spell and bow, acid fog and tangling vines, all joined in on that spot. We unleashed out own version of hell on the prime upon that spot, and everything within fell before the onslaught. The final assault upon our high ground failed, too, but it was hard fought. Bodies were strewn about like an angry child threw his dolls hither and yon, but none of our group were among them.

    "Victory," such as it was, had been short lived. I dashed into town, and set upon the townsfolk, trying to save those who could be saved. In all, I saved about 30 people who would have simply died from bleeding out, other injuries, or infection, without being tended to when I got there.

    I spent all of my magic, and a great many healing items, but it was worth it. They fought with us, and many died. Died from a surprise attack that we could have provided more soldiers to fight against, but we wanted that surprise on our side.

    Could it have gone differently? Did we end up like Nauran and Halbrook, and disregard civilian casualties so easily? He was ready to kill Pliskin to get Tusker ... poor misinformed Tusker. He deserved the hail of arrows he got, and poor Pliskin would have died, had I not known that he was poisoned, as we healed him.

    What. A. Mess.

    Decisions made the fight what it was. Isolde and Arty destroyed a huge part of the creche-forge, all of it's spreading tendrils wrecked, and only the core remaining, where we found him, Sally Williams dying in his hands, before he tossed her aside too, like a discarded toy. We had a decision... we could face him there, or rush to save Sally, first.

    As much as I wanted to take him in an unstable terrain, to throw him off balance, we -had- to save Sally ... so we did, and I CRUMBLED the wall that sprang up to block him from us, and we rushed after.

    I could go on about the specifics of the fight ... but I'll leave it at, "It was Ugly." Talbot picked individual targets at a time. I had to turn into a troll briefly to be able to resist some of the beatdown he directed at me when I was trapped by a creche-claw.

    I filled that bastard with so many arrows , trying to find weak points in that tremendous armor he wore, pulling my poor bow back as far as it would go with each rapid shot after another after another.

    We got him, and he fell, spitting blood and trying to rise, trying to speak, and cursing us for fools. That we had doomed Peltarch, that HE was the hero, and those people were -nothing- before him, and we had no idea what we'd done ...

    Ros droned on behind him going "Blah blah blah" in imitation, and I calmly stepped over to his kneeled form, raising my sword high. I looked to the others, and saw grim reflections of my own desire. Nods and the words "Do it" ensured that I wasn't about to get spelled or tackled for my trouble ...

    One thrust, and silence replaced the stream of hate and abuse pouring forth from the mouth of the traitor, for the last time. I took his life, and we moved on, stripping the gear from the corpse, which I then burned, for good measure. Just in case.

    Rey took his head, we stripped his gear, and Isolde went to finish Godfrey and Godfreya's work, setting them free, and getting that creche-forge out of Narfell, with a plane-shift and us being teleported back to Peltarch.

    I'm ... a lot of things, right now.

    Elated, fatigued, relieved, and worried. Did he really know of a threat that we don't? Would we have been glad for his half-machine army?

    I suppose we'll find out, but for now, I have a larger, more personal concern. I'll write of it next, once I settle down for a nap in my own little grove in front of my home.

    I really should grow a line of bramble in front of it, with a careful path through, to discourage intruders that don't belong..._


  • A sketch of a demon follows, with a little tally near the picture, and a sub-note.

    Three of these assholes down. How many more, or will the next one finally get me?


  • _As usual, I'm the worst at this.

    I keep meaning to write, to keep track of my experiences, to be good at this kind of thing, but I'm just not! I'm a woman of action, unless that action is writing … and then I appear to be a lazyass!

    At any rate, things are heated to a boil these days, and I'm smack in the middle, or just to the side, of all of it.

    The Abyssal rift in Jiyyd has grown past the bounds of the barrier that the Druids made, and it's letting energies and demons out at an alarming rate. They're apparently trying to take over the various Menhirs in Narfell to help fuel the planar collission, or something more nefarious, and we've been fighting them off as best we can.

    We need to assault the greater portal by the stone ring, near the scar, past where the hobgoblins are, as the very AIR there is so thick with heat and sulfur that it burns you just to be there. The rift is strong there, and greater demons are present and waiting, and working.

    The plan, as I know it, is that we need to weaken that force, and then separate the planes by erecting a new barrier, but around the temple of helm there, specifically, that will reactivate it as a dimensional anchor, and scoot the planes back apart that way. To get in though ... we need a helmite chosen, and an artifact from Helm as well ... and thanks to Akton Sent, we have one.

    Snydders sent a group of us right into Akton Sent's fortress. He was apparently a rebel leader from the Peltarch Civil war of many years ago, and a powerful foe. We fought off many of his men, then the man himself, and nearly got killed for our troubles ... but we freed the Green Knights he held captive, recovered the Helmite artifact, and closed a chapter of Peltarch's history in one fell swoop. Akton Sent is dead, and both High Priest Galin, and General Del'Rosa themselves seemed floored that we did that.

    I might have started making a name for myself, here. I even started training the elf that joined us, Theron, as my apprentice. Hellsakes, I even went ahead and got myself a Peltarch citizenship while I'm at it.

    I now ... more than ever ... am probably a shit magnet of epic proportions. The Hellfire Amulet I have in a warded bag upon my person, is going to attract demonic attention every time I put it on, or worse, all the time, if my wards aren't good enough, and NOW I also have an artifact of Helm on my person that I need to find the right person to give to. Until then, however, it's on me to make sure it's safe, and use it if needed.

    The cherry on top? Poor uncle Ras is back in a nasty bit of business too ... as the pack of Malarites that killed his mate has returned, and are seeking blood, trouble, and perhaps vengeance for the huge number of them that Ras and my father killed. Looks like I'll get the chance to take a few more steps in Dad's boots, yet!

    On a most personal note ... I had some armor made with the help of Z, and Fiona the Aurilite Druidess, guardian of the sacred minerals island, and it's helped me a lot. It even ate a lightning spell that was coming for me in the gnoll woods. I feel like I'm finally unlocking the secrets that an elder Druid should know ... and I feel like I'm SO close to figuring out what secrets Talos himself has in the bow that I've carried since my first steps as an adventurer.

    I've given glory to him in battle, dedicated my fight to his storms and power, and sacrificed the bodies of many fallen to the hunger of his lightning, watching them be vaporized to ash for the glory of the Stormlord. I know someday I'll find out this bow's destiny, and I thought I had it recently, but again, was left with only questions.

    I'll continue to do as I do, fight and bleed and scream through my battles. Mielikki will guide my blade, Talos's storms will bathe me in light and blood, and I'll find my answers yet.

    For now ... I guess I should return my attention to Theaon and Isolde. We're talking about the demon-threat again, and I have much to say!_


  • _When last I wrote, I was raised by the lady herself, and thought that maybe I should be doing something bigger. Chasing an actual purpose. I think that path was just made more clear.

    Back in Dad's day, a weapon was used in the N'Jast war. A weapon that struck hard, and deep, apparently right in a spot where the planes themselves were close to one another, where tears could happen. Tears to the abyss, specifically.

    Jiyyd became a demon infested wasteland, and is now even more so, as the rift is widening past the constraints of the old barrier that Dad helped the old circle set up. Speaking of them… several are now dead, too. Apparently they decided on a whim to take a chance at erecting a new barrier, leaving several dead. Rainhammer, Thunderstepper, and I think Bonegnasher. All dead, and some of their bodies even gone. Taken.

    The circle is weak, now. Fractured. Due to the fact that some of the surviving Elders left to their old tribes, some are dead, and some are still recovering, we lack leadership. We lack membership TO lead. Fadia brought this up to Ronan, there was some brief discussion, and now I'm an Elder. Do I get a badass Elder name too? Dad's was Silverfang, there's Rainhammer and Thunderstepper and Shapeshifter... what will I be, I wonder?

    Frivolous musing helps distract from the fear, right now, and even as I write this now, I should still have the taste of victory on my lips.

    We killed Gorbok, Goblin King of the Rawlins. His former compatriot, Dafna, arranged his "Death by Adventurer." She thought she was playing us, but Rasuil and I planned to ice her when she came to collect her crown. We almost succeeded, too. Rasuil, archer of legend... missed.

    We teleported away, with shouts of defiance and in Isolde's case, annoyance at not knowing the plan, divvied up loot, and left Ras enjoying the crown on his head.

    I knew war with Dafna was coming, but our missing our shot seriously sped things up, I bet. I might need to ward my treehouse now, or move it with Liveoak, the spell.

    ...

    I speak of such magic so casually now... when Dad being able to cast that was stretching his power, and he needed help. I believe that i may have surpassed him in almost every way now, save for his swordsmanship. If i can get Mom's sword reforged as a scimitar... perhaps i can make use of dad's training all those years ago.

    At any rate, i need to visit that shop in Oscura again. These herbs save my bacon against those dispel happy shrouds. I'll probably write again once I'm bathed in the glow of cave mushrooms, surrounded by familiar faces that don't bother me, and the hushed sounds of a quiet cave city._


  • _Dear journal, diary, or whoever is reading this. Whatever or whoever I'm writing to, I apologize for not having written lately. There's simply been too much going on, and in my few moments of solitude, even writing feels like I'm not alone, when I need to be.

    You know, to collect my thoughts. Be quiet and peaceful. Not because I need to get away from anyone in particular or anything, that's just silly.

    I'm writing now, because of death. And undeath.

    For me, there's almost nothing scarier than seeing one of my friends die. I've done it once, and that felt like enough for me … and I'd SAY I did it twice ... but it didn't quite take.

    What got me thinking about it was a jaunt into the Peltarch Crypts thanks to the sanitation worker tipping us off that something was up. We got to a door where the noise was coming from, and found some adventuring types including Mint ... who immediately scarpered, and left her other companions behind. One of whom was dragged back into the doorway by ... something.

    We went in, me, Ros, and Artemis, to find a few disturbed sarcophagi, some dead Duergar, and Whisper with the two other adventurers whose name I can't remember. One decided to call me "Woman" and be a general jackass for most of the trip.

    I don't care for him one bit.

    Long story short, angry ghost cursed us, something sketchy seemed to be going on, we fought a mummy lord (Immediately turned to stone by the caster guy), a powerful ghost, a lesser skeleton, and a greater skeleton of some sort. I was able to hold my own against each, but the swordsman of the sketchy adventurer due left behind by Mint and joined by whisper, was cut down.

    Hard.

    I couldn't even stop to TRY to help him, as right after we took down the skel, the ghost had to be re-killed.

    And then, he groaned. The dead guy got up, and tried to get away from us ... and since it didn't look like he was raised by the Gods... any that I know of anyway ... I checked on him with a heal spell.

    It didn't work.

    He was undead.

    He reacted super badly to my attempts to test his affliction further, and attacked me, so I kicked his ass. There was much argument about this from his pal, but I didn't know the cause of him being brought back like that, so I put him down, tied him up ... and while we were talking, Ros died.

    On the spot.

    Cough cough... death style.

    Arty teleported us to a temple and safety, where we were de-cursed ... but after she cast a spell on the now undead Ros and that guy (Yes, she came back the same way), she made me kill them both. In the middle of a temple. With my own sword.

    Killing Ros sucked.

    At any rate, we're all fine now, but it reminded me. We fought Gesundheit again a few weeks prior, and ... well, he wasn't there actually, we fought one of the sources of his power. A Djinni. He could have, of course, beat our asses handily, but he fought us by summoning dispel happy minions instead, who were also very handy with ice storms.

    In moments ... Ros and Artemis were dead. I only lasted a moment longer, before I too, fell.

    I felt the blackness settle over me, heard my heartbeat no more, closed my eyes ... and then opened them again with a gasp and no small amount of surprise.

    Mielikki had picked me up, put me back on my feet, and turned me loose. And I fought. I cast every spell I knew, taking special pleasure in invoking Talos to strike down a whole handful of his pals at once. The noise was deafening. There I was, after he had decided that he would fight us after all, but his physical form versus ours, none of this magic, and I was out of spells. Out of tricks. Turning into a dire tiger helped take him down, so we won! Except, he was kind of a dick, and our options sucked.

    Long story short, we tricked him into bringing our friends back by threatening to use our "Wish" for beating him to make him undo himself ... and he's presumably off to kick Gesundheit's ass now.

    Hopefully.

    That feeling though, of coming back? It makes me feel like there's something bigger I'm needed for, than what I'm doing now.

    It's time to get to work._


  • _Well, the skulking about in Oscura didn't turn up much… Except the best damned restaurant menu in all of Narfell!! I have a full food pack again, and this time it's not all bats, rats, and carameled mice! Mmmmm, Rothe.

    The glen has been mostly quiet, save for my own comings and goings, with even Ronan being in and out and busy. I'm hoping he's able to make some time to talk, soon. I didn't get to discuss all the details with him, yet!

    Fadia made an appearance, too. When showing Nate the glen, she arrived, and storytime began, where I learned something interesting. Our stone... Was shaped by Fadia herself! Talk about feeling overshadowed. I think...I need to create something. Leave behind a legacy.

    I think I have just the plan for it, too._


  • _Much has happened since last I wrote, though a dozen times, I tried to write again.

    To summarize, so I do not forget … and these are far from in the right order;

    Viola Bravickus almost met a splattery fate thanks to Gustaav Dae and his violin, which nearly made her step from the college's rooftop

    We fought an avatar of some lich fellow after finding something he didn't want us to find

    We watched half of the force of Peltarch's Defenders get taken over by strange circuitry and living wires, and are currently hunting for Talbot

    I led an expedition out from the glen, to a small island with a Druidess named Fiona, who Ronan Addams was concerned for. We saved the island, but didn't manage to save the magical trees from harm ... and it turns out the attack was masterminded by a gnome named Gesundheit. He's a twat. I also saw my first rust monster. It ate Nathen's sword.

    He's almost getting less whiny?

    Met with a dwarf who experiments on undead, rather than creating them. We made a bargain for some kind of weapon to help me fight the undead, hopefully.

    I spent ... a lot of time with Artemis. And it's exactly what I want. I have a good feeling about this. That being said, why do I still feel so hesitant and scared?

    I got a set of Vanoogle's pipes!

    Isolde wrote books about the Beeble mysteries and subsequent rescue mission.

    Oh, it looks like Ros is up! I think we're going to go skulk about some, now ... Yay!_


  • _Sometimes, the most tame adventure can take the strangest of turns. Like today, when we were exploring the sandy caves below the lizard man lair.

    We decided to go through there and see about obtaining some diamond powder for my stone skin spell, despite feeling kind of bad about it, with Kaitlyn talking about some truce her Father orchestrated looking ago. She also won't go picking fights with sentient creatures. While I feel that's noble, I can't be her.

    I'm guessing the truce also failed long before my time, as I've been at the Peltarch wall and helped repel attacks from the lizard men.

    At any rate, we fought our way through, only to find ourselves stuck in a dead magic zone.

    It's… Unlike anything I've ever felt. It's a terrible feeling, and it turns out that there's a special tree that can do this, called a Sussir tree. After fighting off animated statues, and freaking Basilisks!!! , We came across the tree. Dire warnings about forbidden knowledge, magical traps that had to be disabled with magic IN a wild magic zone... It turns out the tree was likely translated from the underdark to combat those effects.

    We struggled our way past trap and enemy, spell and sinkhole, to come across two sarcophagi and a phylactery, after getting to raid a treasure room of sorts. There was an argument about going out trying to defeat a menace before it ever had a chance to show itself, but we were spell spent and weary, and may not have been able to take down the foe.

    We moved on with our prizes, some of which I will not write down since they're personal or need no mention, and I managed to snag not only some Sussir wood, but a gem that is also spell resistant. I'm very excited to go searching for some other things to try to make new armor out of.

    I mean, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm going to have to be up front. I may as well make the most of it!_


  • _There's something to be said for having a shield. If you have a shield, you can fight from behind it. It can save you from taking blows that might otherwise hit home, or outright strike you down. It can deflect pressure from you, allowing you to slip to the side and deal some damage. It can even absorb the brunt of an impact, and take damage itself, instead of you.

    Now I know what these inanimate objects, and people who get used as one, feel like. Before I continue, reader, whoever you may be, don't get me wrong. I willingly haul myself to the front of a line when I need to. The bow collects dust in my pack after that, since it's hard to skip forward to fill a role where you're needed, and then fall right back as if you won't be needed up there again, despite having needed to go up there in the first place. I even volunteer to go on adventures with folks whose strengths are -not- being frontline fighters. Like, for this example, Roslyn and Ginger.

    We decided, after much deliberation on where to go and adventure, to head off to the orcs, and bother them. We cleared out the cave to the Northwest, first, before heading further west, to go up the mountains, past the wolves, into the caves, and to grandmother's house we go. The first cave was simple. I hoarded my magic, and simply took my sister's coral and driftwood hammer to them instead, mashing them left and right. This thing … is perfect. I've felled a gnoll in a single hit!

    Those weaker orcs died even more easily. It was amazing. Though of course, it was only a precursor to the real challenge, which was, of course, heading up the mountain further. Winter Wolves proved less of a threat than one would expect, since we were all prepared for cold, and the hammer-orcs, which I used to fear greatly, fell with no spectacular effort. With two able scouts, I knew what situations I was walking into before I showed my face, and surprise barely had time to register on my enemy's faces before their faces still for the last time.

    We searched for prisoners, we scoured for treasures, we hunted for signs of anything amiss, and we fought. And by we fought ... at this point what I really mean is "I swung at things to get them to overreach and try to hit me, then Ros and Ginger turned them into sad bloody porcupines. I hope I never piss the two of them off.

    We killed hundreds of orcs, just us three. The two hin joked about training a whole army of archers in their tactics. The thought makes me shudder. Imagine a whole field creeping along, concealed in tall grass, their forms would just look like the grass moving, being so small, before a thousand arrows you never saw coming, came streaking your way.

    They're the perfect shadows to me. I have an orange glow about me these days from Alvaniel's ring, for which I owe her an enchantment, and I wear my father's old armor, long forgotten in an unused chest, still dyed in the blak and blue of the legion when I found it. It's green and brown now, and I take no efforts to hide. I have my displacerbeast armor for that, after all ...

    We crushed our opposition on the way there, and had some trouble on the way back, but made it through nonetheless, and afterward ... I felt ... more capable. More powerful. Like I learned an important lesson, something about who I am.

    I feel strong, and I think the Gods have blessed me yet again. I need to go try it out, but I think I've gained some knowledge the last time I slept.

    My dream was that I was outnumbered by gnolls, cackling demon gnolls, like that recent mining trip I organized for Gnarl, and they had me backed into a small valley, and as a last ditch effort, I wished for a storm to take them with me ... and fire rained down, burning all but me.

    I awoke feeling strong, not scared. I'm more alive than I've ever been. I feel, however ... that my role is gradually changing. I'm needed up front more, me and Fayt both, despite my preference for bow and spell. I think I'm going to need to do some research, and see if anybody has ever made Ironwood Fullplate ..._


  • _Gods above, what a day.

    I've avoided writing about the Beeble situation just yet, mostly to try to keep it out of my mind so I don't accidentally go venturing into the dreamscape while I sleep, and end up there again. Especially not alone…

    From confronting a nightmare about Dad leaving to get away from me, and other silliness, to watching my friends fight far more real names with their own particular apparitions, the horrid nightmare creatures we had to fight seem almost tame by comparison.

    Almost.

    Through it all, there was something comforting. Everything Dad taught me, everything in his journals, it all helped. I got to exercise the number one rule of fighting as a Druid. Druids Cheat.

    I bent the dreamscape we were in around us, and guided us through where I could, and fought like hell every time we found battle... And until the very end, it did not seem like enough. Especially when we watched what had happened to Beeble... Poor Beeble.

    I tried to change it. I really did. I felt something move, give... Just a little! I screamed myself hoarse, and tried to bend my way through not just a dream, but a memory... And my very -mind- still hurts from it. I would say it was for nothing, as we returned without him, but I think that in another world, another space beside ours, he's OK.

    I really hope that somewhere, he's OK...

    Now to write about the last day or so..._


  • _I'm torn up, and don't know what to do.

    On one hand, I'm going to go revisit an enemy who thinks I'm it's friend, to try to free someone I don't know from it's clutches, after diving directly into it's nigh inescapable prison, with the help of a NECROMANCER, who I ALSO don't know, on the words of a bard I barely know, a sneak whom I know a bit, and a Dryad that I've had two or three entire conversations with.

    I've got no stake in this fight, personally.

    I've got no winning card up my sleeve.

    I've got every reason NOT to go, due to the nature of who is involved, and having a pretty good idea of what we're going up against, some kind of mutated, tampered with, well fed dream vestige with some, dare I say it, vestige of a personality.

    I KNOW better.

    I'm under prepared… I haven't enchanted my armor, my sword, though useful against a fleshy target of hobgoblin strength of less, probably won't do me much good against these undead and dream-fey we're likely to face, and there's hardly an arrow in the world that'll help me either, given that my fireball ones will also hurt my allies.

    Tactics wise, I know my greatest strength is my ability to walk in dreams as if they are the real world, and augment my own reality , and that of those near me, but this thing LIVES (If you can call it that) in the dream plane. How the fark are we actually planning on competing with this?

    It makes sense now, and I feel bad for being dismissive of Isolde and Nate. I think I understand their pixie parade thing now. They're going to try to happy the creature to death or distraction ... I fear.

    If that's their plan, with the goofy outfits, and the sparkly glitter wands, then I'll play along, and I'll be silly and goofy and happy, and rescue this Aesso the Amazing for her pals the tree-lady and the ogre farking necromancer ... but I'll do it like Ros says. Shake their hand with my right, and have a Rock in my left. Except my Rock is going to be dispelling magic and lightning and fire and wrath.

    Oh ... and I'm bringing a surprise, too.

    If my sword won't bite ... I'll bring something that will.

    If you're reading this because you found my corpse, in this world or that of dreams, tell my sister that I'm sorry for not getting to help raise Asha, and that I'll see her and Mom and Dad again somehow, some way, even if I have to do it through dreams.

    Time to go scrounge up as many cheating supplies as I can. Goodbyes suck, so I'm aiming for the win, here.

    I just wish I could trust that everyone's head is in this as much as their hearts... But!

    On the other hand... It's cage is weakening. If we don't close it, untold numbers of people could suffer, or be devoured themselves. That being said, I guess I do have stake in this fight. I consider myself a "good guy", but if a Priest or Paladin were to label me, I might fall more in the middle by their scale.

    Still.

    I can't let this go. I can't just let it happen without doing what I can about it. If nothing else, I have the excuse that this, too, is a matter of the Balance. Between the realm of dreams, and the realm of the woken Prime.

    Shit...I wonder what kind of state Avalon is in...._