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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The swords from Silvia were purified.

    The bugbears aided us in the frontal attack.

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

    We stormed the tree.

    We fought.

    We nearly died.

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

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

    Blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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


  • _Reading my own writing serves dual purposes.

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

    Two, to make me fuckin' depressed.

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

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

    Help was already there.

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

    Avalon.

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

    They were.

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

    Yeah, nice.

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

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

    More demon dreams. Startled me awake.

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

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


  • _This is going to be a long one. I've had time to rest, a cool drink in my hand, my gigantic sofa-sized wolf pal Fayt at my feet, and the breeze is whispering to me. The branches scrabbling against each other sound like quill pens scratching away, so … I am inspired to continue my writings.

    One of the things on my mind lately, is the time while we were trying to help Rasuil against Korvan. His words keep bouncing around my head.

    He said, "Tha more tha days go by, tha less e'erythin' makes sense. There's times.. a lotta time, really.. 'm jus' waitin' ta wake up, like 'm still dreamin' all this."

    It made me think of many things. The Beeble event, the Night Parade in general, and other dreamwalks in general, and my thoughts were dark, and secret. I got out of my head as Isolde and others coaxed conversation out of the air like they do, as we discussed Rhona and her fiery justice, and jailhouse visits, before Rasuil is visited by a shade of Korvan himself, right there in the commons.

    He tried to bend Rasuil to kill Szath, that day. Offered him up on a blighted tree like an appetizer at a fancy party. Ass. Rasuil didn't kill him, then, and we fought shadows. LOTS of shadows ... which helped hide Ras as he leaped into the woods with the snakey fellow, and were it not for the light spell I threw at him to force the shadows back, we wouldn't have seen him go.

    Our first real encounter with Szath's storytelling where we had a major choice. Do we keep Ras off him, believe his stories, trust him, even though everything about him is straight out of the storybook tales of "Don't trust this archetype! He's LITERALLY snake-like!"

    As it came out, I worried that I damaged my relationship with Ras, hurt his trust in me, because I agreed to take Szath in at the glen, with Doona. It came after a LOT of arguing, and frustration rising on all sides. Isolde's pissed at Ras's vengeance obsession, Ros is pissed at several people making things harder than they need to be, but remarkably calm and pragmatic about it, and I simply grabbed the situation by the nose like a naughty animal, and moved us all through the trees to the glen.

    Elder Shapeshifter joined us, then, and we all talked about the situation while Isolde nearly squealed at Shapeshifter being a floofy ball of feathers. We discussed Szath joining our circle.

    I won't even go over everything that was said here. Needless to say, my own circle was divided, and I myself was unsure. Shapeshifter refuses to vote, his stance as ever-uncertain as his shape. Lonetree is a hardass "good" person, despite being a Druid, and hates anything to do with Malar or the furies. Hargakku of course would be fine with it, happy in fact.

    It's ridiculous, and sets the burden square across the shoulders of Aoth and I. Szath gave us information on Korvan, we grilled Szath for more, and argued amongst ourselves for hours. I admit my own temper frayed like an overused rope, and Wick arrived to chime in on the Druidic front too, which helped.

    We learned that Szath helped Sylvia after their first 'assault' on her tree with Korvan, and that too, helped me side with the idea that he'd be more useful on our side than roaming free to get killed or up to trouble ... but again, it was not my choice alone, not was I completely convinced, even then.

    Things shifted, when Ras said, "I appreciate tha wisdom o' -tha druids- present," he noted pointedly "... Leena, yer pa would be pround, 'm sure.. but I cin nay hear any more, else me restraint find it's edge an' force me ta break an oath I've jus' sworn."

    Before Ras left, I snapped. "I FOUGHT him for you! My Family! So you can take the offer, or try your luck elsewhere!"

    He accepted his "leafy prison cell" soon after that, and Ras left in anger, blistering the air of the glen with curses.

    Ros commented soon after about needing "Twenty fecking drinks", and I secretly agreed with her, but the conversation continued. Speaking about how to get through to Ras, keep him safe from Korvan, keep Donna and Szath safe from Ras, all the while I thought about how to keep -everyone- safe from me as my temper wavered back and forth, heh.

    Fadia showed up some time after ... and I admit I felt relief. Finally, the burden of the final decision could be shared, right?

    I should have known better. She's not been involved, in much of anything lately, but especially not this situation. She gave general advice, and left us to it.

    We ended the conversation with a worst-case scenario. What happens if we have to take Rasuil out? My answer was simple. Stonehold him, dispel him if that doesn't work, and shoot, beat, and lightning him until he was passed out, compliant, or dead, depending on how bad the situation is.

    The others seemed to find that thorough enough, and we parted ways. I finally sought sleep with my head feeling so full as to be heavy, and my dreams were of darkness, and friends turned foes, and blight.

    That continued for a while. Best put the quill down for now. I need to go eat something sweet and think of something else._


  • _Catching up to do, as usual.

    I've needed this break, but at the same time, it's easier just going forward without stopping sometimes.

    Let's see, last I wrote, Rhona was needing to make an appearance on these pages.

    After I found the wreckage and all that, I helped recover the corpses when I came across Rhona, who had turned herself into Shannon's custody. She feared she'd killed innocent people, and I went along to help exonerate her from her own guilt. Or help condemn her … since it's what she wanted?

    Flying out over the water, and then swimming back with the corpses in tow wasn't hard, thanks to the magic of shapeshifting and a little bit of rope. Turns out, that the fellows Rhona crisped, were part of a mercenary band known for being pretty merciless and ruthless, so she was 'cleared' of wrongdoing given the circumstances.

    Refreshing, right?

    That was one of the last things I got my nose into before we all got dragged HARD into this fight against Korvan.

    Korvan, who nearly got Rasuil for his own. Silvia, who WAS taken, and having her power drained and used by this megalomaniac necromancer trash. The three of them involving the rest of us in unexpected ways. Reyhanna Jorino, drawn in by Silvia as a champion. Me, drawn in by Talos, by Silvia, and most of all, by Rasuil.

    Ras is family. I couldn't just watch, and hope, that things would work out.

    We've faced hordes of shadows, and scarier decisions, since then. Silvia's tree produced 'shards of hate' that were used to influence Rasuil to a point where we couldn't trust him to make sane decisions, OR not to turn into a mindless slavering monster ...

    Korvan showed up as an image multiple times, taunting, tormenting ...

    The division we faced ... as a circle, as friends, as strategists, all of it, nearly split friendships and alliances like ripe fruit. I summoned Elders to yell at like a schoolmarm scolds children, while all I wanted was for someone else to have the answers. Aoth asked me point blank what I sought, and I didn't know immediately, but I wanted to gain approval, -and- to have HELP making those tough calls, so it wasn't all just on Aoth and I, representing the whole circle.

    I suppose I can update more later. For now, this rest is well deserved._


  • _Every once in a while, a routine monster hunt and looting run finds something else. Something new, something strange, or something straight up wonderful.

    This time, it was Stegadons.

    I was hunting alone, as I often do, despite the dozens of adventurers I tell not to. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely right! I know the risks, but I'm also aware that I'm prepared. Speed and invisibility potions, the ability to take flight, trasport myself via plants, it's all there so that I can get OUT if I get IN over my head.

    This time, was close, anyway.

    Along with Stegadons, I found some diamond powder, which was the purpose of my trip, but the Stegadons got me curious to continue. Normally in those lizard caves, the biggest threats for me are their polearm wielding guardians. This time, however, they had Wyrm Guards, elite fighters who hit like Alvaniel.

    I fought one, and must have gotten lucky, because while it was challenging, I was in no real danger.

    Then all hell broke loose.

    I had to fight two right next to each other, with a third on the way, and other, lesser ones swarmed all around too. I let loose with my lightning, summons, and blade, had to stoneskin in a hurry, and used a powerful Heal spell on myself, and still barely prevailed. Holy, hells.

    So I continued!

    At this point, I figured they had to be guarding something good. The Stegadons were 'easy' , since they bend to my will without much fuss. Out of the six or seven I encountered, I only had to fight two of them properly, as they wouldn't calm, or get out of the way for me.

    I was quite disappointed when I learned that there was nothing hidden there … but once I looked further down a level, I found it. I fought on, cautiously, before figuring out by tracking and listening that ahead of me there was at least one tremendous group, and something so big that you could feel it in the floor.

    I went back.

    After selling what I'd found so far, I gathered up a pair of adventurers, and off we went. Aranwe and Raryldor were present, so those two I took. Thankfully it was them, as Aranwe's bow proved useful, and Raryldor likes to fight dragons. He nearly got to again! The Stegadon ahead of us, next to a priestess and a horde of enemies, nearly bit him in half when he engaged it. It was so big it could "miss" and still end up biting you.

    We fought our asses off, defeated them, got moderately rich for our efforts, and moved on to where I'd also heard noises, only to find more stegadons, and a pile of other lizards ... and WAY more gold.

    I've never been this rich, by a long shot. It's kind of wonderful. I have nothing in particular to spend it on, but when I need to restock anything, even diamond powder, it's a simple matter now. Let's hope I keep it!

    Let's see ... I still have to write down about Rhona's penance too!

    That'll wait. For now._


  • _I've picked this thing up, and put it down, a dozen times since I last wrote.

    I haven't seen much of vampires since then, but we did see Quentin … I suppose I should write a couple recaps so that I can keep track of the various messes I'm waist-deep in, lately!

    The most recent thing after the incident with the Bodak ... (not a child! ) , I guess was following rumors of Quentin being in the ogre woods, west of Peltarch. And sure enough, after a meeting with Parnell and some poor dominated dock elf, we found signs of his passage.

    We were clued in after following an armed group, whose leader "The Captain", met with the king, and then headed off that way.

    Long story short, after fighting Quentin, we came across the Captain and his two remaining officers, who had been trying to excavate a war machine from Peltarch's past, apparently one of three that the Senate had control over? Supposedly, there's a control orb, and Vloss Orbb (hah, orbs), may have it? Or some other bloodspider. I may need to speak with Lady Bravickus.

    I rather impulsively finished the excavation, only to learn that there was no backup plan, save that scouts lured it out toward the ogre woods, and it's probably wreaking havoc out there ... hopefully without Quentin being able to get his paws on it. He laid them on Silouette already, and she died from a destruction spell. I shrugged one off, this time, but she was not so lucky. And I TOLD her what to watch out for, too!

    There was no saving her, and High Priest Galin at the temple of the Triad even had trouble bringing her back. What a mess.

    I HAVE to find a way to bring him down. I need a dimensional anchor, somehow. If he can't Sanctuary out ... we'll have him.

    Fast forward a few days ... oh yeah, I saved another life. Or two.

    A woman named Kiya, and Dralix, alone in the worg woods, also west of Peltarch, having heard fighting, and then a pair of screams while I was out foraging. I managed to get Kiya healed before she slipped past, but Dralix was well on his way to feeding the grass, and took more work.

    Once the worst of the holes in him were patched up, I let magic do the rest of the work, and he took a breath, before immediately whining. He'll learn eventually, that mistakes aren't a reason to forsake your goals, or give up.

    Til then, I suppose I'll be one of many trying to get him on the right track.

    Let's see ... what since then ... oh yeah!
    "The Shipstealer" apparently took a ship right out of the water shortly after, and Aoth and Shannon took a bunch of folks via wind-walk toward it, after far too much deliberation in deciding whether or not to track it ... and we had an adventure on an island, bear island according to a map of where I think I was, that had a Druidic Magic font that was designed to help with summoning rituals!

    Something had, of course, gone wrong apparently, and crystal guardians were beneath it, which we fought off and got some gold and riches from the supplies left behind. I nearly died, getting stuck between people as more arrived on top of me, but Aranwe died for real.

    Rough day.

    I think I'll close this up for now, and write some more later. Wanna make sure I get events correctly in place, since closer to 'now' ... details are more important._


  • _"Bodak."

    That was the only word required to bestow the feeling I got when I saw the tracks, upon the rest. I know they felt their spines chill, their hair raise, their grips tighten on their weapons.

    I KNOW that track, the smell, the weight the footprint's impression leaves. It was SO close to my glen, too. It must have been what Aoth felt. And to think, I almost didn't notice it. We walked outside, expecting to find sign that something had been there, so I glanced over the grass and trees, and sure enough …

    Goblin
    Badger
    Deer
    Goblin
    More Deer
    Bodak
    Badger again
    More goblins

    .... wait, what?

    We stalked forward, after I drank a death ward potion, and had my weapon blessed. No bodak gets to be in MY woods. The tracks were aimless at first, then in straight lines. FRESH straight lines.

    I don't think it was expecting to be tracked, and now that it couldn't ambush us, it was repositioning for another strategy.

    NOT THIS TIME.

    I know those woods, and when the tracks led into a dead end, where the trees are too thich to get through quickly, and brambles beneath make movement nearly impossible, I knew we had it.

    THERE!

    It ran past me, not even bothering to hit me. It must have been going for the back row of us, the unprotected! I ran, sword swinging, and scored a glancing blow, and then the chase was on!

    We chased for only a minute or two, a headlong rush through the woods. Confused animals scampered, and terrified goblins screamed and ran at the sight of a furious pair of armed Druids, and their companions, giving relentless chase to something. Something that made their blood go cold just by being near ... I think one of them fainted right out.

    Left.

    Right.

    Left again? No, right!

    Every time I lost the sound of the invisibility cloaked creature, a glance down told me where it went.

    Sloppy.

    Its plan had clearly fallen to pieces, and I wondered what kind of trap we were about to run into, but I didn't care. This was the enemy, this was one that I NEEDED to kill. They took the children.

    Who knows what they were doing to them!?

    It turned, finally, and fought for a moment. My first spell missed, it's invisibility half worn off, but still making it hard to hit. I needed to get CLOSE.

    I leaped forward, the words for a HEAL spell on my lips, intending to blast this abonination with divine power, and destroy it's undead magicks from within. I was about to miss, I realized at that last moment, as it's blurred shape moved and writhed in front of me.

    FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

    Nate's dispel nailed it right in the chest, and it became visible just in time for me to land it.

    A white FLASH

    It was a simple matter of pivoting on my heel to drop down slightly, and then thrust my scimitar forward from my casting position ... and the blade slid in like it was greased.

    The Bodak, visible now, took the sword through where it's heart would have been, had it posessed one, grasped the blade for a moment, and then slid bonelessly to the forest floor, sagging and seeming to deflate. A single fang jutted from it's mouth at an odd angle, so I plucked it loose as a trophy, and to help scry their source if possible ... and then the body moved.

    Well, the 'skin' did. The surface of the Bodak shimmered and slid, and finally began to slide and slough off of what was underneath.

    Oh Gods, there was something underneath.

    I KNOW what they were doing to them.
    I KNOW what they did to them.
    I KNOW what they are going to do to them.

    The body of the kidnapped boy, the one who was going to be 'leverage' against me, to get me to cooperate, lay before me. Pierced through, utterly dead. It was a perfect strike, a killing blow, and not even my skill with the healing arts was going to be enough.

    I killed him.

    I said we'd save them. We'd try, at least.

    I looked for them, saw him, and backed off the scrying before I saw ... I COULD HAVE SEEN AND KNOWN.

    Can you -save- someone who's been turned into a creature through being destroyed by the touch of pure evil? That's what a Bodak IS. Then, they can make MORE Bodaks. Clearly ...

    I did what I was trained to do ... but at the same time, I didn't. A Bodak RAN? I should have known right away. I should have examined the situation. I should have seen the signs. I KILLED a child, when I KILLED a BODAK. That's not fucking FAIR!

    I KNOW the child was already dead. Or as close to dead as matters. Past being alive, and in a miserable state that needed an end. Freedom. A way out.

    I guess I'll keep telling myself this every night while I try to sleep. While I try to sleep, and try to look away from his face, the child's face, that's burned into my eyelids every time I close my eyes.

    What have I done?_


  • _Black and red, crackling energy, arcs across my mind, and vision, all at once, while I sit talking to my friends. A familiar object is in the background, and in front of it … a raven haired woman, shrouded in the same colors, opens her eyes.

    The vision ends.

    It felt like a warning, but ... of what? Is someone THERE, has someone found it? Is someone a threat to it? Has someone found ME?

    ARGH.

    I remember the phrase "Natural Union", which the others have helped me deduce, is the name of an actual group. A group who once searched for a group of relics that could allow them a greater wish spell, and were therefore pitted against other interests who worried that each -other- group would get these things, and destroy the others with said wish.

    Holy crap my life is occasionally complicated.

    The strangest part ... to me ... is that the woman in my vision, her clothing looked like something a Druid would wear.

    I don't even know what to make of that.

    Fadia seems to be my best best for information, and when I got together with her, and Nate, to think of a spell-ritual to get more information about this "Natural Union" group ... it rather looks like most of them are dead, in the fight to claim all of those artifacts.

    Then, a memory that never happened took over our sight, and we saw Fadia wreathed in flame, and heard her screaming ... but the screaming wasn't from the vision, which I broke off of to tackle her out of the circle.

    She's ok, but we're all, if nothing else, more confused than before.

    A prophetic voice thundered, "Ye who seek these items, know, thine deepest Wish shall be fulfilled and thine foes destroyed. So to, seekest thine enemies, and ye shalt surely be destroyed first should ye be outpaced." in that vision, so while I understand the instruction ... it seems more like a trap. Drop something like this somewhere, and watch the factions murder one another to get there first.

    I don't like this at all._


  • _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!_