A soft breeze blows across the farmlands south of the city. The weather is warm, with the sun overhead shining down on the fields, orchards, barns and homes. The scene would be idyllic, if not for the suspicious lack of people. Even the kobolds seem to have reconsidered venturing into the fields. The wind still carries the scent of the fires and the dead. Coming closer to the city, to signs of battle become more obvious. Split trees, rent earth, broken down gates and cracks in the walls. The city still stands, however. Defenders pace the southern outer wall, keeping a wary eye on the fields beyond. Futile perhaps, as the demons that did this can show up where they will, but it gives the people comfort. The men, then, set to their task as seriously as they would for any mundane threat. Disciplined and orderly under the eyes of officers that will not shirk their duty, nor let them do so either. Inside one of the turrets sits the young man, writing away between his shifts on the wall. The demon attacks have started again. I was out on the Icelace when it happened. To hear tell, the fighting was brutal. I'm not certain what caused it, but everything that has happened in the mean time indicates Miranda's mistress losing patience with the succubus' master plan and taking direct action. Well, master plan? Dilly dallying. Now I return to a city on high alert and spend most of my shifts on the wall I'm sitting on right now, walking past a crack in the ground every morning that feels as though I am staring into the Abyss itself when I look at it. This will be a short entry. I'm mostly just gathering my thoughts. The first morning after returning, I bumped into Isolde speaking to Miranda in her silly incognito dress. What weirded me out was the polite smile and being referred to as "gentleman", as though we'd never met. I asked Isolde if the succubus had gotten knocked on the head a few times too many, and she told me to just roll with it, noting the succubus genuinely did not seem to remember her either. This was confirmed when Isolde and I were atop the wall. Miranda showed up as herself, but looked surprised and suspicious that we knew her name. It really does look as though her mistress tampered with her memories. Something remained, though, beneath the surface. She did not try to rain fiery death on us from the sky as she did when first she arrived. Nor did she try to take control of either of our minds. She remains talkative, and allows herself to be distracted from burning the city down. No memories, though. Hopefully them being lacking will keep her out of my head, this time. Funnily enough, a small part of me felt a sting at that. And now I'm annoyed feeling that sting. Succubi are a nightmare. Take whatever care you can to keep them out of your mind, for they linger. As she appreciated our company, she no longer felt like attacking the city, but wanted to play a game instead. We each had to bet on a Vrock which she'd pit against the other. We humoured her. Plenty will have a thing or two to say about associating with demons, but if humouring a display of two demons killing each other is what keeps them from flooding the city and taking innocent lives, then I'll stand there with a smile. Of course, there's always consequences. This game is getting out of hand, with Miranda now wanting to host a grand event where she has her forces fight among themselves for spectators. Something the succubus feels would be good distraction from the hard times the city is going through. It seemed prudent not to mention a large part of those hard times is due to her and hers. Instinct tells me this tournament will end badly. At least we convinced her to hold this show away from the city. While she was explaining her plans, she tried to convince a Hin, Ray, to join her outside. While she made no secret of intending to eat him, the Hin almost went willingly until the gathered intervened. For our trouble, Miranda threw a fit and sent her minions into the city. Despite the veneer, she remains a demon after all. And yet. Regardless of how many I killed, her demons ignored me during the fight, washing around me to get at the others. It seemed to be the same for Isolde. Reading Isolde's reports puts her behaviour into perspective. The desire to be admired and loved. To outshine her sister's popularity in life. Envy is one insidious demon. Isolde also believes there is something left to save. Sweet, hopeful Isolde. All we have to do is take some jewel or other that holds the remnant of Miranda's soul from her mistress' neck. Easy, right? Then reunite it with the soul of her sister that is safeguarded elsewhere. And while we are doing that, we will have to find Eowiel and Carly down there, and find a way to get them out as well. Others aren't that patient with the matter. They would kill the succubus and be done with it, despite that she will just be replaced by her mistress' next stooge, disregarding whatever consequences there would be for those trapped souls. Part of me understands. There's less chance of being stabbed in the back before the end. There's certainly better odds of survival. Sometimes you just have to roll the dice, though. Save four souls, wayward to varying degrees, from an eternity in the Abyss? What a story that would make.

@winterhawk99 I am considering putting "The Rest of the Story" of Laurielle's life on the forum (until her death by aneurysm of the brain) when she reaches her early 400's during the time of the age of discovery in Netheril. Any comments I will take in discord. I will take any comments in discord until 1 September before proceeding or not proceeding. my addy is here: Winterhawk99#9179

((Updated location of stall from Norwick to Peltarch!))

Perhaps Ravos has been consumed with duties of family and duty and businesss of late, with his resignation from the Guard and assignemnt of a position in House Daedalus, that perhaps when he does choose to take a turn around the commons in his new livery to some observer's perhaps he's not quite himself or changed somewhat. Some talk of him pouring over engineering treatises for too many long hours, or his ceasing of drinking which he's done of late. Some speak of perhaps it's that Raazi that's finally pissed him off one too many times, who can say. Some say he's more fun since he resigned from Captaincy, perhaps less caring about the laws and regulations? Some say he even asked someone elses opinion on the laws the other day, even asking the thoughts of a young aspirant Tormtar. Asking someone else opinions indeed? Whatever next? The only thing that seemed to please him was Gnarl's recent mining in the commons. But that's another story. The only words he was recently heard to utter in private was something about Guard Regulation 103c and something about "...she said she couldn't even ride the damn horse...", as he raged into a private dining area slamming the door behind him.

XP awarded

Updates to Berlinne Toews, and to the Autonomist faction.

Perfect! We'll hire Beholders to deal with the Ekolids!

It's just so rare I get to call you a dope. You know I waited so long to open that box because I knew it would be so much easier with you there, right? Her smile is the world. What a gift that laughter was. I told her I can recognize pain, but it escapes me what to say or do. I heard Damian’s image call her ‘daughter’ one more time, and even without seeing her face, I knew the right action was beyond my abilities to mimic. Pain like that it too complicated. Sometimes a touch leads to distancing or a kind word causes anger. When the tears flow, everything becomes unpredictable. She deserves better than I can give, I said. And then, the assurance that she knows me and needs me to simply be me? I feel as though I am drifting a league high even when my feet touch the earth. She is mine, mine, mine. Why not call it love? I never thought I could own that word, so foreign it felt. Better to soar and run and leave them wanting, never to look back. That was how I lived before, but I want her love more than the adoration that Keerla gave. It is sweeter than the play of distance and desire with Hannibal. With all we have been through, she wants me in her life. And to hear that my presence makes anything easier? The pull to be hers is greater than urge to become Karrick’s favorite. The devastation I would feel if she turned me away. I would stop wandering for a time to see this through. What else is that but love? So I have begun to work on her family. My little challenge at the feast was to make them see that the word ‘friend’ was inadequate. Thalaman is simple enough. After the devastation at Jiyyd, his twisted fountain should be hardly a chore - and then a favor in return worth far more. I do not know what value the widow has within the family, but I instinctively want to please her. She seems to love the game played boldly, but I sense she will ask more some day. Adrian and Kasimir, open books both but the pages bear the intractable language of grimoire… Bess’s acceptance of my non-revelation gives me a little hope for an unrelated task. I will have to speak more of the unspoken to persuade Isolde. Her friendship has changed me, but it is time for mine to change her. She’ll never see deceit in every action, and I would not want her to. But these are demons. Isolde must be shown how Miranda works. Dividing people into players and pawns. Showing favoritism according to the usefulness of each piece. We are toys to her, nothing more. Some to be played with through little dramas, some to be dominated or burned. She tosses the dice to reward us for accepting the danger that her presence represents. In that philosophical debate in the commons, she spoke like me - all calculated revelation empty of true vulnerability. We cannot trust a single word she says. We cannot choose any of the paths she lays in front of us, because she wins in every scenario. I know this as I know her. This is who I would be without my faith.

Dear diary, I once heard a cleric preach that for every fiend there are two angels. I'm not sure what cosmic survey he was basing that statement on, but the logic seems to hold. If it were not true the cosmos would be a horrific realm under the tyranny of fiends. Things are not even. They tilt in the favour of the celestial. That's how balance is maintained. Or at least - that's the going theory. I saw the demon woman in the commons again today. Again, none opposing her. If I felt I had the power to I'd slay the creature myself. It was - again - rounding up adventurous folk to venture south to combat a demonic threat in the Rawlins. I have been following the lead of Elder Aoth, who I have also been meeting in Peltarch from time to time. In truth however, I feel like a useless spectator of these events as they unfold. I have heard word from the south that the wood has become infested with fiendish wasps and other flying horrors. The sound of their droning wings is enough to drive those who hear it insane. I also heard tell of an elven lass in the docks being taken by "giant flies". I keep putting off writing to Shannon. I shall tarry no longer with that. But surely he already knows of this threat? That an entire party of adventurers are being lead along by a demon? That - in all likelyhood - they will be lead along into damnation, as was Kara Du'Monte? It seems odd that the likes of me should be the one to inform him of this. And if it is me, will my message fall on ears willing to hear? My name seems to be as good as dirt in certain circles. I will continue to pray. My only dread is that my sins will cause my prayers to fall to the ground. Surely someone else will rise up? For every fiend there are two angels. I shall continue to remind myself. Love, Marty.

On the occasions that Marty emerges from the plague stricken residential district to busk and raise coin for potions, she is not dressed in her usual druidic robes. Instead she is donned in armour which has been embossed with runes warding against chaos and evil. She also Jingles with other charms, talismans and trinkets bearing similar wards. Even her boots are trimmed with protective runes. Her standard performance is the Mountain Song, a folk hymn sung in honour of Jerrick Rayfe who is now the Guardian of the Balance, his spirit united with the sacred mountain. This song is sometimes followed by a sad Hin lullaby.