3. The personal journal of William Morrison

The personal journal of William Morrison


  • Rebuilding

    It has been months since I last wrote in this journal. Perhaps I was right about pain being my motivation to write. It was the ghost of remembered pain that made me sit down this time. A simple error in figuring the distribution of coin from selling loot, that had me distributing a fair amount of my own coin as well. It brought back old memories. Memories of father railing at me for being worthless as a merchant. Memories that used to hurt… used to affirm how worthless I was. Memories that no longer have any power over me.

    When I burned down to ashes... when everything else was gone... the pain went with it.

    Not right away, and not all at once - but it went.

    When you've nothing left to lose, and no longer mourn what you once had - there is no longer any pain associated with the loss. When the facade that you show to the world is gone, there is no longer fear of it being exposed. When ancient hurts that left unhealed wounds are gone - that which kept the wounds from healing is gone too.

    For a time after that, I felt nothing. No pain, no joy. If the pain of the wounds was gone, the wounds were still there. In time, I would have recovered from that on my own. Laying stones to rebuild myself, from the ruin of what I once was. Some of the stones, I choose to re-use. Others, I choose to discard. Some stones are new.

    Recovering from it on my own... I don't know what I would have become if I had. All options were open depending on what stones I used to rebuild.

    I could have taken back my pain and self-blame. Started back down the same path I had just left. As I had just proven, that is self-destructive. Still, in such a state, the choices one makes are not always the sensible ones.

    I could have taken back my pain, and instead of self-blame, topped the pain with new stones of resentment and blaming others. That would have been the first step on a dark path. ...an easy path to take, as it neatly avoids responsibility. Simplicity itself to hate... to take revenge for slights real or imagined.

    I was fortunate to have help. She was there from the beginning, knowing what I needed before I did myself. Knowing when to hold me up, and when to step back. ...and if she was very rarely a little too enthusiastic in praise seemingly intended to build confidence and encourage good behavior... perhaps that too was by design. ...a way of helping me realize that such was no longer needed. She's helped me rebuild. Never choosing the stones, nor even suggesting which should be chosen... just... there. At first, someone to fall back on, later, a comforting presence. Never more or less than I needed.

    She asks for little in return: relief from loneliness. Relief she expects to be fleeting, as she believes I will eventually move on. I do not know if her belief is correct. I do know I do not love her. I have told her this, in response to her warning, and she acted as though she did not already know, relieved, not upset. I am not capable of such right now. The wounds do not pain me, but they run deep, and it will be long before they heal and I can consider love again. When that time comes, I do not yet know what stone I will set... whether I will keep relationships shallow, follow the path of the ascetic, or try again.

    In the interim, I rebuild the remainder - a process much faster and easier with her support.

    Other things have happened these last few months... things of small import and great. It hardly seems important to write of them, but I will, just so I can have a sense (if I read this later) of what else was happening when this was written.

    Mielikki's White Stag is free.

    Five words, so simple to say. So long in coming. So nearly a failure. So nearly an end, for I would have answered the Guardian's riddle incorrectly and been eaten had Penny not tricked me into moving away so Sara could answer. ...yet after it was over, I bore a new blade, named Mielikki's Chosen. The Stag had faith in me... She did too, to free the Stag. Somehow, despite everything, that faith was not misplaced. ...and so Mielikki has a stone of Her own in the rebuilding.

    Del, Seer, and Selandra all fell, weeks apart, and each was difficult to bring back. Seer finally came back on her own somehow... changed. Selandra came back with her injury worse than ever, unable to walk. She'll be doing research at the Temple in Pelt. I am glad they're all back. Seer seems different - it remains to be seen if that is good or bad. Selandra, I feel responsible for - she was concerned about fighting trolls, and I told her it would be all right - but didn't warn her when the others decided to go to the cave, and I couldn't protect her when we ran into the troll horde. I'll take care of her as I can. Concern and empathy for friends. These stones too have their place.

    The rebuilding continues. I still don't know what the end result will look like - but I am getting closer.


  • Luck

    I've never really thought much about luck. Tymora was a goddes others prayed to, when they wanted a favorable toss of the dice, or for their hand to shake a little in an archery contest, giving them a better shot than they had a right to.

    Granted, I've never had much luck - or rather, I have, but most of it has been bad. The worse my luck got, the less confidence I had in myself, and the more I let events control me, instead of the other way around. That right there should have been a clue, if I'd thought about it. I didn't of course.

    So - my luck got worse. …and it kept getting worse.

    That should have been a sign even an idiot could read. ..but not me.

    Then, when things were about as bad as they could get... when I was paring down, giving things away, or just dropping them and walking away...

    ...I met her. She helped me first, in ways I didn't know I needed help.

    When I was able to listen, she explained that bad luck happened to those who didn't have the will to find their own path - make their own way.

    I didn't really understand then. Wasn't capable of it. She helped anyway.

    ...and my luck changed.

    I didn't realize it at the time. Even bad luck like mine doesn't go completely unbroken by some good chance. ...but ever since, things have gotten better. Much better. That continued after we met again at the goblin attack in Norwick. I asked questions this time, and she answered. No hesitation, no hiding. Just straight answers. She's definitely not what one would expect.

    I don't know what my path is yet, but I'm looking. Willing to take control.

    ..and if that, and a prayer and burning a bit of wine is what it takes for me to have "normal" luck, then so be it. All gods are jealous of their portfolios, and Lady Doom is surely no different. A simple acknowledgement of Her power... perhaps that is all She was after.

    Jario just brought me an ale. No doubt he's curious as to why I've been spending so much time here. I'm sure he already knows. He's an observant sort, and I've made no effort to hide... well, not much effort.

    He'd probably like to know what I'm writing, too. He'll have to guess on that. This isn't for his eyes. I've given only person permission to read this - and he isn't her.


  • Ashes and Surprise

    At long last, it is done. There is little left of what I was - only ashes.

    …and yet, I remain.

    I have tasks yet to complete. Tasks which I can do little with, as I am waiting on others to do their part. The ashes that remain are sufficient for that.

    ...but then what?

    I don't know the answer to that question.

    What will rise from the ashes?

    I don't know that answer either.

    What I do know is that sometimes you look at something or someone and dismiss it after, since you know what to expect to find when you look there.

    ...and that what you expect to find can blind you to what is actually there when you look again.

    When that happens, you can be surprised by something you were looking straight at all along, because you never actually saw it.

    This lesson I know from the wilds - but I never thought to apply it elsewhere until now.

    I have been surprised, from a place I was looking straight at. All that remains to be seen is how well I will deal with what happens next. I know better now than to hope for anything good to come of it, and will have to beat down any glimmers of such before they ruin me. We will see what of the ashes survive.


  • Cowardice, Failure, and Betrayal

    I'm a coward.

    It took a long time for me to admit that even to myself, but there it is. Death is an easy thing. If one dies, the aftermath becomes the problem of others. Death is an escape - the coward's way out - because it means leaving all the problems and messes that are too frightening to deal with, behind - for someone else to resolve.

    …until one is raised from the dead of course. Then all the old problems remain, and some new ones get thrown into the mix - while one is less capable of dealing with any of them.

    I had been slowly - too slowly - recovering from Nat's declaration. I had finally begun to recover, and had run into Nat again in Pelt. She offered to travel with me again - to hunt, talk, whatever.

    She was asking. Was it the beginning of a change of heart? I'll never know, now. I couldn't face being with her for that long. Knew I would fall apart. Wouldn't take the chance that I might appear weak. So turned I her down, 'because I wasn't ready yet.'

    Coward.

    Hardly a day later, she was captured by drow, fighting a rearguard action to allow Alexi and Senria to get away. ...and because I was too much of a coward to be with her, I wasn't there.

    They captured her, tortured her, sacrificed her... and when the rescue party retrieved her from the drow temple, I still wasn't there - because I had been too much of a coward to be with her, and knew nothing of it. At least when Mary was captured by the goblins, I was there to try, even if I failed that time too.

    I found out what had happened only when they came back to Jiyyd, carrying her... and by then I could do nothing. She was unaware of her surroundings. Shannon was with her, doing far more to heal her than I will ever be capable of. Sam was there to be all the strength she would need. Laucian hovered, like a pet who does not understand why its beloved master won't get up.

    Meh. That isn't really fair to Laucian. He's a good man. I guess maybe It bothers me because that's what I'd have wanted to do. No... there's more. Laucian bothers me because he looks up to me and wants to be what he thinks I am. I could hate him for that.

    I wasn't thinking clearly. That I know. I hadn't been for a long time, and this was more than I could bear. So, as if from a distance, I heard myself telling them if I wasn't back in a day, not to come looking, and went off hunting drow. Alone.

    Laucian had an idea of what I planned, and called after me, but the Protector knew he could be ignored. Of all those in Jiyyd, Laucian was one of the few that couldn't stop me.

    Into the spider caves, headed for the drow temple below. At another time, I might have been afraid in the caves - my track record of coming out of there alive has not been good - but the Protector was in charge, and unafraid. He killed a cave spider, moved silently past others and continued on... and then stopped, deep into the upper level of the caves. There was a horde of spiders ahead. Too many to sneak past.

    "Potion of invisibility," I suggested. He drank, and moved on.

    The potion wore off mid-way through the next deeper level of caves. I chivvied the Protector behind a stalagmite in a room full of spiders, and considered, while he awaited instruction. Why was I having to be involved? Ah. Stealth is not the Protector's strong point. He would have carved a path through the spiders, and died on the level above. He used stealth because I required it - because there was something more important than fighting spiders.

    –-

    I look up from my writing for a moment, the glow of the Well in the distance, a constant whisper of moving air against my face. Oscura is definitely the place to be writing now. Not for the first time, this place suits my mood. Suits me. Am I changing from the time spent here, as I have seen others change? I don't know. If I am changing, is it for better or worse? I don't know the answer to that either. Time will tell, I suppose. I wonder if I will recognize the change if it comes.

    The smells here, and the touch of the cold stone, bring me back to the spider cave as if I were there again.

    It is more dangerous here than above, and I have only one invisibility potion left. I tell myself that perhaps the drow I kill will have more, some part of me knowing as I do that it is a lie - that I will fall against the first drow I encounter.

    I have a choice at this point. Drink the other invisibility potion and go back... the sensible thing... or instead, drink the other potion and go on.

    If I go back, I will have to explain. Some would have guessed where I was going. I will be seen to not be a man of my word, and a coward.

    If I go forward, I will amost certainly die. An honorable death, if a foolish one. Some small voice dangles a hope - there is the slightest chance that I will survive to dump a pile of drow heads at a recovered Natanya's feet, she will have a change of heart with her hero, the one who avenged her, returned, and we will marry and live happily ever after. A fool's hope in a dozen different ways.

    Now, finally, I am afraid.

    No choice really. "Drink and move forward." The Protector does, and we do. Faster now - if the potion wears off before we reach the temple, we will have little chance alone against the spiders.

    We pass through a large chamber, skirting the edge to avoid the queen spider. Her feelers raise, testing the movement of the air in the chamber - and then she moves - straight toward me. I try to get away, but she is faster. A single bite, and I am paralyzed, poison burning through my veins. She continues to attack ferociously, this intruder in her domain. I have failed. Blackness.

    –-

    Red sand. Wind. Desolation. I know I have failed. This death was pointless, and selfish, and cowardly. At least I will not have to deal with the aftermath. I have escaped. No one will fight the queen spider to retrieve me, and few know where I am. I told those that might have guessed not to come after me. That should be enough. Shouldn't it?

    I stand on a cold stone floor. Music. Wooden pews. A temple then. I am alive. Again. I collapse to the floor. No nearby crowd, only two people. Only one of those moves. He shoves things at me. Familiar things. My things. I take them. He steps away, then drops other things on the floor - things forgotten in the initial load, then leaves.. I dare not raise my eyes from the floor. I can see an outline of legs through a gold robe. I know the stance. The way she holds herself. She has said nothing.

    I raise my eyes to look at her because I must. She is still weak and sweating with the effort of being up so soon from her injury, yet she has come to see this - to see me. The look on her face is cold. Disappointment. Annoyance. I speak her name once... and she does not respond. The expression does not change. She might as well be a statue of an angry goddess. It is too much. I stagger to my feet and out the door, the things on the floor forgotten, meaningless. Still naked, I head east, and out the unguarded east gate of Jiyyd. I sit on a stone there, for a long time, then finally, looking for something familiar, head to the camp. No one sees me, and I avoid those I see. I cannot speak, for if I speak to anyone, it will be to tell what happened, and I cannot.

    After that, only flashes of consciousness for a while.

    Laucian walking behind me as I clear the pass, again, shouting at me to answer him - to say something. He is the first of many to try to break through, and though the Protector pays him no mind, more of what he says gets through than anyone else.

    Gently laying my plate armor down on the leaves covering the floor of the Gypsy Camp. It is dyed in the colors of the Divine Shield, and I give up my aspirations toward that, along with the colors I am no longer fit to wear.

    Pouring liquid from a bowl into a fire. Some of the awfulness goes with it, and I don't understand why.

    Trading bows with an incredulous would-be archer at fight night.

    Giving Steelfin a copper dragon scale, in exchange for a bottle of wine I don't drink. A paring down of things, getting ready for the last time.

    Sitting and drinking with Jerr, without either of us saying a word.

    Sitting with Keira while she tries to find out what happened, knowing she is a bigger threat than most, yet the Protector will not act.

    Sitting in the rain, trying to speak of what happened, and not being able to.

    …and then…

    Clarity of purpose.

    I know, finally, what must be done.

    One last betrayal.

    I must let her go. Now. When she needs a friend the most.

    I must do it for my own sanity. I tell myself it will help her too – and it will, I am sure – but that is not why I do it. This is not for her. It is for me.


  • Healing

    Time heals all wounds. That's the old adage. That's right most of the time - but sometimes people get stuck in a moment, and can't progress beyond it. The wound stays fresh, frozen in time, and never gets a chance to heal.

    For months, I've hurt so badly that I couldn't deal with anything. Retreated into my own little timeless world where the pain fed on itself. The Protector handled everything with the outside world. Not all that well, perhaps, but it was handled.

    Being alone didn't help. I was wrong there. As long as I was alone, nothing changed in that place I was hiding - nothing could.

    Being with my friends didn't help either. Whenever one tried to get past the Protector to help, the Protector stepped in and I just retreated a little more - the wound was still too fresh, and I couldn't even think about it, much less talk about it, without falling apart. I refused to fall apart in front of anyone. My pride wouldn't let me. Funny how most of my failings seem to center around Pride. Good thing I never went through the Halls of Pride. The surprises are bad enough as things are. Discovering them there could be fatal, and not just for me.

    I'm starting to heal now. A little bit.

    I have Selandra to thank for that. She understands constant pain. That sometimes the best thing to do is work through it without fighting it. Selandra offered, like others, an ear if I wanted to talk. I couldn't. Wouldn't, rather (If I can't be honest here, what's the point?)

    I walked away, and she followed. Not to press the point - the Protector would have stopped her and I would have just pulled in tighter. Instead, she offered simple companionship. We traveled together for a few days. I watched her enjoy life, and she didn't press - and the Protector relaxed, not needed as much, knowing she wasn't a threat.

    As I watched her stride through her own life, clear-eyed and cheerful, I started to remember what it was like to be alive again myself. If the Protector goes on guard every time she introduces herself as Nat's squire, he relaxes again soon enough. She almost made me smile a couple of times, and I actually made a joke. Time has started to pass for me again. I hurt bad, but at least I'm not numb most of the time, and I've begun to heal.

    We met Maythor in Norwick, and she spoke to him about the glaive she's been wanting to have made. I bought it for her, on the spot. Its less of a gift than she gave me, and I doubt she understands why I did it - but at least it was something of a thanks.


  • Focus.

    Went on another trip north to the Giantspires. I was asked to scout - which made sense, since I had been there before and many with us had not. We met another group coming south when we got to the foothills. I went ahead, and noticed they were not following, so I turned back - and found myself in the middle of a chaotic battle with saurials. People were running everywhere, chased by saurials, and there were chaotic knots where some tried to make a stand. Alvah was cornered alone against a hill by two saurials, but went down before I could get to him. The same two attacked me while I stood over him, and I joined him quickly. Not a bad way to go.

    –-

    Red sand. Wind. Others there with me. Someone screams and runs off.

    Light. Sound. A crowd. Someone shoves clothes at me. Raver. If I could, I would smile to see her, but there is too much to sort out. Always harder coming back. I see Nat in the crowd, watching me, and it all comes crashing in. If I were not still trying to sort out being alive, it would be too much. As it is, it is enough to keep me focused on the present, but not more than I can bear. She is angry with me for having fallen. Says it happens too often to be coincidence, and suggests that I might be seeking death. Says it affects other people than myself. Some part of me wants to yell at her, tell her she is right, and that it is her fault. Even in this state I know that isn't right, isn't true... so instead I tell her I just do what I have to. Raver defends me to Nat, and so does someone else... Steelfin?

    I no longer remember. Events after a death, normally so clear later, are fuzzy this time. Too much happened too quickly and I lost things.

    I stand in the temple for a long time after everyone else leaves, composing myself. I think I am composed when I leave. I discover I am wrong when I run into Sywyn. He starts in on me dying, how I need to be more careful, think of others... I lose my temper. From Nat I will take that - but not from him. I tell him to go to hell... to go away and leave me alone. He takes it well. I walk away and stand for a moment, and discover I am standing next to Yolande. She saw the exchange with Sy. She asks if she can help. I still can't talk about it, though I am sure she knows. It is hard to even think about, but how could she not know? If I could talk about it with anyone, Yolande would be it. We know each other, but we have no history - no feelings to be hurt. She would not judge me.

    Yolande offers to make it go away. She could do it. Take some memories, alter others. It would be easy. It is tempting. So very tempting.

    ..but I need to handle this myself. I refuse, and she calls me a martyr. Tells me I may regret not taking her up on the offer. I tell her "today and every day." The unvarnished truth. She looks surprised by that. Looks like she might do something about it, on her own. I half want her to. More than half. If I say no and she does it anyway, then it isn't my fault. I didn't ask for it. ...but no.

    Leaving the city, I run into Nicahh. She too, makes herself available to talk. Normally, about almost anything else - yes. Not this. She doesn't like Nat. Never has. ...and even though Nicahh never returned my feelings for her, it would hurt her to know how badly I fell for Nat, moreso than I did for her. She is finally happy, and I won't mar that, even a little. I'll probably talk with her about it eventually - but not before I can handle it without breaking down.

    I have to get better control of myself. Have to focus. Too many people are noticing something is wrong. Steelfin has been following me around trying to make sure I don't hurt myself, but not quite offering to take away anything sharp, and I've had other offers to listen if I want to talk about it.

    Some of those offers are from people I can talk to. ...but not about this. Not yet. Not while I am barely holding myself together just thinking about it.

    I owe Sy an apology. I'm not ready for that either.


  • Pain, Renewed.

    So here I sit again in the garden - stealing occasional glances at the statue. Nicahh said that she thought it was Lady Deliera that had the statue put there. Makes sense - I have heard of her before. I am thinking now that the statue is just a construct, and nothing to be concerned about - though it is eerie and startling to be sure. Must remember to let the druids know about it.

    –-

    Bah. I need to find a different place to write. This is too near the gate. Everyone passes by here, and people have started to notice. 'Will sitting alone in Oscura' is not a normal sight. I stick out like a sore thumb - even more than the paladins.

    The western city. Back to a stalagmite, the glow of the Well in the distance. If someone finds me here, it won't be an accident.

    So. Enough avoiding the memory.

    I ran into Nat in the pass. I went from being numb to having the pain be fresh again, as though we were still standing in the temple in Pelt, the place where my heart used to be raw and bleeding as if it had been torn out only moments ago.

    An awkward few moments, then she speaks, friendly - as if nothing had happened between us. I can't deal with it. As if from a distance, I hear my voice responding, calmly, telling the truth when she asks how I am, but only the tiniest bit of truth - enough to let her know it is the truth, yet not so much that she can see how bad it really is. I can marvel now, at how good that part of me is at doing what needs to be done, when the rest of me is unable to function. At the time, I could not think at all. My Protector. It keeps me going when left to myself, I would be curled up in a ball.

    Nat says she does not want me to be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? I hurt too badly to even consider the word. Again, I hear myself responding reasonably, kindly, that there is no help for it, while the pain threatens to overwhelm even my detatchment. I want to spare her if I can.

    Something shows on my face, or in my voice, and she moves forward and hugs me. It is too much. At her touch, my detatchment shatters, and I hug her back hard, without thinking, just needing the contact. In doing so, I reveal more than I should and I know it, but I don't care. For that one moment, nothing else matters.

    My Protector recovers quickly, and I let go before she can react, before things can get worse. I shove on my helm to hide what not even my Protector can keep off my face.

    A few hobs provide a welcome distraction, and the caster that blinds me before it dies, gives me an excuse to remove my helm and wipe my eyes. Nat offers to listen if I need to talk. I tell her no. She won't deal well with what I need to say, and there's no point in making things worse for her. The helm goes back on quickly at that point. I can't keep my feelings off my face, and if she touches me again...

    We spend several long, awkward minutes looking at each other, saying nothing. I haven't the strength to be the first one to leave. Not again. She finally heads south, and I go north.

    In the temple in Pelt, when I gave her the ring, I told her I would remain her friend. I wanted to be. I still do. I just can't. Not while I can't even look at her without risk of falling apart.


  • Duty

    So much for my roots. So much for survival. Ran into an orc mage on the plains. Wasn't paying attention, and he saw me first. One spell is all it took, and then I was being crushed to death.

    Featherflights found my body, still barely alive. Either the mage thought he'd finished me, or they killed him. I didn't ask.

    They brought me to their lands. Healed me. Returned my gear. The shaman who healed me was sick. He healed me, when he could not heal himself.

    Another debt. One I must repay. The shaman asked if I was a tracker. …mentioned Jerr's missing boys, other missing members of the tribe. I told him I had searched for them already, but that the trail was cold. Told him Jerr had not asked.

    An interruption. Sabre was right. The statue's eyes do glow green, on occasion. It seems to be what is keeping the plants alive. No idea who the statue represents. I wonder if Sabre bothered to find out who made it, or had it put there? The statue goes quiet again.

    Where was I? Ah. The shaman. I told him I would do what I could to help. I pay my debts. He asked me to send Jerr to him, said he would send for me, after speaking with Jerr.


  • Pain

    I guess that's what motivates me to write. It has to be the right amount of pain though. Too little, and I have no reason. Too much, and I cannot find the words - cannot find the place to write that will contain them.

    The short of it? Nat told me she planned to swear an oath… that she would not be with any but the one she would marry, and would not do that much until she was ready to retire - many years from now.

    It was a goodbye. ...as gentle as she could make it, but a goodbye nonetheless. How gently can one's heart be torn out?

    I asked her not to swear such an oath. I don't know if she will, or not. ...gave her the ring I had saved. ...told her to give it back if she had a change of heart. I know that was a forlorn hope, and stupid. Sticking my foot in a door she was trying to close.

    Couldn't help it.

    I told her I needed to be alone for a while, then left for the camp.

    Of course, things never work out how we plan.

    Eluriel asked if I wanted to go north, to the icelace. Having been there before, this seemed like a good thing at the time. A chance for it to be over, finally.

    Someone asked what creatures we would find there, and I told them. They didn't believe me - no one did. I didn't take offense. Didn't care enough to. Pride is gone. Everything that matters is gone.

    So we went. I fought sword and shield. Nothing would touch me. Nothing.

    We went further, through the ogres, through demons I had never seen before, through giants and trolls - and nothing would touch me. A few nicks and scrapes. One close call with lightning from a troll chieftain, but Rary was quick enough to fix that.

    ...and home again. Through a cloud of hobs, and still I live.

    ...and then there were other trips - the worg caves, the troll swamp... and still nothing would touch me.

    ...and still I couldn't write.

    So - I went to the one place that matched my pain. Oscura. ...and finally I could write. Had to hide from Dirge. She'd want to paint me, and that I could not stand.

    I never minded being second to Tyr. I minded being third to Shannon, but I could deal with that. Being nothing... That I can not deal with.

    Keira says that pain focuses - that it makes clear what matters. Nicahh agrees. I am not sure - unless it is true for me that nothing matters anymore.

    I'll still get the helm finished for Nat. I've started that, I will finish it, though I don't know how I'll get her to take it.

    I've still got other tasks I must complete. ...but I've no enthusiasm for them. Don't know if I can make myself.

    Perhaps it is time to return to my roots. Start over. Back on the orc plains. Simple survival.


  • Communications

    What happens when one speaks the truth at the wrong time?

    Bad things.

    I've managed to put my foot in it with Nat again. I know I'm right, but I was right at the wrong time, in the wrong place. I should have let well enough alone, and just ignored him…

    I returned to Jiyyd, to find Nicahh, Nat and Shannon there. Nicahh standing off by herself, Nat and Shannon by the fire, with Keira and others.

    I greet Nicahh, and we talk briefly, and she makes some pointed comments, in the form of jokes. I know who those comments are aimed at, though they surely cannot hear her, and call her on it. She makes a joke of that too and we both laugh it off - but she got my message, and I got hers. Communication is a good thing.

    Keira is telling Nat and Shannon that some of the things from the Well are escaping into the pass. I can hear only Keira's side of the conversation, but it sounds as though Shannon isn't listening because of who the news is coming from. Typical.

    I suggest to Nicahh that we get involved in the conversation. As Inquisitor of Oscura, this concerns her too, and I have my own piece to add, regarding the Well-spawn I'd fought in the pass myself.

    We move closer, and I relay the details of Selandra and I fighting that spider-horror in the pass. It is new information to Nat and Shannon, I can tell. Nat has some comments about the combat.

    Selandra shows up at that moment, and we mention that we've been speaking of her. I tell her she has nothing to worry about - I only told the truth of our encounter... an unfortunate quirk of mine. She responds that truth is never unfortunate. ...a statement that I disprove before the night is done.

    While she and Nat are catching up, Nicahh catches me completely off guard by asking in a whisper if Nat and I are still dating. Stunned, it is some time before I can answer, and when I do, I don't much like the answer I give: "I don't know."

    I barely see Nat anymore. I have been trapped in Jiyyd, and she is working in Oscura (something I found myself defending to Selandra, when we went there looking for Nat). When she is not there, we still have no time together... as tonight - with her sitting next to Shannon, looking tired, and yet a little happy. I can't talk with her with everyone there, and I would not tear her away when she gets so little down time. ...time she is choosing to spend with Shannon. Am I jealous of him? Yes, perhaps a little. He has Nat's attentions, which I crave and he spurns.

    It is enough to make one want to curse the gods, sometimes.

    Nicahh goes on to whisper that she doesn't care for the way Nat speaks of and to me - that it is insulting. I hadn't thought it so, but then perhaps I am simply used to it, or expect it.

    Nicahh leaves, and I sit on the now-empty bench, closer to Nat, yet still on the other side of the Giantspires for all that matters.

    ...then Marius arrives.

    I nod to him - the barest minimum that courtesy demands. Nat likes him, and I owe her at least the attempt to be courteous.

    Some time passes before he remarks at the silence around the fire - that we must be intimidated by him.

    ...which is when it begins. I speak the truth. At the wrong time. In the wrong place. In the wrong company. I tell him, that I am not intimidated - it is simply that I don't like him. He asks if I judge so quickly, and I answer that I do when I have reason. He asks the reasons, and I respond by asking if he really wants me to air them in front of everyone. He does.

    So I do. In detail. His betrayal of his former master - but not until his master began keeping the loot his soldiers earned. The plot against Lucid.

    Nat is obviously uncomfortable, but I keep plowing on. She tries to stop it - and cannot. So she leaves instead. I try to follow, to apologize - but she is gone.

    I go to Pelt and leave her a note at the Tyrran temple, apologizing, then take a few moments to pray at the altar - for better judgment, for help in not letting my personal feelings get in the way. Did He hear? I don't know.

    Back to Jiyyd, then.

    Truth - Indeed, an unfortunate quirk.


  • The mission.

    Sir Mariston put out a call requiring "those of goodly heart and honour for a task of utmost importance."

    The goodly heart I can lay claim to, I think. Even on a bad day, I go through the motions, so the difference is small enough that most could not tell.

    My honor… hangs by a tattered thread, but remains intact for the moment.

    I respond, and a message comes to meet at the Tyrran temple in Pelt, several days hence.

    At the appointed time, I arrive. Nat arrives at the meeting not long after I do, having slept in her rooms at the temple. Even half-asleep, the sight of her is like food to a starving man. I can hardly take my eyes off her, but I don't speak to her - what can I say?

    The ghost of Sir Vance - a knight of the Order of the Green Cross - tells us of a tomb that was desecrated when the head of the order betrayed the knights and massacred them and their families, long ago.

    We travel to the location of the tomb. I still can't keep my eyes off Nat - still have no idea what to say. She notices, and jokes about it - and now I am more lost than before.

    A sudden sleep overcomes us all, and we wake to find ourselves in another time - a time when the tomb was new. Before the betrayal? No - but during, yes. We fight our way through the demons to find a living Sir Vance, and convince him to let us aid him. Down to four defenders including himself, we were an unexpected gift.

    We rest, and again I try to talk to Nat - and can say nothing. She notices me staring again and responds with a light-hearted comment, and again I am confounded, and can do nothing but turn and walk away. I rest sitting against a wall, and the Paladin Elenwyd mistakes my silence for concern about the upcoming battles.

    That is actually among the least of my concerns. Short of things going horribly wrong, the worst that will happen to me is death - and I know death well. I am comfortable with it. Even if it were the final death, that would be a form of release - or at least it would be if I did not still have unfinished tasks that I cannot let go of. A little like Sir Vance, I suppose.

    More demons, and a cleansing of desecrated parts of the tomb. Then more demons still. Blinded and stunned, I go down in the middle of a battle against something I cannot see, but am healed by someone - I know not who. Nat is yelling at me to move, and when I can, I do.

    We continue, and when we finish, we can tell the job is still not done - for we can hear the roars in the distance, of a demon larger than any we have yet fought.

    We are tired, and much of our protections have waned, but I still have some potions that will be good to protect someone on the front lines. I am trying to press them on Nat, as the doors to the room fall in ruin, revealing the shape of a Balor. Moments before we would have fought our final battle against it, we again are overcome by sleep - and when we wake, find ourselves returned to the present day.

    Sir Vance tells us we did not fail - that our actions in closing the portals to the Abyss allowed the remainder of the tomb to be cleansed later.

    We are given some things from the tomb, that they be used rather than moulder. A cloak of the Green Cross, I keep, some potions, and a bit of coin - a magical rod that is somehow part of my share, I give to Nat - a tool for fighting evil that she is more likely to need than I.

    She acts as though the incident in Jiyyd never happened, and I don't understand that, but I'll take it, and gladly. I am slow to recover even once I realize this - some wounds take longer to heal.


  • A Task in Oscura

    Legion General Thorn and I are recruited for a task. I know I shouldn't leave Jiyyd - but the Mechanists are involved, and it is an opportunity to learn more about them… and I am told Nat will be there, which clinches it. I will go, of course. We are warned it is dangerous.

    Of course it is.

    Everything is dangerous. Granted, the Mechanists moreso than most. I am told to "bring a cloak that protects against electricity," as if I have a wardrobe of magical cloaks to choose from, a place to put them, or unlimited funds with which to purchase such. That I have just given all my money to the Legion so they can pay the workmen who suddenly decided to charge triple for the Legion Hall renovations, complicates matters, somewhat. Nonetheless, I simply nod and head off to mug a large number of goblins so I can afford the cloak.

    Meh. I've no objection to killing goblins when it needs to be done, or to going on a patrol when needed. Going out to kill them simply to rob their corpses doesn't seem right. Nonetheless, I do so, until my arms are tired from the killing.

    I sell what negotiable items I have found, and go back out and do it again, until I have the money for that damnable cloak, then travel to Pelt and purchase it. I am ready.

    I arrive at the restaurant where we were to meet, only to find a note telling me the meeting location has been moved - to the carnival in Oscura. I run to catch up, in the process meeting General Thorn, who asks that I pass on his regrets - he will not be able to make it. A fact that I will have cause to regret.

    I arrive, and Nat is not there. Figures. We meet our contacts - part of the resistance movement against the Mechanists. Easy to see why they have remained free - no one would suspect such a team of bumbling idiots of being a resistance movement - and yet, they manage somehow.

    There are bombs in the city, we are told - and we know where those who planted them are holed up. Corde overhears us trying to get the relevant information from the bumblers, and suddenly the Peacekeepers are involved. He threatens to throw the men with the information we need in prison. The only reason I don't leave at that point, is there are innocents there who would suffer.

    Corde takes charge, and we go to the building where these people are holed up. He orders them to open the door and come out. Innumerable impotent threats and last chances later, we finally go in, instead, under a hail of crossbow bolts from the building.

    We slaughter a bunch of street toughs who would be at home in the back alley of any large city. Not what I was expecting.

    We go upstairs, to find a long hallway, lined with statues. I thought we should destroy them, but held my tongue - it would have taken time, and the bombs were already placed.

    We kill a fellow who claimed to have been a prisoner - but was fully armed - after he attacks us. There is a sound of chanting from behind a door we could not open, and then we are attacked by animated swords, and all the statues I had wanted to destroy. Genzir and I fall within moments of each other.

    The rest is a blur. I am returned, still in Oscura. Genzir, too. Everyone leaves, still looking for bombs. I have no idea where they have gone, and am in no condition to function independently. Eventually, I make my way out of the city and back to the Camp.

    Later I hear of bombs being defused, and an invasion thwarted.

    Little thanks to me.


  • Truths

    Sometimes, if you say something often enough, you start to believe it, even if it isn't strictly true. That doesn't change what is, though, and every so often the difference between what you believe and what -is- comes back to bite you.

    In a large gathering a couple of weeks ago, Raver asked me how I was, and I returned the question. Each of us said we were all right, or well enough.

    I remarked to her quietly, that we were both bad liars, and she allowed that we were.

    We left it at that. I knew that she knew, and she knew that I knew, and that was enough.

    I say pretty much the same thing when anyone asks. Its enough for most people.

    Not for Lilin. She actually wants to know. So I tell her I'm doing all right - and I almost believe it now myself. …until Lilin keeps asking.

    She asks how Nat and I are doing.

    So I tell her. Not well. ...and I tell her why.

    Lilin asks if I've looked for Nat.

    I tell her I haven't.

    Not in months. Not since the attack. How can I?

    I leave Jiyyd when I am needed elsewhere. Otherwise, I defend.

    I am not needed in Oscura - and Nat is rarely found anywhere else.

    How can I look for her there when to do so is to prove I am leaving Jiyyd undefended - to prove I don't have the stomach to defend it?

    I don't tell Lilin all of that, of course. She's pregnant, and doesn't need me being depressing.

    Lilin asks me if that is what I want.

    I want to shout at her. "Of course it isn't what I want!"

    Instead, I tell her quietly, that it isn't about what I want. My place is here. I go where I am needed.

    Opportunity to pursue what I want only happens when I am not needed elsewhere.

    Lilin tells me that Jiyyd's defense can do without me for a little while.

    _Of course it can. My being here doesn't make one whit of difference to the defense if the orcs come. Another Grag wouldn't. Ten more Grags wouldn't.

    My place is still here, until the threat is done._

    I tell Lilin as much - and she leaves, frustrated.

    I don't blame her. I'm pretty frustrated myself.


  • The smell of overcooked, overspiced, and unidentifiable …meat assails my nostrils once again. One of the disadvantages of the archer tower at Jiyyd's west gate is its proximity to the cookpot.

    Been up here for a week now, looking for the drow to return, leaving only when I had to.

    I did hear that a band of drow tried to enter Jiyyd by stealth, one of the times I had to leave my perch. If it was Sis'Ter'Anthree returning, she was early. The drow were killed in any case. I'm guessing that takes the drow offer off the table, unless it was a different group of drow.

    Not that it matters - I had to go to Nicahh to make sure someone on the Council knew of the offer in the first place, and they haven't met since the attack. She'd say 'no' if it came to it, which is good enough for me.

    With the orcs having been paid off last time, the option of giving them a bloody nose when they attack, in the hopes that they will decide we aren't worth it, is closed to us. Water under the bridge, and no help for it now.

    We have to deal with what is, rather than what we wish things were.

    Jiyyd's defenses are in a worse state now than they were before the last attack. The catapult and ballistae destroyed in the attack two months ago have not been replaced, and the Council has done nothing to strengthen the defense of the town. I'm working on getting the weapons replaced out of my own pocket. We'll see if I can make that happen.

    The people of Jiyyd go about their daily routine as if there were no orc army ready to obliterate the town. None have taken me up on my offer to help them move elsewhere. None of them really seem to believe the orcs were serious, or perhaps they think they would be left alone in an attack... or perhaps they even think that we will somehow be able to hold off the orcs if they do attack again.

    General Lyte has a plan. One I would say had no chance of success, were it anyone else. With her leading, the chances go from zero to slim, and I've signed on enthusiastically. A slim chance of success is better than a guarantee of failure and death.

    I miss Nat. I don't have time to go looking for her, and she probably wouldn't care to see me in any case. I've heard she's been here a couple of times, when I was down at the South gate. I wish she'd stay away. There's no point in her risking herself here.

    I'm just selfish enough to wish she were here now, except I'm afraid of what I'd see in her eyes when she looks at me. Straith seemed to believe I had some worth beyond the ordinary. I'm not sure Nat agrees. Probably for the best. Anything that might keep her away from here until it is safe.

    Time to go meet with the Circle.


  • Surprises

    _It still smells burnt up here. Damp and burnt.

    Peaceful though. The sounds of crickets and cows. Torches flickering in the fog.

    …at least it would be peaceful, if I didn't know there was an orc army just across the plain, waiting for its chance to kill the lot of us, and knowing we're too stupid to leave before they get it._

    That was how the last entry of this journal began.

    It got worse from there.

    Self doubt. Self pity. A little self-loathing thrown in for good measure.

    So I sat and wrote, up on the hill above the South gate, consuming myself.

    So it was for me… when with a great rush of wind, things changed.

    I stood, and turned... and watched as a great copper dragon walked across the hill toward me.

    She lay down, and we talked over a small fire, through the night and much of the following day.

    We spoke of small things, and great, on many subjects. She offered no easy answers, yet there was a dragon's wisdom in her words.

    When she left, it was with a gift of herself, and the notion that she might one day show me her hoard.

    If I proved myself worthy.

    She also left me with a sense of self-worth and purpose that I had not had when she came. ...or perhaps I had just forgotten them, and needed someone to remind me.

    Lastly, she left with a cow, that I need to pay someone to recompense them for.

    Today will be a good day.


  • The next two pages are torn out and missing


  • A burning smell.

    There's no avoiding it up here by Jiyyd's south gate. All the less so, when you've your back against the charred remains of what used to be a ballista while you write.

    The orcs attacked yesterday. Sort of. In actuality, they came looking for protection money - and Shannon paid them, 20,000 gold to go away.

    They went - but not before there was a good deal of injury and property damage.

    They'll be back. Once you pay a blackmailer they always come back, until you've nothing left to pay them with - and then they do what they threatened to do in the first place.

    Shannon bought time. For all the good that does us. He also almost certainly bought us repeat visits.

    The good citizens of Jiyyd will be too stubborn to move.

    I've offered to escort those willing to move elsewhere. I don't expect to be very busy with that.

    Stupid.

    …and so they will all die, when there is no longer money to pay the orcs' extortion.

    ...right after I do, defending them.

    ...and afterwards, when we are all trying to put things back together, the orcs will come again. We paid them once because we were afraid, they will reason. So - now that they have demonstrated what they can do, we will pay again, and keep paying.

    ...and if not, they will kill us all, over and over, until we do pay, or no one returns.

    This is what Shannon has bought us, in addition to time.

    Kull understands. He knows orcs better than most, and about had a fit when he heard what Shannon had done. He came instantly to the same conclusions I did.

    Nat doesn't understand. She thinks me a coward, because she last saw me walking out of Jiyyd's gate after saying the town couldn't be defended, and telling her she should not stay long. Yet here I am, and here I will be, unless called or ordered elsewhere. I got angry when she reacted that way. As angry as I can recall being. Apparently my pride is not limited to having my integrity challenged. I'll not leave innocents to die. I just don't want her to join them. It would be pointless. Another Grag wouldn't make a difference to the town's defense. Ten more Grags wouldn't. We are overmatched to the point of resistance being futile. Yet here I am. Is it pride that keeps me here? Yesterday I'd have said no. Yesterday I said I'd not defend Jiyyd against the orcs if the town paid them off. Today? It was Shannon who paid them off not the town, so I have an 'out.' A slimy little way to keep my word, and still stay on the defense.

    ...but why do I stay? Is it to protect the innocents, who will no doubt be too stupid, and too stubborn to leave, when they are sure to die if they do not (are they even truly innocent, if they choose to put themselves in harm's way, knowing what is coming)? Do I stay to salve my wounded pride? ...to be able to say "Look here! I stayed to protect, when death was certain, even though some thought I would not." Do I stay in the hopes of regaining Nat's good opinion of me - if that is even possible?

    It is all jumbled together enough that I don't know. I'd like to say that I stay for the noblest of reasons. Have said it.

    I am too honest with myself to believe that is all there is to it. I don't let anyone else in on my doubts though. They are mine, and everyone believes me to be the good and noble facade that I show.

    Now this drow priestess that showed up right after the attack - she offers a way out. The help of the Drow against the orcs, in exchange for our help against the Yuan-ti... "with details to be worked out later." A bad bargain, I know it is. Yet she offers a lifeline to the hopeless. Will the Jiyyd Council see it that way and accept? I hope not. I'd rather go down cleanly.

    ...yet some small part of me hopes the Council accepts. Despite my warnings against it. Especially because I warned against it. For if they accept over my objections, then the town is saved, I don't have to die in a hopeless cause, and the evil that comes from it won't be my fault. Cowardly? Damned straight. Looks like Nat was right after all. I guess that explains why I got so angry. Nothing like a truth you won't admit to yourself being thrown in your face to make you angry.

    I'm beginning to hate this journal. It is the only thing I can talk to now, and be completely honest with. ...well this and Keira.

    I know that having any sort of philosophical discussions with Keira is dangerous. ...still - she is the only one I know who will listen and not judge. I know better than to do that. ...and I do it anyway.

    Stupid.


  • Brilliant green eyes.

    Three times now, in the last year, people I know have fallen suddenly, uncharacteristically, and hard for people with brilliant green eyes.

    Fallen hard to the point that one mutual acquaintance likened the attraction to that of a succubus.

    One of those, I don't know what happened to. One ended in tragedy.

    …and the last, the story is not done yet, and I am concerned about.

    This may need to move to the other journal. I will wait, watch, and see.


  • …and again, death.

    I had gone looking for Nat, and as usual, found her in the Coppers. As usual - except this time, in the company of the Ladies Kara, Shane, and Rith. Nat introduced me to Shane and Rith, though I met both long ago. Shane knows me - Rith had forgotten we had met. Small wonder there. She is one of the most powerful people in Narfell, while I am known, where I am known at all, primarily for the number of times my soul has been separated from my body. A fellow named Sarvalos was there as well, inroducing himself. I've seen him about once or twice before, though I don't know enough of him to form an opinion yet.

    What the four were doing in Oscura I do not know - though they seemed to be going somewhere, and had only briefly interrupted their journey to stop there. They volunteered no information, so assuming they did not wish company, I was in the process of excusing myself when the alarm gong at Oscura's West gate rang.

    As one, we went west - there meeting with Lady Nicahh and Keira, Drelan, and a female mage I do not know.

    On the far side of the bridge, advanced monstrous spiders with the voices of children, like the one Alexi, Senria and I fought some weeks ago - except many more this time.

    These were just as hard to put down as the one we faced weeks ago - but this time there were dozens... and spaced among them were larger versions of the same thing, only these larger ones were almost immune to weapons. Lightning arrows - which I had in good supply - were one of the few things that seemed to affect them. Some of the paladins' blades had limited effect as well - a good thing, for these monstrous things were hard to hit.

    We stood between them and the city proper - though I do not know for certain how determined they were to get there - given that these things can climb chasm walls, they could simply have gone around us and the bridge, and straight into the city. I've little doubt they would have done so, had we not been there - but with us there, they seemed content to fight us rather than go after easier prey. Perhaps that is because of who was defending, rather than the simple fact of trying to defend. Perhaps paladins and good priests make more attactive targets than the slaves the things would have hit next if we failed. Of course I wasn't thinking about that at the time - we were just trying to keep the things from getting into the city. I wonder if they would have attacked at all, if we had not been there. As spread out as the Well is now, I wouldn't put it past being sensitive to what is in the city.

    They attacked. Other things did too. At first we thought to take the fight to them, but they were coming from the part of the Well that was in the western city, and there was concern they might flank us - so we retreated back to the bridge.

    I stayed well to the back, as I knew my best use was with my bow - did what healing I could on Nat, between waves. They kept coming. We ran out of healing. One of the big ones came for the bridge, badly wounded by the time it arrived - and only two people were there to engage it, both of them seriously hurt. They attacked it, but it moved past and through them, straight for the bridge. I moved up and attacked it with my sword, just short of the bridge, knowing I wouldn't be able to hurt it, but hoping to stop it while it engaged me, give the people who could hurt it a chance to do so, and trusting to my armor to keep me alive long enough to make a difference. It worked, briefly. The two flanking it got a brief respite while it concentrated on me, and it stopped in its tracks. As expected, my sword had no effect, but at least I was distracting it. Then it stung me, right through the armor. Poison. Bad. I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold it much longer - and then it bit me. The bite was bad, and I had to disengage. I moved back onto the bridge, and it didn't follow. I went back to using my bow on it, while trying to remember where I'd stashed my healing kit. I knew I needed to deal with the poison quickly before it reached something vital. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, as it is always in the same place - but instead of looking where it was supposed to be, I looked everywhere else. I was putting lightning arrows into the thing in between looking, and Nat was shouting I should run. I'd already run, and it was all the way over... right on top of me. It bit me again, and moved on past as I fell.

    ...

    Red sand. Wind. Ruins.

    Stupid. I know better. I should know better, anyway.

    Figuring out what the lesson is, is easy this time: Always be aware of your surroundings.

    Relearning one I already know, but had apparently forgotten.

    I am angry with myself for having forgotten, but in time that passes. I will remember the lesson.

    ...

    Light. Sound. A large space, surrounded by darkness. Natural stone. People. Someone hands me clothing and I dress.

    They hand me more things, and I accept them, each object a tiny bit of reassurance as it goes into its familiar place.

    Nat and Kara are here, as is another man I do not know. I have seen him before, but we have never spoken. He said something immediately after I returned, but I have yet to understand it - for now, it was just words without meaning. Assuming he is the priest that raised me, I thank him.

    I do not know this place, where I stand. I ask if we are still in Oscura, though I already know the answer. I can feel that we are.

    They lead me away We pass Keira saying to Nicahh "Don't become like William." Nicahh answers "Not likely." I am not entirely certain what they mean - and in that moment, it doesn't matter. I think I'll hold onto that moment - it was not meant to be overheard, and I do not believe there was malice in it. We move on, to a small pond. I sit on a bench while Nat runs her hands through the water. The Well is immediately behind me - mere feet away. I can feel it - and it makes it impossible to concentrate or collect my thoughts.

    Nat and Dirge have a conversation, the full import of which strikes me only later. Things that die in Oscura pass through the Well. ...and that might be why paladins and good priests make attractive targets for the Well-spawned creatures. They speak of Dirge having painted one who fell, showing up in agony in the well. I would have been afraid to look, even had I realized they were speaking of me at the time.

    Nicahh stops by to thank me. I fumble for a response, finally telling her she is welcome. I am not fully engaged in the world of the living. Impossible to get there, in this place. I tell Nat I need to go. She asks me to pick her a flower.

    I run into Kara again on my way out. She offers me some Rothe tongue - to see how I like it before trying it herself. ...an interesting flavor. She calls my death 'heroic.' She must have been too far away to see how foolish it was. I tell her I am trying to become less of a liability - and she says I am not one. I thought paladins weren't supposed to lie. I almost say as much - but I am just cognizant enough to hold back.

    She offers to escort me to the surface. Won't take no for an answer. Probably for the best. She won't even leave when Steelfin passes going into Oscura, and I tell her someone needs to watch out for him...

    No Kuo Toa, no hobgoblins. ...as if someone cleared a path.

    Finally we make it to the camp, and Kara leaves me.

    Sleep.

    ...

    Writing this down now that I have awoken, helps me order my thoughts. Which I suppose is why people write these journals in the first place.


  • Death. Again.

    We've just repelled another orc attack on Jiyyd, immediately followed by a goblin attack on Norwick. I suppose those were good things in a way. They forced me to come fully back into the world of the living sooner than is my habit.

    I had hoped I was past dying, except for the last one that we all face. I suppose it was foolish to hope so, but although the new armor does protect me a great deal, it cannot protect me from my own choices.

    We were to check on the numbers of the beasts in the Mintas forest - but while crossing the Windy Plains, some of the more whimsical among us decided they wanted to attack the orc fortress - so like fools, we followed.

    Not far inside the gates, we found ourselves beset on all sides, by heavy crossbows and mages on the hills, and large orcs in front. I managed to down a mage and two of the crossbows - but they were only a fraction, and even this new armor has its limits. I took a bolt through the armpit, and with orders from General Lyte, that was enough to force me to retreat back to the gate.

    Once at the gate, I healed as best I could, and re-entered the fray. I thought I heard someone go down, but it was hard to tell. Things were much as they had been before - just as confused, and we were still surrounded and scattered - but I could not find General Lyte.

    …

    As I sit here writing by the fire at the Norwick south gate, a chance gust of wind from the south brings the smell of death from the goblin corpses, and I am there at the orc fortress all over again...

    ...

    Rary is engaged with a score of heavy orcs, and I am doing what bow-work I can to help him, while looking about for the General. Everything seems to be happening too fast, and in slow motion all at the same time. Then everything falls apart. Rary runs towards me yelling 'Run!' with a mass of orcs following close behind, and everyone else heads for the gate...

    ...everyone except General Lyte, who is still nowhere to be seen, and me.

    I know I should be running too. I want to run. Instead, my body fights on its own while my eyes search the litter of bodies for the General.

    Draw... release. Draw... release. Another orc chasing Rary falls, all in slow motion. Draw... and then the orcs chasing Rary are upon me and wash over me like a wave, without even slowing. I'm dead before my body hits the ground.

    ...

    I come to my senses slowly. Impressions first, then comprehension. Bright light. A crowd. Conversations. Healing Wonders in Jiyyd. It is always harder for me being alive again than dying. An adjustment. The time between death and life is indistinct, but always seems more real than life.

    People shove things at me while I am still sorting out which voices belong to which face. My belongings? I suppose so. I dress because it is expected. It feels wrong. Ah - I am not wearing armor, because ordinary clothing is the first thing I found.

    The General is standing two feet away, as recently returned as I, yet already speaking animatedly.

    In time, I recover somewhat, only to discover the crowd gone, save for Vroka and Finnius. I go out to the west gate fire, just to be around people again. There are too many. Too many conversations. An argument. A thief in Healing Wonders? Bards trying to play...

    Suddenly I realize the person sitting next to me is Nicahh. How long has she been there? I don't know. I greet her. Was that right? I don't know that either.

    Someone whispers to me a question about what is going on. I respond aloud, unthinking, mentioning that General Lyte has fallen, speaking of the thief and the argument, detached from it all. Some part of me still waking up is embarrassed for having mentioned the General falling, so soon after, and in front of so many.

    Someone kisses me on the cheek. Nicahh? Then she is gone again. She returns, speaking of playing the harp...

    ...and then the orcs attack, and things come sharply into focus. There is no longer time to sort things out. There is only defending the town.

    ...

    ...and now here I am sitting on a bench south of Norwick. When it does not smell of death, the air smells like rain, which for once I am looking forward to.

    I look back and wonder what the lesson in this death was. If I would have done anything different if I had the chance.

    Probably.

    Possibly.

    Had I refused to go into the fortress the first time, they would likely have gone without me, and the General would still have fallen.

    Had I chosen to not return to the battle after being wounded, I would likely still be alive - but I would not choose such a life... to abandon friends.

    So - probably not then.

    ...and with that comes resolution. I still don't know what the lesson was, or even if there was one. Regardless, I am content.

    Perhaps keeping a journal is not so bad after all.