3. The Journal of Jerrick Rayfe

The Journal of Jerrick Rayfe


  • _Talk of Kara makes me stupid.

    Like, royally, infintesimally stupid. Brain-dead, lack-wit, window-licking stupid. Incredibly "I can't believe he said that" stupid.

    When I was asked about Kara, it brought up thoughts, talk of regrets sharpened those thoughts to images, and those images played tricks on my eyes. I almost thought I saw her at the little rock Thorn called, "Gossip Rock."

    Tindra and I have talked about our pasts some, and when I asked, "If you could change one thing about any one person but yourself, what would it be…" I was thinking of Kara.

    I would change that she was bound to a master in the hells for her sacrifice. Set her free. That's it. Give her the chance to ... hells, I don't know. Perhaps Kelemvor would take her back. Perhaps the final death? It would likely bring more peace to her.

    At any rate, I should have specified, "Other than me". That would have sounded ... ridiculous though. How do you ask a meaningful question like that without sounding self serving?

    You don't.

    Damned if I do, damned if I don't, that's how it ended up with leaving out "Other than me." Fuck me I'm an idiot. At this rate I'll chase her off as a friend on top of making her miserable.

    Caelian came to me with advice, and I had hardly any to give him.
    There was not just 'a woman' involved, but women. How the hell does he think I can help? Just because I know a bunch, and have half-a-hundred rumors about me with them going around doesn't mean I know the first thing about them, or situations with them.

    I didn't tell him that I had only a habit of botching things when it involves the fairer sex, I just ... I told him what I always tell him.

    "Wait on it. Cool off. Ask questions. THEN decide."

    Poor Caelian ... I feel it's my fault he's so brash, so eager, so ready to dive headlong into everything. I kid myself and tell myself that's how he always was, but I don't know that. It's nice to think, but ...

    Bah, speaking of thinking, here I am at my downstairs desk, trying NOT to do just that. Benji is upstairs with Feather, and she was apparently going to model clothing and get his opinion, perhaps to get him talking in a relaxed atmosphere? They clearly had something to talk about since they both started talking in Gnomish.

    I went downstairs, here I am, still as tense as a steel bow. It's like I'm shaped like something that's supposed to bend, but it's a trick. I can't. I can't relax, I can't bend, I can't even pretend otherwise lately. People are seeing the less patient side of me now, and I almost feel bad about it.

    I say almost, because it needs to be done. It, being everything.
    If something needs done, I need to go do it. None of that means I have to be happy about it though, and lately, I'm not.

    Feather is a joyful relief from my own angry thoughts. She brings happiness where there is none at that moment, and gives me love when I'm fighting hate in my heart. I only hope I'm not dragging her down with me.

    They're still up there talking... perhaps I'll go for a walk. I can hear the goblins out there, ... Oh a knock. Company. Distraction. Good.
    Smells like it might be Yana. She brings the sea-smell._


  • _Home is where the heart is, I have heard.

    If so, my home is many places. Den, Glen, and Tree.
    It is also within each of my friends then, those I hold dearest.

    What truly makes a house a home then?
    Having those pieces of heart invested in one's friends filling it with noise and laughter.

    I have come home several times now, to Feather entertaining guests. Tea and cookies and conversation, each time everyone smiling and at ease. Just last night, there were what, ten people all told? More? Some came and went, some (Yngdir, of course) said little, as usual.

    Ill news even made it's way into the door, but for once my words were heeded for what they were, and blades were kept safe in their scabbards, and no feet fled from my home to go stand in a red puddle of retribution. Not yet anyway… I trust Caelian to heed my advice, but I don't trust him to forget should the opportunity for vengeance show itself plainly.

    Rasuil got up to leave when Brendel arrived.

    I asked him if he remembered what I said before. What I would see of him, what I would wish of him. He said he did, and gave me one of those easygoing smiles that likely put maidens at ease. I am no maiden, and I find myself lying awake this eve ... my thoughts do not permit rest, once again.

    Danika said something about my leadership that heartened me.
    Even if for no other reason, I need to be there for them, because there is little chance that all would listen to one another in my stead. I could not tell her she was wrong. I honestly don't know. I fear for her being right, should I falter or fail them somehow...

    Like a raven these thoughts come to me. Dark wings, dark words. Dark thoughts for the evening outside my door, when I started this writing in such high spirits.

    I wish drink affected me like it does my Feather. A tall glass of Silverymoon Ruby, and she was literally snoring into my lap. The others chuckled, as her snores are as cute and delicate as she, with a tolerance for drink to match her size and stature.

    Thankfully she did not wake ill, but hungry. I was awake beside her when she stirred, and I remained there once she fell asleep exhausted once more. This desk is cold and lonely. It's back to the bed with me, perhaps sleep may deem me a worthy companion yet, and soon, lest the morning chase away the calm of dark to help me along.

    I heard once a phrase. "No rest for the wicked."

    Damn._


  • _Alright. I need to find a way to help Danika.

    I have trained myself in the healing arts since I was young, and not just magical either. Magic runs out. Magic can be nullified. Magic can backfire, or cause the problem to begin with, like with her.

    From what I gathered, when she was healed, it was done magically, and quickly. Probably saved her life. Unfortunately, sometimes magical healing simply -closes- wounds, knits them closed, and it doesn't matter how precise it is. That is until you have a complex thing like … an eye, or a throat that's hurt.

    Those need regeneraton to heal properly. It needs to be re-grown, like it was supposed to have been the first time. I think I can do this, but first, I want to make sure I have the tools necessary. I may enchant a blade to aid me ... I won't risk hurting her any more than I have to. Mielikki help me find what I need to help her._


  • _It gets more interesting every day.

    Something new.

    Today I uncovered a mystery with one of my Wolves.
    They are precious to me, this one especially, as speaking with them required a lot of effort on my part. I had to learn, and I was happy to.

    They hid something from me, and I don't know why, and I found out that it wasn't really personal, it's just that everyone else had given up on them. On this particular subject, anyway.

    I plan on helping them. They didn't know it, but they helped me a little, too. I won't be giving up.

    I suppose I'd may as well write about the bad, too.

    It sounds pompous even writing it, but somebody helped me with understanding these situations like this.

    Apparently, being nice to people is all fine and good.
    Being available though, being close to someone, being there when you're needed, and there anyway when you're not, is a better thing.
    Actually -caring- enough to not only listen to someone, but to offer help, or a shoulder, is apparently noticed. Since I apparently treat my friends like loved ones, like family for some, it must be getting noticed.

    I find myself hearing admissions from many fronts of feelings of more than friendship. At first it was surprising. Then it was MORE surprising, and more-so each time. MOST things, get easier to understand with repitition. Or so I thought, and grew up believing.

    For a man that's been left by all the women he's loved one way or another, until I finally did the leaving and still feel lousy for it… I don't know whether to feel flattered, grateful, or still confused about all of this.

    Feather, has been more than gracious about all of it.
    I think she knows how some of my friends look at me, the women who are more than friends, but not at the same time, out of respect.

    She loves me anyway, and trusts me.
    It's what makes her so wasy to fall in love with. She's capricious yet caring and thoughtful. She's fierce, but can stand down.

    Standing down, is something someone else apparently can't do. TWO of them come to mind, actually.

    Jaelle is picking fights again. I stopped her like last time, but this time once I put her over my shoulder, she thrashed. Left me no choice, so I reached up to her neck, and pinched. There's a muscle on the side that you can slide over a heavily used artery, and then pinch a nerve -just- above it to make it twitch, and lock from the lack of blood from the artery.

    I did that, and she went limp. I imagine it hurt quite a bit before the numbness set in, but she was going to make me hurt her properly again, and I don't want to have to kick her ass to get her to calm. Not again. Last time there was almost a riot.

    And then there's Albryanna. She told me she loves me too, and that I don't make that easy, not to, and that she'll keep doing so.
    She warned me that she didn't feel true to Devlin because of her feelings, regardless of the fact that Albry and I never pursued them. She said she wished to tell him, and break it off, so that she wasn't betraying him with her heart.

    I had not yet abandoned hope of Kaetlyn, and there was Adriell to consider, then. I can't help but be fond for so many of my friends, as you can't save someone's life, and be saved, risk to much together, and not grow close like I have with so many.

    Devlin did not take it well. Albry had a few moment to warn me, and then she was crying on my shoulder. My shoulder blocked the sword that was swung recklessly at me, crushing into my leathers and driving me to the ground. That asshole was invisible!

    He probably knew I would stomp him into the ground if I got a spell off, so I'm flattered that he used other means to stand a chance. I ignored Albryanna's pleases to stop, got my spell off to hold him in place, snarling and spitting, and let loose on him.

    Lightning crashed, and other people wandered up, likely only seeing me terrorizing poor trapped Devlin, without having seen his naked villainy of trying to slay me.

    I armored myself in bark, healed my wounds at me leisure, the clouds above raining down hurtful death upon him while I busied myself with other tasks.

    I had to distance myself, as Locrian threw a wild punch at me that missed, to keep me from striking him with my sword as I did at first, but none dared approach.

    I knew the hold spell would wear off soon, and I didn't want to get jumped by guards who would defend their murderous comrade. Albryanna was still screaming at me to stop, I think it was me at this point, but I was furious. I let the lightning crash, I loosed an arrow or two, and then I called up the stones.

    The stones rumbled, and tossed up their dust, and those it touched were trapped. I stepped too close and got stuck for a moment as well, but it bought me time. EVERYONE who came near was stuck, so when I got free, I made haste away, so that I wasn't forced to hurt someone who tried to stop me.

    Anyone but Devlin did not deserve my wrath.

    I spent a day and a night out deep in the Rawlins, past the Hobgoblins.
    I saw friends out there, but they passed. I was followed, luckily also by a friend, and we talked a while ... clearing up some earlier questions. It's nice having friends like that.

    It turns out that whatever happened, Albry, Me, the fight, all of it, was too much. Devlin gave up. He packed his horse, and rode out from Norwick. Albryanna is crushed. She says not to blame myself, but ... hells, part of it's my fault.

    Granted, given another chance, I would have been no less kind to her.
    I didn't TRY to win her. She chose, and he suffered.

    Why the FUCK do -I- feel guilty, dammit?

    Dammit.

    Dammit._


  • _She's back. She's safe. She's sorry.

    Hellsakes, that woman knows how to say exactly just the right thing.
    The right thing to make a man feel lousy for being less than he should.
    The right thing to let him know that it's okay.
    The right thing that proves what he suspected all along.

    Why is it, that I've had several people in the past months, tell me this exact thing.

    "As long as you're happy, that's enough for me."

    Of course I'm happy with Feather, but I can't help but wonder just how much I hurt Kaetlyn. She only shows me her brave face, her caring, and complete disregard for her own happiness over mine.

    I don't think she'll ever tell me, either.

    I guess that makes me lucky, because I don't think I can stomach more guilt.

    I'm full.

    Another entry follows the first, the blue a much darker color as if a new pot was made, and turned out different.

    _Things are settling down some.

    I've ended up in a bit of a routine of late, in the company I keep.

    The Wolves are a constant. Only Yngdir seems to be absent more often than not, and even when he is nearby, we do not speak much.

    I'm not sure why that is, exactly, but between his words at the Den and what I think I read from those eyes that watch as I interact with those around me, near me, at the gates, I suspect he thinks me a complete fool, playing at leadership.

    Perhaps I am wrong yet again in this … I can only hope.

    Meanwhile, leadership is hard of late.

    I had a long talk with Rasuil, who still has not forgiven Brendel for his unknowing treachery. Brendel was not in control of his own mind or actions when he tried to Kill Rasuil that day, and Rasuil STILL cannot forgive him.

    Forgiveness alone is not enough,anyway, he said.

    "You said yourself the taint may never be fully gone, and we will never know. How can you be so sure he won't do it again?" he demanded of me.

    My answer silenced him.

    "I do not know. In the meantime, I trust him anyway. Perhaps if it happens again, that trust I keep in him will be the thing he uses to fight off whatever controls hum. I don't know. What I -do- know it that I will NOT make him suffer the indignity of being mistrusted for something THAT WAS NOT HIS FAULT!"

    I dismissed Rasuil then with a final word.

    "I lead you all the best I can. If you cannot forgive your brother, if you can not find it in you to trust one another, then I should give up right now, because there is little point otherwise."

    I was charged by Mielikki herself, within sight of Grivel's tree, to make the den once more a place of love and laughter, and to make the pack strong once more.

    I will die before letting something like this make me fail.__


  • _Feather sure leaves such a cute mark on this page.

    I laugh looking at it, and it feels good to smile.

    Ever since I brought news to the circle, I've been waiting. I'm normally the patient type, but GODS they are slow. It's little wonder I tend to simply DO things, and tell them about it later.

    I don't mean to be ungrateful, but sometimes I wonder if we need an archdruid again. Things were simpler then, though I suppose they did change for a reason.

    Speaking of change…

    The leathers I wear, the deepest of blacks and a red like wine, or thin blood, are snug. They're thick. They're sturdy. They still smell slightly of their previous owner, and I can't help but feel my blood race a little wearing them. I nearly lost several wolves in that hunt against the hunters, that constant shifting position of roles that day and night in which we bled and shed blood constantly.

    We took the spoils of war from them, letting at least one leave. They disregarded their dead, and they now feed the wolves, then the crows, then the rats, then the smaller animals who dine on the flesh of the dead.

    May they grow fat and happy on what we wrought.

    I don't take a huge amount of pleasure in death I suppose ... I celebrate a bloody victory the same as the next man who can shift into a huge wolf to tear a throat out of an enemy ... okay so maybe I revel a bit much in surviving a bloody, dangerous battle.

    What came after, however, bothers me.

    Not the threat from the Malarite stating that "Wolf" is on next years menu.
    Not the after-memories of almost losing several wolves.
    Not the still-stiff feeling in my right shuolder where I got a sword lodged in the fight.

    No, for some reason what bothers me is thoughts of a death to come.

    Damn her to eternal life, but I'm worried for Jaelle now.

    I hear rumor of her surviving something particularly grisly in Peltarch ... and no longer being hobbled by the watery grip of the bitch queen. To hear she made it out alive made me very happy. I've watched this woman change drastically over the years, but she's been a friend through it all for some reason, though I've never been much like her, or the types she tends to hang out with.

    Especially Jay.

    This all starts and ends with him, I think.

    He was apparently killed in that confrontation in Oscura, and her own words ring in my pointed freakin' ears.

    "What else do I have to live for?"

    Well shit, how do I answer that? Really.
    I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'm godsbedamnably selfish.

    You should live because I want you to!
    I can't say that, but damnit I can think it. It's really none of my business… or I should say WAS none of my business, until I spoke to Gina.

    I asked her to keep away from her, and the Sails in general.
    I warned her that her life may very well be in danger if she doesn't.
    I beseeched her to simply let it pass, and avoid it at all cost, if for no other reason than to prevent more bloodshed from any side, for any reason. Too many people involved in this mess, and it can only get worse.

    She seems reasonable about it all, but I'm never sure if her "yes sirs" and "no sirs" and "I will obey sirs" mean a damned thing, or if she's simply a well trained bird, chirping out sweet platitudes.

    I was debating that when it hit.

    I'm no seer.
    Yes, I can scry. Yes I've been to Avalon, land of dreams. Yes I've had visions, talked with Gods, argued and been kissed by the Queen of Faerie. I've walked Trods, treated with ghosts, and learned the ways of the Seelie Court, and how to duel a faerie.

    That being said, I'll remind myself.

    I HATE VISIONS.

    Fortelling, foreboding, it's all the same. Like a messenger raven, and the phrase used to describe them.

    "Black wings bring black tidings. "

    It's like that, after a fashion. But this… this was red.

    I'm famliar, so when the horrific feeling of foreboding came, I mentally stepped back. You don't dive into a vision, you wait for it to find you. I closed my eyes, and waited, and watched without staring.

    I shouldn't have.

    I got a horrible feeling when talking about Jaelle, and what is to come of her, and saw red, stepped back, and was greeted to an image of dreadlocked blonde hair. The red was the matting of blood upon it and under it. Around her form.

    This will end in blood, and I already know whose.

    What the FUCK do I do now?

    It is my place to step in? Could I help if I tried? Would my misstep bring the foretelling to bear? Was it even a true telling?

    It makes sense that I would get something that most regard as an answer, and find within, only more questions.

    Gods damn it.

    I still hate this tent, but I can't write in the rain.
    Listening to Albry and Devlin in the next tent doesn't help ...
    I'm out of here._


  • _Things I hate …

    Troblins.
    Troblins.
    Troblins.
    Troblins.
    Eggbutt.
    His Troblins.
    Everything having to do with either.

    Granted, I could care less about being in town -most- of the time... but having it be unsafe to enter my own home, the glen, or the den because I'm not sure if I'll change into a mouse, or a BALOR ... well that irks me.

    I'm alone outside of Norwick, awaiting ... something.

    Friends? Hells, half of them I'm awkward with right now anyway.

    An attack? Bring it on. I'm only one man, but I'll leave such a trail of blood behind if I am taken that they'll be able to follow it from a league skyward.

    Great ... rain. Figures. I'm in one of the tents now ... it smells like unwashed human. Dammit Uljas...

    I'm not sure what to do with myself half the time now.
    I spend what time I can with Feather, though I worry I'm not around enough for her, and that she will happen across someone who can be.
    I probably worry too much, but ... bah, forget it.

    Tindra seems to be happier lately. Not a lot, but at least a bit.
    She spent time with me while I was reinforcing the cage for that little white dragon.

    I plan on asking the elders what to do with him.
    I'm not sure if slaying it is the way to go, though whites are well known for being unmistakably evil, and vengeful. Granted, it's just a baby. It tried to lie it's ass off and say it's mother would get me, but it was a horrible liar.

    That either means it was abandoned immediately, or it's parents are dead. Not that I'm sparing it out of pity for being alone in the cold, harsh world... it's obviously capable of being clever. It knew goblins would follow it, and had a miniature snow goblin army to attack me with.

    The ink here is smudged, and matching smudges will be found on the seat of Feather's pants, as she sat on his lap as he was writing. It was apparently set aside at that point, to be continued later_


  • _My love life.

    Since when was it ever 'mine'?

    A love life has to be with at least two people, just like creating life.
    At least with men and women, or any combination thereof. I won't even get into magic right now….

    Quite a while ago, it was not really anyone's concern.

    Alright, I take it back. It seems since the first, Celestria, is has been.
    If I have not had direct straight out competition, it's been something else involved, no matter what I did or said.

    First, it was the Gods.
    And men, I think.

    Celestria and I were apart often due to differences in duties, and she quickly found another with duties more similar to hers.

    Kara's story is already in these pages, but there always people who said we would not work. That we were a bad match. I suppose now they think themselves right.

    Sierra was soon after, and gone just as quick.
    We spent some time together, long enough for me to get too attached too quickly, and was gone, just like that. I have heard nothing from her since.

    Kaetlyn and I were together for quite some time, before she left. She went on a quest to find something, a temple to Shaundakul, or a shrine. That was more than five years ago.
    She waited three years for me to return, when i was away in faerie ... though I felt only three weeks pass.

    She is a better person than I.

    I ... I am selfish. I always have been.
    Some of my more flattering friends and companions may brush that statement off, but I'm writing this so I can look back and remind myself.

    Even protecting others is a selfish act for me. I want them around.
    I want to be seen as the person I want to be, so I do the things I do ... but lately it's all seemed to backfire.

    Strong decisions, turn into political nightmares.

    Making the right choices is such a grey area I wonder if they are even mine to make any longer. Am I wrong not to waver on some things?

    Like Jens. I heard he was killed in the Drow battle for Norwick recently ... taken from the back by a bolt of lightnng from a Drider.

    I asked Albryanna if she had heard anybody's response about this, already concerned the moment she said lightning. Anybody who has ever seen a pissed off Druid has likely seen them summon forth Talos' signature sky-light ... and now I wait. I think it's a matter of time before the cries of murder start, fingers aimed at the Druid who was throwing lightning around like name-day candy throughout the fight, while fighting and bleeding with everybody else, and carrying dead and wounded.

    Which brings me back to Albryanna.
    I enjoy her company, I enjoy looking at her, I enjoy her scent. She's been a wonderful friend, and I'd be silly not to admit that I have attraction towards her, as she does me.
    She's engaged, and I would not trod upon that. I've been engaged three times, and all ended poorly, and one by my own hand.

    I await Kaetlyn's return, I am aware that she will know where to find the letter I left. I am aware that I will have to face her, and feel ashamed for not waiting ... but I am selfish.

    I have found love in someone I did not originally expect.
    An Elf. Feather. She was hesitant when I approached her at first, but I wanted to make sure that someone Thorn saw fit to watch over wasn't sitting alone outside in the night, so I joined her, and we spoke.

    We spoke for hours.
    We spoke the next day and well into the night.

    The days passed like this, and after accepting that the letter I wrote was for the best, I gave a chance to this thing I thought I felt between us. She confirmed it, and since ... I have been happier than I have in months. Duty has been my house-mate, and my companion. Battle has been my mistress, like I am some Temposan with a love for trees.

    I've felt false to myself, filling my time with duty but denying myself pleaure, so why do I feel weak for being selfish?

    Adriell, before she left ... another elf.
    We grew very close while she was here, she was a kindred spirit to me in more ways than one. Like others, she vanished, while I waited for Kaetlyn.

    Gods, I stayed true, but my mind did wander. I waited for as long as I felt I could. I won't ever resent Kaetlyn, se deserves far more than that. She deserves more than me. I broke me promise, I did not wait, an I owe her an apology, when and if she returns.

    I hope she can forgive me.

    So I forgive myself? Do I have to?
    If I can't do what makes me happy to an extent, what else do I do?

    This is my fifth try writing this, and I'm certain I still don't have it right. I see jumbled words, and mismatched thoughts across paper in a familiar color ... the same color I have Celestria a bottle of, all those years ago.

    I won't mention the others who have shown interest just yet, for fear that I am reading too far into things and deluding myself, as is very likely ... and before I even think about writing of Tindra, I need to collect myself.

    Duty calls, as usual, and I have some people to speak to.

    Damn this duty, my pack is heavy enough upon me._


  • _Apparently, I am getting paranoid in my not-so-old-all-things-considered age.

    This thing with Marty has gone too far.
    I worry the rest of the circle sees it as some kind of personal battle between us … when the meeting itself as suggested by one of the other elders, out of her own concern!

    Now that elder herself has made it out to be some kind of misunderstanding, or personal spat.
    She takes back words she said, pretending they meant nothing.
    She makes me into a badguy, out to get her for some reason.

    The apprentice I have not seen in some time, but at least the smack I have her seems to have warned her to keep her distance from me.
    Folks seem to have forgotten about the Hungry One, and he seems to have pulled things back, out of sight, and therefore in most people's cases, out of mind.

    He's as clever as Ostromog it seems, and as much of a canker to me as Izakiel. Two of my Wolves, stricken in some way by him.

    I need to hunt a magic eater.
    I need to pinch a paladin.

    Crushed magic eater claw... okay, I know how to do that. It's not easy, but it's realistic. How the HELL to I get an honest Paladin to cry? Tell them stories that are sad? Poke them in the eye?

    Kaetlyn would know.
    She's gone.

    Adriell might know, and would sit with me til she figured it out.
    She's gone.

    Kara I can't evn afford to think about. Not even after our recent chat.
    The last thing I need is more conspiracies about me. Is it a problem that I laugh when I think about proving some of them right? The look of shock on their face, and the whispers of "I knew it!"

    Am I being paranoid, or are people just waiting for me to snap?
    I guess being alone in a sense is good for one thing.
    Nobody else is catching shit because of me... I hope._


  • _Idiots… should be beaten nearly to death with sacks full of rocks.

    I'm not talking about the people who are simple, for reasons they can't control, from birth-injuries or otherwise, no. I'm talking about those who ask questions... are given answers, and ignore them.

    Maya gave me some sage advice, just to start beheading stupid people... or at least punching them in the nose. I'm going to have to start warning everyone who asks if they can ask me a question. . .

    Person: May I ask you a question, Jerrick?

    Me: Only if you don't mind being punched in the nose if you're stupid about it.

    Would that fix my problems, or get me beat up, jailed, or killed?

    Balian seems to think I need a long night at a pub.
    Seeing as how that would end up in a bar-fight for me, I think I'll refrain from that, too.

    I feel like a cheap bow-string, ready to snap if anybody pulls me the wrong way. My patience is wearing thin, and I'm sure I'm just starting more conspiracies about my own eventual demise into the ways of evil or worse from the rumors I hear, but it's either walk away from the problems, or start hitting people.

    Considering how I manhandled Marty, and backhanded Dana already, I'm surprised nobody has called me a woman-beater yet. I'll wait on it, so I'm not surprised when it does come.

    If it wasn't for the other Druids, and Fadia coming back, I think I'd have left for a while about this point. There's only so much shit any shovel can hold, and I've already taken my share._


  • _I wonder if there's a way to enchant a speak to speak for itself.

    Someone can ask about balance, and I can simply open the book, and have my every thought I'd ever given on the subject pour itself out to them, and let them take what they will from it.

    A precious few who ask me about it, actually seek to learn, or understand.They seek to contradict. To try to catch me in some kind of lie, or twist my words, or try to prove something with them that they were never intended to prove.

    It grows tiresome beyond belief.

    Speaking of tiresome, being called a bully or being told that I am too harsh, or too quick to anger, or full of myself is beginning to grate on my nerves as well.

    I normally leave Narfell at times like these, to seek sanctuary with a nearby Druid or ranger outpost, or just find solace alone in the woods, walking where my feet might guide me. I do what I must, and I do what I will to preserve and protect what I feel is right.

    I won't say what I -know- is right, because I am being forced into acting like some sort of wordsmith. I've never had my own words thrown back at me with such force and wild abandon as I have in recent weeks.
    I would sooner dodge slingstones and arrows.

    I can only explain myself so many times before I tire of speech altogether, to be honest. It's not a fair thing to do, reserving my words for those who ask questions, as any who seek knowledge should find it.
    What I wrote earlier plagues me though!

    How do I separate those who truly wish to know or learn from those who merely seek conflict with me, or my lifestyle?

    Some people complain of personal demons… well, I have devils.
    They're smarter, more subtle, and use words like the deadliest of weapons. It's a plague upon me, and I cannot cure it.

    I speak, instead. I give people the conflict they seek, or the answers, or simply waste breath for their entertainment in some cases I am sure.
    I need to remember that I chose this duty, and keep to it, though it may cost me more than my peace of mind.

    Speaking of peace of mind... Kaetlyn, where are you?
    Adriell, where did you go?

    I need to quit growing attached to people.
    Apparently, it makes them leave, or worse.

    Dammit, I hate reading my own writing.

    The last line is written in an angry slash of ink, scoring the page slightly._


  • _Again, I meet a Mielikkian with more than a bit of a warlike, closed minded bent to them.

    Only this time, it was two.

    Only this time, they were priestesses.

    Only this time, they and two other priests of goodly Gods had cornered four Druids of the Furies, and were clearly winning a battle.

    Everybody paused to stare at us as we arrived… the Priests called out for aid like inviting us to a feast, while the fury followers were back to back in a tight circle, surrounded.

    Call me foolish, but I walked in between them, backed by Malika and Belia, my ever-present sisters of the circle to whom I am grateful, and owe my life to enough to trust them with it brazenly... such as this moment.

    A few of us spoke up, but I ended up leading the conversation, after managing to get everybody to put away their weapons, and listen.
    It was... really something to see that happen. The priests were ready to destroy the Druids on sight, two of them Mielikkians... and they paused to listen anyway, weapons away, while I relapsed into the conversations I've been having with many, many, many ... hells, countless others every day and night here in Norwick, or the ONE time I go into Peltarch, with that horrible conversation with Marty.

    It went better than could have been expected. The Druids were passing through our lands, to aid in restoring balance to an area elsewhere. The priests and priestesses were actually honestly willing to accompany them, when I suggested that they watch what the Druids do when the arrive, and see this "Balance" we spoke of for themselves, rather than simply taking my word for it.

    They agreed.

    Deep in my heart, I pray that they not only observe, but help...
    Now if priests and priestesses can join fury druids long enough to observe them to learn, is there truly possibly maybe hope for the others in this land to give them a chance?_


  • _Well, that does it.
    I think I'm quite possibly going mad.

    A caught a hint of Lemon and Rose on the air. It was like my own little breeze visited. It ruffled my hair in that altogether too familiar way… and then was gone. It's all I can nt to go haring off to the Bluff... or past Jiyyd, into the mountains beyond, hoping she's close enough to find.

    Then again, I may have been dreaming.

    I was killed, as undead of all kinds swarmed us outside the Norwick gates. I sat in thefugue, wondering what would happen this time, if anything.. and a tremendous growl shook everything. Turns out they heard it topside too... and I was yanked back. Hard.

    Brendel was slain next.

    His body was taken, too, and set up for a ritual on the island in the lake. So much stuff happens there, it's got to sit on a ley-line, or very near where some intersect. Belia dispelled it, and I grabbed his form, and brought him back to returned to us.

    I had held myself back at the gates during that fight... if I hadn't, he might still be here, dammit. Well, without having had to go through that.
    How is it that I can get more confused every single day?

    Isn't there some kind of... I don't know, point where you can't go further?_


  • If one came across the following note in Jerrick's journal, and had the uncanny ability to judge a person's mood my their writing, they would say the writer of the flowing script that graces this page was in high spirits, an happy with life indeed!

    _**Reminder to self!

    Ask Aislynn to draw a badger in my journal. I think that was the happiest I've been in a while.**_


  • A note is scribbled into the journal after his last.

    _And as soon as I worry for him, he seems to answer his own questions. It's a good thing that when I dont know what to think… someone else does the thinking for me!

    Funny that when I mentioned Dana to myself.. her "Interest" arrives at my fire in the middle of the night, unannounced, claiming to have been "out for a stroll".

    At night.

    Ilanthe he called himself. This should be interesting, at least.

    I was suspicious when he walked up, because I heard from Adriell and another friend at the fire in front of my house, that earlier several Druids had been attacked in front of my home by those damned dog-tribe goblins.

    Not much later apparently, Adriell was alone there, and attacked by an orcish hunter of some sort? What the hell... apparently he had a companion with him as well, a large boar. At.. my... house...

    I'm going to need to either make a sign, or start leaving examples of what happens to those who even think about that kind of thing._


  • _Again, I have cause for worry.

    I worry that I have thrust my apprentice into my shadow all these years with my teaching, or how I teach, or simply by my prescence and habit to take the forefront of things in a situation.

    He confronted me today, and claimed that I did not know what it was like being known as something other than myself. Insted, to be known as someone else's apprentice.

    Indeed, I do not.

    Does it help that he offers that information to people freely? Probably not.
    It is not my place to judge, however. I think he's had quite enough of my judging… yet still he asks my opinion on things. Things like his judgement. His decisions.

    While I welcome the chance to help him if I can... I wonder now if I'm doing more harm than good? He relates closely to birds, and now I feel like I've caged him without my own knowledge or intent.

    What do I do?

    Thanks to me, he seems unable to find himself.

    Have I done wrong yet again?

    The new apprentice fears me, or hates me, or just thinks I am a stuffed up fool with no patience or caring or understanding. At least one of these I am sure is true.

    Yet I treat her the same as Horlamin, and Aervanna, and even my Wolves.

    I worry for Caelian, and Dana, for different reasons.
    One I fear for his listening to me, the other for the opposite.

    Why do I feel like I failed both?_


  • _I mut be doing something to make people surround me.

    I wake up next to Marty. Then she leans on me at the south fire.
    Gives me a very nice sling with my name on it.
    Now that crazed elf with the torch is standing over me with it… again.
    Adriell's walked off when Albry leaned on me immediately after I moved away from Marty.

    Is getting away from folks attracting MORE attention? Dammit.
    Listening to the elf argu with Dana about speaking elven would normally be funny, but I'm getting annoyed.

    If it's not one thing, it's another. If someone's not mad, they're sad, or feeling left out, or ... I don't know. Something. Sorely tempted to push the elf off the lookout tower here, just for a moment of peace. Even as I'm writing, she's quizzing me on it. Anorfithredia was her name, I think.

    At least the fact that my hair is red seems to keep her from wanting to torch it. Nutter...

    I can hear Adriell destroying terrified goblins from here, and her and E'ntali howling. I think she's mad. Maybe jealous? I know I don't have the right to be jealous of anyone, I have someone... somewhere, but I feel it anyway sometimes.

    More and more I can only think about the kind of crap she had to go through when I was missing. I wonder if anyone's been cusing her the kind of mental grief as I've been causing myself with everyone around here?

    Mielikki's mercy on my ignorance. My desires. My confusion.

    I have only myself to blame for all of this, and now I can only sit back and laugh at myself because of it.

    I am such an idiot._


  • The script is a little erratic at this entry. He seems both rushed, and stuck on what to write, as if he left his quill on the page too long between several words and sentences.

    _Well dammit.

    "If you know what you want, go after it. "

    It sounds like something I would say.

    I feel like a hungry animal in front of fresh game, but knowing that there's familiar hunting territory over a hill that I'm very fond of, and also having something directly in front of me that isn't mine, but is available.

    It seems obscure… but dammit, how else do I explain it.

    Interest. I have it. Others have them.
    It doesn't mean I should. I feel lousy about it from every angle.

    The writing stops as if interrupted suddenly, and there's a speck of blood on the page. The writing resumes much more collected and neat.

    _Thank you goblin caster fella, and little fire critters jumping out of the fire. I needed a little excitement. The fire critters fell easily enough to my frosted blade, but that caster was an invisible pain in my arse. Til I put an arrow in it's back… Little bastard set me on fire first though.

    I think I'll take a nap.

    The writing picks back up again.

    _I Wake up to a sharp voice, and a torch in my face. Next to Marty.

    Great.

    I'm watching this elf woman be bizarre, and talk about bringing fire to the cold south. Still not sure what I think of her, but I'm putting this away before her torch gets to it.

    Psycho.___


  • _Watching an elf dream is a little… surreal.
    It reminded me of Fayt dreaming of ... well whatever wolves dream of. The slight body movements, the movements of eyes beneath their lids, and I couldn't help but sit there and wonder what she saw.

    I didn't try to wake her last time, like we all did the last.
    I saw. I waited. I watched. I didn't realize it, but I listened too, because she spoke.

    I know it was another vision, which we spoke about upon her waking, but it makes me wonder. Do I speak in my sleep?
    Do I move my body while in my dreams?

    I can only imagine if I do what these nightmares cause me to act out while I'm unaware of my body. I hope I don't fall asleep where I can hurt myself or someone else... I'd hate to thrash and break something.

    We spoke for a while, about the visions, and then I headed off for some rest. It seems I don't get as much as I would like lately, even when I try. The dreams wake me, or whatever is on my mind wakes me with a feeling that I have to go forth, and -do- whatever is on my mind before I may sleep.

    More goblins have paid my way to sleep in blood than I can count.
    Turns out exhaustion works too..._


  • _Some people are hard to gauge.
    Some appear to wear their heart on their sleeve, then it seems like you never knew them at all when they are called to make a decision.

    I cannot help but wonder if I seem the latter to some.

    To see this much shock, awe, and surprise on the faces of those I have known for decades, baffles me. It's gone so far as to make me dread the day that I know is soon to come, when I face the rest of them.

    I've done no wrong, yet I feel a criminal.
    Everyone says "Follow your heart."

    They're full of shit.

    Those same people preach and protest, and waggle fingers because their opinion of what you did doesn't mesh with what they would have.
    It's past silly. It's into insulting.

    I find myself not trusting people far too often, and viewing strangers with an initial distrust. Being wary is all fine and good, but I need to quit letting this get to me.

    Speaking of strangers, I took a fairly interesting new fellow on a trip with my pack, and he did very well with us. Looking forward to getting to know this one better._