3. The Journal of Jerrick Rayfe

The Journal of Jerrick Rayfe


  • _Being attacked doesn't really bother me overmuch anymore. I mean… sure, there's a reason to be a little offended when it's by someone you know, from invisibility, over something that wasn't your fault. Sure there's reason to be ticked off when it's not happened yet, but you're watching over yoru shoulder for some crazy woman who thinks you killed her husband to come at you with sword and spell and soldiers. Probably mostly soldiers...

    Now, being attacked by a part of someone's mind that they don't have full control over? That's just... new. Lorelai attacked me. THE Lorelai. Well, kinda. A Shadowy, strange Lorelai from Tindra's memories. Or Lorelai's memories... or something? I confronted her nightmare, the one that apparently always kills me, while I was mucking about in her head. Granted, the spectre-memory of Lorelindra (Heh, I amuse myself yet again) was hugging me before she tried to shank me with a sword that dripped acid (That hurt quite a lot to get hit with) and I thought I was making her feel better, but it appears that she took me for a sucker. Glad I was ready for that...

    I talked to Thorn, who basically berated me for not asking him to help me sooner. Apparently Lorelindra talks to him about everything.

    I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous.

    Alright. I'm not jealous.

    Gods dammit. I hate being the last to know. Now who else can I trust in there. I mean... it's like asking people to help me fight inside a glassmaker's shop. Who can I trust not to swing their weapons, magic, emotions, decisions, egos, or any other damaging thing around in the head of the woman I think I love?

    That's another thing. I know how I feel about her, I do. It's just... what if she's not who she was when this is all said and done? What if it's all Tindra, and she wants nothing to do with me afterwards?

    (Something is scribbed out here)

    _That doesn't matter. I'm doing it anyway. Besides, it's not like the worst thing that could happen is something I'm not entirely used to already. At least this time I'll know WHY things have to change.

    I guess sometimes it's the little things that matter.__


  • _Pixies…

    They're interesting creatures to begin with, these Prime-Bound fey. I'm not certain, but I think some cross over from Avalon and get kinda stuck here for staying too long, and stay. I think others might be born natively here. For a Druid, I sure don't know enough of this stuff...

    Tojan is Tindras. And Lorelais, come to think of it, though I'm not sure how okay she is with that idea. I mean... she does refer to both of them as 'hers', though there's hesitation when she sounds worried about 'Dark Kitty.' Hesitation that lasts until she's in trouble.

    She had another nightmare, one so hard it knocked the little familiar off my shoulder. I swatted the poor gal when I tried to catch her, too. Couldn't have helped much, that.

    I ran to her, changing into a Dire Tiger on the way there to have claws to dig at the earth, and propel me faster. I launched myself into the glen, leaping over poor surprised Siril, and went to her, changing back to cradle her in my arms and try to calm her.

    Just when I thought she was calming, she woke with a shriek. Apparently something happened to me there. In her dream, that is. Frankly, I'm not one to let things happen to me without a fight... even in someone else's dream. I need to DO something. I held her while she cried, and when she went to go clean up, I have her a key to my house, and told her to meet me there.

    Then I left to prepare.

    She's been gone a little while, but I have what I need here in front of me. Basically, my altar. Aside from that, I have spells of wisdom to invoke an understanding in me for all I can see and experience , and some spells in case this works. Death ward. Spell resistance. My usual complement on top of it. That... and the ring Titania gave me that I can't remove is glowing happily as usual.

    Yes, writing this down helps, you moron. How else are you going to justify what you're about to try? I know she'll agree, because we've talked about it before... but what if it works? I guess that's why I prepared. I'll ask her for something close to her, some item to use as a focus, and then it's time to go... if this works. Gods please let this work, and if it does... Mielikki protect me.

    Protect us both...

    (Edited to show the correct gender for Tojan, the she-pixie)_


  • Jerrick sits in his home, before his altar to Mielikki, thinking. The cut on his palm healed nicely … but left disturbing visions. It was exactly what he intended to happen... in a way, but such things never happen without shaking the viewer to the core. His fellow Wolf was right. He sought answers, and got them. It was time. It IS time...

    [The following is a recollection of a series of PMs with a DM, so pardon any inconsistencies with tenses, etc., and it's been edited some for flow in reading]

    =============================================
    -Days ago-

    Jerrick, follower of Mielikki, gained a vial of tainted blood from Thorn. It was the blood of a diseased bear who came seeking release in death from it's suffering.

    He took it to the shrine in his house and set it there, spilling a little upon a hide and settling down to pray for guidance from his Goddess.

    [dru]Mielikki, I ask that your eyes fall upon your chosen, grant me the wisdom to find the source of what ails your children, what plagues our friends, grant me the foresight to act as you would have me do. He casts Owl's Wisdom, then Owl's Insight upon himself

    He cuts his own palm with a knife, after some time of praying that Mielikki guide him, and then addresses Talona as well.

    [dru] Lady of Poisons, Mistress of Disease, Goddess Talona, hear this protector of the balance. I beseech you. I know of your scripture, I know of your purpose, and I respect your place in the balance of nature. As such, I give of myself to you, that I might know your will, and work upon the balance as is my duty.

    On the cut part of his hand, he casts Infestation of Maggots, the creatures which can also be used to clean wounds, and recites part of her scripture.

    [dru]Let pain be as pleasure, for life and death are in balance, but death is the more powerful and should be paid proper homage and respect. Death is the true power, the great equalizer, and the lesson that waits for all. If it falls to you to drive home the point with the tip of a dagger, so be it. The Mother of All Plagues works upon you from within, and weakness and wasting is her strength. Talona's breath is forever and always with you, whomever you or the rest of the world believes in or serves. Let all living things learn respect from Talona and pay homage to her in goods and in fervent worship. If they do so, intercede for them so that Talona will not claim them - this time. Go and work in Talona's name and let your doings be subtle or spectacular, but make them known as the will of the Mistress of Disease.

    He pauses, then addresses her again.

    _[dru]I work in Talona's name to survey those that do her work, and ensure that all is done according to the greater plan, and in accordance to the balance that I uphold as Druid.

    I beseech you. Show me where to find those who act within your realm. Show me those that would make work such as yours, and tell me if this is your wish. I humbly request your knowledge, and to pass on your will with mine own in regards to the greater Balance. Even if it needs be pushed home with the point of a blade, for I am hunter. I am balance. I am Druid._

    He waits, and lets the disease take him for as long as necessary, knowing that his fortitude and natural ability at healing keep him free of actual danger from his spell.

    ============================================
    [What happened]

    Almost immediately following the completion of your prayer you Feel a sharp pain in your palm where the maggots tend to your open sore. The pain steadily intensifies, and you feel the uncomfortable sweats of nausea, your head begins to spin and eventually you black out. You awaken in what can only be described as a dream like state, standing in the middle of the Rawlinswood. Many of the once bountiful trees are nothing but rotted husks, skeletal remains of small animals can be seen scattered throughout the forest floor. A Raven caws from above, breaking the eerie silence of the forest and lands on a branch extending from a rotted tree before you and stares at you inquisitively with a gleam in his eye.

    =============================================
    [His actions]

    Jerrick, suspecting he was indeed in a dream-state of sorts, shifted to the form of a DireWolf, padding through the rotted wood on silent paws, searching his surroundings, and swiveling his ears constantly.

    Being in such a state, Jerrick speaks normally despite the animal form, sitting himself in any clearing of sorts that he can find.

    [dru]I come seeking answers.

    He lets the silence devour his words, feeling the mental sting of his now-paw where his wound is.

    I am Silverfang. I am Druid. I am balance. I am patience, and I seek. Who will come forth, and honor me with their presence?

    He waits another long moment, and speaks one final thing.

    I await you.

    And as he stated, he waits patiently for whoever has dominion over the realm he has quite suddenly found himself in. It takes a concentrated feat of will to keep his nerves, but it is something he's done before.

    Jerrick has hung for the Irmunsil for three days, and risked life itself to know the will of nature. He has spoken face to face to Mielikki, Talos, and an entity he does not know, and reunited the kingdom of the Seelie by standing up to the High Queen Titania . Still, he knows his place, and it is at best as a guest in a place such as this, and at worst… prey.

    He waits in his great beast shape, senses fully alert, acutely aware of the situation he put himself in. He waits ... and ever so slightly, smiles inwardly to himself. Sometimes, knowledge is worth the risk.

    ==============================================
    [The response]

    As you pad through the corrupted Rawlins, you notice once more the untainted Raven soaring above you. The Raven does a few circles before landing on the ground a few feet from you.

    _"You've come seeking answers" It caws out

    _"I show you the future, which the Rotting man shall bring to the Dunwood?" Motions to the corruption all around him

    _"The balance is no more, and the great Decay has begun, it starts at the heart of the forest and will soon devour all that surrounds."

    The bird then suddenly takes off and flies away, you are then assaulted with the sickening feelings you felt before you blacked out, you awake once more within the Shrine. The cut on your hand fully healed

    ==============================================
    [Present]

    Jerrick's mind is awhirl with thoughts, plans and strategies and tactics and decisions fighting for their place at the forefront of his mind.

    His emotions are akin to a monsoon as well, the winds of feelings whipping through him in such a fashion that he almost felt a physical tremor as he took the time to consider all thigns past and present that brought him to this point.

    _Things have to be done.. He thought to himself. There was a glance back to where Tindra lay peacefully, and things calmed a bit. She usually had that effect. Tindra, Lorelai, the same werecat Sorceress to him in either fashion. He set quill-pen to paper after drawing out the journal, smiling slightly to himself. Not many used manticore quills to write, but lately he'd decided a sturdier writing implement was best, filled with ink rather than poison.

    _The rotting man.

    There's something of the rotting man in all of us. What else is age, other than natural forces eroding a body, returning it to the land, to the lives beneath it in the circle, to become something else for the balance to absorb and create anew from?

    This too, however, must be balanced. I find it almost funny how the Furies are so full of power, full of life even in the last moments of their own, or in the taking of it … yet the powers that they represent are the ones we turn to when their part of the balance tips too heavily, and loses control.

    Fire. Lightning. Ice. Powerful forces, destructive forces. Decay breaks down, but the bringers of it can be broken too. I have been filling myself with it, lately. The power of destruction. My prayers are edged with a promise of blood, my blades edged with the promise of power brought forth from such prayer.

    And our circle-stone...

    Oreth helped us unlock it. It blessed our staves with all the raw power of it, and now Belia and I are the only ones left in these lands. I'm sure the power is divided between us, releasable only unto the tainted forces of this land. If I have to drive this staff into the beast itself, I will gladly risk my life doing it.

    The rotting man is a force of the Hungry One I believe. It is a weakness that threatens us so that his minions can sweep down on us without opposition. Without the beasts of the forests to rend and harass them, they will be able to march unimpeded upon us.

    I need to meet with the other Elders. We need to link Irmunsil and our Stone, and we need to bring that power to bear. The ONLY thing keeping the land from pushing off the rest of the lingering blight is the influence of the Hungry One ... we need our strength back.

    We will make this happen. I will make this happen. I think I need to pay a visit to a certain Faerie queen..._____


  • _I almost feel bad.

    I don't mean that in a "I should stop" or a "I wonder if I should be doing this" kind of way. I mean … I would really, really hate to be them.

    Them, of course, being the hobgoblins to our eastern borders. The ones that slay anyone who comes through unawares, the ones who are in league or being dominated by those mad-god cultists, the ones who ocassionally work with Ostromog, and usually simply sit around planning ways to mess with Norwick.

    Yeah, them.

    If I had found every one of my kind slaughtered by blade, arrow, and bludegon within leagues of me, and went to the cave to find the exact same thing there, I would probably be a little unnerved. Possible even mad.

    When I realized that they didn't leave tracks? That's reason for fear.

    I took Rasuil a couple days ago, and Brendel this time. We made a hell of a mess out of those Hobs both times ... but this time, Brendel and I were 'found'. Of course, by 'found' I mean, Hobs came exploring the cave full of their dead comrades a moment after we finished clearing it.

    Luckily, I have good tracking skills, and was able to pick up on them before we could be surprised. A Chieftain looking fella, and loads of others spread out and started searching. We waited. We lurked. We picked some off when I was seen, and moved in from there... only to find one of the powerful mages, some kind of summoner (Demonlogist) of sorts.

    Brendel was caught in one of those black tenacle spells, so I caught the hob in a Summoned Celestial Dire Bear spell. It gave us the edge we needed to kill him and Berserker... except the caster -ran.- Funny how an arrow at the base of the skull stops that kind of thing pretty quickly. I love when a shot flies true.

    We made it out with nothing that had seen us, surviving, and got all the way back to town, when I saw tracks from a lone goblin.

    He was dropping -roses-, of all things. We killed him, and out of instinct, I picked the flowers up. . . well, all but one.

    That flower was the spot where an Umberhulk came out of the ground, then, and started wreaking hell. I had a few of the roses at this point, and then I was surrounded.

    We cut them down easily, and I tested a theory that I don't know how I made the conenction to so quickly. I guess it just made sense. Assassin drops flowers, Umberhulk digs up under them. I shapeshifted, sniffed them, and they were SO overpoweringly strong I almost sneezed.

    I suspect they were the equivalent of ... tracking scents. I think they were manipulated, because their smell actually sharply faded away after a few minutes, too, and now I hold perfectly normal roses.

    All in all, not bad, but a busy day.

    Tindra likes red, doesn't she?_


  • _Reflection.

    I look back on what I wrote, and realized I forgot to write where I went. I won't forget, of course, but other people wonder. If I fall, this journal will surely be found, and read, and perhaps a few questions might be answered.

    This last sojourn of sorts, was to fast. To sit in an open field, exposed to the elements, and to be open to Mielikki's message. Her words, her thoughts, her will. I waited until I felt the utter calm take me, and put my thoughts away.

    Thoughts of love. Of hate. Of War. Fear, longing, uncertainty, lonliness, emptiness, all of it washed away.

    Peace.

    I don't know how long it lasted. I don't count days in this state. They are meaningless. I knew Fayt was in the woods close by, in case I should be attacked by some foul creature, or fall prey to those Malarites, but nothing came. I spent my time contemplating on my Goddess, and thanking her. I needed to calm my soul.

    I did that not just because it was half torn out my Belma'r and his spell-thing. I did that not just because my mind was reeling from the previous domination directly after being returned to life.

    I haven't any idea just how far I walked to get there, I just went until it felt right. I ran as a Tiger, trotted along as a Wolf, even spent some time riding thermals as a Hawk. I feel whole and clean again, but for more reasons than that.

    I feel clean. I feel whole again. I feel right within myself, and right with my Goddess. In seeking words of Gods, sometimes no news is good news. I spent my time, I opened myself, I trusted my body and wellness to the land. I have returned, and set to fixing the little things that fall apart when I am gone.

    I spent nearly a day researching the old Wolf documents. I planned on electing Rasuil council leader, but had the ranks mixed up in my mind. I thought that was first bow, and then there were town bows under that. Heh, good thing I read over things.

    I cannot elect him myself. Well, I could. I could re-write the rules. I could change the charter as I see fit. It IS my pack, of course. Some traditions, however, I choose to keep. Some of my Wolves like to doubt me. Many of them question me, even if not to my face, and I hear about it from others.

    In this, I will give them no cause. The pack-leader is chosen by the pack-leader before them, so the one under him is chosen by the pack. It makes sense. Also, this is a test. This is a test like none other I have given any of them, to see why things fall apart when I am gone. To see if they are capable of governing themselves should I fall, or need to leave again for a time. So far, they've proven that they cannot.

    It's not so much a failing on anyone's part in particular, but merely a clash. Morals, ethics, tactics, habits, desires… they all collide when I am gone and do not offer a final voice, an ultimatum, an order. Petty squabbles lead to resentment, and disagreement seemingly enough merely for the sake of disagreement.

    I will make this stop, even if I have to scruff every last one of them. Fadia taught me well. She used the stick when necessary. Tala taught me well, though I don't think she knows it, or exactly -what- she taught me. I watched, I learned, and I chose what traits I liked and wanted to embody, and worked on becoming the leader -I- always wanted. Fair, but final. Hard, but fair. Caring, but unyielding when necessary. I cannot waver in this, or the purpose of it all will fail.

    At least I have this comfort, now.

    My journal rests on her arm, as she rests on the pillows with my cloak over her. She's delicate in a way, but has embraced a fierceness lately. I almost blame Uljas, but I recognize it in myself and others, too. There's this inner beast in many of us that her were-blood has -nothing- to do with. It's controlled only by sheer will, and gives strength to purpose that is almost frightening in it's intensity.

    To talk as we did... and see that same intensity merely in her eyes, and hear it in her words, was eye-opening. Feather's letter changed something in us. I was ready to simply be that leader without someone by his side at this point.

    Celestria, Kara, Sierra, Kaetlyn, Feather. Gods but I must have a reputation by now. A God and another man, a deal with a devil, dissapearance, a God and a quest, and family obligations. It's always something, and every time I've worried if it was actually me. Did I chase them off? Neglect them? Did I miss something? Am I missing something? Did I not wait long enough? Did I wait too long? I have agnonized over this, and more. I have screamed at the wind, howled at the moon, and bathed in the blood of enemies to vent my frustration, reveling in knowing that I at least had SOME power over what happens to be, even if it's merely by the strength of my body, and the singing of my blood.

    I can't simply push her away. She knows me more than any other has, for a few reasons, even though we've never lay together. Last night our lips met for the first time, and now she lays peacefully while I scribble on this journal upon her arm. I am taking things slow for now. At her pace. At our pace. I will not rush anything, as I have sought and found patience unyielding. I own it, I embody it. I need it. It's the only thing keeping me able to help those that look to me for it. Not surprisingly, Tindra, Lorelai, is a part of that. Her own battle has been like my own in many ways, and she has given her fears to me, and her heart with it.

    I will make that right. She won't say it, but I owe her that much. I've told her how much she has helped me, and she brushes it off and says I've done the same. Almost too much like me sometimes... I think she is waking now, her breathing changed. I'm glad to be home. I'm glad I read the letter. I'm glad for life, and now...

    I continue to live it._


  • _I blame Tindra.

    Yeah, it's a good thing, and yes, it is her fault. I suppose for the sake of keeping it fresh in my mind, I should start closer to the beginning.

    Months ago now, my first encounter with those mad-god bastards and their newest play. The Norwick guards made their way up to the gate… but I hadn't seen them coming. I was preoccupied, arguing with someone a bit, mostly banter. They passed right on through, and someone said something about where they'd been, and one spoke. Said they were returning from patrol.

    I was shapeshifted when they appeared. I was a wolf. MY nose was as keen as my attention, and when I sniffed in their general direction out of habit, those habits paid off. They've saved my life before, and may have saved someone's that day.

    Four men. Older. Similar looking. I smelled ONE. That left three unaccounted for bodies in front of me that had a smell, but it was definitely not human. It was goblin. I didn't waste time discerning which type of goblin, I rushed past them, and told them to stop at the top of the hill by the -real- guards, as if I were Militia. The cloak-colors are backwards for that, but I trusted that they may not know that.

    Sure enough, the human one said something about meddling adventuers, and screamed "Kill them!."

    I was ready.

    Lightning assaulted even as I unsheathed the first blade, and the second joined it in a vicious upward "X." One of my blades managed a deep bite right away, and the fake guard staggered, quickly brought low by Fayt's jaws. By now the other guards had joined in, as had the other adventurers nearby at my shout that those were not real guards.

    We cut them down, and they had nothing special of note on them... except that three were hobgoblins. This REEKED of Izakiel, so I organized a search. We were going to the hobbers, to find out just what the hell he was up to now. I'd killed "Guards" before that were hobgoblins. If it looks like something, but smells like something else, there's never any question as to what it is. It's a good thing I've tasted a few species.

    To make a slightly long story short, we went far east, and found Mad-God cultists and their hobgoblins. We burst into their ranks like frenzied beasts... as I was a diretiger at the time, the effect was doubly effective, and wreaked hell on their panicked casters whose spells were working less than our own even in that damnable wild magic that they seem to practically carry in their pockets.

    One moment the sounds of battle were all around, the group having been able to cut me a wide path, straight to the leader... the next I was on the ground in my own blood when just a moment before, I'd been cutting down a chieftain of sorts with claw and fang, flesh giving way like paper before me.

    The silence when one's own heartbeat ceases is deafening... so is the sound of your Goddess's skin sliding across your own as she takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, and the gentle but universe-heavy push she gives you as you are restored to life.

    The looks on their faces were priceless. I walked off unharmed, and they were so surprised they almost let me go... before being ordered to sieze me. I told them I was a dragon, that they did not want to enrage me, and snuck an Acid Breath potion, scaring the superstitious hobgoblins away until they were called back...

    Seven scrolls. Six of them it took to dominate my mind. One arrow I put into Balma'r. One death aura from him that I somehow hung onto my soul halfway to survive... and one escaped badguy.

    We won, more or less, I suppose. For the moment.

    They came again today, and I spoke to Tindra afterwards, after we all got a personal visit from Izakiel after beating down every caster inclined creature in the Rawlins...

    Why was I brought back? I died once after the visit with the cultists, defending Adriell and the Little Wolf, and was brought back then, too. Divine Intervention is as rare as an angel visiting the prime. It got me thinking...

    Is there some purpose I'm supposed to live to fulfill, and be expendable thereafter? Or is it something else. Something less grand and fatalistic... but more along the lines of that "Grand Purpose" simply being who I am. I fulfill a role or three in these lands, and keep my own balance of sorts. Is that enough to warrant such intervention directly from a Goddess?

    Tindra and I thought it over, and we like that answer best. It may not be right, but who are men to examine the minds of Gods? I think doing our best for those we serve is reason enough to keep surviving, and if they help us out in the process, we must be doing something right.

    Gods she helps me so much sometimes. Tindra, thanks._


  • _How you do write silence?

    Do you

    … ?

    Is it a sentence with a in it?

    How do you best describe the feeling of a room that you KNOW someone was in not long ago, while you feel them getting further away, and feel this heavy, sudden, finality to something, someone that you loved, cherished, and wanted to be beside?

    I don't think very far into the future, as a rule. Thinking ahead breeds expectations, and expectations are the seeds of disappointment. I live for the days ahead, but with little more anticipation than say ... my next meal. Yes, I plan to enjoy it, and I might have a preference, but it's going to come regardless, out of necessity, so I will be content until it's time is upon me ... to wait.

    Will I wait again?

    I am unsure. Somehow, without it being said, that kiss upon me while I 'slept' was heavy with finality. Just as I often disappear into Avalon, or on business unexplained, so felt this goodbye from Feather. There was no explanation, there was none needed. We both know that I have duties that will keep me away, and I told her of this, and she accepted it with grace.

    Why is this different?

    I think it's the bond. The ... whatever it was between us. I can feel her moving away, but not just distance wise. She's trying to hide it. Not out of spite, but ... Hells I don't even think she knows she's doing it.

    I'm no sage, despite appearances on the occasions that I manage to stutter out something profound sounding. It doesn't take a sage thought, to know that this is goodbye. Go with my love, Jynai. She who is knows as Feather by most. Go with my strength, and Mielikki's gentle hand to guide you home, to wherever that ends up being for you.

    You are loved.

    -J

    He doesn't send a letter by hawk asking for answers, nor saying goodbye. There were always some things that didn't need said between them. He wasn't going to burden her with goodbyes. They had already been said._


  • _Ghosts.

    Why is it always ghosts?

    Hellsakes, it's been a busy day. Normally, I don't mind, but a lot has happened in the past few days, and at first, it was well under my control. That changed in a hurry, to be honest with myself. It started with a trip to Mintas…

    Jerrick takes a few long moments to remember the trip itself. It was a productive trip, and a nice bit of practice, too. Magic, fighting, all of it forcing his mind from useless thoughts, or distractions in general, useless AND otherwise.

    _Jerrick gave instructions several times, usually things like "Don't let the animals bite you, they have brain-fever" and "When we get there, try to let me take a shot at forcing them to submit before we attack."

    Some of his other advice like "If two tigers come, RUN." needed not be heeded after all it turned out . Luke, Troff, and Gina turned out to be a hell of a team to have handy, and it was they who accompanied him. Jerrick's current thought as he reminisced over his journal, was remembering Gina standing by while two direwolves, two diretigers, and a dire bear were attacking them … since Jerrick had said not to engage at that point. Luke dodged the dire tiger's swipes deftly, as did Troff, with more use of his shield.

    Jerrick moved to either side of the fight as he battled a wolf on his own, attacking more than defending. He never was much one for being terribly dodgy, relying a bit more than he likely should on magic. He did manage, though, to turn one of the animals to his side. He took it while it had turned away from it's opponent, and taken it's face in both hands, risking his own being bitten off, and staring it in the eyes. "Submit" he said, doing his best to radiate calm assuredness, dominance. It was not the usual way to do this, but it would have to do mid-battle ... and it worked. The animal tensed, then relaxed, and stood passively by while Jerrick attacked another who was busy worrying at Luke.

    Two scimitars flashed and finished an enraged dire bear, one burying itself in the throat, the other anchoring Jerrick by sticking near the shoulder so he could drive the other home. It was a lucky strike, but he was getting better with those, lately. Then, there was quiet.

    It was the forest kind of quiet, with plenty of background noise, but no cries of battle, snarls of foebeasts, or clashing of weapons, fangs, and claws. Jerrick quietly borrowed the shape from the last critter, a tiger, and decided it was time to go, to the assent of his compatriots.

    Three new shapes, one familiar, the other two different from his usual by sheer size. The Dire Tiger being the stangest ... he practiced them both on the way back. Gina spoke of wishing she could learn more history from the place, Luke spoke of wishing they had gold, and Troff just seemed glad to go home.

    Funny how that worked ... and then Brendel was waiting for them at the ferry, and got informed about Jaelle's demise and some of her recent doings ... he seemed nearly in shock. They headed back after that, but Jerrick didn't see Brendel until the Norwick gates, when he came across Adriell again. The memory brought him back to his book, and he read what he wrote to regain his thoughts.

    _The trip went well, but what came after was not so good. Brendel learned about Jaelle, and I came across Adriell, who I can tell isn't taking the three year abscense she experienced in three weeks very … well?

    I'm, as usual, partof the problem I think. It sounds pompous even on parchment, but we sort of had something before she left, something not like lovers, but closer than friends. Then she vanished. I had told her I was Kaetlyn's, and only decided years after that, to move on. To her though. it likely feels like a fresh betrayal of sorts. Or something else? I wouldn't know, I'm lousy at this.

    Apparently she met or heard of Feather immediately after returning. While I don't want to hide Feather, I'd rather it have been me to tell Adriell. It just seems... fair? Right? Hells, I can't even decide for myself how I feel about it.

    And speaking of feelings, I had a bit of a talk with a philosopher of sorts before the Mintas trip. It wouldn't say it was enlightening, so much as kind of interesting. Not the interesting I would go back for, just interesting in that I now know that there are some folks who think SO deeply on the meaning of things that it baffles me.

    To each their own, I suppose.

    I should eat now. I've made room in my head by clearing out these thoughts, might as well stuff my face with food.

    Damn Adriell and her fat jokes. Way to give a guy a complex...

    First you, then that Spirit of Hate that keeps appearing and giving me hell. It would have beaten me this time, too, alone as I was, had I not given it the bane it loathes most.

    Need to remember that.___


  • _I did it.

    It's complete, and the enchantments held.
    The design is simple, and made just-right. Thin, very sharp, and perfectly suited for a steady, but light fingered grip.

    The sparkle along the slightly blued blade looks to be flecks of something within the metal, and it glitters with promise, as if awaiting the touch of something … more. The spell crytal fragments won't hold any spells, I know that. The coating of them fused into the blade though, may help focus my spells. At this point, I'll take any edge I can get.

    Damn, I even pun in my journal. I really need to quit that.

    I've set up a place in the den to do it. I will have her bathe, first. I will already be clean, and in new garments. I don't want to risk infection, even though I can throw spells at her til she's better. That's not how this is going to work.

    Magic caused this problem. I'm going to go in, fix it, and use ONLY what magic is necessary, and let her body do the rest. May Mielikki guide my hand..._


  • _Good idea Ronan.

    A walk.

    Suicidal three.

    Tindra is basically one of the Suicidal Five now, and hey, as gamblers are wont to say, three out of five ain't bad.

    That is not only true in our case, but we were -more- than just "Not bad."

    We cleared the Lake, then went east. We cleared the hobgoblins out with them hardly aware of what hit them, and moved on from there. Further east still, we went, to the tougher hobgoblins. I think they were even more susprised than the first group of how quickly their companions fell. Fayt joined in, and we made very, very short work of our enemies.

    We then decided to go further still. Harpies crumpled in mid-air from arrows. Wyverns found their scorpion-like tails being batted aside, or their strikes utterly ignored, and we plowed through them to the scar until none were near enough to sense. From there, south.

    South held more of the same, except for one notable exception. We went out of our way to clear them all out, and then the ground shook something horrible when we hit a clearing. He loosed our knees a little, and all kept our feet, but I was in a wolfshape, and not at all prepared for what burst forth from the earth.

    Three Bullettes. I was in the middle, and I may as well have been in a shark infested pond. I was bitten badly three times before I could even shift back, and shifted back to find my greatsword the easiest thing to bring to bear. I wanted my shield, but that was a precious second I did not have.

    Crunch

    One of the creatures got it's snouth thoroughly smashed in for it's trouble by the great stone blade left to me by Telli, and I think ti surprised the critter enough that it faltered on it's next bite. Spells slammed home over my shoulders (Thank you for not frying me, Ronan! ) and distracted them further, giving me a chance to vault over the nose of the third … with my sword as the pole and it's nose as my launchpad of sorts.

    I made it to safety to drink a couple potions, and ran back to find one still barely moving, which we all took out swiftly.

    I hate striking down creatures like Bullettes and Stegadons, but my life needs to come first when I'm attacked like that. Plain and simple.
    At least now the den has some advanced things to work with, or I have enchanting materials, or both.

    Speaking of enchanting, I need to write about the club we earned.
    Perhaps tomorrow, Feather is sleeping peacefully, and I have half a mind to interrupt it, then join her. Forget half a mind, try

    The page abruptly cuts of here with a pooled dot of ink where the quill was let drop._


  • _I hate walking away.

    I hate having to walk away from my friends because I want to hit them.
    Is it so wrong to want to fix things with a punch? It's something I scold my apprentices for, and I should know better. I do, and I walk away, but I feel unsatisfied.

    It's amazing really, how a couple words can swing the context of a thing SO far off point, that the focus of it narrows down in the opposite direction from where it began.

    Troff mentioned that he and Feather had spoken about her joining the Legion, and that she has leadership capabilties. I am proud as hell of her after hearing how she reacted in the face of tragedy and death, and it almost makes me wish I was still with the Legion. Maybe I would have been there, maybe

    I need to knock that off. She's moved on, and clearly gone home.

    MY orders are clear.

    You have work to do. Do not falter. You walk the edge of a knife, don't give into your anger. Death comes, be ready.

    I don't fault Telli for her decision. Hells, she may not have been given the choice. Am I a little jealous? Only because of this.

    Grivel was a stout servant of Mielikki. He died protecting others, as he lived, and was taken into her arms. I cannot help but wonder. Did he choose? Did she choose?

    Me, I'm still here.

    I have been told SO many times, with varying degrees of bitterness, that I am lucky beyond words to have such a close relationship with my Goddess. I have met her many times, been raised from death by her and flung back to the mortal world as if nothing had happened, or with a mark to learn a lesson from.

    Yes, I am lucky. I am blessed. I am chosen. I am watched over.

    I walk the edge of a knife. I had duties to fulfill. She has expectations.

    Every time I come back to life, it's another chance to fall. Another chance to give in to something that is not her will. Another opportunity to ensure that I never find the peace that Grivel has. Another risk that I will fall from her grace.

    I'm not right all the time. People are lightning fast to point that out. What if I'm wrong when it really matters, what then?

    What then?_


  • _Changes.

    It seems about thet ime of year that the season should be changing, but since something happened during the N'jast war… nothing's been the same weather-wise.

    I don't know what reminded me of that just now, except that maybe my mind is once more on the subject of the Fury Gods.

    I suppose THAT thought stems from another... yes, I'm walking abckward down my mental ladder I guess, trying to find the first wagon on this caravan of thought.

    Elves.

    One needs to shut his damned mouth before it gets shut for him.
    I swear, that if I hear one more smartalecky comment about pups, pissing on trees, or stupid dogs, I'll feed his ass to Fayt.

    I was cordial to his face, and called Araatris back, though what the elf has no idea about is that I really hold no power over Araatris except that he seems to -want- to take my advice. For now. A little.

    One fucking attack happens IN town and people get away with it, BUT they're exiled, have bounties out for them, and there's a strong response, and suddenly people think they can just poke badgers with stick, so to speak, because the law will protect them.

    How do you explain that someone whose body is never found can't report shit, without it sounding like a threat? Hells, even if the body is dumped at the gates, AND they manage to remember things after returning from the fugue plane ... if they never saw it coming, and never saw it happen until they woke up dead, (I always laugh when I say that ... is that inappropriate?) then all they have is accusations to throw around without proof.

    Heh, on the topic of laughing ... if a bear shits in the woods, does anyone care when the elf ressurects from the pile to complain that he was eaten?

    If he doesn't quit taunting people who have no problems with taking a life, I worry that little Mari is going to find out. Time to go take a walk to Norwick, and be nice to his smug little face. He seemed pleasant enough at first, but I am now quite under the impression that he's a vindictive little person. Heh, this should be fun._


  • _Well, that was unexpected.

    I met with Araatris. I walked to the south gate, and came across many people gathered, but only two caught my eye. The one-eyes woodsman, Araatris, and Dana.

    Dana of course, only because she greeted me, and gushed about her marriage, and that she's now expecting a child. I try to be kind, while not paying her attention. I simply cannot forget the way she lashed out at me, just like Marty, and then had the nerve to get offended when I lashed back. I have as much respect for her as she has sense, and I admit to having seen little to none from her in the past.

    Perhaps she's changing. Time will tell. I'm certainly not holding my breath.

    I asked Araatris to speak with me, and he followed, stiffly.
    Luckily, we'd met before this, and on good terms, else it likely would have ended badly.

    I asked him about the fight with Caelian, what his desires were, basically I gave him a chance to sit and speak. I left open ended questions for him, and he answered.

    It's not so rare in these lands to find someone who wishes to leave something behind. It IS rare to find someone in these lands who knows where to go from there. Hells, I've been one of them.

    He is prideful. I am prideful. I know where it hurts, and I struck him there. I reminded him that he was bested, and saw a visible flinch at the words. I told him a little about the man who bested him, too. My apprentice. My brother. Someone who has more in common with this Malarite than either would likely like to admit.

    Perfect.

    He told me something that struck a chord in me, too.

    "To despise the weakness in others, and then to find it in yourself is not easy to swallow, Silverfang."

    I told him that to acknowledge that is the first step to finding strength once more, as well.

    I know this, because you cannot fight a foe you cannot see, or know, and hope to win. I then gave him a command.

    He had commented that there may be truth to my words. That was all I needed.

    "Once you find that truth in my words for yourself, " I told him, "Once you've decided. Find my apprentice. Tell him that you wish to watch him, or learn from him, or whatever it is that you seek. It will be a test for both of you, I think"

    He expressed some concern over them killing one another, and I told him that Caelian would not do that. He'd spared his life once already, had he not? That did bring to mind a concern for me, so I headed it off before someone else was faced with it.

    "If you wish blood, however. You -will- come to me. It will be far more swift and merciful than if you choose to give me a reason to come after you."

    He seemed to understand that, not even getting offended, which I respect. He understood that I don't threaten just to threaten. I don't -want- to come after anyone. Just like I don't -want- Jay or Jaelle or Jack to show up in front of me, harming someone. It won't stop me from acting on it, but I don't -want- it.

    "Should I seek an end to my suffering, I will seek you out."

    I try not to let that disturb me when I reply.

    "That's not an end to suffering, that's an end to -everything-. A wise man does not forget that. -You- should not forget that. "

    We clasped arms like brothers in parting, with the word friend upon my lips.

    It won't be easy, for either of them. Easiest perhaps, for Caelian, I think. He is making progress all his own, to be honest, and he has insight that I can admire. I should listen to his advice instead of blowing him off when he means well in speaking to me, but I never was one for taking my own advice either.

    One by one, things are improving, situations are resolving themselves, some of which I had a hand in, others not. I can live with that… so long as I no longer stay awake at night with as much on my mind, any progress is preferable to none.

    I like progress. Sleep is nice too. Ah, sleep.I would pursue you, but Feather is not here. I wish she was here, and I hope I haven't pushed her away... Gods for such a wise old Druid, I am such a doddering old fool sometimes._


  • _The walks help.

    It's not much, but something about concentrating on my surroundings while not being seen helps to clear my mind. Just enough so that when I emerge onto the island still unseen, I can pull out my journal and watch that goblin pass yet again, and listen to the sounds of the nighttime.

    Apparently I'm doing a lousy job of hiding that I'm having a hard time of things lately. I tried the other route, instead. I talked to my friends.
    I told them what's wrong, tried to explain things, and their answer is always, "Don't do so much. Take a break. Rest. It's not only your burden." The thing is … I can't expect anybody else to do anything.

    It's hard enough getting myself in the right place at the right time, so what would get everyone else in place to take care of things on -my- schedule? That's silly.

    No, I'll keep all these things, these thoughts, fresh in my mind. The thing I need to do, is hide it better. Self control, wisdom, patience. That's what I need. Perhaps ... perhaps I'll cheat. I've been meaning to do some more enchanting, starting with the knife for Danika ... then, a ring? I think that will do nicely.

    I need the patience of a tree to get me through, perhaps petrified wood might be a good base. Warp wood and stoneshape. I think I know how I'll do this...

    Goblin got too close, and tripped on me. Snapped his neck and tossed him elsewhere. Can't have him raising the alarm. Speaking of alarm, I need to get myself under control. Feather deserves more attention than I've been giving her. I need to spend some more time at home, and find something that we can do together. It's too often that we're dragged apart, or so busy in whatever we're doing to pay proper attention to one another. Note to self. Be better.

    Tindra is happier, at least.
    Even better, it wasn't anything I did. I was her friend, as always. I made sure she had someone to talk to, even though I was the problem.
    I did what I could, but I knew I could only help so far.

    She told me that she realized she needs to take care of herself, first. She needs to pursue what makes her happy. Something like that. It made sense, and by the scent I caught on her, I knew she'd found something along those lines.

    I was surprised by it, and mad at myself for feeling a flare of jealousy.
    There, I wrote it down. Jealousy.

    Not that I'm not happy.

    I'm a git._


  • _Get away.

    I had to. Before I said anything else, even among friends, I had to get away. It's all piling up! Here on this island, a goblin almost trips over me as I write. I'm perfectly still, my magic making me all but invisible. If only others weren't so quick to spot me.

    Here, I have peace, and the screaming of dying goblins serves as a fine alarm should someone come this way. I've used this before, to escape when Devlin came after me. I admit I was waiting in ambush at first, not avoiding him… but nobody came, at least nobody who I minded talking to.

    I spouted off a list at Albryanna, I almost lost it. I needed to get it out. Just ... everything that was on my mind. It was enough to name them all.

    Albryanna, Tindra, Kaetlyn, Jaelle, Jack, Jay, Feather, Brendel, The Hungry One, Alestra, Liches, Knights, Drow, Vampires, Aramuil, Marty, Dana, Wolves, Dragons, White goblins, children, Horlamin, Duty, Honor, Sacrifice, Kara, Troblins, Eggbutt, Grag, Yngdir, Aelthas, Devlin, Raryldor, Isendel, Mages, Davanros, The Circle, Damara, Yana, Maya kissing me, Benji, Rhistin, The Tree, Celad, Peltarch, Sails, Danika, Caelian, and the list goes on.

    My mind can't focus on one thing. Some things are friend I worry for. Others are those I feel I've wronged. Still others simply tasks I have yet to face, or can't push from my mind though they're done and passed.

    Vash said that the tree that has more branches than roots topples in a storm.

    Well I'm pretty much fucked in a stiff breeze then. I don't know if I can keep this pace up. It would HELP if just ... I don't know, a FEW things got resolved. Just a few is all I would ask. Instead, things pile and pile and pile, impossibly high, and I just ... do what I always do. Pay attention to what's at hand as best I can. Go from there.

    It's not enough, and never has been. It won't be later, either.
    That's no solution, either. So now what?_


  • _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.__