3. The Book Of Willow

The Book Of Willow


  • The sun's early morning rays flicker insistantly across the young half-elf's still closed eyes, filtered through the foliage of clinging vines and leaves. Willow turns her head away, only to find the light reflecting off the rain-wet stones of the wall opposite her. She squints, yawns and grumbles a bit as she gives sleep up as lost, adding some twigs to the smouldering campfire. As the water for her tea begins to heat, Willow rubs grit from her eyes and writes.

    "Soooo busy. Not only have I helped bust every kind of goo, slime, pudding, jelly and ooze from the misty cave and participated in a game of very real murder mystery… but also, for the first time since my green-eyed friends left for the deep woods, I've something of a ~plot~ to persue, something cause-like which feels worthwhile and fitting for me. I may be a flighty rambling rover, usually content to let other people work on the Big Things - but I was raised as a healer and still consider that a core element of who I am, right up there with serving You.

    And now, people are sick and no magic seems to be able to fix it, neither divine or arcane. In this particular case, Your gifts won't cut it, but that's actually okay - I ~am~ a healer, and it's in a way reassuring to remind myself that some skills I possess are actually my own and not ones I borrowed from your gracious self, Shaundakul! Like... you didn't just take pity on me when you chose me to serve, you did it 'cause I'm actually useful too!

    In Peltarch, the temples are full of fever-struck people. It's a strangely persistant fever which does not in itself kill, but certainly weakens the patient considerably. You'd think the worst part is that there's no cure in sight, but actually it's worse still. Remember Oscura? Hezrou, soul consumption.. yeah.

    I was hoping, really hoping, that any similarities would just be the product of my mind's fondness for pattern, but after we drove a fricken GLABREZU out of one unfortunate.... I'm pretty sure there's a link here, and I really should get my skinny ass off to see Father Dagon again. And maybe that Merovech lady that everyone seems so wary of, too!

    But right now, I'm sleuthing away in Peltarch, trying to work out the cause of the disease, by hunch and by process of elimination - and by lots and lots of talking to people. That's the exhausting part! All those people, all the yammer-yammer-yammer, filtering through it all for the nuggets of gold that'll actually lead anywhere. It's tiring! I've another hunch, but to persue that avenue I need help from a beady-eyed little agent, I think.

    But we'll have to be careful. Those mercenaries gave me such dirty looks just from passing BY, definitely can't risk getting caught inside. If only I wasn't so clumpsy and loud, I'd take the risk myself! Actually, come to think of it.. didn't Llama say he could turn me into something small too?

    Hummmmmm...."


  • It's a cold, clear day up in the Roost, brisk spring breezes whirling up dry leaves and sending rustles through the clinging vines. A bright-eyed Willow circles the small stone wall, the wind tossing her hair about in playful gusts. On the top of the wall, the polar bear's hollowed out head stands, emitting a soft susurration of sound at the wind's explorative passing. Willow flits about, stopping every so often to listen intently, spring green eyes fixed on the head. Eventually she settles down below it, listening with her eyes closed and her long skinny legs crossed. When the wind changes to a mellow afternoon breeze, so does she, sprawling languidly out to write.

    "What is the essence of a polar bear? I watch, I think and I listen, because the magic woven into it should be something befitting the bear itself, something that does it justice. And something helpful to the bear who will wear it, too!

    The recurring feeling I get is ~power~. Both physically, because the sheer strength of those bears is awesome, but also in terms of presence. That primal chill of awe and downright fear when you see a bear like this, that's what I want to capture, and let it amplify the golden-eyed command in my own bear's eyes, that amazing way he has of asserting himself to other animals, without a word, without violence needed. He just ~looks~ at them and no matter how big, they all seem to get the message, even though some of them don't like it.

    This head should make him stronger, in both senses, if I can only do it right! And if I can find the ideal spot… I've narrowed it down to three, but still can't quite decide. Guess I don't need to rush it, I'm just eager to give my honey the perfect gift, now that it's almost thought out in full!

    We got a little distracted recently when stumbling into a sleuthing assignment, but what's not to love about mystery, right? It was certainly anything but boring or routine, 'cause this job took us from an idle day at the commons to the darker corners of Oscura and then the hallowed halls of the Temple of the Triad!

    I always feel sorta grubby and out of place in that last place, like I'm not playing in the same fine league as the priests and paladins there, for not being all serious and shrouded in holy, shining vestment. But really, it's just that my flavour of holy needs another setting to shine, yeah? Mine's an outdoors wilderness sorta shine, and if my armor's dusty from travel then that IS my polish!

    Anyway, the reason I agreed to the task, mystery aside, was that the temple guy said their man on the inside was working against the slave trade in Oscura. Slavery is something I have serious issue with, 'cause if there's any one cause I can be said to in any way 'champion', albeit in my own way, it's freedom! The temple's squire said they'd lost touch with their guy and were worried something had happened, wanted us to go investigate. Done and done!

    We were rather a jumbled bunch, me and Llama, Shessa and Emellia, Gnarl and Fafir and even more folks, some of them dropping off along the way though. We got a few names and leads to start with, and headed down to Oscura in what we hoped wasn't a too obvious snooping troupe. I got wings as I always do, and in eating them kinda distracted myself from the mission at hand! Mmmmm... soooooo gooood...

    Gnarl gnarled ahead in speedy straight-forwards manner, without really learning much, but Shessa took the time to really talk to the guy at the bar, learning a lot of useful things. Like that someone who might know something likes scrolls - so Em dished out two good ones, which were perfectly to the guy's liking!

    There are things I like about Oscura, and things I really don't, slave business an obvious don't and the penchant for secrecy another. Everything down there seems veiled and layered, secret after secret like the layers of an onion which only the initiated few may eat of. It makes for good mystery, I'll give you that, but it all feels a little too Sharran for my tastes. Your servants aren't likely to go down well in those circles either, but I kinda decided to ignore that, after a half-hearted attempt at being 'under-cover'. I'm just not any good at pretense! Once we started being more frank, it kinda worked better too.

    Eventually, we learned exactly where our guy was, but unfortunately he was in pretty bad condition and in some seriously 'interesting' company. The Zhentarim really have ~no~ sense of humour, and it was only because of all the hollering from upstairs that we even got to see our man.

    But by that time it was already too late. Actually I wonder, with what we learnt after, if it hadn't been too late for rather a long time... but what if's serve no purpose now, we had to just watch and learn as we rushed upstairs after the beefy guards to find an irate Hezrou tearing and stomping through the room. The Zhents and their boss, alongside a couple of women fought the big demon, while in the middle of the room...

    An old man's remains, little more than shrivelled flesh and bone in a pool of blood, spilling out across the red lines of a pentagram. Too late to save our guy, but perhaps I could snatch his remains without notice? Under the cloak of invisibility I made my way to the far corner of the room while the battle raged, and afterwards Fafir claimed the group's attention. Zhent boss (as humourless as the underlings) dismissed our party with a note of sour displeasure at the guards for failing to stop us, but then simply marched off with his retinue on more important matters.

    Perfect, I can just grab what's left and...

    'I wouldn't do that if I were you', said the woman in grey.

    Out of everyone in the room, she alone had remained to speak to us, and noticed quite easily what I was about to do behind her back. She was neither threatening nor kind of tone, but spoke plain and matter-of-factly, stating the horrific: there was no point in saving the man's remains, 'cause there was no soul left to call back. The demon, she said, had not only possessed the man but actually consumed his very soul.

    That's... so very disturbing that it's hard to put proper words to. 'EW' doesn't quite cover it!

    The woman, giving her name as Believer, seemed oddly forth-coming with information. My guess is she wants more people to know, and thinks the usual Oscuran hush-hush isn't gonna cut it for this particular problem. Her employers, the Sisters of Bone, and the Zhentarim? Not usually a good mix, but in this case the cause drew them together. Order vs chaos and that sorta thing, yeah?

    Talking to the local healer after, Father Dagon, we learnt that while possessions by demons and such have occurred before, this soul devouring business is real unusual. But he did tend to a similar case in Hoarsgate not long ago, that victim having fallen ill prior to signs of being possessed, just like our guy. Not a natural disease, that's for sure, and I feel that learning more about the nature of it might shed light on what's really going on here. Feels scary to say it, but it's not 'just' demonic possession!

    I don't really wanna meddle too far in things I dunno much about, but I did promise Dagon I'd help if I saw anything similar going on. He even gave me this exorcism kit, with instructions how to use it... Yeah, gonna have to rely on You to pull that one off, that's for sure! And on some battle-able allies and friends when or if a fiend actually does pop out...

    Eeee!"


  • Up on "Mount Norwick" - the high hill overlooking the inn - Willow sits with her skinny legs crossed and something big, white and fuzzy in her lap. Curiously, it isn't Llyran this time, but it does seem somewhat related to the bearman druid. Long thin fingers rest on the furclad skull of a polar bear, the insides hollowed out to let the wind whistle through empty eye sockets and bared teeth. Willow's light green eyes stare intently at the head in her lap, seeming to want to pry all it's secrets out somehow. She slumps over on her back, lifting the head up to view it against the sky, where thin wisps of cloud streak white across the blue canvas. Finally she puts it down on the grass, rolls over on her belly and writes.

    "Polar Bear Goodness!

    I'm ever a firm supporter of the notion that good things, contrary to the saying, don't really come to those who wait. Really, if you want something, the chances of finding it are wayyyy bigger if you get off your ass and go looking, yeah? But this time, the subject of mine and Llama's dreams actually did come to us!

    Okay, so it started off pretty bad… see, an omnious blood moon rose over Peltarch, and not soon after a distraught farmer came stumbling into the commons. 'Help, someone please help! My wife.. they took her!', he stuttered, close to tears. The orc ~scumbags~ had abducted his wife and I shuddered to even begin to think of what they planned to do to her. So naturally we volunteered to help get her back!

    It was a whole adventurering band, including my brawny Llamabear, some guy called Daron, some other guy called Deidric, the cute-as-a-button gnomish bard Vera, quiet Elvira, quiet (on this particular day!) Lainie and possibly others. We set off towards the orc cave with spirits high, mowing through the first batch of the hillside douchebags easily enough. But right at the entrance to the cave mouth, something else awaits... something big, grey and just completely ~rippling~ with muscle! I dunno what to call such a twisted monstrosity, so I shouted "Manbearpig!' just to call it something!

    It hit the ground with such a thunderous rumble that anyone inside had got to know for sure we were coming. So we hurried inside! The orcs were angry for sure, and amongst their usual number were these huuuge, beefy warrior guys, wearing a peculiar sorta garb. I dunno very much about orc religion, but it didn't look like Gruumsh symbols to me.. maybe that other guy? All beef and brawn, with no real brains to match... then again, isn't that all orcs?

    Anyway! Fighting our way through, we came to the end of the tunnel and found the captive farmer's wife, trapped inside a sacrificial circle with the usual red glowy glyphs and lights. Only the thing trapping her inside was sorta unusual - lots of huge swords, rammed straight into the ground all around in a circle. Daron pulled one out, and pretty much pulled his back while doing so, groaning. But the Llamabear, RRHH! He roared and yanked one after another out, with bear might! Only... not exactly next to the first gap made by Daron...

    Elvira pointed this out to me, like I was supposed to start hollering instructions out, but come on - Llama can yank at any sword he likes, I'm not gonna nitpick and micromanage, I hate that stuff! Plus I know he's totally strong like a bear and won't soon run out of breath!

    Eventually, there was a big enough opening made for the farmer's wife to squeeze through, but as we got ready to leg it, the earth SHOOK... and ~the~ hugest orc ever appeared to claim his sacrifice.. which of course wasn't quite there anymore. The huge orc roared out his rage and stunned several of us just by that alone - arrows bounced off his hide and spells fizzled easily. This uhhh.. wasn't just an orc...

    We ran, but the farmer's wife was stunned and unconscious, so I misty-crystalled up to double back for her, unseen. The orc, so big that his head scraped the ceiling, chased after the group, each step he took so heavy that I thought the cave would collapse in a huge earthquake. But somehow we got outside and legged it for the city walls, while the gigantic orc kept screaming out his fury.

    And then, big and bad furious orcs and enraged animals came storming towards the walls - and more of those manbearpig things, tearing and thumping at the gates. Guard Captain Lisa like... blamed us for it! 'Adventurers...', she sighed, and then went out there to kick some serious butt!

    Oh it was a big fight, big enough to keep all of us and the city defenders occupied and then some - several of us nearly died and we ended up having to scatter and run in mad dashes along the walls while bolts flew down from the defenders above! But... and here's the part where bad turns to awesomely good... there were polarbears!

    Two of them, stirred to rage by the orcs like the other poor animals, came charging up, so big and beautiful that it took my breath away! And Llama lumbered right up to one, his golden eyes aglow with that sexy assertive manliness. He puffed his chest out, growled... then reached his hand out to a calm, submissive polarbear... it was SOOO great to watch, I'm still in awe! The other bear wouldn't back down, and there was fighting all around, to the extent that the first bear got wild-eyed and frantic again eventually - but not before Llama managed to learn it's shape!

    After the dust settled, we managed to salvage one of the polarbears heads. They were both magnificent animals, and I will remember them with great respect. This head... it will now protect Llyran's own, which feels right and fitting. I mean to weave the blessings of the wind into it, once I figure out what would suit it best... and where to do it. I need a shrine, but haven't found an existing one anywhere yet.

    So maybe we could build one, Llama and me? All we need is the perfect location... and I have several to choose from already. Help me pick, big guy!"


  • Up in the Roost, dark clouds mass overhead and wild winds whirl and tug at the reedy figure standing in the eye of the storm. Willow is laughing out loud, lightning reflected in her light green eyes as she calls it down from the skies, then seems to catch it, gathering it up in her hands. A ball of raw, blue-white lightning writhes and crackles in the palm of each outstretched hand, fingers clenching as the energy grow in intensity. Then, with a leap and a howl of sheer joy, it's released, stark bolts of lightning shooting back up at the sky from the half-elf's hands. She laughs, hoots and dances around like a mad woman in a roofless attic, then repeats the death-defying dance of the elements, her hair swaying madly in the wind and the buzzing, crackling static.

    Later, with a giddy grin, Willow settles down to write.

    "The Coldstones!

    Finally, unexpectedly, I found myself heading where the wind have so long tugged at me to go - the Coldstone mountains, past impenetrable walls of ice and armies of frosty foes, right up on high to the glittering peaks. The dwarves looked just a bit dubious about allowing long-legs and pointy-ears to join the pilgrims on their holy journey to the collapsed monastery on the mountain's peak, but protecting travellers is what I ~do~! In fact, come to think of it, I find myself helping dwarves in their travels and mining expeditions more often than I assist elven travellers, perhaps because the latter tend to travel unseen, on soft scout feets.

    It's possible Beorn put a good word in for me, either way I'm SO thrilled we got to go. It was me, the Llamabear (RRH!), Lainie and Jonni, Beorn and Legan and the kick-ass monks of the Dwarven Hold. The dwarven clerics set up a wonderous portal, taking us straight to the peak, to then perform a reverse pilgrimage journey back down the mountain.

    A pale sun shone on glittering slopes of ice and snow as we crossed through, finding ourselves in front of a collapsed entrance to the old monastery. Here, the monks settled into prayers while I looked around in wide-eyed wonder at the view stretching out before us - sharp, icy cliffs and gently sloping valleys clad in beds of snow, frozen streams and gnarled, wind-bent trees clinging to the mountainsides, plateaus and rifts… the cool northern wind in my eyes and the taste of winter on my tongue.

    I took Llama's hand in mine, wanted to jump and holler and hoot, but settled for a big, giddy grin shared between us. The Coldstones... would I find your shrine here, like I have dreamed of so often?

    Before I could skip off exploring though, we spied movement below, and rather a lot of it. Snowgoblins, hordes of the white-skinned buggers in fact, and further down larger shapes lumbered menacingly. Giants... The fight was soon on and no attempt at parlay seemed worth the effort - we were simply NOT welcome and white snow turned blood red in our party's wake. Note to self: always bring a dwarf when things risk turning ugly!

    Llama and I set storms in motion while Beorn, Legan and Jonni tore a path through the goblin hordes and the giants below, ably assisted by Lainie's well-timed boosts of magic. It was going oh so well, until the Mystery Device of Possible Doom...

    The thing about Mystery Devices is that you should of course not tamper with them, but of course someone always does... I mean come on, it's mystery! This time it was Beorn who couldn't resist pressing and prodding the runed pillar, which lit up with omnious red lights. The half-frozen pool of water nearby bubbled and rumbled... and then a gargantuan hand appeared! A pale, bloodless looking giant pulled itself from the depths to attack - did I mention it had the BIGGEST axe I ever saw?! It swung it in my direction too!

    Catching my breath after the giant toppled, I went in for a closer look at the pillar. It looked kind of like a grave monument of sorts, or a crypt... and the runes pressed seemed to activate a reanimation process, perhaps in defence. Another giant rose from the water, and another! But with each one we downed (with increasing effort and diminishing spells), the red lights seemed to flicker out. Likely it would run its course and the process halt once there were no more bodies within, I figured... but how many more?

    We kept fighting, they kept coming until finally a moment of calm came. But it wasn't a good calm, it was a distinct uh-oh sorta calm, the eerie calm you get right before all hells break loose, you know? And then the earth SHOOK.

    Dust filled the air, and once it settled, a giant mummy stood before us, gaunt and gauze-wrapped. It hit like a bag full of dwarves and was tough like granite, most attacks just bouncing off it's ancient hardened hide. Man oh man oh man.. what a fight that was! I focused on just keeping folks whole, Beorn in particular who got the brunt of the giant mummy's wrath before Lainie dished out a nice petrification. Hooray, win!

    Or so I thought...

    Before our baffled eyes, clouds of negative energy rose from the ground, surrounding the giant. Little by little, the stone cracked and fell away until it lumbered forth again, healed of the dents and nicks we'd inflicted with so much effort.

    CRAP!

    Fight, fight and fight, Llama roaring and shouldering through with his spear, Jonni being nearly flung aside by a rough hit to his side, Beorn grunting and gritting his teeth, Legan going berserk in a frentic final effort... and finally, finally it fell, when all were bloodied and desperate it fell!

    And when it did... a whizz and a whirl began to fill the air, a violent build-up of energies back-lashing.... bsshhhh....

    KABOOM!

    A blinding ball of light, a crack of sound so hard it was like a punch directly to the ear drums! The pillar burst into chunks of rock, leaving nothing but a smoking ruin behind... and a concussed, half unconscious party in the snow nearby. Jonni took the worst beating in the blast, but with a little time and a little tender shake-and-wake, he came to.

    We were in seriously rough shape, enough to consider finding a place to strike up camp in this hostile beehive of a mountainside, buuut... our little explosion hadn't gone unnoticed. Someone else lives in the Coldstones, someone big and bad and winged... someone not happy to see intruders in his realm! The ~dragon~ passed overhead, cold breath nipping at our heels as we hit the Let's-Retreat-Bravely-button.

    I'll admit, not everyone wanted retreat - my bear was high on adrenaline and machismo, all for wrestling the wyrm to the ground, mano-a-drago'n, and the dwarves looked just as eager for a fight. But our mission was to bring the pilgrims back safe - and with that in mind, we kept moving, sticking to what little cover we could find until we found ourselves faced with a wall of ice.

    Lainie, Llama and I flew up, cheering for the fullplated ice climbers below. Gotta say, they didn't do badly at all! Beorn was a veritable climbing machine, eye-balling the ice like he was daring it to make him slip - and it totally didn't dare! Wise move, ice wall, wise move...

    We found this icy trail down, a crevice in the wall which was like a huge slide. It was awesome, Llama rode his furtle shield all the way down, beaming like a birthday boy with the biggest piece of toffy ever! We all came tumbling down in a heap of limbs, on the road to Ormpur.

    The last stretch was bite-your-teeth-and-buckle-up style, with pretty much all spellpower spent - but we had raw dwarven stamina on our side and tore through even the disgusting demon wolf that tried to eat a couple of us. Full haste through Jiyyd, a kiss and and a celebratory bang-bang-BANG on the gong... summoning a ~really~ pissed off Hezrou.

    It growled at Llama, hammered a spell down... which just slid right off his bearskin, leaving him no worse for wear. We almost laughed our butts off, 'cause the look on that Hezrou's ugly mug was priceless! And then we totally legged it!

    Back at the crossroads, the dwarves mumbled and conferred for a good long time before deciding to honour us with the traditional gift for this type of quest - even though we weren't all dwarves. It's a mace, and like all things quality dwarven, it ~rocks~. Particularily against undead!

    All in all, it was an awesome trip. True, I didn't find your shrine, nor Llama his polar bear, but we saw amazing new sights and lived and breathed fresh adventure, all the while helping fellow travellers. I feel so alive, so free and light, so close to you at times like that, and in reaching the peak and living through the descent, I feel I've grasped new understanding too.

    And it's simply ~thrilling~."


  • In a hayloft of some unsuspecting Peltarch farmer, a makeshift nest of furs has been built, thick and brown below and white on top. Inside this cucoon, Willow and Llyran lie spooned up, the skinny half-elf cuddled into the massive arms of the bearlike druid. His content breath tickles her ear, Willow stirring awake with a small jolt. She lets herself be tugged back down into sweet drowsy slumber once more, until her bearman starts to snore, a softly rumbling sound which puts a big grin on Willow's face. She squirms gently around, wriggling half way out of the furry covers to write a quick entry into her little book.

    "It's polar bear fur, I'm sure of it, even though the only polar bear I ever saw myself was Leena, her big bear self covered with barkskin at the time too! But it's gotta be polar bear, it fits him like a second skin, like only bearskin does!

    I'm as pleased as punch, like my mother used to say when she had her rare moments of being completely happy about something! Midwinter festivities were winding down once I hit the Peltarch marketplace, but in tune with the season, a range of flavourful new items had hit the stores. I saw the cloak and just HAD to have it!

    Llama was as pleased as punch too, and in a giddy spree of shopping, purchased a hot new belt to go with the cloak. It's awesome how we match now, protected from heat and from cold, in our white cloaks! It's so cute, it would be sickening if it wasn't us!

    But the cloak got us thinking of an idea we entertained months and months back, which involves finding a bigass polar bear, to borrow a bigass polar bear shape! And now, possibly a bigass polar bear head… if we can find one that isn't in current use that is! See, the cloak looks just awesome on Llama's broad shoulders, but his old copper helm, the one I already dented a bit before handing down to him? That's not a good match!

    I'm picturing a polar bear helmet, white and with round bear ears, to top off the wild druid-bear-man ensamble perfectly. Maybe I could enchant it for extra rawrrhh too? Just gotta find that shrine and the sky is the limit - literally!

    Note to self: find the one-eyed pirate and ask if he can can take us out for polar bear searching!"


  • Sprawled out on the grey, weathered planks of the old shipwreck by the Icelace's jagged shoreline, the young half-elf watches the sky while gentle waves lap at the rock and a soft seaborn wind tousles her hair. She smiles, breathing in deeply and then lets her exhaled breath join the wind on its way north. A puffy cloud stretches out above, Willow's fingers playfully tugging at its edges as if to speed the process along. Content with her game, she flops over on her skinny belly, flipping the little book open to write.

    "Roaming II.

    Coming down from the Roost, I often take a roundabout way towards more populated areas. I like the solitude around the old camp, the weathered old stone heads in the ground, the vast trees and the sheer cliffs, the green rolling hills of the Gypsy Valley. There's room to roam, and no one frowning if you frolic, shout or do cartwheels in your birthday suit, even!

    Yesterday, I wasn't naked but feeling carefree and boyant as I swung down the vines, skipping through the old camp and feeding a few sticks to the heartfires in passing. Out in the Valley itself, the wind picked up, soaring birds gliding blissfully on the currents. It was a crisp, sunny day, the sort that makes you want to take big bites out of the air, simply for being so delicious!

    I soon veered off the road and up the nearest hill, thinking to run around on all the ledges, all the way around to that curious little monument way up high. It's one of my favourite spots, the sort I'd consider for a shrine if it didn't already have something else there! I feel close to you there, especially on clear days when you can see all of the Nars Pass stretch out before you.

    But no sooner had I reached the top of the first hill than noticing that I wasn't all that free of company after all. A camp, a multitude of armored figures milling about on the hill across from mine. Normally I'd wave and shout a hearty hello, but something about this had me instantly wary. Such a lot of people, so deliberately tucked away and… was that a red eerie glow behind them? This lot didn't want to be seen, and suddenly I was sure that I didn't want to be either. I ducked down the hill at once, my heart beating so hard in my chest that it felt like a trapped bird. One breath, two and three... nothing! They hadn't seen me!

    Adrenaline pumped through me, making my scalp tingle and my toes wriggle in my boots. I'd stormed the bandits in the riverbed without a second thought, but this camp had numbers I could scarcely beat alone. But if I had a little help...

    I took the back way out, cutting through the Gypsy Cliffs towards Norwick, finding no one there, so I ran to the riverboat next. Keeping still on the boatride north was impossible, it was too slow, I wanted to flow forth like the wind! Curiousity peaked with the rush of a close escape, and once I stepped off the boat I was running again, all the way to the Commons and kept moving there.

    I found a decent crowd, Lainie was there, Jonni and Shessa, Elvira, Jimmeh and two unfamiliar faces. I wanted them to be swept up in the same wind as I, blurting out my find and my intention. But trying to get adventure rolling can be painstakingly slow; everyone needs a 'moment' to eat, to go to the bathroom, to buy arrows, to stand around in half a coma... so eventually I just rushed off!

    Luckily, most of them followed, plus a kick-ass dwarf named Legan, or Legs as I like to call him. We sidestepped most of the gnolls, fighting just a couple as we passed the tower and prepared, going in invisible to check the mystery camp out closer. This time, I thought to get a look from the other side, and once I did... man. I was SO right not to take this on by myself, so very very right. Thanks big guy, in hindsight I think you might've given me an instinctual heads-up!

    There were undead.. a lot of undead, bony skeletal warriors with axes, on the other side of the now decidedly bad-guy camp. We opted for a surprise attack, Jonni hurling ice and me blasting divine fire down, but those skeletons... wow. They were ~tough~!

    And many... as our combined onslaught failed to get even one of them down for the count.

    Their bones seemed somehow hardened, some spells just bounced off and even with a big hammer to mash their joints apart, it took all of Jonni's strength to dent them. My turning didn't do squat either, but the lightning frazzled them a bit! The fighting was frantic with a swarm of them on Jonni's tail and a couple of others chasing after our archers. Everyone was hurting, so I used my handy dandy misty crystal to slap some healing out where I could, and with Lainie's hasting spells, we eventually saw it through. But on the adjoining hill, the cultists douches still awaited, and they definitely knew we were coming now.

    That fight.. yeah, terrifying doesn't even begin to cover it. Most of their numbers fell easy enough, until their captain or whatever turned up, weilding a bigass scythe which sliced the air with a sickening hiss. He was tall, black-robed, nasty as a helldog's droppings. So hard to hit! Hit SO hard...

    Legs and Jonni danced toe to toe with Mr Scythinger, while I darted in and out to heal them up. Only Legs was on the other side of Scythie, to get to him I'd have to duck in the path of that awful swing... I contemplated going around, but the ledge was narrow and a scythe has a good long reach. Then BAM! Legsy gets a swing to the side, stumbles off.. but he's moving at a crawl, as though struck by magic and not just metal. He's on the wrong side of me, and before I can even think to run over, another swing draws the curtains.

    SHIT!

    Jonni's dancing in and out from behind his shield, Lainie keeps hasting him and I'm slapping out all the healing I've got left. He takes a hard hit, but I've got his back now. Hit - heal - hit - heal.. while Shessa and Elvira's arrows zip through the air. Scythinger's hurting now, we might just..

    SHIT-ON-A-STICK!

    The bastard's got a Heal potion in his belt, and calm as anything, he drinks it down. We start over, and I'm out of spells, Shessa's out, Lainie's out.. but ducking down in the grass, Elvira finds a sweet angle and fires arrow after arrow into the black guy's back. Victory!

    Up on the hill where the camp lies, there's no one left. Black crates are stacked nearby, containing strangely familiar goods - the sort of stuff we spied near Ormpur, the sort of stuff I found in the smouldering barracks by the riverbed. It seems like it's all connected, the notes with that distinctive seal is a sure signum if the necromancy and the very peculiar arrows isn't enough. It feels like part of some hair-raising experiment for a cause I can't quite make sense of yet. But these douchebags are hiding out in all the sorts of places I like best, ruining them for the trail-blazing traveller.

    Below the hill, the cause of the red lights is apparant - all glowing skull-hovery, reeking of necromancy. Just as I was trying to find the winds, gather them up and ask for your biggest grace, Shessa tried to dispel the dark magic there - and it lashed out, so violently that it shook me from my prayers. That really sucked, I was the one to drag everyone off on this deadly adventure and then I can't do Legsy the curtesy of bringing him back myself? I couldn't even flame the stupid glowskulls, Jonni got to deal with that AND the raising! I know it shouldn't bother me, it doesn't matter who does what, but I still felt annoyed.

    But I couldn't very well lie down in the grass and kick my heels, going 'I wanted to do eeet!', now could I? Well I ~could~, but I'd have to kick my own ass afterwards for being such a sulky baby! So I sucked it up, big girl style, and then let it go. And I felt instantly better for it! Legsy was brought back to life, seeming to suck it up pretty well himself. He said he was glad I hadn't done the diving-in-style healing and gotten cleaved in two too. I think he'll be alright, after enough ale and rest. Dwarves are tenacious!

    We divided a few spoils up and then the mystery goods, plus the old mystery goods from the river bed. I gave it all to Jonni, 'cause he can spead the information through his work. Maybe our pieces fit with other pieces, still out there, or already in the hands of someone else wondering how it all fits together? Pooling the information is the best way to learn more, I figure.

    Note to self: misty crystal rocks! Use it at once if you stumble headlong into another wasps nest, Willow! Especially if it's buck naked day."


  • On the river barge heading south, propped up comfortably on some burlap sacks of undefined goods, Willow sits with her face turned up to the pale winter sunshine, her sandy hair fluttering in the chill breeze. Now and then, she drops in a few crumbs of the bread she's eating to share with the fishes, while writing:

    "For all the wisdom of the snooze -> lose equation, I managed to do just that when the time came for meeting with the gnolls. Judging by the rumours I heard, there was progress of a sort - the cure that's been concocted works, some Talonite druids got the slap-down, but there's still more work to be done and the source of the disease isn't yet dealt with. Probably there'll be more chances to pitch in somehow, I'm just kinda peeved that I said I wouldn't snooze it all away and still did!

    Thing is though, I don't really like planning my time, or worse, planning adventure. I like spur of the moment best, going where the wind takes me and following my whim, I like surprises and the unknown! But there's only so much you can do on your own, and lately I've found myself a little frustrated. The things I want to do, the places I want to go, I can't seem to manage without having to plan them as there's either a shortage of time or of participants.

    The Coldstones, The Lost City, that mysterious lava cave deep into the Giantspire ogres territory. The Warrens. Far off and very dangerous places, the sort of places that'll see me squished before I can say 'wow' even. So now, I think I might have to compromise. Better to plan than to not go at all, yeah? I can do that classic explorer thing and mount actual expeditions… though most ~sensible~ people are probably gonna ask what the purpose is besides exploring. I could lie and say there's rumour of fabulous hidden treasure I guess, or this rare medicinal plant or other, but maybe the expedition's better off without sensible in it!

    Ooo, or maybe I should go talk to that Helena girl, she seems to have the knack for finding actual treasure... maybe if I pointed out the general sort of areas I wanna go to, she could find something promising enough to make other people think the effort's worth it? Sadly I do need help, kind of a lot even, to reach those places I have yet to explore.

    I wonder if going to the same old places is why some people lose their sense of adventure? Yesterday, we went poking about in the kobold warrens after reports of there being some sort of ruckus with their king (of course killed by adventurers). The group all but sauntered inside, managing to get split up several times as though focus on what we were doing was real low. Is it that the kobolds posed too little of a challenge or is the repetative pattern of going to the same place just so strong that it prevails, turning adventure into dread routine by virtue of the setting?

    We could hear excited yips and yaps from deeper within the cave, but it was as though the monotonous fighting and looting overcame the natural curiosity of what was going on. When we got to the end, after fighting through something of a horde of scalies cheering and jeering, we saw them - the yapping kobold king and the yipping pretender to the throne, seemingly oblivious to anything and everything but their own squabble for power. Meanwhile, their empire kinda crumbled around them...

    Just two kobolds left, and we stopped and stared as if they were gladiators in a ring or circus animals parading. I don't know if it was cruel or kind or just plain peculiar, but I found it uncomfortable. Didn't sit right, somehow, neither to strike at them while they were held by spells, nor to spare them just so's to see who won, manipulating their minds and tossing grease about for fun. I felt like the party was a big, disjointed cat, idly playing with a mouse, only the mouse didn't really clue in to the game until after a while.

    I felt kind of sorry for the survivor, then - it was too easy for us, too safe and too callous. Instead of the treasure the party snatched away, I gave the lonely king a grenade belt and some dragon breath potions, cool stuff but bound to be used against the next batch of adventurers - but you know, that's fair! Easy winning is what make for those callouses, and in fact most of the group left without showing any interest in what happened next.

    Me and Lainie lingered, but really, you can't spare one out of a hundred and expect the hundredth to thank you for it. Maybe it's even cruel, but I felt sick of killing just because we could. Why not NOT kill someone, because we could? So even when the kobold king inevitably flipped his lid, seeing the carnage and the bodies in the wake of our party's path, we didn't kill him. I feel conflicted about the whole thing though... makes me think on power and the responsibility that should, but doesn't often seem to, come with it.

    It's cleaner somehow to imagine yourself the mouse and not the cat, or the underdog fighting against the odds. When all odds are on your side, when you're pretty much guaranteed a win, you've got to start wondering what you're really doing. Like my little lakeside runs through goblins... fighting just for the hell of it, because I feel bored and want some excitement. Not exactly a nice thing to do, gotta admit!

    Maybe that's why a lot of adventurers love combatting undead - you can fight and fight and fight, wading through countless hordes, without ever running into a moral greyzone and questioning the slaughter - I mean, they ~are~ already dead and turning them properly so is a guaranteed good thing. Huh... I guess that is in a weird way their silver lining, dull though they may be!

    The healer in me has leanings towards pacifism, seeking to preserve lives instead of taking them, but the adventurer in me is undoubtedly more hard-hearted - and the explorer knows that you have simply got to be able to fight in order to go places off the beaten path. But I think I've got to draw some sort of line. If someone or even 'something' is not a threat, isn't actively trying to hurt me and doesn't even have anything I really want (like apples... sorry goblin tossers, but I love apples! Toss them my way and I promise I'll stop chasing you), then of course I won't hurt them! And if these persons, creatures or monsters want to talk, then I'll talk, and if they need a helping hand, then I'll offer it freely.

    Except orcs. I really don't like orcs, though half-orcs get the benefit of the doubt!

    I never claimed to be a good person, but I want to be a person who isn't cruel or callous. I want to stay curious, stay tolerant and use your gifts with increasing wisdom as their power grows. Sometimes I find myself yearning for more power, because I want to be able to see all those cool but dangerous places (and live to tell the tale), but power undoubtedly comes with its own complications. The more you have of it, the more mindful you must be of your actions. It's a double-edged sword, isn't it?

    Especially if you're the sort to want to follow your whim!"


  • Nestled in a treetop, overlooking the misty swamplands near Peltarch's grey stone walls, Willow lets the wind rock her gently. Her white cloak flutters and dry leaves rustle as she shifts position, turning slightly more upright to write.

    "You snooze, you lose.

    I've been snoozing a lot lately, neglecting adventure, danger and exploration on a larger scale for the littler things, the personal and sometimes solitary preoccupations I love so well. And in doing so, I've undeniably missed out on a lot of things, including the Smurfnibblin' ruins (Shessa says she's been there ~twice~ now, twice! And so has just about everyone else I know, so what's the point in even calling it exploration anymore? I'll see it when I see it and hope I find something fresh in the sight), fighting the big bad lich (not that I was ever really that keen on that one) and a variety of different bits and bobs of happenings.

    The most unexpected bit of news was Vash'ts revelation of being in ~looove~, all goofy grins and starry eyes over a girl who, it turns out, is none other than Jonni's sister. And snarly werewolf Ael's daughter, which apparantly earned my bum of a brother in spirit some beatings already. Not that he mentioned much about that, he just seemed happy, eager that I should meet his girl. I haven't yet, but I think Llama has - she's that girl Leanna teased him about when we last met, the pretty blonde that he supposedly flirted with (like he knows how to flirt, haha!).

    She wanted to create a fishing pond near the city, so that's a plus in her favour already, besides making Vash't smile like a brain-dead kitten. I'll do the meet and greet sometime soon, but speaking of Leanna, even thinking about her seems to trigger her arrival sometimes. And right now, I don't think my poor ass can take much more punishment!

    See, Lil' Ms Chaos Supreme turned up just as we were about to go poking around the Kobold Warrens after rumours of unusual numbers there. SCCHHHWING, BAM, up turns Leanna and says ohhh nooo, don't go to the kobold warrens! (wink wink, nudge nudge) The bunnies are onto her hanging around the city and have shacked up with the kobolds there, massing like.. an army. And not only that, these bunnies are elite battle trained ones, mean as can be!

    Naturally, we jumped straight to it and Gnarl even bunny-hopped ahead of the group, straight into an ethereal battle bunny ambush… He nearly ~died~, and as I rushed to help, I took a bunny bop to the knees and toppled into the grass, nibbled and kicked in the ribs for my efforts! Jerks!

    Before we entered the Warrens, we had to patch up and dish out some extra spells, and good that we did, 'cause maaan... those bunnies are seriously terrifying! I ran in complete fear at one point, convinced I was turned into pure carrot for the nibbling, and in trying to help Gnarl overcome his own terror, got knocked over again.

    Ow!

    It was messy, it was painful and scary like all HELLS to get up there in front and pretend to be a fighter, just so the bunnies wouldn't gnaw at Lainie, Shessa and Marty. I'm no better at frontlining than either of them, but I am just a little bit better at enduring bunny bites. I was knocked over a couple more times before Leanna turned up again, seeming to find it all very amusing! Though she warned us about the Bunny Wrangler, a powerful creep who'd managed to turn himself back into a dwarf, but not a very nice one... not nice at all.

    Glowing pink and clad in a poncy robe, he appeared in the penultimate room of the Warrens, throwing a green hand of Inappropriate Fondling at Gnarl and then fireflames all around before retreating further in where an ambush was set up. Gnarl and Marty ran straight after, but managed to get just the one or two bunnies on our tails besides mr Wranger himself. But that distraction was enough to give the pink creep a head-start in shaking us off his (by now bleeding) trail. When he disappeared out the cave mouth, I knew we'd lost him.

    Damnit! All those bunny tackles to the ground, and nothing to show for it but bruises - but(t) on the other hand, I've got to admit I haven't had excitement like that since... well, since Furtle Island, really. And while we didn't exactly rescue anyone this time or found remarkable treasure, I did survive, so yay! Really got to stop that whole dying horribly trend somehow, though at least ethereal dire battle bunnies make for an interesting cause of possible death.

    The next possible doom isn't nearly so exotic, 'cause it seems another thing that happened in my absence was the arrangement of a meeting between goodly adventurer types and the big bad gnolls, with regards to the sickness they're still plagued with. Jonni seems to be a dab hand at the diplomacy thing and in agreement with a gnoll bitch with a bitchin' big scythe, the two sides will meet at the full moon to begin working on a solution.

    Of course, no one trusts the gnolls - with good reason I'd say - and the gnolls probably have just as little reason to trust people. I'm a healer and a helping hand to those in need though, which kinda does include gnolls, if they'd only stop trying to murder me first. I'll do what I can, but I just can't help but feel like I'm about to get knocked onto my butt again as thanks - or cleaved in two by those big-ass axes!

    Note to self: pack Invisibility and for goodness sake, remember Sanctuary if it all goes downhill towards Shit Creek!

    But for now, I think I earned a nice long snooze. You snooze, you lose, but if you don't relax now and then, winning will lose its luster 'cause you've lost the energy to appreciate it."


  • The Gypsy Cliffs are sheer and slick with recent rain, though slivers of pale sunlight filters through the grey clouds above. Willow's white angel-wing cloak flutters in the breeze as she pauses her climb, one hand lodged in a small crevice and the other firmly gripping her Willo'Whip, which is writhing its branches in some anticipation. She narrows her light green eyes, trying to judge the distance to the next suitable rock outcropping. It is a fair bit further up, soggy moss sticking to some of its outer edges.

    A seagull's hoarse cry breaks the silence as it circles closer to the stick-figure climber, riding the upgoing winds easily. Willow grins and pokes her tongue out at the bird, then suddenly heaves herself up, the whip snapping out just as her foot begins to slip. Before she falls, the ever unpredictable whip coils around the rock above, and a laughing Willow dangles to and fro, eventually swinging her way to a small ledge to rest.

    "Haha! That was awesome!"

    The seagull snickers and lands a little bit further up, where a huge, crumbling nest of some unknown bird can just be glimpsed. It flaps its wings, poking a bright yellow beak into the old nest's sticks and debris.

    "Hey, wait for meeee!"

    Scurrying the last stretch and nearly falling again, Willow finally heaves herself up over the cliff upon which the nest is resting, panting heavily. After an excited inspection, she shares some bread with the bird.

    "Okay, so no Roc yet, but this is totally the sort of place where they'd wanna live, yeah? Or a giant eagle.. ooo.. you'd make a ~great~ one of those, literally!"

    The seagull gives another hoarse snicker, pokes its beak into Willow's hair to stick a couple of half-wilted flowers there, then takes off to enjoy the winds around the cliff face. Willow smiles, watching the bird's lazy arcs before writing briefly:

    "Life is good.

    I haven't done a whole lot of noteworthy stuff of late, but life really is good. I have this warm feeling inside, like a glow of happy anticipation, as though only good things lie ahead of me. We're off to meet the folks soon, Llama's family that is, when the season and the winds are right. I was nervous before, but now? Now I'm just… I'm really just looking forwards to it, Llama's contageous that way and besides - anyone who created him has got to be just crazy enough to like me too, right?

    Not even Leanna could shake us up, even though I think she seriously tried - she gave Llama this ~outrageously~ passionate kiss and everything! I objected mostly 'cause I kinda felt I was expected to, but really, I'm so entirely secure with how I feel and how he feels that it was mostly just funny. He looked so funny afterwards too!

    A bit less funny and kinda disturbing was Leanna's next notion, which was to sorta.. well.. live vicariously through us, in a sense. She wants to plant some of her essence in a future child of mine and Llama's, and in a way it's flattering - I mean, she ~is~ a demigodess and all that, but first of all I don't want kiddies just yet! And secondly, wouldn't a child with parents like me and Llama be plenty - and I mean PLENTY - willful enough already? Seriously, I'd have grey hairs in an instant if they were anything like Leanna too!

    I'm sorta counting on the fact that she'll simply forget the whole idea, 'cause we stalled and evaded answering anything for sure. I mean, it already melts my brain to even think about starting our own family - but I think it's a good brain-melt rather than a bad one. It's just way too far off to quite envision clearly, but what I do dream of is us two travelling the world together. And going to his parents will be a journey by itself!

    Another happy factor is Vash'ts return. We had this long talk by the fire, on one of those lazy days when there was hardly anyone about and no ants in my pants that had me running this way or that. We talked about family mostly - we've kinda already established a sibling relationship, family in spirit and so, but I've never asked him about his real family. So I did!

    His story just blew me away. It made me both sad for him but also proud, and above all else, it made me feel closer to him. The real stuff always does, and I'm glad he shared it with me. I reigned my healerly know-how in and the what-if's that were on the tip of my tongue at times, 'cause that's history and a done deal long ago - instead I had to wonder at loss and what we make of it. I think the people that are important stay with us - I can still find myself arguing internally with my mother, which is totally warped but somehow soothing! And in telling me about his family, I kinda felt it was the same with Vash't. They're the people that shaped him, they're why he is the way he is, and if you look at it that way, they're not really gone. Not while we remember.

    Leaving the afterlife aside, I think that's a powerful thing in itself. But it isn't static, like all things memory too is subjective to change, and while it can be hard to accept that the details fleet away (sometimes I can't quite remember my mother's face, which really does hurt), the important bits stay and evolve, even. I can look at my life now and know she'd approve, I can even imagine what she would say about my Llama-bear (all good things, in between huffs and puffs of supposed disapproval). I think she might even side with him on a few things over me, and they'd end up teasing me!

    Time and the winds sweep all things with it, all but the the things we carry inside, deep in our hearts. When I discover new things, I share them not only with You, but with her."


  • Up in a hay loft somewhere in Norwick, dry straw suddenly rustles and shifts as a dishevelled and yawning half-elf wakes from her slumber, blinking dust from her light green eyes. Warm twilight filters in through the odd crack through the wall, Willow half-rising and then snuggling back down into her nest of hay. She snacks on a green apple while writing, the crisp crunching sound breaking an otherwise languid silence.

    "I feel at home when the unknown surrounds me.

    I talked to Mark before sleepiness got the better of me, and tried to explain how the above really isn't contradictory at all. Not sure I completely got the point across, perhaps it's a Shaundakulite thing? But the way I see it, too much familiarity and comfort breeds lethargy of the spirit. It's a growing ground for falling into mindless routine and kinda… well, ceasing to appreciate or even ~see~ the world around you. The brain is often lazy and seeks to simplify, filtering away the stuff it deems irrelevant. So in a way, the better you know a place, the less you really see it.

    In contrast, going somewhere totally unfamiliar, where most people claim they're lost, well! Instead of routine awareness, you have to take it ALL in, 'cause it's all brand new, and you can't tell important from unimportant even if you tried! It's kinda like the jungles of Chult, really - we, being new to the place, found it wildly chaotic 'cause we were bombarded with all the unfamiliar scents, sights and sounds - but to the natives, there was order and structure.

    It's not that I don't want to get to know a place, not that I don't appreciate that the familiar can hold subtle nuances and detail the casual passer by may well overlook - but I never feel ~lost~, going somewhere unknown. I feel more alive, more awake, aware and closer to You! Since I no longer have a home to call my own, nor any family ties, I just decided that the whole wide world is my home. So how could I ever be lost?

    I talked to Silver too. Man, paladins are sooo strange. As though the strictness of his vows weren't enough, Silver adds more restrictions, to reign himself in from.. I dunno what, really. Life? He won't taste a drop of alcohol, which is real odd for a dwarf, but worse, seems near religiously intent on routine, following the same patrol beat over and over again. Is repetition soothing to some? Maybe it's a way of trying to convince yourself you can control the world, by shrinking unknown factors more and more. Maybe it's about perfection, filing away at all the little rough edges by doing something over and over and over, until nothing flawed (or interesting) remains?

    Whatever his reasons, it's very alien to me. Equally alien - and possibly in the same ballpark - is the self-imposed martyrdom syndrom. Salin's friend Mat, case in point. From what I heard, walking in on a conversation between Leena and Salin, the guy is so determined to pay a debt his parents owed to Salin's that it doesn't seem to matter that Salin says Mat owes him nothing. It's rediculous - either the debt is already settled by the simple fact of the debtor and debtee both being dead, OR the debt is transferred to the sons - in which case Salin's word should be good enough to square it, once and for all. 'I hereby absolve any debt you think you owe me' - end of story, right? Apparantly not!

    Instead, Mat made some vow to Tyr to pay though the loss of his sight, for a year. Wow. What purpose does that serve, honestly? To me it feels like pointless hardskip that doesn't do a thing to help the guy Mat claims to be indebted to. If anything, it makes Mat more dependant on Salin!

    I honestly don't understand why people have such a hard time letting things go, grievances especially. It almost makes me angry sometimes, it DID make me angry when Shessa had another relapse of sadness recently, this time revealing a bit more of the reasons why. And it is sad, what happened then - but it's in the past! Everyone that matters to her has long since forgiven her, everyone but the most important person - herself. She keeps beating herself up about it and sinking into this sad puddle of tears that makes me so frustrated that I just wanna shake her by the shoulders! I had to shake that feeling off though, 'cause the more upset I got, the more sorry she felt. She even started apologizing for being sad, and I just.. ugh. I just sighed and put my arms around her.

    I'm not angry, Shessa. I'm just frustrated that you can't seem to forgive the young you, because I know you would if it was anyone but yourself. That the kindest of person can be so cruel to themselves, that's what makes me upset. You've suffered enough, it's high time to let it go and free yourself from the past. I just wish I could teach you how.

    On a brighter note, Vash't returned (HUZZAH!) - and promptly got himself stuck in a pile of rubble, to be rescued by Leanna herself! Or well.. actually she was kinda round-about in the rescue, 'cause she turned Shessa and me into great big umberhulks to dig him out! Wooahh.. first time shapeshifting, and I think I'm hooked. It was ~amazing~ to experience a whole new body, and my senses were so altered that I was almost giddy. Each little tremor of the earth seemed as clear as daylight, and I was strong! So strong that I probably coulda clipped a kobold in two with one pincer!

    We headed towards the swamps to try just that, when another (and actual) umberhulk bust through the ground. He - it was definitely a he, I could tell by.. I dunno what, but to Umberwillow it was obvious - tried to like.. court us! Made eyes (multiple ones) at us, clicked his mandibles and like, danced around in hopeful romantic advances. But yeaaahhh.. I may like new experiences more than most, but I have to draw the line somewhere! Horny Hulk was shot down quite brutally by us both, and burrowed back down in the ground, morosely. Meanwhile, Vash't nearly peed himself laughing!

    He says the big three left the Den by now, and that the sentient animals seem to have retreated further into the forest, probably to try and avoid clashes with townsfolk. It's reassuring that there's no immediate conflict looming, but I can't help but wonder what Captain Asshat's minions are up to, in the meanwhile... but there's no point in dwelling on it, we'll just have to stay alert and react quickly to whatever's next.

    And I can tick one place off on my go-to-places, 'cause we finally went to that underground temple, behind a gazillion spider guardians! It went pretty smoothly too, with just the odd poisoning but no loss of life or limb. Lainie turned the big queen spider to stone, but I couldn't even tell in the mass of writhing limbs, at the time! And going back, Llama let loose a burst of thunder that had his bear-pelt all spiky after... this has gotta be what Leena means by Talos Hammer. He showed me again, out in the hills fighting orcs, and WOW! That's like.. literally electrifying stuff!

    Next, I reeeaaally want to find that trail up into the Coldstones. Or ~make~ a trail, if need be. I have this nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, that's where your shrine awaits. And if it doesn't, perhaps I can find the perfect mountaintop to build one!"


  • Next to the stone sphinx at Hero's Bluff, Willow sits with her skinny legs crossed and a jumble of curious finds in her lap. The wind tugs and tosses her sandy hair as she bends her head down to read a slightly crumpled note, light green eyes filled with curiosity. She sniffs a vial, wrinkles her nose at a few other bits and bobs, before setting it all aside to write:

    "Roaming.

    I do that a lot, when I can't find anyone decent to spend my time with. Shessa would probably call it scouting or patrolling, but it isn't, really. I've no specific intent but for ~moving~, randomly poking about, and I generally try to avoid places where there's any great deal of danger or fighting involved. Restless leg syndrom, my mother called it, mournfully adding that the only (and temporary) cure she knew of was to let me exhaust myself fully.

    So I did just that today, running gleefully to the ferry crossing, shouting at a few shambling undead as I passed the outskirts of broken Jiyyd and out on to the battlefields. It's one of my favourite places for just messing about; lots of room to run and more often than not, you find something curious poking out of the ground. There's the menhir stones, wraught in mystery, a good few cool high spots and plenty of caves for spellunking. All in all, it's a good place for random exploration just for the sake of it, even if I've seen pretty much all the nooks and crannies before, by now.

    Well, except that alluring lost temple place at the bottom of the spider caves - totally have to get there soon, it sounds just like my sorta place!

    But I'm not gonna tackle a cave full of spiders and their mother Queen on my own, now am I? So instead, I settled for the old riverbed, where past events have left gruesome remains. It's a bit of a sad and quiet place, but it's also mysterious and has that out-of-the-beaten-path feel to it that I enjoy. I've been there a few times by now, sometimes to rest and sometimes in the hopes of finding clues to unravel its past mysteries.

    It's always been deserted, with nothing and no one but the dessicated long-dead inhabitants bones for company - except today!

    There were carts laden with what looked like bones, and a shovel next to the heaps exhumed from the ground.. gross, graverobbers, necromancers? A black crate nearby proved to contain no specific clues, but up on the ridge, there was suddenly movement. People, and they didn't look pleased to see me!

    Suddenly I felt acutely aware of how alone I was, that no one really knew where I'd gone, but that small concern passed as swiftly as it came 'cause I was already spotted. There was nothing for it now but to fight or flee, and I was way too curious to turn tail now. I fought, setting off with the wind at my back!

    Whoo, I love being hasted, but the priest opposing me was much less pleased and meanly dispelled the effect. I nearly tripped over my own feet at the sudden change of pace, but cut his next spell short with a slash of my katana. Ha-haaa, take that, you rotten spoilsport! His cronies came running for backup, but I was on fire (my katana literally so) and the fight was won!

    Following the direction they'd all come from, I found a burned out barracks, a number of equally scorched yet sturdy crates and barrels set alongside it. The beams looked real unsteady, so going inside wasn't an option, but when I poked around at the boxes, they were surprisingly intact underneath the layer of soot. Two were even locked!

    Well.. I was all alone, and I'd not come this far to let sleeping dogs lie, right? So I flashed my knockers and ta-daaa! The locks went click, clack, clock and opened up their treasures. Inside, ~the~ most unusual arrows I have ever seen and a note hinting of collaboration between this group and some other nebulous faction. The signature - and the general appearance of the thugs themselves - reminded me of that small camp we'd busted up near Ormpur, and the other finds seemed much in the same vein. Bundles of bone, vials of blood, necromantic scrolls.. eww. But also a curious grenade belt and a few useful potions.

    Lainie said something about the goodie-goods she'd worked with, back in Ormpur… and these arrows, sheesh - they seem especially designed to wreak some serious damage to just that type of guys and girls. I think I'll show her this new stuff, maybe she knows more about it than me. I took a few remaining cultists out on the other side of the ridge, stepping squarely on a negative energy trap in the process (OW!), then stared at the remaining two who stood frozen and unwilling to fight me.

    Alright, I can get some answers, I thought. But nooooo - they wouldn't talk, witless with fear and just stood there, shaking. I'm really not ~that~ intimidating, so I'm guessing that whoever their boss is, he or she is a serious badass. I left them there, feeling like whatever came would be worse than what I could dish out at them.

    There's never any telling what a random run-around will result in, sometimes it's simply about the running, sometimes you find an unexpected gem of beauty and sometimes just the odd and curious. This time, my poking around unearthed something decidedly nasty, but with You at my back, I can handle the unexpectedly wicked too. Sometimes I think that even the ugliest find is beautiful in a way, because of that element of discovery, the surprise and the thrill.

    Sure beats sitting around staring at a campfire all day!"


  • Up on the hill overlooking the south gate, the furtle shield is stuck into the ground like a make-shift shelter, while the dim red glow of the portable street-light illuminates an otherwise dark and stormy night. Lightning streaks the sky at times, a rumbling thunder rolling out across the Rawlins in the distance. Huddled between the shell shield and Llyran's warm, bearclad bulk, Willow writes:

    "A big, stupidly happy grin settled on my honeybear's face when he unpacked the furtle shield at long last, seeming to not even notice the seriously heavy stormclouds gathering above our heads. Lightning struck nearby, and Llama just grinned, like a child with the bestest, shiniest new toy ever! From being the guy who kept forgetting to even use a shield, he seems to want to hold this one all the time - and that's awesome for keeping him safe and sound! He did this incredibly cute thing too, where he turtled behind it and peeked over the top with fake caution, haha!

    Waiting for my bear proved far more busy than I had expected, too. After a short but sweetly exhilerating raid on the bugbear mines with Jonni and Lainie, there was an attack on the gates, larger in scale than anything I've ever experienced before. Jaded Norwick adventurers would scoff when I say it was all goblins, but the thing is, they weren't ~all~ goblin. All of them - and they came in wave upon wave, hundreds by the end I'd guess - all had red eyes and weird growths, like horns or fangs or a tail. Fiendish goblins!

    They were seriously tough, and we had to retreat at once to sound the alarm. Luckily more people came swiftly, and together we held the line for a while. But spells were running low, and the goblins just kept coming. One got a good swing at me and cracked a rib, in just one hit! And there was sooo much fire, grenades and spells flying, the grass turning black around us, but luckily my helm protected me from the worst and I could focus on running in and out to slap some healing out, or stay back and shoot my bow.

    When people like Beorn almost die, that's when you know things are rough, but just then, something very unexpected happened. Out of the treeline, a huuuuge figure emerged, towering over the goblins that she sliced through with her bigass blade - a frost giant! After the initial shock wore off (and the dwarves had been convinced to hear her out), Jonni could trade a few words with her. It seems she was sent to help out, strange as that may sound, and when the attacks continued she was a literally GREAT help!

    Ragnhild (that's her name, and oddly the name of Jonni's own grandma) left soon after dawn, when the attack stopped at last. She wasn't real cordial, and it seems to me that she was there more to stop the goblins, and less to help for the sake of Norwick itself, yeah? Afterwards, Jonni said she'd revealed a few more details to him - that the 'White Snake' was the one that sent her, from the Coldstones… and a gut reaction kicked in, inside me. White Snake, fighting fire, a sort of ally but not exactly friend? Ky...

    From what Ras told us, I'd say that hunch could well fit, and I immediately wanted to rush off and find him, find a trail up the mountains, see the Coldstones and discover everything we could find out about it! So when Jonni started being practical about it, saying we had to prepare and bring suitable gifts and stuff, I wasn't really in a mood to listen. In fact, I was kind of a pest about it, 'cause things continued to a disagreement about keeping this all on the down-low, at least until we knew more. And keeping secrets is almost as big of a pet peeve of mine as people ordering me about...

    Poor Jonni, my ranting wasn't really aimed at him, and he made some perfectly valid points besides - such as for any kind of peaceful mission to work, the bashy-bashy-make-war-people can't really be involved. And it's true, we will learn more if there's less square-headed people around. It's just... I really, ~really~ dislike hush-hush stuff. If everyone kept their cards close to their chests, how would anything ever change, you know? If you give, you also get, and everything flows so much faster!

    But alright, I'll concede to err on the side of caution on this one, 'cause really it is still just a hunch, a guess that might prove completely off the mark. We'll see, first off I'm thinking we'll have to talk to Ras...

    Secondly, 'cause the place where those fiendish goblins usually reside is the omniously ill reputed Lost City, I think we should also go poking around there. Apparantly it's really dangerous, but I've wanted to go exploring there ever since Leanna gave me and Llama that sneak preview of the place... now, there's finally a good and valid reason that will even persuade the more cautious folk that it's worth the trip!

    And speaking of Leanna, she showed up again, just last night! There were a clutch of wicked bunnies too, and a miniaturized squeaky-voiced Balor, and the roar of a dragon passing overhead! Leanna is such a whirlwind of chaos and grand things happening, that I think it's hard for most people to wrap their heads around. Sooner or later, someone snaps and this time it was Salin's friend Mathias. He actually tried to tell her, in a parental sort of tone no less, that enough is enough! Uh-oh.. yeah, that didn't end well.

    No matter that she can totally act like a child on a sugar high, Leanna ~is~ a demi-godess, and very much not fond of being ordered around by mortals. Things came to blows, and Salin got inbetween too and ended up hurt... and then Leanna took off in a mood. It so didn't have to end like that!

    Anyway, as always with Leanna, there's kernels of reason and truth in what she says and does, and this time she had a warning about a red dragon passing through this area. 'cause we asked about dragons, she also said there was a big silver one here, and we should so see him 'cause he's amazing - she made the most awesome illusion of this dragon, wow, just wow! Argentius is his name, but unfortunately for us, he's sleeping. But drawn by the speaking of his name, his daughter appeared after Leanna had left! Argen'tia, silver-winged and beautiful, a half dragon she said. She and her brother keep watch for other dragons in the area, and she was tracking the red currently.

    After she took to the skies, I had the most overwhelming urge to soar up into the clouds after her - so later, when I thought I saw a big shape moving in the stormclouds gathering above, immense wings flapping... I did just that. FWOOSHH! Straight up, into the sky, and possibly into the maws of a waiting dragon! The clouds were thick and vision too foggy to see much of anything while there, though... my wings grew soggy wet, and I had to descend very swiftly indeed, but wow.. just wow! I'll never tire of those flights!

    The storm, and whatever beast moved inside it, moved northwest, disappearing with unnatural speed. We couldn't follow, so settled instead for a bit of well-deserved sloth by the gates, my Llamabear and I. He's good at sloth, so good that I think I'll succumb to the same, myself..."


  • Up in the Roost, Willow sits crosslegged on the soft moss, intently focused on weaving vines, leaves and grass together to a make-shift gift wrapping of sorts. Her Whip of Willows uncoils, seeming intent on "helping" the endeavour and branches suddenly twist and writhe around the large object layed out in the moss.

    "Hey, quit it!"

    Willow laughs and wrestles the whip back into submission, then cooes softly to it before it is released, resting against her skinny hip. Smiling, the half-elf continues her work, wrapping the greenery all around the big, shield-like object. It is a peculiar looking thing, buckled and curved like the back of a giant turtle, but clad in some manner of ragged algae or fur. Willow strokes the surface of the shield fondly before finishing her wrapping off, adding a random scattering of wild flowers to the leaves and vines.

    Work done, she skips to her feet for a victory dance, frolicing around the small clearing with her new white cloak fluttering behind her, light as a feather. A sudden gust of wind seems to tug the cloak apart, soaring angel's wings flaring out at her back for the briefest of moment before it is once again a cloak. Tiny windchimes fastened to the wrist guards of her new armor make a light tinkling noise as she dances herself dizzy, finally landing face-down in the moss.

    As Willow awaits her lumbering bear's return, she writes:

    "The Furtle Shield is done!

    Oh, it's a heavy and cumbersome thing, but strong and tough like the man it's intended for. Llama's going to ~love~ it, but I think he loves how we got it even more - because unlike what we expected beforehand, we didn't have to kill a single furtle to get it. Rather the opposite, we saved them!

    We set out on the Tinselbliss (alright, I'm told it's actually called the Tinieblas, but my name is better!) with slight apprehension - Cap'n Bub seemed a few cards short of the full deck, and the way the ship scraped the side of the docks as it swung into port wasn't reassuring. Still, spirits were nothing if not high, with such great company as ours! It was me, Llamabear, Lainie, Jonni, Shessa and the surprise addition of Damien Meynolt, for once not complaining about dirt every other sentence. I might've told him I'd boot him off the ship if he whined, so…

    It was a stormy day, and freakish lightning hit just as Bub belatedly called for a tribute to the Bitch Queen. Most of us weren't gonna make a fuss - tribute where tribute is due - but Lainie just had to go mentioning Talos and Valkur, promptly getting her little butt zapped for it. I mean sheesh - didn't we agree in Chult that it's smarter to just respect local customs? If it's an Umberlite ship and we're out on the waters, I'm gonna pay tribute just like I woulda offered my blood to the Yuan-ti in the jungle (if it was my blood they'd asked for, that is).

    We weaselled out of harm's way with a collective handful of gems and gold to the deeps, and then sailed 'over the letters' as Bub called it. Lacedon Reef, where ships capsize and their crews roam the sea bed, hungrily stretching undead arms up to the living. A thick fog settled, and everything became eerily calm - then came the scraping.

    Were we tearing the hull against some jagged part of the reef? In concern, I dished out the Waterbreathing spells I'd prepared earlier, and the fog grew so thick that really, it kinda was like breathing water. Scrape, scrape, scrape.. and then watery hands gripped the railing, ghouls sloshing up and onto the deck!

    ~Man~, were they gross! Bloated and unrecognizable as ever being human, skin all pasty white and sponge-like - but their nails were sharp, and their teeth hungry for the flesh of the living! They came in waves, some fell easily to a holy shout and some but wobbled and shambled on - a few were gigantic, lizardlike, and one very tough. Water seemed to bleed out of his pale bloated skin, making the air even more fluid. But with Jonni and Llama in front and Shessa blasting divine light from the back, we got that one down for the count too. And then the fog lifted!

    We were through the Reef, and ahead an island glimpsed, glittering like a jewel in the dissipating mist. Land ahoy, Furtle Island!

    We waded ashore after having made certain Bub and the ship would wait for us, and found an island of almost tropical warmth. Sweet fruits grew on the trees, and the air was humid. Such a nice and bountiful island, no wonder furtles flocked here, I thought - but there wasn't a furtle in sight. Instead, small lizardman-like creatures awaited us, not far from the beach.

    I asked about the furtles, saying we'd come in peace and all that - but the little lizardguy's eyes grew wide in alarm. He seemed afraid, running off to fetch a larger one which I spoke the same message to, hoping my draconic wasn't so bad as to jumble the attempt completely. The big one heard me out, then closed his eyes for a moment as though conferring with someone or something else - then looked back to us and said the following chilling words:

    'You will be our dinner.'

    Hey! I don't think so, douche! From that moment, the fight was on, despite our initial intent of being nice-guys. You just can't be nice when the other side has no intention of playing along, you know? And if we'd known then what we know now, there'd been no niceties at all.

    We fought our way up a hillside, seeking the high ground for better view of our surroundings, fighting through scalies large and small. And at the top, the true power - a Yuan-ti. Yuan-ti, just like in the jungle, only this one wasn't interested in taking anything less than ~all~ of our blood. We won the hill after Llama speared the snake to the ground, and from above spied a long stretch of beach with a shipwreck.

    A beach, now that seemed the best place to look for the furtles! Or rather, ~the~ furtle. See, Jonni had had a vision before we got onboard the ship. In the vision, he saw something like a blocked road, Llama and a furtle. Llama cast a spell, seemed to talk to the furtle, and then followed it down the road. Like, the furtle was the key - and we certainly had rather a big stumbling block in the very angry scalies all around us. It wasn't just the saurials, there were sharks in every stream, dinosaurs on foot and wing and cockatrices. The likeness to Chult was definitely there, in the screech and rustle of angry things lurking in the trees!

    Fighting our way to the beach, we found him in a small enclosure - a very big, very sad furtle. The wooden beams didn't seem like much to contain such a powerful creature, but he merely stood there, still and apathic as though life was not worth living. And Llama, while speaking to the furtle, grew uncharacteristically angry, a hard look flashing in his yellow eyes.

    'He's the last of his kind', Llama explained soon after, beargrumbling. The Yuan-ti had killed all of his kin, taken his beloved mate away and left him all alone and miserable. So miserable was he that he promised his own shell away, if we would give him the one thing left to savour - revenge. Hey, no objections here! Not only were those douches trying to have us for dinner, but they'd killed off an entire species? Not cool, not cool at all!

    We followed the furtle's directions to a cave, blocked off by large boulders. Llama seemed to know just what to do though, cutting his own hand to smear the blood on the rocks. With a quiet murmur, the stone crumbled before us - and the road was clear.

    We prepared as best we could before entering - there was no knowing how far the cave stretched inside, no knowing where or if we could refresh our very depleted blessings, but we weren't about to stop now. Inside though, there was no cave, instead something more like a ship's interior awaited. We fought past the first guards to find a door before us, trapped and locked, but with a little fiddling and a few trinkets used, that too opened.

    But it opened onto sheer mayham. Oh dear, oh gosh.. if I could've gone back, I would say I'd prepared differently, drank all my emergency potions first, but how do you ever know if the fight to come is the final confrontation? You can't scout behind the locked door, after all - and so I won't have any regrets about what came next.

    Saurial guards, Yuan-ti casters, a skulking assassin - it all seemed to hit us at once, a wave of death pouring out of the doorway. Jonni was dazed and staggered backwards, black tentacles sprouting from the ground. I got my Freedom spell off, slapped it on his back and thought in panic that I would Slow our attackers, perhaps buying us just a little time - but I had just ran out of time, myself.

    The Yuan-ti priestess' eyes locked on mine, a scaly finger pointing at my chest - and then it was all over. My vision turned black, then foggy white as the too familiar, dreary light of the Fugue claimed me. At first I was just annoyed, then anxious - if the rest died, who would bring them back when I was dead? Oh, let them live, let them win, oh pretty please Shaundakul, Mielikki, Savras and Selune, let them not join me!

    I paced and fretted, but was eventually joined by Damien. Time seemed to cease to exist - perhaps it really doesn't exist in that place, who knows? - but I couldn't be still. They had to live, they had to win this fight, PLEASE! I drifted through a fence, stared up at the spiral stairs disappearing into white clouds above. It wasn't my time, not yet - not without my bear.

    And then the pull came, a slow tug at first, before gaining momentum, slamming me back into my mortal coils. Breathe!

    I breathed, and as my vision cleared, saw satisfyingly dead scalies around me, exhausted friends with ready hugs, and something else. Something wholly unexpected, something which lifted my ragged spirits - a furtle! A living, breathing furtle, smaller than the first but alive, alive! And even better than that - it was the big furtle's mate. I don't know what the Yuan-ti had been doing to her, but there were glowing lights all around her prison - a soon broken prison, now!

    Damien too was brought back, and with a jumble of things collected, we hurried after the furtle as she darted off towards the beach with surprising speed. The reuniting of the furtle lovers was enough to bring tears to even the most hardened of salty sailor's eyes, I dare say! It was simply beautiful, and I would die all over again for that happy ending to be possible, I would! Before they waded into the Icelace together, the big furtle dug up a shell from the sand - the shell of his own father, I think, now gifted to Llyran to make something worthy of remembering him by.

    In the end, we didn't need to kill a single furtle to gain the shield we'd daydreamed so often about, but instead may have saved the species from extinction. ~This~ is my kind of good deed, and my only regret is that I didn't have a peek hole in the fugue to watch a fully spelled up, roaring mad Llyran wreak druidic vengeance on the remaining Yuan-ti. It must have been quite a sight, RRHHH!

    And if I had any lingering weariness in me (death does take a lot out of you), it was all negated with a single, heavenly leap into the sky! Recovered among the Yuan-ti hoard was a cloak of lightest, softest white which does not only look like something an angel would wear - it has the power to turn into actual angel's wings, for one to fly straight up into the sky with! It's so thrilling, so magical and wonderful that I have to keep myself from doing it ~all the time~! The magic is limited, and I don't want to wear it all out, not quite yet!

    Lainie admitted afterwards that she would've liked the cloak too - and honestly, who wouldn't? But she thought it perfect for me, and just let me have it - which I very much appreciate! She's such a sweetheart, and perhaps we can swoop and fly together, white wings and raven black!

    All in all, I feel more alive than ever - light as a feather, free as a bird, as though the wind could take me ~anywhere~. It's just what I wanted, what I longed for during those slow and weary weeks. And it just goes to show that living safe isn't really living at all.

    Now, I'm eagerly awaiting my bear's return to the Roost. I can't wait to see his face when he sees what Feldegast made of the shell, and I am so happy that we made this dream come true, together. Llyran, you're the ~best~ and you totally deserve the best!

    And as cherry on the cake, Beorn finished my armor! It's a dreamily light and flexible creation, made of steel wire which seems braided together in a very intricate fashion. The inside is lined with soft bear fur - the very same bear that nearly ate him in Mintas forest that time - and he fastened tiny windchimes to the wrist guards, so that the wind can always sing around me! It is the best armor ~ever~. I might have to break the promise I never technically gave and hug him again..."


  • Green cloak snapping in the brisk northern wind, Willow skips along the top of the Jewel's sturdy stone walls, until spying a Defender on watch in one of the turrets. She waves enthusiastically, then turns and skips back before the baffled man collects his wits, barking a belated order at her retreating backside.

    Down at the waterfront, Willow keeps skipping; happy, random steps with all the grace of a frisky moose calf. She whirls around, then opens her arms out wide as though to embrace all of the glittering Icelace before her. Later, perched on a crate near the Black Sails warehouse, she writes:

    "Furtles Ahoy!

    Plan Llama-Dire-Turtle-Shield is in motion, the ship is booked and the usual suspects rounded up. John Isle still won't let us use his own vessel, but he said that the 'Tinnie-Blas' would do nicely. Sailors and their superstition, seems a deeply rooted thing indeed! But if ~that~ many ships really crashed against the Lacedon Reef, maybe the rumours of sea ghouls aren't just rumours… good thing I've got my Flaily-Turning-Stick, if so!

    I'm not quite so crummy at fighting undead as I would have people believe, actually. I mean, when I shout your name and do the whole holy symbol thing, they turn and flee same as they would for any faithful cleric. It's just that undead are SO depressing, real negative Nellies, and I don't want my high spirits sucked down into the dirt, you know? But to set their spirits free, well - that's got to be a certifiably Good Thing!

    I'm not so sure I want to be tossed into the Do-Gooder-Crowd though, where the 'Right Thing' must always be done and this cause or other championed. I'm not big on causes, generally - which is not to say there aren't some things I'd fight to the death over, of course! Salin insists that I'm a hero whether I see myself as that or not, but I'm pretty sure I'm just a helping hand to my fellow travellers in this great wide world. Others may be the hand that strikes, the hand that pushes or directs a course of action, but really, I'd rather just offer a hand up to the guy that stumbled, without telling him how he should or shouldn't live his life.

    Back to the topic at hand though - furtles! I bought Llama this really awesome pirate scimitar, and we've practiced our arrr an' yarrrs, playing daring privateers for days! I'm going to ask You for some Waterbreathing coolness, in case we have to go swimming (or sinking!), and we have at least three fantastic friends helping out. It should be a breeze, right? Sure, a dire turtle is like, several times bigger than a man, even a big bearman like the Llama.. but if we can take down a Triceratops, we can totally manage a furtle!

    We might still need a helping hand though - so I'll find my best high spot for extra prayers!"


  • Above the entrance to the Wolves Den, a pair of long skinny legs dangle down. Willow contemplates the afternoon's light and puffy clouds, seeming content to just sit there for a while, waiting - though as the sunlight begins to fade, she fishes up her book to write, tearing the page out and sticking it to the gates before trotting off towards the Gypsy Woods.

    "Rasuil!

    I was running about near the Rawlins Lake when suddenly, I had company of a more unexpected nature. Amongst the usual goblin rabble, one of their assassins hid, trying to hamstring me while I was busy fighting. As luck would have it, that's about when Lainie found me, and we made short work of the little jerk and his three stabby friends.

    But there was something disturbing going on, this omnious feeling that kept building and didn't seem to have anything to do with the goblins themselves, except I expect they felt the same thing. Something was wrong, like.. really, ~really~ wrong!

    Lainie and I huddled instinctively closer, back to back, while trying to assess the situation. Then I saw it, shuffling out of the treeline with its vines and branches writhing, an angy mass of brambles and thorns! I shrieked and blasted it with holy fire, and it hissed - Lainie followed with blasts of blue magic, and we managed to put it down - but the vines… the vines like.. re-knitted themselves, and now they shot out towards us, dragged us in and bit deeply into flesh and skin. I was poisoned, weak as a kitten, but managed to get a blessing off to reverse the damage. I ran, Lainie ran, but the damned thing kept pulling us back in!

    That's when I coated my katana with darkfire and FWOOSH, SWOOSH, sliced through the thick vines and then it collapsed, a heap of seemingly normal vegetation. We set it on fire after, just to be on the safe side, and healed ourselves up - but the bad feeling lingered. This wasn't over, but.. from the north, a cool wind came, bringing with it a building storm.

    As the clouds gathered and darkened overhead, the next vine monster came - and it was remarkably resilient! We ran and fired off our spells and arrows, and the first ones hit their mark. But then.. the next spell just fizzled, like the tangled vines absorbed it, and my arrows too seemed to be swallowed up by the jungle (or I'm just a lousy shot, entirely possible especially with the panicky hit-and-run I was trying to pull).

    The thing just kept coming, but as we crossed the river, the storm seemed to reach a crescendo above our heads. CRACK, ZZZAP! Lighting erupted from above, blindingly white, scorching the living daylights out of the vine monster! The following thunderclap near defeaned me, but we shouted out in glee, knowing that someone was most definitely on our side - but who? My Wind Walker, the Storm Lord - no, neither, because soon afterwards, a light snowfall began.

    The snow gathered in drifts around us, then seemed to shift and stir into the shape of a giant white wolf. Jerrick's favoured shape, I needn't tell you, and he sends you his best regards! Besides mushy stuff like how you're probably his best friend and he misses you too, the reason he came was because of this whole vegetation mess. And after seeing them for himself, after hearing about your situation, he said that you should call for him in your dreams. He can help, he thinks - so do it! Do it, or I'll forcibly nurse you, despite protests or pleading. I'm relentless when it's for someone's own good, and you know it!

    ~Willow~"


  • Perched on a fallen birch tree, sticking out across the still, dark waters of a pond, Willow contemplates her own reflection. A light breeze ripples the image of the watery Willow, drawing out an already long and thin face, sending wild and messy hair into undulating motion. Above-Willow makes a face, chuckles at her watery reflection and finally wobbles back to safer ground. Comfortably leaned against a sturdier tree, she writes:

    "Contemplation time again, as my streak of missing out on exciting events seem to continue unabated. Most recently there was a big green dragon, heroically slain of course, and rumours of more orc rumblings to the north. Gosh I hate orcs, with a feeling so primal and raw that it may just be the sole truly elven thing in me.

    Which brings me to today's point of contemplation: elves, and my inability to seem to relate to any of them. Not that I necessarily believe blood is thicker than water, but you'd think having half a tank of elven blood would make some sort of difference to a person, pointy ears aside, yeah? Only, how could I tell - I've only ever been ~me~, and that me is shaped and made with certain set components.

    Taking a look at two persons who have the same mixed origins as myself, the exact same composition and background as each other even, might bring more light to the subject, hm?

    Elaine and Leena, case in point, then.

    Leena has chosen to embrace her elven heritage, pouring all her efforts of late into helping the small but seemingly tight-knit elven community here with solving some age-old problem, setting haunted spirits to rest etc. She says her mother encouraged that, while her father was always more on edge regarding his elven roots - and Elaine has kept to just that latter's spirit. She is quite fiercely individualistic, though there is one 'innate' identity she would embrace, I think - the werecattishness that also forms part of the twin's joint heritage.

    Much like myself, neither of the twins seem to instinctively feel that being part elven is an essential and key component in their beings - though Leena seems determined to explore that side of her, and has found acceptance of a sort with the elves, even. Lainie on the other hand, isn't at all interested in fitting in - and neither am I, really. I find most of the elves I've met in Narfell are kinda weird, either aloof, annoying, or both.

    But it's not really belonging that's on my mind, is it? It's more to do with figuring out who I am, and whether being of mixed blood has any true relevance to that. I've always been a bit of a loner, mostly content with my own company or just the few people close to me. I've also always felt the odd one out - different in both outwards appearance and inside, awkward and angular where others fit with such smooth grace and ease.

    Since you found me, since I chose to follow the Windrider's path, I've become much more confident and content with being me. I know that loner isn't lonely, solitary is free and actually awesome! And being with Llama, well - I wouldn't say he's convinced me that I'm beautiful, but I know for a fact that in his wild, demented eyes, I am - and it kinda makes me view myself in a different light. All these things are good and really, more than enough to make me happy.

    So why wonder about this elf thing, why lament the lack of connection?

    I guess it's to do with my father, or rather the lack of one. I mean, obviously I had a father in the base, biological sense of the word - but from what mother told me, he never knew of my existance. That's the way she wanted it too, pregnancy came late in life and wholly unexpectedly to her, a miraculous gift that she had no intention of sharing with the wandering elven scholar whose path twined with hers for but a brief moment in time. If she secretly entertained hopes of a revisit from said scholar, she kept it well hidden. Yet I felt in a vague, undefined manner rejected by his absence, throughout my childhood.

    I did my best to court that elven side of me in my youth, learned the tongue and attempted to befriend the fair folk on my travels - but always felt wrong, too clumpsy and too ugly, never quite good enough. The sting of failing my ranger training was extra bitter for the trainer's easy elven grace, but is any of that to do with blood, really? I'd have been just as leaden of foot were I all human, no doubt, perhaps even being a full elf had seen me stumbling and snapping every twig, who knows? Those years bred a feeling of inadequacy in me that took Your grace to vanquish, but that certain more obnoxious elves can still stir back to life at times.

    I'd like to meet elves I could actually like, that I could find common ground with, I really would - but more and more, I've come to realize that it's not blood, not race that matters most to me - it's spirit, and kindred spirits, I've already found! While blood may be thicker than water, the spirit rises above all and mine should soar high, light and free as the wind I love best of all. Blood can sit and clot on the ground."


  • The cliff into which the Roost is set is steep, the stone slippery with vegetation in places, bare and jagged in others. Willow seems undeterred, her long but light frame supported by the Willo'Whip's branches fastened to an outcropping above. With a heave and a d'oh as she scuffs her bony knee, the half-elf reaches the top and perches there precariously, the western wind whipping at her hair and cloak. Managing to find a small, even place to plant her rear, Willow turns her face up to the sun, eyes closed as she breathes out a long, slow breath into wind. After a long while, her light green eyes crack open to take in the view of the Gypsy Woods around her, the Nars Pass a green stretch in the distance. She sits there for quite some time, in silent contemplation, while the winds whirl around her.

    "So ~tired~ lately, for no particular reason I can discern. The forest retreat did me good, but perhaps it also made me less accustomed to having other people around me? I'm having trouble navigating the sometimes sea of conversation around me, voices blurring together into a buzz which seems to take all my concentration to dechiffer. Normally, I just block it out, let it drift past and around me, but when I'm tired I can't.

    My need for solitude grows strong at times like that, my need for air, for winds to sweep away the clutter and leave my mind clean and free. Llama understands, I think, without me having to say anything - one of the best things about him is that he lets me be alone, that I can have my space, even in his company. Not that I always want space, far from it (closer is better where Llama is concerned!) but he never ~crowds~ me.

    In retrospect, I feel a little bad for having left the gates that night, 'cause apparantly there was a big attack by the hobgoblins, with enslaved umberhulks and even minotaurs backing! All the while, Llama and I sat on the hill behind the inn, just relaxing and talking about nonsensical things, noticing absolutely nothing until suddenly, at dawn, a huge hobgoblin face appeared over the forest, made of smoke and dramatically lit by the rising sun.

    We rushed to the gates, only to find all the drama over and done with, the two who had fallen in the attack freshly back on their feet already. Somehow, I felt doubly tired then, tired at myself for being tired in the first place, you know? If not for that, maybe no one would've had to die - then again, my perfect record is a thing of the past by far, these days.

    I want my energy back, the gusto and the groove! Perhaps a complete change of pace would do it, perhaps it's high time we hired that ship and went searching for the great Icelace furred dire turtle?"


  • It's a windy day up in the Roost, Willow chasing a cavorting sheet of paper all the way to the edge, where she wobbles precariously before snatching it up at the last second, flopping backwards to safer ground with the note crumpled up in her hand. She laughs to herself, smooths it a bit and folds it up into a square, writing 'To Jonni' on the back and tucking it safely into her pocket.

    After a spot of cloud gazing in that same position, Willow rolls over, scrambling back to the stone wall to finish off her apple and finally flips her little book open as the wind calms to a gentle swirl around her.

    "Since returning from my slothful hiatus, things have certainly been adventurous enough - and then some! Giants and orcs attacking the big city up north (Beth note finished for Jonni, remember to ask Louis about full version), huge and bloated hobgoblins hoarding treasure out east, a crazed vegetation monster trying to assimilate Rasuil into it's weird-awful tangles (he's being stubborn about treatment, but not impossible) and a whole bunch of duergar and their ~massive~ hogs of war, holed up in the Goblin Hold!

    All that, plus a budding romance between Jonni and Lainie (d'awww!) AND a bout of massive exploration in the Underdark, going down, down and down a flight of enormous stairs. Through Illithid ruins (wow, just wow.. not a straight line anywhere, I might love how these things think, if not for the whole slurp-slurp of brains such as mine), past sandy dunes and waterfalls, beyond an underground harbour which seemed only temporarily abandoned, through vast mushroom patches, the mushrooms growing in all shapes and sizes, both pale and colourful, even growing in curious rings in places…

    We were searching for an abandoned svirfnerblin (or smurf-nibblin') city that's down there somewhere, supposedly more easily accessible via the Norwick crypts - if you can really claim anything with the words 'mummy lord' in it is easy! Naturally we opted for the long way around, I mean, it's not the destination but the path and whatever you find along the way that's the real goal, yeah?

    We found loads of simply amazing sights, too! A big palace-like place with a shackled minotaur statue (or maybe it was petrified), beautifully preserved, but then also ruins in various states of decay... dwellings, mining shafts... a lot of effort went into this place, but at some point or other, it was abandoned. The why tickles my mind, makes me want to find out more. Llama presented the even more mind-tickling notion that maybe the denizens of the Underdark like to go exploring there too - and why shouldn't they? It's quite frankly a staggering place, more beautiful than you'd ever envision by it's reputation. So much water, for one thing!

    Whether they were explorers or simply roaming predators, I can't say, but we did eventually run into some company of the local variety - and that too was a completely new sight! Giant, dark, foul-smelling... cloaks! They're actually called Cloakers, and having seen them up close and personal, it's easy to understand why. They look like cloaks, but have got sharp teeth and ~incredibly~ bad breath, flapping in and out of one's field of vision and trying to weaken their prey with poison and panicky thoughts.

    We stumbled into one, then another and another, and before I could even dig my Remove Fear scrolls out of my bag, full chaos ensued! Jonni ran and swatted at his own cloak, Kris ran the other way, Shessa the third, while Llama stumbled off with a howl - and amidst all this chaos, I stood and rooted around in my pack, somehow without a Cloaker gnawing at me - for the moment. Lainie managed to make two of the horrid things freeze mid-flap, while Jonni recovered his courage and went about distracting them - and I ran madly, wildly to Llyran's side, just as he staggered to the ground!

    I got both him and Kris to their feet, but oh it was a close thing, so close - Jonni and Lainie were real troupers for holding it all together like that, and we half rushed, half limped back to safety, thankfully not persued!

    We never did find the svirfnerblin city... but I already know, we SO have to go back. There was such a wealth of things to see, so a bunch of tooth-adorned cloaks aren't going to deter me from returning! But uhh.. if we can find a way around that particular area, so much the better.

    I mean, I've already been bested by furniture, I don't really need to rub salt to the wound by adding ~clothing~ to the list, right?

    I remain of two minds about getting a guide to come with us... on the one hand, we wouldn't be stumbling headlong into a nest of Cloakers if we knew beforehand that that was their favourite hunting ground, but on the other.. you lose so much of the magic by those warnings, sometimes the whole experience is spoiled and any surprise blown out of the proverbial waters. I don't want that; I think I'd rather run for my life and ~hopefully~ escape with my hide intact!

    At the same time, I don't want to risk my friends lives with being too reckless. I guess it's kind of a balancing act, but I'm lucky enough to have friends who don't mind, even enjoy, taking the very same type of risks as I do.

    Lend them all your helping hand if we get in way over our heads, please? One of these days, we just might really need it."

    With that, Willow closes the book, snuggling down in the moss to watch the clouds pass overhead. Her fingertips trace the small bitemarks along the edges of her belt, a thoughtful expression on her face before she drifts into reverie.


  • Golden afternoon sunshine dapples the clearing in the deep woods, painting treetrunks with a warm mahogany sheen and glittering richly amidst the underbrush, where blossoms sway and blueberries hang ripe and sweet on their delicate boughs. Perched on a stone in this sea of sunlit summer riches, Willow reaches down to pluck the berries, one by one, into a small basket beside her. Her fingers are sticky with spiderwebs and berry juice, tinged in the same distinct purple as her lips and tongue. A light, pleasant breeze stirs her unkept hair, and a bright orange butterfly tickles her cheek as it makes its erratic way to the nearest source of nectar.

    Willow closes her eyes, blissfully breathing the moment in, the scent of sunwarm forest, summer and berries. Behind her, what appeared to be a moss-covered big boulder suddenly stirs into life, blinking wild yellow eyes open and shaking a great, shaggy head. The bear rises, stretches and yawns hugely, then eyes the basket full of blueberries next to the daydreaming half-elf. With a suddenly sly look in its feral eyes, the bear inches slowly, slowly closer, taking great care to place its paws gently and quietly on the ground. Creep, creep, creep… snap.

    "Don't even think about it, you thieving berry-fiend!"

    Willow swivels around with the basket clutched to her chest, narrowing her eyes playfully at the bear, which in turn gives a huge bear grin, purple-red tongue lolling out between fangs stained in the same blueberry colour. Then it slowly topples, grunting in obvious satisfaction as it rolls around on the ground, crushing whole patches of blueberries under its bulk.

    "…I was picking those!!"

    With a squeal of protest, Willow launches herself at the bear, which gives an amused snort and catches her in a bear hug, rolling around again. Bones crunch and snap as Llyran morphs back into his (presumably) original shape, planting a smug and blueberry smudged kiss to Willow's lips.

    "I had other plans", he murmurs into her ear, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    Far later, the bear slumbers again. The moon hangs full above their heads as Willow snuggles against his side, finding just enough light to write a short entry in her book.

    "Happy days.

    At times like this, living in the now without a care in the world seems the easiest, most natural thing there is, and the world itself full of bounty and joy. I know darker times are coming, but that just makes for a stronger case to enjoy the summer days while they're here, yeah? I was ~going~ to pick medicinal herbs, I was going to look for all manners of useful things, but instead found a pond and a frisky bear to splash around in it with. We follow random trails or none, fishing and foraging for our daily needs and setting up camp wherever we feel like, in sweet sunshine or cool shade. Life is good!

    I should plan ahead, but… not just yet. These are summer's most golden days, and I'm lucky enough to afford spending them in complete and slothful enjoyment. I'm no farmer bound to the soil or squirrel gathering nuts for the winter, nor am I even a penniless wanderer any longer. I will shamelessly soak up the sun, but not without giving thanks to you who brought me here, you who fill my life with constant fresh air and make this lovely life possible.

    Shaundakul, you're the man!

    And while Llama may not be 'the man', he is ~my~ man, and that's a miracle all in itself! But I think I payed him enough in blueberries alone to not have to actually thank him..."


  • Norwick at dawn, and all is quiet but for the muted bustling of farmers and animals about to begin their day in homesteads and stables. A warm yellow light glows in the kitchen of the inn, the tantalizing smell of baking bread seeping out through the crack in the window. The tall and reedy figure dashing past takes a deep and lustful intake of breath, almost slowing her step when her stomach growls, yet the early morning wind seems to push her inexorably along, up and up the hill behind the inn, to the very top. There, Willow spreads her arms out wide to greet the dawn, dancing around in the playful gusts of wind before she tumbles to the ground, laughing. Nose down in the dew-glittering grass, she watches the sunrise with a smile, scrambling up to a seated, peaceful position. As the sun begins to warm her face, Willow writes.

    "The good, the bad and the sad - all of these have struck of late, and given me much, ~much~ food for thought. A lot of news - new people, new places and just plain news - and though some of it is surely enough to bring anyone low to the ground, I decided to try to remain light, in as much as I can, and let the bad stuff go. Though not without learning something from it, to avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future (I'm an optimist as we established earlier, after all!).

    So, let's start with the jungles of Chult, quite possibly the most wild and alien place I've ever set foot in. It was so decidedly ~different~ that to slap the tag of 'good' or 'bad' on it just isn't possible, I mean.. on the one hand, totally new experiences are ALWAYS good, on the other hand.. everything, and I mean everything in there seemed out for our blood! Flying there on the Star Harpy though.. ooohhhh wow, that has got to be the best mode of transport short of Windwalking that there is! We flew so HIGH, the land below was nothing but a dotted map of blue, green and brown, while the whole ship seemed to hum and thrum… and the speed, oh the speed! And we didn't even leave the planet!

    It definitely felt like a brand new world though, once we climbed down through the dense, dense green canopy of Chult. The heat hits you like a wall, it's very dense and palapable, a humid heat that soon saw us wilting and covered in sweat, downright delusional at times, mistaking friend for foe. We were, quite painfully obviously, out of our element, yet determined to explore this new place and hopefully find what Captain Beeter had sent us for - the head of a great three-horned beast, known as the Triceratops.

    Despite the Spellunking helm shielding me from the worst heat, I was so sweaty that I rolled around in the nearest stream, figuring I might aswell go all out. It was nice, the water seemed cool and the mud provided some scant cover from the insects that seemed so curious to taste our blood. We walked along though the massive tree trunks, hearing life all around us yet seeing very little move, until.. suddenly, the vines and vegetation itself seemed to come alive, attacking and snaring!

    My Willow Whip went berserk, though whether she tried to defend me or just wanted to join in the mayham, I can't really say. We wriggled out of that trap, but soon noticed the jungle was full of them... and the ones responsible soon showed themselves, tiny people with sharpened teeth and no interest in us aside from our juicy, already half-stewing flesh! Cannibal halflings dropped out of the trees left and right, arrows whizzing through the air. Looking up, I noticed bones in the trees.. boots, belts.. remnants of others before us.

    Eeee... strategy is a tenuous enough thing in a company so mixed as ours, but add unknown terrain and foes dropping down left and right, and it was downright chaos. I ran this way and that, trying to be of help to all, and saw Shessa running too, seeming just about to shake a cannibal off her tail. She ducked behind a tree for cover, and I thought that was that, hurried to help Llama spear a second one to a tree. He was so ferocious, despite struggling with the warmth of that furry armor of his! But no sooner did I reach his side when.. I heard Shessa cry out. What, NO! I thought she was safe.. but here, the trees provide no cover, just another means of attack. She was face-down in the mossy ground, a stone knife in her back. Oh sweet Shessa..

    There was nothing I could do, nothing but resort to asking you the biggest of favours - but to ressurect someone like that, I needed a quiet place to pray and focus. We picked our friend up and carried on, managing to clear a somewhat defensible corner out and finding a few supplies to aid - even a scroll! I'd never used that before, it felt an oddly roundabout way, but I reached through the magic, calling for Shessa, trying to feel her somewhere beyond the veil - and she came! She blinked her eyes open, shaken, but alive, and I felt a rush of both relief and protectiveness.

    We couldn't stay for longer than to let Shessa find her bearings, and as we pushed deeper into the jungle, I felt even more acutely aware of how little we understood it, how lost and foreign we were in this remote place. The jungle was like a world unto its own, fascinating but deadly, so by the time we came upon creatures who didn't immediately try to eat us, hope stirred inside me. We desperately needed shelter and rest, we needed guidance find that elusive Triceratops.. but the creatures we were to ask this of were likely to see us as intruders. Which, we kinda were.

    Terry, through his own will and the general allowance of the group, spoke on our behalf to the Yuan-ti druid... yeah, Yuan-ti. I know, not the race with the best reputation here, and they seemed to rule over the saurials with such an iron grip that everyone of them literally hit the ground in their presence. But not one had outright attacked us yet, and I figured if we could only make them see we had no interest in anything but our most temporary hunt for the tri-horned beast, they might remain neutral. With a humble attitude and perhaps a gift or two, we might even buy ourselves that respite we so needed.

    But no such luck.

    Our scout Hen, while the rest of us had waited for the Masters as requested, had snuck ahead for a closer look at their sanctum. She was spotted... and the Yuan-ti weren't pleased at trespassing in their holy place. To appease them, a blood offering to their god was called for, blood from the trespasser. Hen refused, seeming terrified, and Terry soon declared the terms unacceptable, with a distinct tone of paladin outrage at the notion. But we were talking blood ~drops~, not elven sacrifice here - to me it seemed more like an apology was asked for, a show of respect for their god, their customs, their land. But while I was willing to offer that, Llama and Elaine, Shessa too, Hen refused and Terry took up arms to protect her, ending negotiations with a cut of his blade to the Yuan-ti's neck.

    Sigh.

    What do you do when your party leader makes a decision which inexorably draws the whole party into a conflict most of them dearly wanted to avoid? In a foreign land, surrounded by things that want to eat you, walking away is not an option. We had to stick together, and so we all had to fight and ended up spilling WAY more blood than originally asked for. I was within an inch of death when Llama ~threw~ himself between me and the saurial's halberd, with a death-defying roar! Within all the chaos and bloodshed, that moment is my silver lining, my beautiful, brave bear throwing caution to the wind to save me.

    And I'd need that silver lining to hold me up, 'cause.. around us, death spread at an alarming rate. Even Beorn hit the ground, all but gone when Shessa, sweet Shessa, stopped to rub a balm to his side. And in stopping, took a hit to her own side that sent her beyond the veil once more... I heard another cry, further off, Krissie too falling victim to the fight. And in tears and helpless outrage, a fight broke out between Elaine and Hen, spilling another of my friends blood onto the ground.

    Apparantly, that was enough to sate even the Yuan-ti's taste for chaos, and one of them stepped forth out of the screaming, angry jungle around us, asking if we had had enough yet. With two dead, the party in tatters and with Beorn practically twisting her arm, Hen sullenly agreed to spill her own blood, making a small cut in her hand to add it to the rest which soaked the ground.

    With a graciousness we could not have dreamed to ask of, we were allowed rest and the time to bring our dead back, before being ushered on to the path we had wished to take in the first place - though a forest denser still, past giant sabre-toothed cats and birdlike lizards with incredibly thick skins (I managed to get one more or less intact!), on and through to green, open fields beyond. And the end of the rainbow!

    There's treasure at the end of the rainbow, I always heard, and this one was as shimmering in riches as the rainbow itself was wide and brightly sparkling, an arc of colour stretching far across an azur sky! I wanted nothing so much as to walk that bridge of lights, but ahead our elusive prey awaited.. a large, bulky figure, three great horns on its head. But the rainbow! The treasure.. Beorn and Hen in particular cast long, LOONG glances at it, but it had a feisty little guardian, a tiny and gnobbly creature who flailed and shouted to get away from his pot o' gold.

    In light of everything we'd just endured, we did.. though Beorn winced like you wouldn't believe and quietly asked that we don't tell any other dwarves about this shameful missed opportunity. Leaving gold behind.. it must be some sort of sin to a dwarf, yeah?

    But there wasn't much time for regrets, the Triceratops awaited and MAN was it big, large as a small cottage with thick armor plated skin! We swarmed around it, tossing spells, arrows, spear and blade in frantic succession, and I felt like we desperately needed that.. needed one clean fight, a success and something good to bring from all this, to ease the sour aftertaste. I think we all felt that, the fight was intense and whole-hearted, and we won, we WON! Triceratops was a magnificent beast, and I closed its eyes and whispered good fight, good night, after it fell.

    As the Star Harpy whisked us back to Narfell, we pooled our findings and were given a reward bag full of potions by Captain Beeter, along with a special jungle item for us all. Mine's a belt that fell out of one of the trees back in the cannibal area.. and as fortune and fate would have it, it belonged to a fellow Windrider, exploring that same patch of jungle! Uh.. there are bite marks along the edges of it, so I think he or she won't be missing the belt at this point, but - I bet they'd not mind me wearing it to new adventures and sights yet unseen! Llama got bearboots.. so cute, and he looked awfully pleased when he carried me off for a survival snuggle, rrhhh!

    So, we ended it on a high note, and I don't harbour any ill feelings for Terry or Hen - he thought he was doing the right thing, and she was just plain scared, but it makes me think I've got learn to be more persuasive, more vocal and insistant on compromise and that middle path which nearly always does exist. With a humbler and more open attitude, I'm certain we'd have found it, without forcing anyone to do something atrocious.

    I think I stated it before, in this very book.. it's easier to make war than peace, 'cause keeping the peace is a complex balancing act, requiring people to bend on each side. But it's always worth striving for, even if I at times despair at how very little some are willing to give to achieve something which ultimately benefits everyone.

    Sometimes I just grow disillusioned by how little people care, too. Okey, so I don't expect everyone to feel the same way I do, obviously, but still. How callous do you have to be to make jokes about eating a recently killed creature capable of as much thought, will and passion as any one amongst us, irregardless of the fact that he was a badger? How hardened are you to not see the wonder of a creature like Catelas, with his deep green gaze and aura of outstanding wisdom?

    There we were, in the deepest parts of the bugbear woods, when suddenly I heard my name being called. 'Willow, where is the Willow, please hurry!' I'd been roaming around the main group, hoping to find some sign of our green planeswalker's landing spot, when I heard him. Jacob! But Jacob doesn't like me.. we had a huge disagreement, almost shouting match, when I saw him last, but here he was, clearly in a state of near panic. 'Help, please hurry!' He dashed off through the clearing and I followed, not caring that I left the others paces behind, elated that maybe, finally, Jacob saw me as a friend.

    And then I saw the bodies, scattered on the ground. Animals, great and small... and a group of bugbears in their midst, axes dripping blood. Jacob charged right into the biggest of them, fearless as only a badger can be, but... sweet Shaundakul, a greataxe can cleave the bravest badger in two. One swing and Jacob hit the ground, his eyes flickering before the green light faded - and then the axe swung down on my shoulder.

    I reeled with the shock of it all, staggered back and let my party deal with the bugbears. Then I tended to Jacob, but knew before I even tried that it was too late. He was gone, and away from the green light, there was no Jacob to pull back, the sense of self not strong enough for me to grasp on to, not even with your help! While tears filled my eyes, Catelas found us... and in the saddest repetition of Bill's death, he carried Jacob away on his great rack also. Two brothers gone, both bright and willful, in a family of equally strong sentience. A widow, children...

    I tried to explain, the female knight at least seeming curious, but the others didn't seem to care and I felt so empty and defeated. I had so much left to say to Jacob, a jumble of words and an urge to prove I wasn't his enemy, and then when he does ask me to help, I failed! Rasuil was there though, silently supportive, and I knew I had nothing to explain to him. He gets it, and as we stood there by the gates, I really felt I had a brother in him.

    I didn't cry until Vash't showed up, at long last and with a scraggly head of hair and uneven beard. He's definitely been on the road, but had some pretty remarkable news to impart from the farseer he had visited. But first, a hug that warmed my heart and a moment's sorrowful silence, shared, as the story of Jacob's death was told. He asked me to wait a while, but if I wanted to visit the badger family to pay my respects, that would be sweet. So I will, and Shessa, Leena, Elaine and Llyran will come too. I don't know what to say to them, but I'm going anyway. I'll bring a sprig of lavender if I can find it, the same sweetly fragrant ones that grow over my mother's grave, under the swaying boughs of the silver willow.

    From the seer, Vash't learnt a great many things. First and foremost, that our planeswalker isn't buried into the ground in the manner I'd envisioned - no, instead of crashing into one spot, he broke into a million tiny fragments, scattered like mist all over the Rawlins, sinking into the earth, seeping into the water, filling the air - in a sense, he ~is~ the Rawlins, though some parts (and I think some creatures) are more soaked than others in the essence of this being, known as Soren-something-something-something.. it's a long and complex name for a creature of next to divine power.

    While him being scattered in this way certainly makes it hard for his opponent, the shadowy bleh creature of Llyran's vision, to hurt him, what Vash't learnt is also definite indication that he intends to try anyway. Magn-a-something-something-something, a creature born from fiendish brimstone and sulphur, appears to have been created as Soren's opposite, and their fighting is as eternal and unrelenting as Selûne and Shar's. Through space and time, they have struggled, and Magn's not about to let a little thing like Soren's life force being spread out into a forest stop him, oh no.

    Strong indications suggest he already uses the bugbears as his agents, and the most likely plan of attack we can think of is that they'll try and taint the very spirit of the woods. Magn-bla-bla-bleh will try everything and anything to enfuriate Soren, and... while we can't really take him on directly and win, we can at least hope to recognize him in whatever form he chooses to take, 'cause that stink of brimstone and sulphur sticks, and it's a safe bet that he doesn't care about anything but his opponent. Hopefully this will make him predictable enough that we can find the right work-arounds... 'cause we can't have the whole Rawlins suffer for this strife, and we can't hope they'll ever call it quits.

    Soren's not dead, he's very much alive, Llyran felt a distinct and powerful presence in the woods, when he took animal shape deep in the Rawlins. And I think he's also very much present in the strongly sentient animals, in Catelas, Granger and Potter, maybe others too, though these do seem different somehow. Whether or not he can ever really recover his old self, to pull together as it were, is something we just don't know. But what I do know is that if I'm to pick a side, I'm definitely with the green.

    Oh, I know it's not a natural thing and first and foremost we've got to look out for nature itself - but I can't help but feel that Soren's got that same affinity. I mean, how can you merge with something without truly empathizing, without having it influence you as much as you do it? I look at Catelas, wise and majestic, I look at Granger, Great Old Potter and.. I think all of them display a side of who this Soren is. And what that shows me is not an evil or ruthless power, no, it's one that cares and protects, it has humour, wisdom and heart. Magn's the opposite of all that.

    I know which side I'm on - but I don't know how to help, yet. Working with the animals is the key though, I'm more sure of that than ever before, and maybe now that there's a clearer foe in sight, they'll even pull together like the family they are. But I shouldn't say just animals, lately even the trees have begun to show signs of that same sentience, bending their boughs down and rustling leaves as if to say hello!

    Norwick's a logging and lumber sort of place.. I shudder to think what will happen when the trees start resisting being cut. Llama's going to talk to the druid's circle, we need every bit of help we can get here, and Leena has an idea on how to test whether it's possible to actually talk to Soren.

    I feel kind of helpless at the moment, but I am and remain an optimist. Like Tweety said, we've a heavy cloud to rise above, and they'll need our love before the rain falls. That, at the very least, I can definitely give."