3. "Finding a Balance of sorts" - A journal of Leena

"Finding a Balance of sorts" - A journal of Leena


  • _Red …

    Pushing my red hair out of my face, there was still nothing but red ... and then the flat grey of steel!

    Both swords up, I braced myself, and nearly got swept from the cliff at my back anyway, the power of the giant driving the blade my way almost being too much for me, even enhanced as I was.

    The other colors came back into focus, so many shades of white, all flecked in red anyway. The battle was raging everywhere, but for me ... I was alone. I went ahead, to position myself to take some of the flak from the lower level, so the others could take the casters out, knowing that I only had to hold on for a bit. Just long enough to let my spells take some of the damage for me, and then I could move.

    Blue, bright and shining, hammered into me, or would have, if not for another spell, taking the brunt of the energy and dissipating it in a shower of sparks on my right side, making the giant flinch back, as if fearing a rebound.

    THERE!

    Swords flashed out, the giant gasped in surprise, and then groaned in dismay, the ropey unraveling of their insides spilling onto the snow to steam, and spill red around them, and stink. GODS battle reeks. Nobody ever talks about that ...

    I took the moment to turn on the goblin, a snow goblin of course, who had been dashing in under the giants attacks that I had to block with both swords, to hit me when I was distracted, and he was most displeased to get my attention finally. He fell looking displeased, his body a twitching marionette with most of it's strings cut, it's head glaring accusingly at me from my feet.

    I kicked it clear, as the ground around me was already getting hard to traverse with corpses, and was about to resume my assault on the caster goblins who seemed immune to harm until you'd put ten enemies worth of killing on them, finally falling with a glazed over look, and breaking the rituals assaulting Jerrick's mountain. Farking arcanists...

    My enthusiasm for the task of making progress faded fast, though ... as the whistling of something big clued me in to duck, but it wasn't soon enough, and stone chips flew as I was struck by a gigantic hammer. Again, thank Mielikki for my magic, or I'd have been a Leena-shaped imprint in the mountain, with a red smear of an outline ...

    Turning to face this new threat, I was greeted with THREE giants. Not one. Not two. Not two giants and a goblin ... three farkin giants, and four or five gobs. I gasped, but not in surprise, taking in a breath for a shout to Talos, one sword held to the sky in defiance, the answering lightning killing the goblins on the spot, and shocking the giants into faltering slightly in their attack, while I reset my feet to take the attacks of THREE Ice Giants.

    Hells.

    This was looking worse, and just as I was assessing the wounds of the giants to see which one wouldbe my first victim ... the goblins were replaced with two more giants, and my sense of calm assessment of the battle was replaced with dread. I was fucked.

    Five giants. Caster goblins behind, pegging me with small electric spells and magic missiles which would eventually get past my shield spell, and the only escape being a chasm below with no visible bottom.

    Tactics, then. I could fall back to the others, see why nobody had made it to back me up, and seemingly not made it to the other casters yet, to break the ritual on their side.

    I had about half the potion down, when I realized that someone HAD come to back me up, my own confusion at seeing the shape mirrored by the confusion of the giants as they wondered where the injured redhead went, going so far as to peek over the edge to see if I had fallen ... and I saw Mom.

    Lorelai, my mother, had come to back me up. Loreie the werecat, the caster, the arcanist with the crossbow and spell, the claw and the cunning ... suddenly the new target of attention from my foes. I fucked up, and she was the new target. All I needed was a moment to chug the healing. Surely she'd move. Run. Dodge. Go invisible herself!

    The relief I felt at seeing her casting the familiar spell slipped away from me like ice off of a warming window, as a goblin, unseen, hit her and disrupted her spell. It took two steps for my cadre of giants to find her, and I'll never forget the sound I heard.

    The hammer found her, and her spells are NOT like mine. Stoneskin, and Premonition let me either TAKE or DODGE attacks, the magic wearing off from either gradually, and letting me use it to defend myself against things I have no right standing up against ... and Mom has no such thing.

    The sound the hammer made when it hit her turns my stomach, almost dropping me into the snow, and there was no sign of her beneath it. The hammer hit her, and continued down to hit the snow, crushing her beneath it. I couldn't even hear her cry for help. The was that horrifying crunch, the satisfied grunt of the giant, and then finally a scream rent the air ... but it was mine.

    I screamed, charging in without healing myself the rest of the way, my light, fast, steps turned heavy, and in two strikes, the offending giant fell dead, his head a pulp of red and grey, some of it missing because it was still stuck to my fist, now the fist of a gigantic earth elemental.

    My taller vantage point let me SMASH a goblin under my feet, and see the red spread below me as I shrugged off hits from the four remaining giants, one of whom I pushed off the ledge, trying to get to Mom, to recover her body, since there was NO way she lived through that, a prayer for help on my lips as I started losing any hope of us winning this fight. Saving Dad. Any of it.

    EVERY single thing we killed, no matter how fast, was replaced by two. Or more. The ONLY time they let up, was when we were able to disrupt the rituals, where they finally bled off ... and presumably fortified the next rituals even more.

    I couldn't hit fast enough. I couldn't kill efficiently enough. Even my massive pillars of rock for arms couldn't swing quickly enough to get to her, but I was making progress ... until another figure appeared. A hooded man-shape in armor of green knelt where my mother's blood painted the snow, but her body was still crushed into the snow so hard that I couldn't see it yet ... and he picked her up from the hole, and VANISHED.

    I didn't know WHO made the rituals, who led them, and had to believe that the enemy hadn't just bodysnatched my mother from the battlefield. I HAD to ... or there was no way I'd win.

    I retreated, then, to rejoin the others. Leaping off the ledge to pancake another goblin below, I found the others under just as much assault as I was, and they had been cut off from the rope I used to get up there the whole time, so I murdered the hell out of anything near -that-, and waded my way through corpses to get to them.

    Every crunch of a corpse became Mom. Every spill of red onto the snow because hers, and every goblin's shriek became her calling my name ...

    I killed her a dozen times in that battle, before I woke, screaming, and waking poor Artemis.

    I watched all of that dream from above, and within ... like I had a bird above me relaying the battles, even while I was in them ...

    I might be drugging myself to sleep for a few nights at this rate. We won, and Mom was at the restreat point in the lodge when we left that battle, the strange man having brought her there, whole, somehow ... and then it made sense when we won. It was Silvanus all along. He couldn't interfere with the enemy, but he could with us, especially a mortal who wasn't IN the battle anymore, lying broken in the snow.

    She didn't remember it, for which Im thankful ... but hells, I do.

    I remember. And wish I didn't.

    Maybe Aoth has it right. I need a drink._


  • _Just when I thought I was done crying .. .

    I talked with Aoth, I talked with Arty, I got hugs from Val, and hugged Tindra hardest of all. She lost the other half of her, that day, too. Well, lost is a strong term, but I know what I mean, and reader, you do too.

    I spent a couple days in Peltarch. I wanted to settle myself into the familiar, and just … Be. I thought it would help, and it kind of did. That is, until Silvanus himself walked into the commons to put something into Val's hand ... and my own gift was already in mine, too.

    I found it in my home, and somehow managed to completely miss the little statue of Mom that sat upon a letter on my way out ... so I happened across it NOW. You know, right when I had a break from the tears._

    @7b98c3f69d:

    Leena,

    I am leaving my diary in case I don’t get to the chance to say this all to you face to face. If things go as we all planned, we will have stopped the assault and saved Jerrick.

    If things go as I plan, I am staying with Jerrick.

    I’m sorry if this upsets you. You and Elaine took it hard when Jerrick left us back when you were still our little kittens. But you both are grown up now and I… I need Jerrick. My heart aches to be away from him for so long. I’m starting to get old, my hair has streaks of grey. I should be getting old with Jerrick! And I believe he needs me too. That night in the snow when his footsteps approached me, I could feel his sadness, his loneliness. He misses me as much as I miss him.

    So, I plan to stay. I’ll argue with the gods till they let me stay, if I must. I know staying with him means I probably won’t be able to leave that mountain either. I’m fine with this. Like I said, I’m getting old. Narfell has a new generation of heroes to answer the call. Like you.

    You have grown so much. You have succeeded in life beyond anything I could have hoped for. You have found happiness with Arty. I gave him some advice that I give to you, too. Don’t be willing to die for each other. Rather, be willing to live for each other. Be there for him and with him. When he succeeds, cheer him on. When he falls, help him up. And let him do the same for you. Tell Elaine that, too, for her and Jonni.

    And don’t dismiss the idea of having kids! I believe my greatest legacy is that of being a mother. You and Elaine are my greatest treasures. Jerrick gave me Love. Tindra gave me Forgiveness. But you and Elaine gave me Meaning.

    Please keep an eye on Tindra for me, though I’m sure she’ll think she’s keeping an eye on you for me. I can tell Tindra is still trying to find her place in life. She let me have her old one, after all. I owe her a lot.

    Look out for Tojan, too. She’s accepted my decision, but I know she’s sad. Pixies put on a show of being carefree, but I know they can suffer like no other when it comes to sadness. She’ll be fine, especially if she stays with Tindra. She’ll still have a Kitty.

    You and Elaine will always be in my heart. You’ll always be in Jerrick’s heart, too. Be happy that we are together again. Keep us in your hearts.

    Love you always and forever,

    ~Mom

    _I am … overwhelmed.

    Overcome with ... I can't even pin it down to one feeling.

    One one hand, I'm lost. I'm lost, and FEEL loss. So many adventurers come here with tragic pasts, having lost both parents, and I was spoiled, not only growing up with mine, but getting to train with them to lead a life like theirs, a life of purpose, and challenge.

    I HAD all that ... then lost Dad to duty. Now I lose Mom, to the same duty. I remember choking up in Peltarch's commons when people asked about Dad, and being ... just being SO MAD. It wasn't FAIR of the Gods to take him like that. You can't make an offer like that to someone like Dad, and pretend it's free will! That's like offering a fat kid cakes, or a list of chores. It's no contest!

    I was heartbroken .. and whenever I met people who knew Dad, and would say how much like him I was, I would get happy from the high praise, then sad that I may never be able to show him, then angry at the circumstances that led to him being away from me.

    Now, on the side of a mountain, surrounded by goblins and ice giants, covered in blood that froze to my skin shortly after touching me, only to melt again as I fought, and refreeze when i walked, I realized I'd get to see Dad, and was ecstatic for a chance to see him, to show him how well I did, to make him proud!

    And I realized I never thought about Mom.

    Mom, who's lost SO much. Who had to sacrifice with Tindra, giving and taking, just to live her own life, and without such, wouldn't have been able to truly be with Dad at all... and it's because of that, that me and Elaine are even HERE.

    Mom, you raised your kittens well, but one of them still ended up selfish, and silly, sometimes. And for that, I'm sorry.

    You don't deserve my jealousy, or my anger. You deserve my love, and support, and my pride in you, risking it all not just to save Peltarch (Again), but to be with the one you love. I just wrote that I too, would go through an army to be with Arty. How can I fault you for the same?

    I can't stop crying, now, and even as my heart breaks every time someone enters the commons who looks or dresses or smells like you at a glance, I KNOW you're there to stay, and I should be happy. And soon, I will be, I promise. I know it. I just ... I miss you both, now. Aoth says I'm going to see you out of the corner of my eye a lot, and she's been right so far. I hope I can get used to the idea that it IS you, watching proudly, even if it's not really you, coming over to give me one of your amazing hugs, and slip those little proud Mom-ments (Comments from Mom, of course!) into conversations about how proud you are of me.

    Silvanus had better be taking good care of you two up there. I'm going to practice my Transport via Plants spell a LOT, now, to make sure that I can keep tabs on that mountain, and be able to visit once you guys have fixed the disaster brought upon the place by those pale-skinned bastards.

    Silvanus, if you're reading this over my shoulder as I write, or listening through the tree I write this from in my house, thank you for making that possible. I promise I'll try not to resent you for it ... but to be honest, selfish kitten that I am, the gift for my part in what happened does make up for it a bit. I'm going to use it to save people, to turn the tides of terrible battles just like we did when we started working together better, to save Dad.

    Dad, you take a break for a while, share the burden with Mom, and enjoy her company. Seriously, enjoy yourselves! Work hard when you need to, as I know neither of you will be able to help yourselves from doing, but seriously ... set that place up and come visit or something.

    Mom ... I'm going to hurt for a while. And if you and Dad are watching now and then, if you see it, I'm sorry. I want SO badly just to be happy for you, but it's going to take time. I got SO used to you just ... being here. Show Dad the sword. Tell him I miss him. Know that I miss you.

    By the way, you're both invited to the wedding. I'm thinking the Jiyyd project, whatever it ends up being, will make for a nice venue. And if anything tries to crash it ... well, me and Arty are not only US, but with friends like ours ... anything uninvited is FARKED.

    I love you both, and can't write any more at the moment because ink smears when you cry on it, apparently. Which is bullshit. I'm going to cry it out, I'm going to probably disrupt the local weather patterns for a while, and then I'm going to pick myself up out of my salty puddle, get my shit together, and resume doing what I always do. Hunting down the bads, helping out the goods, and making you both proud.

    You better be watching.

    I'm gonna be fine.

    I miss you already.

    Love, Leena._


  • _It started out with a nagging feeling.

    Something that was said, an averted glance, a conversation that diverted before it was over.

    I pushed it all from my mind as we boarded the boat. The boat to Praka. The mountain. To Dad.

    Arty was at my side as ever, with Val along too, a figure of legend from my childhood. Yep, legendary adventurer babysitters. No wonder I ended up like I am. Heh…

    We boarded the boat, and landed to see ... something awful. A pile of bodies burning on the cold ground, barely melting the ice around it. Burning bodies are no new thing to adventurers ... especially since I'm usually the one doing the burning, but these people?

    They didn't die to combat. They died to hunger, cold, and despair. The mountain had all but fallen, the protections for the lands having fallen harder closer to it ... Peltarch's snow was nothing. This ... this was Auril's will, right here. It's amazing that we are able to keep balance at all, when those such as the furies can be content with this.

    They have their place, but it reminds me that without agents such as Druids to keep them all balanced on the Prime, we'd be fighting back things like this ... with no real way to prevent the toll in lives between finding out about new threats like this.

    We were directed to Morrison, after being asked if we were here with food and blankets ... (And yes, I've already returned with such for them while they recover), and it was there that we found out just how bad it was. The man before us, though? He was ecstatic to see us, but not surprised! He saw us in a vision, he said. He knew we would come, to help the man on the mountain.

    And help the man we did.

    It turns out, that these arcanists were enacting rituals to weaken the barrier around Jerrick, Dad, and we had to defeat all of them before we could hope to reach him. Problem is ... well, there were THOUSANDS of snow goblins, and giants among them, between us and him. So. Many. Giants.

    Things got crazy. Each altar had four guardians, snow goblin stormcallers, their eyes glazed over, focused on the ritual, and NO MATTER HOW HARD WE HIT THEM they did not falter, or even show signs of pain, or damage ... at least until we sicced Rasuil on them.

    After being pushed back a couple times, well ... using an opportunity to fall back, really, after reaching our goals each time, and thinking I lost Mom once when a strange man picked her up out of the snow, and harm's way ... we came up with better plans. Go in invisibly, surround the ritual, defend Ras while he murders the HELL out of the casters, get out.

    I used SO MANY POTIONS, and spells, and even shifted into an elemental to be better able to shrug off their damage some, taking the giants on face to face, reveling in the surprise on their faces with their dispels didn't send me away, and instead, got a big rocky fist in their faces.

    I chugged five or more heal potions, I blew millions of pieces of goblin off the mountain with blasts of lightning, and had my ass saved when I bit off more than I could comfortably chew by Arty, Val, Ras, Fadia, Theaon, Mom, and of course, Aoth. I can't tell you how many goblin pancakes there are from my elemental-shaped rampage ... but I can tell you the despair and then confusion I had when I saw Mom fall, and then get vanished by a stranger in green.

    That stranger .. we saw back at the lodge between battles, with a disoriented Mom at his side, as he spoke vaguely of being very much on our side, and doing what he's able, to help.

    Soon enough, once we got our technique down, we CRUSHED the remaining altars, driven by desperation, having had to leave Theaon behind at the lodge after about half of them were taken care of ... further lessening our power. We pressed on nonetheless, and finally, crested the summit ... invisible ... to nary a goblin in sight!

    Giants, instead, nearly FILLED the plateau, waiting for us, but thankfully not ready with True Sight, which gave me a moment to take a few things, and gather up my courage, and of course ... a LOT of lightning to go with it. That's when all hell broke loose.

    Arty, Gods bless my beautiful Arty, raised his hands to the sky, and I swear I heard him laugh, hair standing on end, and he FILLED the air with lightning. Balls and arcing lines, while I dropped it from the sky in deadly lances, which the giants had nowhere to hide from. Flesh sizzled, giant screams shook snow from the trees and rocks, and my ears rang from the cacophony of sound and impact. It was ... insane.

    Then I saw her.

    The giants had been shielding their leader, a woman, no a creature ... of snow and ice and hate and spite. She turned her little eyes to me and shrieked, and I stood there a moment, before finally joining the fight, half confused, and half blinded with rage. THIS was what had been besieging my father. THIS was what was responsible for those poor souls in Praka that FROZE to death! THIS was the reason I was stuck wading through ANOTHER army with Aoth, this one more fearsome, and the stakes, somehow higher.

    I flew at her, blades flashing, and found that while I could hurt her, sometimes ... even my enchanted swords were having trouble piercing her icy hide.

    So I snapped.

    I wanted nothing more than to melt this awful thing, this hag, this overgrown bitchsicle ... so I let my rage simmer, then flare, then consume me, and took the shape of a fire elemental, much to her disppointment and brief look of panic.

    NOW my strikes hurt her. Now, little patches of melt took her as we piled the hurt on, and she started trying to target the weaker of us, those who wouldn't hold up as well hand to hand, but that left her back open, and we struck without mercy.

    She fell, eventually, after what FELT like a day and a night, and we stood there panting, shocked that it finally seemed -over- ... only the grove lay ahead, with what seemed to be a lone figure within, when another figure appeared. The hooded man in green.

    When he cleared the path, congratulating us as he did so, he spoke about -his- putting Jerrick here, and other details that made it clear.

    This ... was Silvanus.

    Half of me watned to hit him for a brief moment, for taking Dad ... but I knew that this was as much his choice as the God's. Dad held me and Mom for a long time, bantered with Ras, and presumably threatened Arty like a loving father tends to do when I introduced my wonderful fiancee, but a thumbs up told me that all was taken in stride, and well.

    He addressed everyone, Val as an old friend, Aoth as a new one ... and then Mom dropped the rock on us.

    She was staying.

    Staying.

    Forever.

    Fuck.

    I admit that I was a bundle of emotions already, and that did NOT help ... but GODS did it make sense. I'd fight -another- army to get to Artemis if he was taken from me. And as much as Captain Fortescue is a stick in the mud, he's right. It WOULD take an army to stop me.

    So how can I blame her?

    She deserves this. THEY deserve this ... and Silvanus, in his mercy, wisdom, and a complete lack of surprise, stated that since Jerrick's weakness in defending the mountain was that he could not protect as well from Arcane with his Divine gifts ... it made sense to keep Lorelai there, and just like that, he cast a spell on her, and we had time for goodbyes, before we were forced outside the little grove, and I had to say goodbye to BOTH of my parents this time._

    Tears dot the page at this point, but not many, and the journal appears to pick up again on the next page, as if the author had to take a break.


  • _It's almost time.

    Talking to Mom, I've heard SO many named from the past, people who saw me grow up, people who knew Dad, people that may not have, but are the closest people TO us, who we can trust with something this terrifying, and with such a high price if failure occurs.

    I can't lose Dad. Not again.

    Knowing he's up on the mountain, doing the Gods' task, that lets me have some peace of mind, and I can focus on my own tasks. All of them, as crazy and varied as they are, can be worked on without worrying about Dad in the back of my mind. Doesn't stop me from missing him like crazy, of course … but it's enough, for now.

    Currently, I have little on my mind aside from this trip to Praka, except for the weather, which is of course, related.

    I'm concerned, since I haven't heard back from anyone in Peltarch yet, that my words of warning and offers of assistance, are going to go unheeded. WINTER is coming, you dumbasses, and I'm willing to bet you haven't stored enough food to weather one, with our decades of demon-rift summer keeping us warm all this time.

    Don't get me wrong ... I don't have to give a rat's ass about Peltarch. Norwick is hardy, they have their chauntean temple, and I'm sure they'll do fine. They don't have as many mouths to feed, nor people who will perish easily under lessened rations, and a few lean months.

    City folk may not fare as well, and if people start falling ill from lack of food, in a city like that? Talona will spread her arms and laugh, welcoming them all into her embrace, without needing a single agent there to do the work for her.

    I offered to turn our circle to help them, and have heard silence back since ... so my conscience is clear, but my mind is not. How the hell do you walk a line like this? "Hey, your city is gonna starve. I bet your food reserves are low." probably sounded like a threat to the Herald, who didn't seem to take me seriously til I said it ... but even as much as I'm around, I haven't heard a word back.

    Dad is on that mountain the first place, because somebody needed to save bloody Peltarch from the storms, and floodwaters, and icy hell falling from the sky. The freak weather threatening to smash the 'jewel' like a little glass bauble, was the result of a powerful natural nexus of power being played with by malevolent elemental princes, like children with a pile of gnomish fireworks.

    I hope they reach out before it's too late to help, and all we can do is manage symptoms, rather than treat the 'problem'. I've done what I can for their crops in the fields on my own, but I don't dare march any of the Druid allies we've made out in force, or even ask, if there's even the slightest chance that any of them will be seen as some kind of invading force, or treated with suspicion.

    Your move, city folk.

    See you soon, Dad._


  • _I still remember the smell of the acrid smoke, that slightly sulphiric smell, with the hint of still-burning fire in my nose, and the gust of air that came billowing out over the docks.

    And then outside the Mermaid.

    And then INSIDE the mermaid.

    The screams were the worst part, I think. Terrified people who doubtless have seen the occasional 'monster', undead, spirit, or other adventurer-town-riddled anomaly … terrified of this new occasion. Their world turning to fire around them, that pressure of being thrown from your feet as if from a giant's kick, only to feel the rush of dragonbreath-like heat wash over you immediately after ... must feel like the end of the world.

    Even on four paws, with a belly full of magical ice-breath, it was all I could do to keep the wolf-mind in me from running, fleeing these individual forest-fires of certain loud death. My whiskers felt the air get shoved brutally around, my poor sensitive nose was on FIRE, and my fur crisped up at the ends when I had to get too close to some of the fire to put it out.

    But put it out I did.

    Others used water, and mundane methods, but Druids, of course, cheat. For once, nobody chastised me for icing everything over, nor gave me the usual "Showoff" comment. I think we were perhaps, all too somber in that moment, realizing that whatever had prompted this attack was probably because of adventurers, and it only made sense than an enemy would strike back like this one day. Smarter. Stealthier. Like us.

    The summons found me shortly thereafter. Steadfast Roslyn wanted me on the strike team, so I of course, accepted. The coming weeks were full of scouting, planning, and recruitment. People who had shown aptitude in covert ops, or the ability to follow orders and execute a plan, were chosen.

    We prepped, we prepared, and we set out, to engage deadly Yuan-Ti, well equipped and deadly Kobolds, and even some who seemed ... tainted, somehow. This was doubly concerning to me, but not altogether surprising, given that there were Yuan-ti involved.

    There were two problems.

    One, a large group is hard to move and communicate in, even when people have their determined roles and 'groups', like we started doing during the Rift War.

    Two, hallways. Give me a force to battle, and I'll almost always choose a hallway. Sure that limits me on target range with lightning, and power, since the stuff has to travel through ground to be able to work in such places, but it's more than that. If you can only be reached by a couple of foes at a time, your options become very simple, especially with archer backup. Until the area spells happen.

    Cloudkill. My lungs STILL feel like they're burning, even now. My eyes water thinking about it, hells.

    Acid, negative energy, fire, all kinds of things were laid upon us in our little clumps, but to be fair, we gave as good as we got in that regard, and didn't end up having any TOO close calls .. until we decided, or were forced into, taking on a literal army.

    That's when things got expensive.

    If they managed to push us back to where we'd have to move our frontliners out of danger, they'd quickly full the hallway, and we'd be trampled down like nothing. If they filled the hallway with enough Cloudkill, or fire, or ice storms ... there's not much we could do there but try to out-drink them in potions, til they were out of spells to throw. And that option, sucked.

    So I brought out the big toys.

    Two orbs of Abyssal ooze, one of which caught an arrow mid throw and hurt OUR guys too ... dammit, and two scrolls. Creeping Doom is a hell of a spell. Insets rise up from everywhere, and begin biting. At first, it's painful enough to distract, and start slowing you down, as you realize that you're literally surrounded, and slowly being covered in them. And the more the cover, the more they bite. The more they bite, the more it hurts. The more it hurts, the more you scream, and the wider your mouth.... well, you get the idea.

    I should probably put some of this gold to use, and look for more Druidic scrolls of stuff I'd use more, if it wasn't for how rarely it's needed, exactly like Creeping Doom.

    Anyway, we crept forward, a doom of our own for any who encountered us, eventually making our way to a lab ... where a very intense fight occurred. Things really went to shit, in there, but it's true what they say. No plan survives first contact.

    We went in invisibly, the lot of us, which saved probably half of our number honestly, right off the bat. We came up quickly against multiple Yuan-Ti with their hulking Saurial bodyguards, and I looked for the one in charge, giving orders and slinging spells, who I found quickly enough, and was already dealing with a few facefuls of angry swordswinging from others.

    It took a moment, but I found Karrick, and then another group, running back and forth from them, taking down their enemy with them, healing, and moving to the next, using the chaos as my springboard to thin the herd, and stack the deck against their little leader.

    I heard someone go down, and a shout to help them, but they did not rise again.

    I did not hear the second we lost, but I hear it was quick, at least.

    I wish they had made it, but I did not have time to take my attention from the foe to dash across a room full of battle, to find someone who might already be past my help, and then die myself, for my trouble.

    Instead, I took advantage of that panic, while another group clustered up to help the fallen. Multiple threats already been dealt with, so I had a single moment that seemed to last FOREVER, where a plan formed.

    Nobody had hurt the leader much, yet, despite me seeing her get smacked about a bit earlier, so it was time for the one-two combo! I just needed Arty to ... well, Arty wasn't there. So, I did it. A Greater Dispel seemed surprisingly effective, and her attempts to cast more protections was quickly put our of her mind with arrow, blade, and spell, suddenly much more focused on her!

    With how long we were down there, I think my fellow adventurers were ready to see this place behind them, and they renewed their attack on her with vigor, while I had both blades busy doing their grisly work, a greater bull's potion making me hit like a bear. Which I admit, I thoroughly enjoy.

    The enemies fell, the fallen were raised back at the docks, and the loot split yielded some pretty fantastic looking stuff, but none of it was really anything that would do the trick for me. Except that ONE thing ...

    I now have a scroll of Storm of Vengeance.

    I maaaaay have cackled like a Banite a little bit. Maybe.

    Now I sit after a relaxing bath, finishing this entry, and feeling good for it. The only thing I worry about in this one moment, is whether next week will see vengeance upon Peltarch for the death of one of the Yuan-Ti leaders, or the beginning of this war the Creel have promised.

    Whatever comes, I'm as ready as I've ever been, I guess. I just can't help but think that in both instances ... we missed something important.

    Please don't let this be another N'Jast situation in the making..._


  • _The fool.

    The arrogant, ignorant, bloody little fool.

    Should I be thankful, or relieved, that things came to light because they were confessed? Now my timeline's all messed up, and I have to risk assigning random significance to events I thought I had figured out to a degree, because somebody thought they were above the warnings.

    This tree is going to be the death of my patience.

    Those vamp bastards had better have gotten my letter, and not further inconvenienced me by killing my only good source of information, even if she IS mad as a hatter, and probably addled in the head from being alone with such a thing for so long.

    I'm tired of playing nice, playing their games, and trying to keep those around me from falling LITERAL prey to stupid assumptions. Oh, if the vampire is not attacking, it must be a friend! It's giving us information, SURELY there's no way THIS can go wrong! Oh hey, it's enemy is ours too! Let's take their side!

    People … are idiots.

    I think I'm beginning to understand why my father was so frustrated so often. In an effort to be flexible, people stop making sense entirely sometimes, as if the rest of their lifetime of morals or goals can be conveniently pushed aside in a moment for a half-hearted hope at today being easier.

    I must write this down, and then re-read it, to see just how bitter I've become, and combat it. If I keep down this path, I'll end up like Raryldor, elitist and judgemental, mercurial in my approval and disdain as he, and THEN where will I be?

    The sunshine and optimism part of me knows that if I can just prove things, show everyone what lies under the surface of my enemies and their plots, even if it costs me to do so, it will be worth it, and things will be BETTER because of it. The other half of me, the realist, sees the judgement, hears their whispers, and wants to lash out until I MAKE them understand.

    And then, there's Aoth. And her misbegotten "order" .

    I'll be honest here, if nowhere else. Should I see the betrayer in their midst again, should she survive whatever sentencing is going to come down upon her, she'd better HOPE she's not alone.

    When I looked her in the eyes, and said that she seems the type to chase power regardless of consequence, the heavens should have made a sound like a bell, to ring out with the crystal sound of an absolute truth.

    And it was worse than I thought.

    Rumors make their way to me from all corners.
    Maybe people trust me to look into, or say, what they fear to, knowing that I'm a blunt instrument. Maybe people trust me to just let them speak, and not chastise them for feeling the way they feel?

    Laerune is not the only one to question in that Order, and with Aoth gone, I have only Tindra remaining in their ranks that I care about personally. The others, I question, and WILL find out more about, one way or another. They're not getting a shot like -that-, again. Who even DOES that? Puts themselves on a pedestal where scrutiny is inevitable, then messes up THAT badly?

    Well, these aren't the only rumors I've heard about lately. Time to go necromancer hunting, next. This is Elvadriel all over again, except this time, it's someone I barely know. Someone who I've bestowed the blessing of nature onto, and healed the wounds of, no less.

    I fear a turning point is coming. One where I can no longer include -people- in how I treat the neutrality of balance. You're either going to be WITH me, or against me. With betrayal happening this 'close to home' so to speak, I'm reminded sourly of the Skull-faced dwarf and his companions and kin. If he'd been snuffed out early, would his influence have spread anyway?

    Bleh, I'm rambling horribly now. I'm just ... SO mad. At least Aoth talked to me, and I THINK I was able to make it clear that I trust her, and understand where she was coming from with the Order, and wished that it had worked out.

    I hope that she'll still respect me when I start drawing more lines in the sand in the days to come. Some of this shit, has gone on long enough!_


  • _Well, I was worried about Dad.

    Damn it all, I was right.

    Apparently, unbeknownst to me, Dad has been seen several times, in several places, by several people … and I'm just now learning about it. To be fair though, I've been -really- busy.

    My new apprentice seems to be doing well, and with the recent arrival of a wildling, Sasa, an opportunity for us woodsfolk to put her at ease came up. We all went wildshape-hunting in the swamps, together. Just this ... huge, rolling, mauling, pile of animals.

    It was beautiful.

    We got into shenanigans with the Cerulean Pliskin, and ended up battling a very powerful orc mage in his fortress, which was amusing, hairy, and mentally challenging at the same time, and landed me a cool cup, too!

    And then ... there's the children. The brat that I saved from dorwning when it turned out that the teddy bear the Rust Fetishist gave her was actually a portal 'key' tied to the elemental plane of water, that was actually located in Ashald Park's little pond, which turned out to be an ancient nigh-abandoned temple within, which ended up being a very long sentence after all.

    These kids keep popping up. Norwick, Peltarch, doesn't matter. Their poor Governess, Grigna, apparently has simply too much work and too many kids to keep track of, so like a rogue band of adventurers, these ones "leave notes" and take off.

    Like, for example, to find this girl's doll, which we obviously took, because it's siren's call nearly drowned her. Or to find the "Abominable Snowman" , which turned out to be the equally Abominable-inclined Snowgre ... Horgim.

    Each time these kids venture out, like this, they risk death. Worse than we do, because we can defend ourselves, but it makes me think.

    Between Captain Fortesque's comments about bringing in the entire army to deal with our misguided adventurer attempts to "help" at the bank, and these kids basically being the biggest pains in the ass ever ... but in the exact same way WE would ... what kind of example are we setting?

    I was NOT ready for this kind of revelation, today.

    Back to the point at hand, though. Yes, I've been busy, but once I found out from Mom why she's seemed so upset, that she encountered Dad, I got everyone up, asked the Gods for their aid to tell him we wanted to see him, to show us to him, and him to us ... and he appeared. As a ghostly wolf, in pain, and barely there, but he was -there-. I had heard he chose such an avatar before, when he visited others from the mountain, so it wasn't a surprise, but what WAS surprising ... was how worn out he looked.

    So I scryed.

    We saw the mountain, at Praka.

    We saw circle of mages working ritual magic ... and not the nature kind. We saw goblins, and giants, both of the ice variety, and a host of other creatures.

    No wonder Dad was having such a hard time.

    He's under seige.

    Aoth went to get a boat chartered, since I'm pretty fairly certain that magicking our way there is going to be impossible. Speaking of which, I have a couple more preparations to make. Time to wake Arty...

    Don't worry Dad. We're coming._


  • _Some days, things just work out.

    Perfectly.

    Today, was one of those days. I'm sitting here against Mom's storage chest in the glen. We share so many keys, my family and I, and now I have yet another one. I'm mere inches away from the sword that wounded my parents, from the Fey of Terror, before Lorelai and Tindra were made separate.

    It started in the commons of Peltarch, when Imizel, who I'd met once or twice before, wandered off, and came back bloodied, and in the shape of a boar. Near-death from blood loss, she must have walked right under the gate guards from being so low to the ground, and right out the west gate she went.

    I followed, and ended up healing her up in time to save her life, as she was back in person-shape again by the time I found her.

    Kobolds and their lizardman friends had gotten a bit more of her than she expected it seems, and since she was alone, there was no backup, healing, or bandaging to be had, I guess.

    So, I went into my usual spiel about not going out alone, and then pried a little into the 'why' of it all. Like many woodsfolk, she was uncomfortable in cities. It reminds me just how many advantages I had growing up, with parents who were comfortable anywhere, involved in lots of things, so I never had to -adjust-. I was just, there.

    Aoth came after a time, and we all sat and talked, Candle, Wick's sister, was with us for a while as well.

    We spoke of cities, and Druids, and animals, and thoughts. Finally, she asked about our glen, so we set out on a trip South. One confused and reckless cockatrice encountered us on the way there, and after successfully pecking me, and hitting me with whatever ability of their they can petrify a person by … it calmed, seeing no effect, and seeing us cease attacking it out of startlement.

    We sent it on it's way this time, but I will need to look into this, and maybe find Ting to see if she knows more about this, to see if we made the right call.

    In the glen, we showed Imizel around, and Tom the bard, his dog Bubbah, and Korra all showed up, so I gave them "The Tour", where Acwell's reminder is placed. That little shrine to the brave Druids and companions who fought him, the Defiler, and a lasting reminder of why we do what we do, took our attention for a little while. Then it was time to show them something new. Something grand. Something ... -special-. So, we took them inside, Aoth and I.

    I like to make a tradition, of introducing the new Druids to the glen. The stone that Fadia put in place, so many years ago now, and all it can do, serves as a good memory for new folk, as to why we do what we do ... and I always feel closer to my Gods when I am near it.

    I spoke for a while, and Aoth and I allowed them to touch it, to see if they could feel what we have felt, know some of what we have known, and it responded. Nature magic bubbled forth, the wind whipped up, and we were covered in sparkling light for a time, as if the place was saying, "I see you."

    Imizel agreed to join the Circle, so it seems I have a new apprentice now, and I made sure she and Korra were set up with a few necessities before we all bade one another goodnight, as it had been a long and interesting day.

    I feel good, having an apprentice again, but it does make me concern. Every other one I've had, has left. I'm not sure if it's just a Druid thing, or has something to do with me, but I hope to do better with this one. She seems wise, and chooses her words carefully, so perhaps my experiences will count for something, that she won't have to learn lessons the hard way so often, as my hardheaded self did.

    Now ... I should go check outside again. Maybe toward Jiyyd. Something's weird about the weather. We've not had a proper winter my whole life, supposedly thanks to the Demon Rift, and now, the wind blows with the promise of snow on it.

    Is something happening?

    I'm worried about Dad._


  • _The orcs were not generous today.

    They tried to be, seeming very excited to see me, and do battle, but they didn't really have any gifts prepared. A shame, that.

    The ones with the Worgs? Apparently, they bit off more than they could chew, lately … as there were over a dozen worgs, but one or two orcs among them, only.

    As much as I'd rather just leave the Worgs to keeping the orcs out of there at that point, I know they'll eventually just come and subjugate them again.

    Speaking of subjugation ... Djinni came up in conversation recently. Again. Apparently, the one we freed against the drow a few weeks ago was none other than Fidoosh, who Isolde knew about. Aoth got brought before the Citadel because of Aldoon the Djinn's treachery, apparently he has Alina's spirit captive, and somehow we're hoping to find Fidoosh again, to help us fight a badass powerful Djinn.

    Not good.

    Maybe we won't have to fight, and will just have to prove his corruption to their courts, but I think that if we find anything we can use, he'll be loathe to let us survive to tell about it.

    I still remember the sickening sound of Artemis imploding in front of me from a snap of that other Djinni's fingers. If we had a leg up on this guy, a debt owed to us, or any such leverage, we could work him. Isolde and the crew are the smartest of us when it comes to crap like this, and we'd find a way for sure. Even I can be sneaky if I need to, but it's much more satisfying to be blunt, and gives my friends more room for their own actions.

    Either way, I feel like we're coming to a head, with this particular story. We've reunited Sylvia and Horgrim, have ideas on how to help Sarah, are going to try to save Alina, and I think if we just get a few more puzzle pieces lined up, we'll have a shot at seeing the bigger picture here. Because that's how I feel right now. There's some ... really big picture thing, here.

    And it all comes back to the Night Parade.

    Everything else we do, we NEED to keep our guard up. The snippets I've heard from others, the encounters I've had, even my dreams where I feel like I'm back in the Dream Vestige, they all tell me to be wary, to keep watching, and to fight! But when nothing is happening that I can get to... no leads I can chase like a wolf after prey ... I hate to wait. Like a hawk high above an unsuspecting rabbit. Bide my time, save my strength.

    Strength.

    I'm almost back to where I was, I can feel it. I cringe to think how much further along my skills would be had I not fallen to the demons ... and then I feel selfish for feeling that way, because steadfast Aoth fell several times, and then one more time recently.

    It makes me want to take the group she was with and shake them til their teeth rattle, and their eyes roll uncontrollably about in their heads.

    Ugh, writing is supposed to CALM people. This isn't working at all. I'm sure there's someone I can turn my attention to for a bit. If only I wasn't concerned about what taking on Rass's Creel would cause. I still have yet to go near them, because I know if I did, I'd answer any hostility in such a way that it would affect the Circle. It's simply my nature.

    I'll not drag them into this. If we go, we go together, and on purpose.

    On a more positive note, I know that the new Druidess, Korra, would go with me. She's Aoth's apprentice, and has the most level head I've seen in some time.

    Two other Druidesses appeared not long ago, too. Followers of Lurue. I've only met them the once, and don't know how seriously to take them, yet. One dresses like a princess, and they're both Elves. I feel like I don't relate to them properly in -any- way, but we've only just met. Perhaps we'll see them shortly again, and I'll be able to make a more informed plan to speak with them.

    Time will tell in all these things. I just wish I didn't feel like I was WASTING so much of it._


  • _What's in the box?

    Usually, it's treasure.

    Sometimes, it's illicit goods. Or evidence. Or illicit goods that ARE evidence! Sometimes it's just someones memories, or you know, a body or two.

    Food, clothes, jewels, BOOKS, you name it. I've seen all KINDS of stuff in boxes.

    Getting sucked INTO one? That was new.

    It started with a commotion at the docks that you could hear from the common, and seeing people bustle about. Being nosy adventurers, me and some others sauntered up, and asked what was up. Ceruleans were present in force, and one of their number spoke to us, wary at first, but seeming to warm up at recognizing me and at least one or two of the others.

    Apparently, a ship had been found in the middle of the lake, abandoned, and the whole thing REEKED of such a clusterfark of magic that I couldn't make sense of it.

    I found that out when it pulled in, tugged along by the other boat since there wasn't a soul on board, and decided to use my magesight to see what's up.

    I damned near went BLIND.

    I've seen some powerful magic stuff, but this was something else. It looked foreign, even after all the things I've seen, like it didn't follow the rules I'm used to magic following.

    A mage the Ceruleans went to get sauntered up, rubbed his hands together, and cast a few spells to examine the box, before seeming pleased, and opening it up.

    Sscchhllppt!

    He warped, distended, extended, and then was sucked into the box, like water down a drainhole does to drops of blood you're dripping into your bathwater. Frighteningly like that.

    Gnarl, Malik, myself, Scott, Vick, and Leroy I think, all tried various ways of getting it closed, as it shot a bright beam of light into the air, but neither my vines, nor rope, did anything but threaten to topple said box, and point it at us.

    Eventually, Gnarl got too close, and that was in. Sucked in. I tried a lance on a rope, and it yanked ME in faster than I could let go of the rope. The others soon followed, and then there we were. In a room, large, with bridges going along it. And … portals? Portals which swiftly spat out mephits and invisible stalkers, and air elementals to harry us.

    It took us some time of being cautious and trying to figure this place out, before we started gaining ground, and we walked over the corpses of those who came before us ... where it seems that they were ill prepared for a fight, or just plain alone, and overpowered.

    We almost lost a couple at the beginning, between little lightning bolts, and air blasts, and claws, with some adventurers who seemed a bit green getting in over their heads, but we kept everybody up for a while.

    A pattern emerged, fortunately, which spoke to a way out, in my mind. We passed 'tests' with each room ... once you defeat the elementals and other various creatures, you get to go free. To the next portal.

    Air. Fire. Earth. Water.

    The air room was hard, because we had no idea what we were doing, and the lightning was getting annoying.
    Fire was difficult, because it's so easy to get burned, but we took care of that too. That's the room we found the mage fellow in, that got sucked in before us. He must have been a wizard, and used up his magic on the air creatures.
    Earth was ... creepy.

    The stone walls sprouted what looked like BABY HANDS at us, grasping, reaching, clawing for us, and then pushing further out the wall, to spawn tiny elementals. And then bigger hands grasped, to likewise bigger elementals ... but for some reason, even the biggest hands looked like giant BABY hands. It was, as I said ... powerfully creepy.

    By the end of the Stone Trial ... i was exhausted. I'd used all my wildshape ability, had the stoneskin smacked off of me, chugged a BUNCH of potions, had to fully heal myself at least once, and was starting to wear out. Of course, since Earth was the third, that meant that -water- had to be next ... and Water Elementals are widely feared, for their ability to drown you immediately, giving no chance for saving your life.

    We fought. We bled. Some of the water around us turned red, as we WERE underwater, but somehow breathing normally, thank the Gods. The Elementals flailed and split their bodies in sacrifice to their attack, and one of our number couldn't move fast enough when one appeared right next to him.

    He fell, and there was no saving him, so we fought on ... and the magic I'd saved? Useless. I wasn't about to lightning us in a small room full of water. Granted, it would have probably hit ALL the enemy too, but what I mentioned earlier about green adventurers? I probably would have killed them. That's hardly fair, now IS it.

    It took a while, but we won ... and were promptly spat unceremoniously onto the deck of the ship, along with our fallen who someone picked up, which is good ... because none of the other bodies within were disgorged. The chest was now full of treasure instead of hungry people-eating magic traps ... but we didn't know for how long. So, Vick grabbed the treasure, which was mostly potions, a bunch of gold, and some stranger things that I'm still examining ... and we beat a retreat once the Ceruleans raised our fallen.

    Once the spoils were split, we headed back to the commons, where I related my tale, and one girl looked real excited and ran off, but the others looked uncomfortable at best. I can understand that ... since treasure is SUPPOSED to be an adventurers friend!

    What foul betrayal.

    Whatever, we passed the Test of Elemental Treasure Terror. I just hope my mind isn't getting TOO creative, and that the test wasn't part of a bigger game that we're now unwittingly playing ..._


  • _Life has been a whirlwind.

    Even a literal one, in the case of the minor Djinni we freed from some drow, before the incident in saving Marie from some Blackcloaks a day or two later.

    I have to say, I much prefer the swaggering, sneering, two words away from giving you an actionable threat to your face kind of evil, to the type that poisons drinks at parties to create huge undead.

    I've done too much lately to write it all down, which makes me want to kick myself, because I need to be better about writing important things down. Otherwise, one good hit to the dome, and you lose them.

    In the past month or two, I've seen a brawl in Norwick against these BlackCloak goons, therefore saving Marie, managed to be along to track down who poisoned a drink with foul necromancy at Hedia's party in celebration for defeating the demon threat, and got proposed to at the very same party.

    Of course I said yes. It was Arty, how could I not?

    We set out, found the brewery, and tackled waves of undead til we got to the lair of a powerful mage.

    He had a bad time of it. Even barricaded in a room, where he could unleash his punishing magics on anyone who put their face through the door, Arty got off a disjunction, which blasted through his defenses, and I hit him with the usual sunburst, on the off chance that it might blind him.

    My next trip over, while people hacked away at him, I let loose a little Kossuthan anger I'd been holding up, and caught him on fire. Next time, I might just -extend- that spell.

    Finally, after some people needed to fall back for healing, I got to dive in, and help cut him up. Some folks wanted to question him, but I simply wanted him dead. It was pretty clear that it was his operation alone, and his box of goods verified that.

    Good riddance.

    No sooner did we get back, however … than did kobolds appear, blowing up sections of the city, with the Mermaid experiencing 4-5 explosions all on it's own. Those little farks.

    I turned into a Winter Wolf, and blew out the fires with freezing breath... but I had to use it so much my tongue frosted over. That was weird.

    It was nice to see one mystery to it's conclusion, and I hope that to be the end of it. Now to find out what's up with these Kobolds, I imagine.

    I wonder what's next? The thought makes me nervous, but hey, at least Mom already found out about me and Arty, as did Uncle Aelthas for that matter, and Arty's still alive ... so if nothing else, at least we'll be facing new stuff together._


  • _Seeing a deity, is an experience. Some say that their deity tends to show up only at the time of death, to judge whether they move on, or go back, or go … elsewhere. And they have rules. What they're allowed to do, to influence, here on the Prime.

    It pisses me off that the infernal and abyssal arses we've been dealing with don't seem to have to play by the same rules ... but deep down, I know they do.
    That ... of course ... means that like the Gods, they need mortal agents to make their moves on the prime, which means the one called Abigail, who people talk of being a colluder with the demons here, was likely not along. No, not with what we had to face.

    We had to face Glyphimhor, General of Orcus himself, as one of our two remaining tasks from helm. He didn't say his name of course ... just telling us that we had two more tasks, one of which was hunting down an ancient enemy, who even now, was cowering with fear at our approach.

    The other task, was that we had to choose one of us, as a Watcher. An Eternal Watcher of Helm, to forever stand guard at his temple, in Jiyyd, henceforth.

    We gave it little thought as our minds turned to raising our fallen, and continuing the fight .. which I know some people had hoped was already over. One such person LEFT, right then. Apparently too much was asked already, and they had enough. I believe they died in Jiyyd, alone, at that point. We were too busy to try to deal with that at the moment, as we had a final great enemy to face.

    So we did.

    We struck forth, made our way into a cavern that used to be where a swamp was, once, and descended.

    More enemies awaited us, at nearly every turn. Plenty of demons and the like, but like before, we kept to teams, worked together, and shredded our way through their ranks, like a storm through a forest. This time, however, I took a place a the front. This time, I had more death wards prepared. This time. I would be ready.

    I was not.

    At some point, the front line faltered, and for good reason. Once again, deja vu like, there was a whole pile of Balors blocking our path.

    Once again, I got wholly dispelled.

    Once again, I fell, to what appeared to be death magic. This time was so much more vivid. I remember boots rushing by my face, advancing or retreating. The warmth of the stone in that hot place faded out, til I was numb, and all efforts to move were useless, as everything started to go dark.

    Then ... green.

    I heard the sounds of the forest, and was confused. Where was the screaming of battle, or the quiet of the fugue? Was I ... done?

    A hand appeared in my vision. A helping hand, so I took it, suddenly able to move. I let it help me up, my body feeling less and less like a sack of stones, until I was fully back upright, and the sights and sounds of battle were going from silent, to distant, to suddenly, urgently, close and loud once more.

    A whispered word I couldn't make sense of was right in my ear, and I knew who's voice it was. The Lady herself ... but I cannot remember what she said. I can only remember what I DID.

    I HAD to be there. I HAD to finish this.

    Drinking my strongest potions, activating my most potent items, using the last of my spells, I leapt back into the fray, and ended up face to face with Glyphimhor himself. Well, I say face to face ... he only took a couple cursory swipes at me before turning back to the more obvious threats in front of him, and that let me wreak merry hell on his hide with Jonni's damned demonkiller sword.

    It was... intense. I could still hear people screaming, retreating, dying, from Glyphimhor's spells ... spells he was sacrificing his flesh to cast, as every time he went to speak them, he opened himself up to us in his face again ... and eventually, it cost him.

    The blades sinking into him were getting harder to pull out, as they bit deeper and deeper, and the giant thing's wings finally lost their fire. His guttural roar petered out into a shuddering sigh, a final rattle of sulphrous breath. The crash of his body signaled a ragged cheer, and all I wanted to do was scream in victory myself ... but all I managed was a shocked "It's done..."

    It was yet, of course, done. There was work yet to be done. But it was a good start. Maria made good on that start once we got outside, by sealing the rift finally, and it seems that what she started will take a while to complete, but should be done by now ... and all that's left is the cleanup of the demons that we hadn't managed to slay the hell out of, yet.

    Next, was the matter of Helm's instruction. One of our Helmites was to stay, forever there ... and though both Morgan and Albryanna volunteered, and the group thought we'd have to choose among us, I knew from the moment I handed that helmet over, that she was going to have to do -something-. I just didn't think it was this.

    Like my father before me, his friend and my adopted aunt basically, who helped raise me, Albryanna has acceted a mantle of responsibility from her God.

    Helm himself assured us, as we stood holding our fallen, Aoth herself in my own arms, that he had faith that we would prevail from the beginning, and that we really were well and truly done. Morgan was bade to bring the Helmite priesthood back to the Temple, Albryanna to join Helm at his side in eternal vigilance and ... me? I just watched it all happen, and marched with the rest back home, where I got to tell Mom all about it. And Arty.

    It's done.

    Finally, a break from the thing that has plagued my waking AND sleeping hours. I wonder how long it will take for something else that's been dormant to come flying out of it's hole to take the demons' place?

    Eh, enough of those thoughts for now. I have a sword to return, and a win to celebrate, since Aoth answered the call to return. I don't know what I would do if she didn't ..._


  • _How do you find the time to write, when you're simultaneously busy beyond words trying to scramble to find people, information, and things … and suddenly burdened with free time, and a lack of an overbearing weight on your shoulders, and it's accompanying sense of unbridled freedom?

    I suppose I can start at the end, but that's no fun. So here, dear reader, is a story. It's brief, and written without regard to any particular perspective throughout, though you can consider it in mine by default. MY Diary, my rules. I'll leave the writing rules to the pros, like Isolde, who I just got to see the other day again, finally!

    It was a day like any other ... which is a dirty lie, of course. It only FELT like an ordinary day. And for many people, it was ... at least until the birds came. I had asked a group of birds to help me, and they did, taking little rolled up scrolls for me, and dropping them off at several places that I know the look of from above. I also included special instructions to drop them on groups of people, if outside those areas, to make sure I got everyone.

    I don't know if I got everyone ... but I got enough. The message was simple.

    "The time is now. Come to Heroes Bluff. "

    Nothing more, no signature. Not only was there no room, but if a flock of birds delivering messages wasn't an obvious enough clue as to who was sending the message, well ... chances are the person is the type to follow the instructions anyway.

    The gathering began, and Aoth soon joined me, there, followed by the person I'd been waiting to see. "Auntie Albryanna." Albry had been around while Mom and Dad raised us, played babysitter, helped train me as an adventurer, and has been a staple of my life for the entirety of it. And I had sent her a specific message. An urgent message.

    "See me. Heroes Bluff. Important. - LLR."

    She came, of course, armed and armored, because of course she was, with a note like that. Reliably Albryanna. All raven black hair, with stern features, and an imposing figure of polished and scarred steel.

    And the same kind and caring figure that was my babysitter for years. She did so much for me over the years, and now it was my turn, though I don't know if my 'gift' was going to be a boon, or an anchor around her neck. I found out moments later, when I presented her with it.

    For YEARS now, ever since some friends and I enacted a raid on the Peltarch Renegades tower off in the mountains, and slew Akton Sent, I have had a relic. An artifact of Helm, long jealously kept hidden away, and now in my capable hands, being handed off for the last time.

    When this demon mess broke out, much was tried to close it, coming to an end when attempts failed, and the Druids ended up enacting a barrier til something else could be figured out. Over time, some of us learned more in little bits here and there, and it was then that I found out that one of the keys to defeating the demons for good ... was this artifact, and it's ability to do what nobody has been able to do since the Scarring.

    Open the Temple of helm.

    For so many years now, since I was a younger adventurer, this has been this massive, out of reach, never moving goal, with progress few and far between, and the sinking realization that this was about to become a quest, sorry a Quest with a capital Q, and not just a puzzle or adventure or fight.

    We were going to have to draw in allies, fake out traitors, try to stop power-hungry morons from succeeding in helping the demons, and keep fragile alliances together long enough to stand as much chance as a fart in a hurricane against this threat, and I'll be the first to admit ... it didn't look good. Not for YEARS did I even have HOPE that this would ever get better ... and then when we got news that not only was the barrier actively failing, but it was worse than that. It wasn't failing, the rift was GROWING, and in such a way as to indicate that our plane was MERGING with the Abyss, actively.

    Not only that, but we soon found out that likely because of the Druids having made the portal before, and our connection to Toril itself ... Druid hearts could be used as ritual fuel to further solidify the tear, and give the Abyss a better foothold on the Prime.

    And then they wiped out half our circle.

    I wrote about that already, so I'm not rehashing that memory, but it serves me to remember the price we paid for victory, before I recall the victory itself, because that's the good part.

    Albryanna accepted Helm's helm, one that prevents one's mind from ever being affected by anything, and we struck forth into Jiyyd after giving people the truth about our goal, and instruction on how to accomplish it. Once more we split into groups, and Aoth was back with the healers and mages, before the archers. Faelar and Ting, Wolves, kept track of their ranks pretty well, and Warziver took point in the frontliner group, where I was.

    Into Jiyyd we went, and right into a pile of demons. Vrocks and succubi, and the usual Hezrous and Glabrezus piling in on us, Nefalshnee joining them as they pleased, spreading out our group pretty well with their assult, which I had to pause my fighting to join the healers in. Not many people can cure disease without magic spells of potions, but I know how to coerce magic out of the mundane ingredients in a healing kit, and cured so much poison and disease one after the other that the dust from my efforts hung about me like a cloud.

    We kept East with a bit of yelling not to wander off, and press to our goal, since some folks apparently thought wandering toward the CENTER of Jiyyd was a fine tactic. Don't get me wrong, we had a plenty powerful force, but based on my last experience with the Balors ... I wasn't about to risk anything we didn't need to risk.

    More tough fighting was waiting for us when we got within sight of the temple, as the demons seemed to have a pretty good idea what we were up to. Porting into the area with their hellish swirls of black and red magic, they poured forth our of their little portals, and were cut down as fast as we could make it happen, which wasn't fast enough foe some. Namely, Hedia and Aoth, in this first fight ... but we fought on, while the last I saw of ALbryanna, she was pressing the helm to the door, and praying to her God to hear her, as I charged off without her, having heard the familiar scream of someone falling.

    Jonni's sword is a miracle, I'll give it that. Getting in behind a Balor that just popped in and starting killing people, I got to finish cutting it down with a few swipes, hard demonic hide be damned, his scaley arse bleeding freely with ever clumsy slash. I wish that thing was a scimitar. . .

    "It's OPEN!" I heard, repeated in a ragged sort of cheer that was followed by one of those weird pauses where everyone is so wound up in survival mode that nobody actually reacts ... "GET IN, THEN!" i remember screaming, and the idle turned to shouting GO GO GO while I dashed back into the pile of fighters to recover my fallen sister, Aoth, and make a mad dash for the door, myself.

    Just as soon as it began, in fire and blood, the battle was over, and we were inside the Temple of Helm ... which was apparently -exactly- as it was decades ago, untouched by man, or time.

    With a flash, and a rumble, a helmed man approached us, bathed in holy light. Knees found the floor, eyes averted or gawked, and a silence fell over the room ... save for hushed whispers of shock and profanity all around. Helm himself, congratulated us ... but there was more. We were not done, he said, and we had two tasks left before us.

    I think I'll take a break here before I can't hold a sword, and leaving an entry off with the arrival of a literal deity in front of everyone ... seems fitting._


  • _Alright journal, I've procrastinate long enough.

    If you're someone reading this, I'm dead.

    Okay, enough dramatics. If you're STILL reading this, I might be dead now, but at the time of this writing, it's more correct to say "I died."

    I had such a good run, too. I survived demons invading the glen. I survived demons taking Aoth's arm, and nearly her life, demons killing Raryldor, and Aoth again when we went to go help him.

    I helped take down the fallen angel, through ice giants and dire animals, through swamp and through rain, and even got to take the killing blow.

    I fought the Immolith one of the times, scried him successfully, and have planned and plotted to see him done away with, especially after what he did to my friends.

    I saw Ruin … well, ruined, and got grind his disgusting matter under my heel as we marched out of that sad excuse for a lair of his. I got to leave, and breathe the air of the wood as it got less stagnant and tainted with every breath, and know... that we did good.

    And then came Rhigor, the lich, and I fought him too. My friends like Ros made it possible with fantastic intel, backup from allies including far off Druid circles, even a 'friendly' ice giant. My other allies blasted, shot, and stabbed the undead frost giants in our way til we gained passage, and we entered Rhigor's lair ... only to catch something apparently nicknamed a "hellball" which is like a screaming fireball from hell, with all kinds of elemental damage brought down from it.

    Which I survived.

    This time, separating our folks by skillset and strength, making sure EVERYBODY had the potions and spells necessary to fight shrouds and Balors, we went forth. We fought were strong, and skillful, and fought well ... til suddenly frontliners started falling. It was really ONLY Warziver left in the frontline when I finally saw him. Rath, Terror of the Grave. He started to march forward, around the OTHER Balor taking on Warziver ... so I moved up.

    This was my moment. My demon-fighting amulet, my shield, enchanted against outsiders, and Jonni's sword, capable of biting through a demon's hide like they were a goblin ... and I stepped forward, loaded with spells and protections, and took a swing. I hit him, and hard, and he had the good grace to look surprised for a moment, before stepping back, and casting what I now realize was a spell breach, or a disjunction.

    My spells were gone, and because I'm a dumbass, I still had Tindra's armor in my pack that I was going to drop off at my house, so I was almost dragged down backwards at the unexpected weight. I was SO distracted by that, that I drank from my cup of strength, used a greater stoneskin, and stepped forward to meet his next step again, somehow not realizing that ALL of my spells were gone.

    Including my death ward.

    Preparing for YEARS.
    Surviving EVERYTHING they've thrown at me.
    Being one of HALF of our Elders that survived this crisis.
    Collecting gear and items specifically to fight demons, and slaying HUNDREDS.
    Helping take out all four lieutenants, and opposing them at every turn, surviving every ambush, and even erecting a warding tree from the recovered heart of one of our Elders!

    I die to a finger of death spell.

    I have talked to Arty, and Mom. I've spoken to Ras, and had my bitch-fest with Aoth and others. Now I finally write it down, to remind myself how real my failure was personally ... but despite that, we still WON. Rhigor's phylactery was destroyed, and though I wasn't there for the end, we apparently killed Glyphimhor's general, that Balord, Rath.

    But I DIED!

    I cannot take the form of an elemental anymore. I can't hold as many spells in my mind as I fight, so I have to choose between protection, and my sunlight spell that I even had to use just RECENTLY to protect myself, dusting a vampire in the process.

    Aoth brought up a good point. Was I this strong when I first started adventuring, when the demons were still, and already a threat? Am I suddenly unable to fight? Of course not. She even nearly made me trip with one of her rare moments of being less than reserved and private. "You are not nothing to me."

    Every single one of those things is good, and should be encouraging, but all I feel at the moment is loss.

    I know she felt this before me, and even Raryldor left for a time after his fall. I guess it's harder on a person when they're more powerful. The bigger you are, the harder you fall? It sure feels harder, now ...

    I don't know if I'll ever get that strong again, or if my own personal strength has anything at all to do with what we're about to attempt, to finish this once and for all ... but I hope that little bit of power wouldn't have made a difference. Because I can't for the life of me think of how to bring more to this fight than I already found was not good enough ...

    Gods of balance, hear my plea. Help us. Help me.

    I don't know if I can do this, whatever comes next ... but I'm going anyway.

    If this is the last thing you read, I guess I AM dead, and did not make it. If not, you're welcome, we did it. Though I'll probably have written again by then ..._


  • _Division.

    It's of little surprise to me, that merely days after writing about unity and teamwork, that I would have division on my mind. I ended up thinking about it thanks to a night in the Peltarch commons, where a familiar scene played out. By familiar, I mean, that nearly every time I see someone, this kind of encounter plays out, with a rotating list of players around the 'main character' of this particular performance.

    All is quiet and peaceful until this particular figure in white says something haughty, derogatory, or prejudiced around any of the many who feel negatively toward him. I don't think he realizes the unsettlingly large number of people that make up this group … but I digress. A comment here, or a dismissive remark there, and somebody is going to call him on it. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes it starts in whispers, people daring to make sure they're not alone in their feelings toward that person. Normally, he'll do it again, as if not provoking a response spurs him to be MORE of an example of himself.

    The feedback is given, a comment made, an insult thrown ... and SOMEHOW, I do not know how, he seems surprised. Affronted. Offended. All of these reactions are preposterous. I have MYSELF, defended his ass in public both in front of, and away from him, but he's heard MORE than enough such vitriol against him that his surprise MUST be either born out of falsehood, or outright stupidity. I cannot think of another viable answer. I simply cannot fathom even HIS ego, the possibility that he has not realized that people feel the way they do about him for a reason. It boggles the mind to even consider, especially for one so OLD.

    Artemis, HATES him. he had the gall, the nerve, the audacity, to suggest I reign Artemis in. As if I owed him a DAMN thing. Though I survived the encounters ... I too have a similar gripe as many regarding him. In perilous journeys and adventures, sometimes just the two of us back when I considered us more as friends than occasional nearly unwilling allies, I can think of at least one time that stick in my memory of when he got in over his head, and left me to die. His confidence that our Duergar enemies were no match for his power, got him overwhelmed, with a far less experienced that now Leena supporting him, when he got dispelled, or hit with something he was expecting to shrug off, or simply taking too many blows for someone who's supposed to be so powerful ... and he ran.

    No warning for me. No quick toss of a healing balm my way to make sure I would make it til he could regroup himself. No. Simply leaving the enemies present to focus on ME instead, without a word.

    If I were not a cheating daughterofabastard (Sonofabitch just didn't work here...), I'd not have made it out of there, either. As it was, I escaped death by the skin of my teeth, defeated my immediate threats, and half-dead, chugged a heal potion under the cover of invisibility and a large rock outcropping, waiting for him to return and finish the job.

    It took a while, but back he came, like nothing happened, with nary a word of apology or care for my experience in his sudden absence.

    No, you smug bastard, I won't reign in Arty. Nor Kathea, nor anyone else who I might have defended you from once upon a time. No, I will not pretend that you're above any of the things they say about you, because I've said the same, TO YOUR FACE, and still, you cannot see anyone's view but your own narrow one.

    I cannot even, for the life of me, feel bad about the last battle you fought before your extended leave from these lands, though I know not whether you traveled elsewhere, or hid in a closet the whole time. In your arrogance, you fell. In your idiocy, you went RIGHT Back, weaker, still dragging people who didn't know better, with you. In our idiocy, some followed, including Aoth. To help you. I don't know if they felt bad, or guilty, as if it was their inaction spurring you to take on a BALOR without a full support crew. I do not know if they simply didn't wish you to fall again, because they cared about you, or something. I DO KNOW, that I carried BODIES out of there, including Aoth's.

    I am surprised you came back after the second time. I am not surprised that you left soon after.

    I do know, that in the upcoming fight, just like with the fight against Rhigor, I am going to plan, prepare, and rely upon my allies. I am not just going to strike out for glory for myself, and jeopardize the lives of others for my pride. I'm going to ignore the part of me that screams for vengeance, and ensure that I make everybody capable of working at their very best, so that we not only win, but survive to celebrate such a victory too. A win at the cost of the lives of others is hardly a win to celebrate. It's going to be hellish, and scary, and hard ... but I won't worry too much. This next foe will be stronger, and maybe smarter than all the rest before. It won't underestimate us, or count on it's one-trick-pony explosion spells to win the day, either. Some of us were plenty capable or surviving that, anyway. No, it's going to be a fight, hopefully the final one, worthy of deciding the fate of our entire realm. But hey, I'm not stressed or worried, or scared about it at all!

    After all, it's "Just a Balor."_


  • _Leadership.

    It's amazing, that so many will follow for so many different reasons.

    Some people will follow others because others will speak up and lead, and that's simply good enough. Others, due to a predetermined factor. Race, Faith, Coin, the list goes on.

    I'm so used to leading, at this point, that I feel it bears paying attention to, after the talk that Aoth and I just had. The announcement that we made to our fellow glen dwellers. The news that we'll soon get to share with everyone with ears open to listening. The realization that, perhaps, just maybe, it'll all be worth it, and THEN some. If I didn't stop to wonder why, and give it proper thought, then our proclamation would mean little.

    Why do I think people should lead, or follow? For me, it all boils down to three thing. Interest, Ability, and Trust.

    Does somebody care about those who will follow them? Do the followers care who it is in front, or are they just happy that it's not them?

    Are they qualified to lead? It's not all about power, as most of us already know. It's why some seemingly powerful adventurers can't get people to go anywhere with them. Would you leave someone to die? Would you follow someone who would?

    Trust. Both of those things above, involve trust. The moment trust wavers, a group falls apart. Whether they're just a group for that fight, or united by having a single clan, or tribe, that trust is vital.

    I hope that people trust me for good reasons, and I like it when people who DON'T trust me, speak their minds. It lets me know where I'm at, and if I have to check myself. To slow down, take account of my actions, and make sure I'm being someone who I could follow, were I not me.

    Ugh, this is getting circular and difficult to follow, even for me. Think good thoughts, Leena. Besides, you said it yourself. Adventurers are taking the lead, showing themselves to be leaders, which means you don't always have to, anymore. Think about it. No more frontlining! Goodness… I cannot WAIT for these demons to go away.

    Alright, now I'm talking to myself on a page. Time to take a break._


  • _Progress.

    I said I was coming for you.

    Turns out, I'm also coming for your little stashes, protections, and whatever else you've left behind in hopes that it would help, you bastard.

    I arrived in the little grove near Peltarch (I need to think of a name for it, I think), to find Mad the Mage with some adventurers. Apparently, she'd found a magical signature of something left behind by Rhigor? I didn't manage to get all the details.

    What it ended up panning out to … was us going (back) under the remains of Jiyyd, and taking on the demons there. Apparently, there were several altars strewn about the place, with a few guards each for most of them, and an auro of abjuration magic surrounding each one.

    They were dispellable, and as we found out ... the reason the magic felt suppressed instead of gone, was because they needed to be destroyed, too ... which we eventually got around to.

    All told, we slew dozens of demon fighter ground troops, and about a dozen or so succubi, and then two Hezrou, and one Glaebrezu. Jonni, your sword did the trick, yet again. I wish I had a scimitar like it, but for you, I'm using it well. I got the killing blow on each of the three, doing plenty of harm along the way, while brave Warziver seemed to attract the most of their attention. He must radiate so much good that they thirsted for his gnomely blood.

    He also ended up finding a bowl of water that didn't seem to end, and quenched the fire trap spell barrier to the last of the magical foci, that apparently may have been linked to a protective shield of some sort for Rhigor's phylactery.

    Told you so, you son of a btich.

    With that all cleaned up, Mad apparently had a prize for the adventurers who went out and fixed this thing ... which makes me all the more curious exactly what Mad really is ... because I'm certain that she could have fixed that issue herself. But as my conversation with Hedia and Mom touched upon several times ... there are apparently RULES.

    You would ALSO think that the Gods, especially my nature Gods, would have taken a more direct opposition stance on the collision of our plane with the abyss ... and with that, the only explanation I can think of, is RULES. So whatever anyone asks why I'm so diehard about invoking all of my Gods, that's why. If they can only act with a majority of their power through influencing their servants on Toril, then I'm going to make myself the best vessel for that power that I can.

    The line I draw, is where the mention of being a "Tool" came up in conversation. Being a vessel, a conduit, a champion, whatever you want to call it, is fine. My Gods have never prevented me from 'choice', however. I take advantage of that where I have to, but try not to stretch it. It's my duty to oppose the undead and those that cavort with them, but I have Horgrim as an ally. I still wreck his pets, and ask him not to create them around me, but don't try to kill him outright, since reuniting his court, and his friendships, is important to my friends.

    I walk a line that's never straight or clear, and trust that my Gods will speak up if I stray from it. Right now, however, I know that Mieilikki knows my heart, and is with me. For now, that's enough.

    Now, to go try to find some more ways to prep for that Balor fight, and Rhigor's phylactery. I firmly believe that the damned Balord is the last thing between me and being able to deliver The Artifact to it's rightful bearer to be able to put an end to this.

    I'm trying to remain excited and optimistic for this, without being overly enthusiastic in my efforts. Truth is, throwing myself at those greater demons gave me a thrill better than sex. Better than chocolate ... or as Tojan recently discovered, Marshmallows! (And that elf girl!)

    I DO want to give this sword back, dammit. I won't feel guilty for enjoying wreaking destruction on demons with it in the meantime, but if after this I get to hang up all of MY demon gear for a while, and give up this sword while I'm at it? I won't be upset.

    Will I?_


  • _Treasure.

    How do you measure, 'worth'?

    When various scouts from Norwick and Peltarch chatter about what they've seen, and the knowledge disseminates through the ranks til it hits the public ear, you get what I saw in the commons the other day. An empty commons. That got me wandering into the Giantspires, and I saw adventurer tracks leading into the orc cave. I ALSO saw clawed tracks that only belong on an outsider. The air still carried it's scent, too.

    So I ran. I ran and I ran, and I blitzed my way through some orcs, before realizing I PASSED the group in a side chamber, and checked in on them, weapons at the ready for demon-fighting.

    Turns out, there's been strange creatures spotted, most of them with some sort of wealth or treasure on or around them. That's reason enough to get people to go check on them, each for their own purposes. Some want to make sure these new and interesting threats don't come plague the innocent … others purely want profit, and still others are simply glad for the experience of traveling to new places, and seeing new things, and perhaps testing their might against a new enemy.

    I can respect all of those, really.

    What I can't respect is when it leads to bickering and infighting, which thankfully I saw little of. Because of this rumor wagon trundling on through our ears, I've been deep to the heart of the Queen Orb weaver's lair, and then below it to the forgotten temple below. I've fought Saurials and Yuan-ti, and we ever defeated what appeared to be a matriarch of their people, who cast a killing red mist spell, cloudkill ... but we got her, and her staff, and her tunic, both of which were rather quite powerful.

    Ginger, though she's not reptilian, not a mage and therefore could not use them, wanted both of the items for study, but the rest of us had more practical ideas in mind. Namely, gold. Though when I thought about it, I realized I had a reptilian ally, Leaf-crest, in the glen.

    I gifted her these robes, so she would not get cut or sliced gathering herbs for potions, or venturing out for them, and they aid in concentration and spellcraft in general, as well. She was grateful indeed for the gift, and also glad that we took out the enemy in that nearly forgotten place.

    My group also went to the windy plains, underneath Jiyyd, and actually found a treasure there, though we had to fight off a Glaebrezu and an Incubus for it. I was glad to take on the demons, the more we take out, the better. We got a hefty chunk of gold to split for our trouble, and some nice potions.

    OH, and I finally went through my loot pile from the Lich's Defeat. I opted not to go for any gold or potions or anything, figuring other people could use those more, since I barely dipped into my supplies, but I did find an armor. As an enchanter, I can say that it's above my ability to make, for sure, but I'm not sure I'll be able to do it to do what I need to do.

    I have been looking for some leathers to sneak in, like my displacer leathers, but enchanted. These will last me cast more spells of the second circle when wearing them, and they'll help muffle sound, but they leave me very open to attack, which I can't sacrifice.

    If I'm going for stealth, I already lose the protections of my cloak and boots. Losing it from the armor as well would set me back to no longer being able to fight my way out of situations, and I'm not sure it's worth it.

    Perhaps I can think of a specific situation in which they'd be perfect ... perhaps as a hidden healer, in a group. Now to just convince everyone ELSE to do the fighting next time I go out ...

    I'd best go check on my demon hunting pals. We need to make a move on the phylactery and it's Balord (Yes I'm still calling it that) guard, before Rhigor can make use of it again.

    I'm coming for you. You just wait._


  • _Adventure.

    There are days when I miss ignorance.

    Not because the burden of knowledge is heavy or difficult, particularly. I mean, it can be, but that's not why I miss it. Namely, because the past few days since our fateful lich trip have been … utterly mundane for the most part.

    I busy myself where I can. I patrol the Rawlins often, check in at the towns, and heal every adventurer I come across, even if it's just a scratch. Little acts of good here and there DO make a difference.

    But as we make preparations in warded rooms, scout for information (Which Im not a skilled enough scout to do), and look for signs of opportunity to plan around, I find myself listless. I chatter away at people in the commons, to much eye-rolling occasionally, and find that I'm better suited to just going out, often alone, to destroy the 'threats' that don't actually threaten ME overmuch.

    I hate feeling like some kind of show off, despite enjoying the attention on occasion. I've trained So long, and against SUCH difficult opponents, though, that a lot of stuff is just routine, unless they have a surprise in store for me ... like the orc trip the other day with Berserkers and Mages showing up.

    So, for now ... I travel alone when there's not anybody around to go with me. I pillage the orcs in their caves, disrupt their worg training outside the caves, and then go confuse the giants, taking them on in groups, and letting my direwolf on them once they're distracted trying to hit me.

    Me smash you, dead you be, huh?

    Nu-uh big boy. Though I appreciate your dedication to all sharing a mantra. Imagine if giants were well spoken in common, and that was just a line in a popular song.

    Me Smash You, Dead you be!
    You'll be smashed so thoroughly!
    Elfie, Humie, Gnomey, PASTE!
    My club hungers for your face!

    This is what's going on my head while I cut them off at the knees, and leap for the throat on their way down. I'm not tall, so I make the most out of it. I think my next project, my next attempt at becoming stronger, deadlier, is to practice Dad's old fighting style, since he fought like a bladedancer. At least, a bladedancer with bricks tied to their feet ... he was not the most nimble of men, but his swordwork was a thing of wonder. Especially with that ridiculous blade of his that could daze an enemy when struck, leaving them open to him tearing into them like a hin with a pastry.

    I miss Isolde and Nate. Nate would be happy to duel with me to help me improve. Cause Gods is that guy dodgy. Isolde would come up with far superior giant songs, and then the punning would resume.

    I miss Fadia. She seldom comes out of the glen, these days. Even IN the glen she's hard to find, she's become quite private.

    I miss Silvia the Fey. I still need to have that dinner with her, and questions spin in my head constantly about her, about their situation, and what it means for this land. I hate feeling like things are still progressing in the things I'm embroiled in, but I'm simply missing them! What if that's the case?

    I'd also been SO much better about it, but having Mom come back and talk about it ... makes me remember how very much I miss Dad. She spoke to him, and he's proud, so it's nice to know that ... but I still miss him. When I feel like that, I feel ten again, learning my first complex spells, learning swordplay, and tracking, and feeling so unsure about everything.

    So instead, I work. I fight. I check in on the hin city at the Bluff often, and scan the skies with them. I visit the wolf den, and hang with Faelar and the crew. I wander the caves of Oscura, and pick up curiosities, herbs, and other interesting things ... occasionally wandering into their keep of the fallen, and destroying the undead I happen across. It's one of the few 'easy to reach' places that I can really go let loose, and have to be on top of my game.

    I think I'll go check on Mom, and get around to that whole, "Catching up properly." thing. She's given me some space since the Lich fight, cause I have to admit ... it affected me more than I figured it would.

    Also, I think I need to buy more ink. These pages have seen more of me in the past couple weeks than in years previous._


  • _The commons.

    Often, anything but common.

    It sounds like the heading for someone's flyer, or the Peltarch news rag which hasn't had anything written in it for a while.

    So, a Priest, a Druid, and two guards walks into a bar. Only the bar isn't a bar, and there's at least two -other- priests, and a bunch of other folks wandering about.

    Here I stand, nearby several people who, like me, have access to magic due to the grace and favor of their God, as if that's a perfectly normal and mundane thing. As I listen to the one armed woman ask questions, and people answer them, this sticks in my head as we all share information about the war.

    Yes, the War. It Deserves the Capital Letter. Dad fought in it, and his fiancee was the traitor who turned our countries against one another. Yes, scholarly woman, there was an alternative reason for the war. No, it's not what you think.

    That conversation covered an awful lot. Peltarch has a king now, and the recent influx of people from days past has a lot of them surprised about this. Apparently, some time ago, it was a point of pride that Peltarch needed no king.

    I've met this king. I've personally saved the life of one of his generals, DelRosa. I wonder if he remembers me.

    I've stood before him as a suspect of a murder, I've stood before him as a savior of one of his people. still, things like kingship seem too 'big' for the remembrance of a single individual in a kingdom of so many. "heavy is the head that wears the crown" they say. Probably too heavy to hold the weight of memories that aren't needed for the next day, I would guess.

    What brings this to mind?

    I guess people asking what Dad was into reminded me of just HOW MUCH he did. Captain in the Legion, Leader of the Wolves, unofficial Leader of the Circle several times, when he was one of the few around to do anything, and regardless of his status, he was certainly their ambassador for the pure simplicity of "He's the Druid everyone knows."

    Recently, that's me.

    I've seen Wick, but not Aoth for a while, save for one time when she was there, however briefly, then gone again.

    I met a new one, once, recently, but again I have not seen them since.

    There are probably Druids hanging about after the battle, recovering, from the Desert Tribes, and some from Rashemen, the Wychlaran. I look forward to spending more time with them, and if any want to stay to help continue the healing of our Circle, I will happily have them.

    So what of me?

    I'm here, again … and present for the big stuff ... but aside from that, I have a remarkable amount of free time alongside my duties as a woodswarden and Druid. So what now? Perhaps I'll pursue that group of Wolves to see if I'm worthy of being a member, and see if they can help drive me, and let me help drive them, into a stronger pack for all.

    I wonder if the King has any Druids in his employ. It seems like it would be silly not to ... especially with vampires under the city.

    Perhaps I'll go ask around about that, and see what's what. I mean, at this point, til there's a plan ... it's the only plan I've got.

    Don't worry demons, I'm still coming for you. Promise <3_