January 29, 3043

Talked to Stella today. She's Nic's sister—or at least half-sister, we're not certain. Said she's been looking for him some 10 years or more. Her real name is Luthien Rhilia Gulceleb.

We decided not to Teleport back and forth. Instead, we'll meet up with her in Glenzor City. I sent her a brief letter and a letter of protection that will, hopefully, protect her from being hassled by orcish patrols. We'll see. In the meantime, we'll go back to Glenzor. Cassie and Akalina will head out to keep a long-distance eye on her, as much for her own protection as to make sure she's on the up-and-up.

Nic's disturbed by it all, but we've delayed things a bit, for which he seems relieved.

February 18

What a day.

Luthien arrived, poor girl. She was so eager to meet her brother she was stumbling over her words, trying to fill him in on all the years they'd missed. And Nic just sat there, giving her his cold, walled-off reaction. He didn't even move when she started crying.

Nic can be a real bastard sometimes.

I escorted her up to her room, but he'd already left by the time I came back down to chew him out. Used Slither to follow him to the Luckstone, and we "talked." Which is to say, I tried to make him feel as guilty as I possibly could, and ordered him to go back and talk to her. I suppose he could have refused, or hit me, but I didn't really expect him to, and he didn't. I was about as mad at him as I've been in a long time, but I've learned enough to know that there's a point at which shouting at him will just make things worse, and that it's better to keep him off-balance by combining the shouting with lectures, jokes, and silences. I think I've finally figured out how to force him to look at himself. At any rate, he did go back and presumably talked to her, though I don't know how it went. I won't ask—I'll just wait and watch. The main thing is that he talks and gives her a chance to get to know him.

Poor girl. After all these years, Nic still shuts me out. She doesn't have a chance. Unless I can shame or browbeat him into acting civilized toward her.

Damn, he frustrates me, sometimes! He's my friend, but he can be so arrogant, and never once admit that it's arrogance. Hell, I'm arrogant often enough, but I know I am, and for me it's a weapon—I use the act when I need to, but I never fool myself into thinking I'm any better than somebody else, really. But Nic does. He's so damned proud of his precious lone-wolf image, now that it's being threatened he'd just as soon alienate the family he's claimed to want so much instead of let somebody get close to him. And what can I do, except hold up a mirror and hope that he sees what he's doing?

Poor girl.

February 19

Nic showed Luthien around town today—at least they're doing things together now, though Glenzor is hardly likely to favorably impress her. I know it's a squalid hellhole, but I happen to like it—to a stranger, it's probably incomprehensible that anyone would choose to live here.

Anyway, I'll mark up their time together as my success, and hope that Nic makes it his, too.

Luthien's at Baldarion's now—I arranged for them to talk. She says she knows where their mother was taken, so we need to get back to her plane now. Tyr, planar travel again. I hate this. Nic had better not alienate his sister and mother—not if I'm plane-travellling with him on their behalf. He owes me a happy ending, at the very least. I know Callous won't go, and I don't imagine that Danny can get the time off. And, I can't stand leaving this world. So if I do, Nic owes me.

Later We leave tomorrow, at midnight. Called everyone to dinner, made Nic explain the situation to them (he must get used to talking about his refound family, and he must get used to opening up and asking others for help—or else this will all go to waste. He hates me for forcing him to talk, but I can't let him keep his walls up, for his own good.) As predicted, Callous didn't go (though Larb may). Danny said he would, though. Seems he has a little more say in his own schedule now than he used to. Thank Tyr for that, at least—the trip may be more bearable if I can have him there, know he's safe. I couldn't stand another Kara-Tur, constantly wondering what was happening to him....

February 20

Another grueling day. Two major party arguments within—what?&3151;twelve hours? I really can't stand it anymore. I think that I may just quit the Company when this is all over—go freelance. Even freelance military. I'm just tired of dealing with others' inefficiency. Had to deal with the Laurie, Sin, and Avitar problem before we left, only to run into a Simon/Cassie problem once we got to this plane—Luthien's plane. Do the details matter? No. I'm too exhausted.

February 21

P'steeded all day, set up camp. We're at the bottom of the hills that Luthien says the slaver Duncan Panther is encamped within.

So—yesterday. Ended up with us agreeing to "let" Sin out of the Company. Simon tried to argue against the decision, but his contractual argument made no sense—Sin didn't want to stay in the Company, as his angry "I don't care!" clearly proved, and we weren't going to keep him in unless he agreed to bend a little to keep the Company's best interests in mind. He wouldn't, so we voted him out. Laurie says he actually apologized, but was rebuffed by Avitar. So I wrote to Avitar, told him everything, and left it in his lap. But Sin's got Nic's crystal ball, so we're down a magic item.

Then, after seven hours of Astral travel—terrible place, though if I had my drugs ... well, no use thinking about it. Gave me some concepts to consider regarding the Dreamscape, but all in all, I don't want to go back—then, while I was casting a Shelter, Cassie attacked Simon. More arguments. I've talked a little with Cassie since, as we share a watch. I don't approve of her method, but I can't say she didn't have motive. I'd like to kick Simon out of the party, too—his chaos and evil tendencies ahve become more threat than benefit—but I don't think that I can. Still, his actions have become progressively more antagonistic. I suppose that it'll come to a head soon, with her or Nic, since he's been ragging on them both. I dread to think of what will happen then. It's a grim thought, but he may need to be killed.

Retirement. I really think I'll retire after this.

February 22

Cassie and Akalina scouted the encampment, and we've made a plan (primarily Danny's plan) to take out the sentries and attack. Tomorrow.

February 23

Much to write. Visited by a moon dog—Hymie?—something like that, anyway—last last night that came to visit in the guise of a grey elf. We took him out with spells, because I thought he could be an enemy, and we've been too incautious too often. Turns out he wasn't, but we did the right thing to take him out. Afterwards, apologized, talked. What a hypocrite. I finally took my leave (politely), went back to sleep. He was worried about our alignment and permits enslavement of the local elves? I can't stand stupidity or hypocrisy.

Invaded successfully. No deaths, surprising for the Company. Duncan's a precog and telepath, so it got a little strange, but we worked out a compromise with them, a Larb-assisted contract ritual to replace killing them. Got the information, anyway. Let them go. Nic wants to hunt down the human who didn't opt for the contract (Larb cut off the human's hands—I ended up using the Mend Serious that Nic put into the ring of spell-storing to heal him. Nic was furious, but I won't be drawn into his moral problems. My morals said that the slaver deserved at least some time to heal and start running.)

Sigh. Left, made camp a little outside the area.

Luthien wanted to kill the slavers, too, but when it came down to getting the info about her mother or indulging in some vengeful murder, she opted for the information. The better choice, I think, though I decided to leave the decision up to her. It's really her plane, village, people, and family at stake here, even more than Nic's. She made the most logical decision.

Nic, though—he's back in his black rage again. Now I have to decide whether or not to interfere. If I interfere, it will be ugly—but if I don't, it will be uglier. I'll have to go after him and simply take him out. There'd be no other way. So I'll have to do it fast and efficiently, or he'll turn on me and probably kill me. And when I do take him out, I'll have to tie him up and just let him stew for however long it takes him to calm down, or until Baldarion returns and we drop him in the Astral Plane. He'll shout and struggle and swear to kill me or worse, and he'll hate me, but...

But, if I don't, he'll start murdering. And I know why he'll do it, even if he doesn't. He'll do it because, deep inside, he knows that if he becomes evil again, he can drive us off. And then he won't have to change—to open up, to learn how to think in a new way. He can protect his precious ego, keep his walls intact. And then—once he's driven everyone away, even his own blood kin, whom he knows will recoil in disgust from his crimes—then he can blame us for leaving him, for not understanding, for betraying him. He'll be able to wallow happily in his bitter self-pity, blame the universe, and ... not change.

Asshole.

And he'll hurt his family on the way.

If it were just a matter of him doing this to drive the Company off, or to protect his own delusions, I might let him go. After all, there'd be a chance he'd probably return, and I know him well enough to—probably—let him return. But his sister is already half-afraid of him. And I won't let him hurt her—not his own family—not family that, because of my friendship with him, I will protect as my own. Even from him. Even at the cost of that friendship.

Good god, how do I get into these situations? Mikhael ap Arawn, keeper of the party morals. What a fucking crock.

Later My best weapon is, and and always has been words.

He was falling back, as though to lose us, so I turned to ride side-by-side with him and asked him what he was going to do.

I suppose I was a little nastier than I've been in the past. Chalk it up to impatience and frustration with the Company. On the other hand, I was also more serious than I've had to be in the past. I didn't know, really, if it was going to come down to physical violence between us or not.

The usual—the pointed questions, the long waits for a reluctant/defiant answer, the lectures, the jokes slipped in at odd times that always catch him off-balance for a moment and make him smile. He should smile more often; it always strikes me, when he does, that he looks like a completely different person. But I also dealt some low blows, too, used mockery and sarcasm to an extent that I usually try to avoid with my friends. The difference between sparring and trying to draw blood. I hope I left him with a few cuts to think about. He keeps trying to turn his life into high drama or dark tragedy. He's got to learn that we all have our problems. I'd be the last person to deny a man a bout of self-pity, but he's got to know when to stop and move on. Unless he kills himself, of course. But Nic's not suicidal. He lashes out, usually at the most vulnerable—the ones who care about him.

Anyway, he agreed, finally, not to go after the handless slaver. Now we can wait for Baldarion. Pity we can't do so in a city. The shelter is invaluable—but small.

February 27

Baldarion returned, and we're off to Athas as soon as he does a bit of research on where in hell Athas is, anyway! In the meantime—for the most part—this has been a relaxing pastoral interlude. Ironic, considering what a bitch of a plane we're on. Speaking of bitches, I discovered that Luthien is wearing a Ring of Human Influence. I'm afraid that led to yet another argument, which, thank Tyr, she lost. The ring will not be worn anymore. Now I have to reassess my actions of the last week or two, consider how much I was influenced by that damn ring. Would I have stood up for her against Nic if it hadn't been for that cursed magic item? ...I think so. My interest was less for her than for him, anyway. But it's still an uncomfortable feeling. I've never much liked those coercion spells—give me honest torture over a Charm, any day. At least then you know what's happening to you.

March 2

Baldarion has come back with information on Athas' location. We hear it's a desert, so we're packing extra water.

March 4

Athas is not a pleasant place. The sun is red and swollen, the people wrapped in some strange manner of protective bandages, the temperature during the day agonizingly hot. We've holed up in a shelter until we can figure out what's going on. Surely no creature can exist in this godsforsaken ruin during the day!

March 7

We have contacted the locals and bargained for the use of a subterranean shelter they maintain in exchange for water. This place is hellish, and we are almost too hot and miserable even to snap at one another—just as well, else we'd surely have murder on our hands. It's not that there is real reason for conflict—Simon has disappeared, and we will not leave this shelter to look for him—it is simply the heat and boredom and uncertainty.

We were told that a trader would arrive soon#151;presumably the one whose interplanar slave trade we have so abruptly curtailed. It is ironic, if that is the case, since we'll have to seek passage with him. None of us believe we can survive this desert of salt, or silt,or ash, or whatever the pale stuff is surrounding us, without a native guide.

March 8

Danny has bargained with the trader, Tahsch, for our passage. Tahsch is telepathic, so Danny has been the sole contact. He's more diplomatic and linguistically talented than the rest of us, anyway. I probably should be there, but I can't muster the energy to argue about it.

Our plan, if it is agreeable to the merchant, will be to have about half the party enstasised in Sigils. That way, we'll save the water we so desperately need here. Since we've bargained about half our supplies away to Tahsch, this is vital. Larb, Luthien, Simon (!) and I have volunteered to travel in stasis. I, for one, will be just as glad not to experience this heat for a few days. I feel absolutely miserable—unwashed, unchanged, unshaven, and unable to cast spells without making it worse. "Defiler," indeed!

I will trust to my friends not to sell me into slavery while I'm helpless!

Later We leave tomorrow. I shall enter Stasis Polymorphed.

Some indeterminate time later. Six days? March 14?

This is the second time I've been destasised since we left on the 9th, but the first that I've been able to sit down and write. Danny is off on his own again—note, must try to discourage this habit—so we (Cassie, Laurie, Nic, and I) remain in this small inn room, awaiting his return.

The first time they awoke me to ask my advice. Now, how I was supposed to offer any cogent ideas, having been in stasis for several days and thus being completely unaware of what was going on, I have no idea. It sounds like they did nothing but sit around during the entire trip—no exploration, no attempt to learn about the culture, or anything! Actually, that's not fair—Danny did pick up some info on the local hierarchies and put his formidable language skills to work picking up the dialect— but nobody else did anything.

So, they were off the caravan-ship, about a day away from Nibenay, and worried that if they entered the city without Tahsch, he'd turn them in. Having no better plan, they wake me up to make one for them!

Miracle-worker that I am, I came up with a plan in a half-hour that we executed perfectly, which is why we're in an inn instead of a gladiatorial pit.

Sometimes I even amaze myself.

So why doesn't anyone ever acknowledge my help? Even a "thank you, Mik," would be nice. I am surrounded by ungrateful wretches. However, I've known that for some time.

So, now, here we are in Nibenay. Once again, nboody has any clue about our next step. I hope Danny finds something out for us.

Later Nic's mother, Nevmoriel Gulceleb, was here, and is apparently in some Family house locally, according to Danny. We debated over how to contact her and have decided that I will try to talk to her in a Dream. The rescue attempt will use Project Image (my scroll! I'd hoped to use it somewhat more dramatically than this, but, sigh, I suppose I can't deny it to Nic), Spectral Hand, out of the ring of spell storing—note, develop an illusionary version of that spell—and D-Door. Unless I turn myself into a vegetable casting Project Image, of course, in which case the group resorts to Teleporting in and out. Frankly, I'd rather Teleport, but Danny's adamant. He's always hated Teleporting; I think it has to do with risking his life blowing Teleport off a scroll when he was low level that time he rescued Chullin ... and Laurie's pretty skittish about Porting, too. Fine. I'm not that bothered, it's just that I prefer fast in-and-out missions. As it is, we'll have to cross the desert ourselves, and—somehow—avoid that month-long sandstorm the locals were warning us about. I think I'll volunteer for Stasis again.

To sleep, perhance to....

Next day. March 15?

Things never go according to plan in the Scintillating Company. It may—possibly—have been my fault, but I'm inclined to think not. After all, she wouldn't agree to the rescue (mind-adjusted somehow? Psionic?) until she had proof that Nicholas (Sulisil) and Luthien were really with me. Gods, she was just as stubborn as those two! They didn't get it from their father, that's for sure. As if I had to trek out to this hell-blasted inferno to rescue her....

Anyway, when I slipped out and took those two back in—blowing spells out of our books—she took one look at Nic/Sulisil (I remembered to use his elven name when I spoke to her, which I consider remarkable), and woke up.

Oh, boy, did hell break loose then. Scrying revealed that she started talking to people, and we were afraid she'd blow it, warn her guards that something was up. We had to pull her out at once. I Projected in and Teleported her out to us (without error, thank Tyr). We dropped everyone into Stasis except Nic, Laurie, and me, shoved Laurie into the closet, and tag-team D-Doored out of the city, fearing alarm and pusuit.

So now --

March 16

Attacked by some nasty four-armed creatures, so I Teleported off; miracle of miracles, even in the right direction. Now we ride onward toward the ruins—and the sandstorm.

March 18

Cassie says the sandstorm is there, all right, so we're engaged in another classic Scintillating Company plan—this one is Danny's, I think, if we must assign blame—although I worked out the mechanics of his concept. A great glass chariot, drawn by Summoned mounts, to wheel our Leomund's Hut across the sands and through the storm! Danny and Laurie are collaborating on the specs—engineer and artist—and I'll Create the glass from this sand and whistle up the Mounts—guess that makes me the lowly assembly-line worker. It'll be quite a sight if it works, though!

March 22

Glenzor again. The plan worked, Baldarion was there, and now we're all happily back in our homes. I've put up with Luthien and Nevmoriel for the time being, although Nic says he's going to find them some other place to live (no doubt they're uncomfortable being the guests of a human). He may go with them—who knows? His choice. [...]

Speaking of duty, I wonder if Mother will ever write back? I'm sure she could if she wanted to. Well, it's been several months now with no reply. I suppose that's a reply in itself. Oh well. I was just wondering what it would be like to know another illusionist, a real illusionist (not a dilettante like Laurie) ... and what she looked like.

I'd probably just have ended up yelling at her, anyway.

Danny said we'd be given our next assignment in a few weeks—no time to research spells. Damn! I want some time to myself! I still have this Interim spell half-completed, and I want to start doing some work on this Dream idea we've stumbled into...

Ah, sounds like Danny's finally crawled out of the bath.

March 23

Danny says we're being recalled early. Dammit! I have work to do! I'm a mage, not a brainless figher with nothing more pressing to do than polish his sword! I have research!

This had better be good....