October 18, 3042

Decided to enjoy a long smoke last night ... I guess it wasn't such a good idea, but I needed to unwind. Travelling with this group is driving me crazy ... even this journal has been slipping. I suppose confidence has bred carelessness÷I should probably just burn this thing. Well, the way I'm going, when I die, everything I own will go up in flames with me.

Anyway, nobody else wanted to stay up late with me, so Simon and I waited up late in the commons room, smoking. I figured it would be OK, since I'd already checked with Danny and he'd said we'd be able to sleep in late. I don't remember too much ... guess Simon and I decided to take a walk, maybe straight to Dorakka. Somewhere along the line I picked up a ratty fur coat, anyway. I remember wolves howling, and four horsemen, and dogs running toward me, and then Callous sobered me up in our room. Simon vanished÷we had to catch up with him in the field.

Danny was pretty pissed off. I suppose I can't blame him, although I don't know why he sounded so surprised to find out it had happened. It's not as though it hasn't occurred regularly throughout my adventuring career. He confiscated all my drugs and alcohol and made me promise to stop using them or offering them to others. So, I did. What else?

I expect it will end up killing me, of course...

October 19, 3042

Could hardly sleep last night÷kept thinking about where my life is going. I don't know who the hell I am, anymore. I spent all my life studying to be a mage, following in my parents' footsteps÷so why the hell am I carrying this sword, and why am I so tempted to give up illusionry for good? It's not as though I'm a bad illusionist; but ... the fun's long since gone out of it. Maybe I'm tired of everyone sneering at how weak illusionists are, how useless illusionry really is for an adventurer. I don't know, maybe I even believe it. I'm tired of hanging behind, picking up the pieces÷of being the one everyone makes fun of, and then expects to come rescue them. I'm tired of pounding my head on the walls trying to get someone to acknowledge me, respect me. Sometimes a fighter's simplicity seems so appealing÷next time someone like Sin makes fun of me, shove three feet of black steel through his gut.

Or maybe I'm just looking for an easy way out. Danny doesn't realize it, but he just confiscated my first choice for a suicide option. The poison won't work fast enough. I think that there must be something sublime about facing an armed opponent and then choosing not to defend÷no spells to automatically protect you÷just let your sword swing aside and feel the final, twisting agony of the enemy's blade through your heart÷a single moment of clarity, and then÷nothing.

I know I'll do it, when the time comes. I can't stand this anymore. I don't know if I'm a mage or if I've just been wasting time all my life ... I don't know if I'm evil or good or just stumbling blindly through life ... and, Tyr help me, I don't know if I'm straight or just another sick pervert like Gwalch, after all....

October 22, 3042

Spent the last few days "kicking the habit"÷as if a few days off drugs can break these habits. Nobody will leave me alone or let me use my spells effectively. I still can't finish this off. So I'll wait. Eventually they'll stop paying attention.

October 23, 3042

Convinced Danny to return the blackbands, so at least I can smoke. Told him that I was older than him, more experienced than him, and had been smoking hemp for ten years of adventuring. He wasn't pleased, but he conceded the point, at least so far.