Not quite sure what day it is, and I'm not sure it matters.

We've done a lot of recon, a lot of argument about what we're going to do to get in and how we're going to handle the rakshasa, encountered the kenku and—I snapped a bit. Just really got sick and tired of Mikhael's arrogance & impatience, so I barked at him.

We were all frustrated, and I was tired of being yelled at.

The kenku have some interesting theories about the war and its immediate aftermath—they foresee genocide of the elves. She kept looking at me when she spoke of it. I don't know why—I don't give a damn about the elves on this plane. They have never done anything for me to make it worth my while to give a damn about them.

Later

Gods...nightmares, mundane and magical. First I was wandering through a battlefield, in the fog, looking for what I don't know. I kept turning bodies over, so perhaps I was looking for one of my companions, but I wasn't finding them. Each of the bodies I turned over was familiar, though at first I didn't know why. People (elves, all elves, and some of them very young) that I thought I had seen, somewhere. But I could not have named a one of them until I turned over a body and saw mother's face. [...]

I woke, briefly, shaking, but things were quiet and after a few moments I managed to roll over and go back to sleep.

But I began dreaming again, found myself back on that field, though the bodies had turned to skeletons. That was chilling enough, but then the ground collapsed beneath me and I found myself trapped beneath tons of stone and rock, unable to move or get a free breath—and then I woke. Heart pounding, mouth dry.

This, Mikhael says, was probably a magical Nightmare. I don't know. It's a spell I have in my books, but not one I've ever used.

[...]

Lairunya and Cassia both are demanding to know what I'm writing, and even Torg has put his two coppers in, asking if I write poetry in here. Hardly, but I see no reason to go to the effort of explaining to him. In fact, I'd prefer to ignore everyone right now. But that's an unlikely course of action. I'm tired; I had a second Nightmare, magical, and Daniel has now suggested I sleep in the closet to try and keep it from happening again. So, fine. I sleep in the closet, and deal only with the non-magical dreams.

[...]

September 3

Or so Mikhael tells me. I really have lost track of time.

Thought Torg and I were going to come to blows, earlier. I grow tired of his petty arrogance, so I sniped at him for a change. It got ugly in a hurry. But he's not worth the effort, the energy it would take to bring the situation to a close. His distaste for me is plain—I think there are at least two strikes against me in his book. First I'm an elf, and Second I'm a half-breed. Which is strange. Zed was also a half-breed, and you would think my less-than-pure elven blood would be less of a stigma than Lairunya's (or Simon's) elvishness. But then, I am no thief.

And really his opinion should be unimportant to me.

Mikhael, on the other hand, does concern me. And I think I have done something to offend, possibly losing my temper at his arrogance and impatience with the kenku. I refuse to apologize, though. He has no right to take his anger and frustration out on the rest of us. I've thought a couple of times about trying to explain, but I don't have the energy. I don't feel like talking much, and I'm not sure he'd understand anyway.

The para-elemental plane of ice. Damn. I knew Hell would be cold. I wish...I hope we don't have to go down there. I don't like the idea of dying on a plane far removed from the one I was meant to live in. Even if I am surrounded by my friends. Like the rest of the mages I will be useless against the rakshasa, but I will do all I can to defend my friends.

I'm not a great thinker—I can't plot and create strategy like Mik, or deal with tactics like Daniel, nor bluff like Lairunya or Simon. I'm an acceptable mage and a poor fighter—and yet, I've few other skills. Perhaps I should simply go back to being the cook.

I don't know what we should do about this whole situation. I don't want to be responsible for genocide—but I don't want to put Mikhael in a position where he has to go back on his word. I don't see any way that we are going to "win" this one. Underdark or Genocide.

I wonder if humans find it easier to talk about death because they are closer to it every day. I truly don't understand Mikhael's ease with it.

Well, perhaps we aren't that doomed, though it certainly feels as though all roads lead to disaster. But Mikhael did have some other scenarios ("Robin Hood" indeed, though I would think, if he is indeed who I surmise, that he would already have gotten involved in this mess. Or perhaps not—I suppose if he's plotting a coup it would be better to do so once Chullin is no longer in a position of strength.

Regardless, I'm not sure I see us coming out of this one on top—or at all.

One thing about all of this, though—Mikhael was concerned about whether we should re-enlist. I don't think we need to worry about that anymore.

September 13

Early—probably not much past noon. Back in Glenzor, only a few hours until our de-briefing. I should really be trying to sleep, though my dreams have been so troubled lately that it's difficult.

Mikhael rode back with SkinEater, and spent a good long time talking with him. He returned home well after dawn. I'm almost afraid to wonder what they talked about. Given the state of mind in which Mikhael returned I would guess FluidStreamer was mentioned at least once. Mikhael is just as tired as I am, if not more, and yet he's downstairs planning for this debriefing as carefully as if it were a sortie in the war itself. Maybe it is. But as wound up as Mikhael is he'll go in looking for a fight, for insults or veiled threats, and I've no doubts that he'll find something to go off about. I don't see where FluidStreamer will have anything to complain about. We completed this mission in record time (once we moved) and with no casualties. But Mikhael will probably be right, again (after all, I sincerely doubt these are the results FluidStreamer—or PainDealer—wanted).

[...]

I am not looking forward to the debriefing, be the results good or bad, nor do I anticipate with any eagerness the ceremony to follow, medals of honor and conferences of rank (if any occur at all, given the racial bias against most of our party) notwithstanding. [...] As long as we survive the meeting with our superiors I'll be fine.

I must resolve to back Mikhael if it becomes necessary, but I will not go in there spoiling for a fight.

Later -

Well, we survived the debriefing with no casualties except possibly Callous' ego. There were a couple of touchy places, mind you—FluidStreamer asked Cassia if Daniel had left anything out (and of course he had), but she managed to skirt the edge of truth without giving us away, and I strongly suspect the entire Company was holding its breath when Torg said he had something to add—which turned out to be the boldest bald-faced lie I've heard in a while. He was "proud and honored" to serve with us my eye, though Horus knows he should be.

But we made it through in one piece. Now there is to be an awards ceremony in one week, though I feel it highly unlikely that any sort of real honor will be conferred on either Lairunya or myself. FluidStreamer instructed us rather firmly to not be late. I wonder what sort of trap they're plotting.

It's going to be a week of discussions. Mikhael has requested that everyone but Cassia and Torg join him for a brief discussion, and then Torg wishes us to get together for a late lunch so that we can discuss the whole magic item issue.

Later -

Dinner with Torg in an hour or so.

Mikhael's news wasn't good, but it wasn't overwhelmingly bad, either. According to SkinEater we were followed to Brandon's wedding by four extra-planar creatures (they were on the astral plane, but not natives of that—or this—plane) of a type he did not recognize. Some of his minions took care of them, but they were evidently fairly tough. Mikhael says that SkinEater thinks they were probably adventurers like ourselves, and that they were probably not summoned. Whatever they were, they took out three of the four slaadi that SkinEater sent after them, so they would probably have caused us difficulty as well. I have never encountered a slaad myself, but I have heard Tales.

SkinEater had no speculation as to who was involved in setting these creatures on our trail, but I'm sure we can all guess.

On a somewhat more positive note, Callous says he and Morshasha are going to have (probably) triplets.

And while we were discussing the slaad-bane Mikhael received word that Baron Zorbo wants us to join him for dinner. Evidently he's got trouble on Thion again. Strange, though. I thought he was off adventuring on Parthinon—avoiding the war like anyone sane would do if given the chance. Well, I suppose an explanation will be given at dinner tomorrow, since tonight we're meeting with Torg.

Bicker notified me that he has found a group of elvish adventurers that may be interest in going after the church of Loviatar. Especially if said church is taking slaves/converts, whatever. They call themselves Marillion, and there are six of them. If Lairunya decides he wants them to raze the church they are asking 150,000 gold and a health plan, which strikes me as fair enough, but it's not my call and I'm not sure Dorokka is precisely his focus right now, seeing as Ebrien is back and sending Lairunya "love letters." Well, I stopped by and let Laurie know about this—he'll have to make his own decision.

But I didn't go to Bicker to check on that. I had forgotten completely about it. I decided to go ahead and take the names Mikhael, Lairunya and Callous bestowed on me. So as soon as Bicker gets the paperwork through I will officially be Nicholai Alexi HopeDrainer Gulceleb. I don't know if Mikhael will approve or not, after all the fuss I put up about not accepting the name. I finally thought it through, rather than just reacting to the idea. And it occurred to me that I would rather call myself by a name that was given to me by my friends than one I have hated since it was first forced on me.