Lustig's Wandering Journal (Public)

[probablyamage]

I had a meeting with a lich today Thief. It was fascinating. Fascinating, plus really scary. Oh, I don't mean that I was afraid for my life at the time. I estimated an excellent, although certainly not one hundred percent chance of survival. He's a lich, and not an Archlich, Thief. Why the distinction? Because he became one through unusual means, as Archliches do, but denies the term because he doesn't have a stick up his butt. Which is nice, because as a lich the stick would be entirely visible, and that would just be completely awkward for everyone who meets him. Or would, if he weren't so suavely dressed anyway. I suppose that's why Archliches are probably some damn well dressed liches! He gave me a cloak which I love to bits and pieces. Only not literally, Thief, that would probably ruin it. Better a cloak which I love to figurative bits and pieces than a bunch of cloth and fur lining laying on the ground, right? I won't tell you what that cloak does, it's still a secret. But it's weird, wonderful, and otherworldly. I may be stretching where the words are stressed there for the sake of alliteration. In addition to the cloak though, he gave me news. This news is of a colossal magnitude, and quite frankly, I'm not sure how to feel about it. You want me to describe the feeling, Thief? Fine, I'll put it in terms that we can all understand. Its like standing in a wild magic zone notorious for its love of messing with boulders. One such boulder is above you, naturally falling towards your head. It stands a chance of changing into a falling rainbow, or a rain of marzipan, or perhaps even a torrent of fluffy kittens which have achieved terminal velocity. But then again, it could stay a boulder and smush you. Come to think of it, the rain of kittens at terminal velocity would hurt quite a bit too. Personally Thief, I'm not fond of being smushed. But I do like the other options, excepting the kitten rain. Really, the boulder changes that I listed don't do justice to just how good this could end up being. And being smushed doesn't do justice to just how bad.

Thief, I have started to understand how my journal.....THIS journal might bring about the end of civilization as we know it. Clearly, she loves me.....or at least feels some sort of strong emotion towards me. You didn't see it Thief, but I paused to pat the journal. I patted her affectionately. I would have hugged her, but she ate my fork and needs to know that I am angry. Yes Thief, my journal ate my fork. Stole it right out of my hand! I was forced to eat my pancakes with a spoon, like an animal. My fork is now a bookmark, which I will admit is entirely adorable. I'm just worried about what other bookmarks I will find later. I also think she's looking for a mate. She was found in Yulena's pack, with a bunch of other books. I'll bet there was a book on male anatomy, or some other tome that I could term classically "male". Yulena, by the by, was uncomfortable and flustered when I voiced my hypotheses for what my journal was doing in her pack. So clearly, we're looking at an inevitable future of whole families of teleporting, perhaps sentient books who can "eat" silverware and gods know what else. The reasons for the existence of the Cormyran conspiracy are becoming more and more obvious, clever Vangerdahast. Why is my journal female, Thief? Because its mine, obviously. Everything object I own that I end up assigning a sex to ends up being female. I don't know why. Maybe I'm more comfortable divulging my secrets, such as they are, to a female journal? Maybe since I have to open her, strip back the pages until I reach my desired place, view her naked white pages, and then tattoo her with ink, I'm more comfortable thinking of her as a female? Just look at all her tattoos! She's a rebel. Probably another reason Cormyr should fear her. All that ink, I'll tell you what it says. It says "I won't be chained down". This is good, when you think about it, since I have several reports of her falling on people. I even witnessed it once. It would have been more disconcerting in those cases if she were bound with heavy chain....plus that's kind of kinky, for a book.

(Perhaps in the hopes that the journal doesn't "eat" any more objects Lustig draws a whole set of silverware. Clearly he has some experience in noble houses, judging by the variety and precise positioning of where the silverware is drawn.)

[probablyamage]

Thief, my larcenous friend whom I do not truly know, let us talk of philosophy. It's a good subject, philosophy. It's one of my favorite in fact. Today, or yesterday, or some point in the recent past if you want me to be "accurate", I attempted to help preserve a friendship that appeared to be falling apart. I did it....with philosophy! Well, kind of. I use philosophy as a kind of catch all for any discussion that ties into emotions and psychology. I think it turned out well, Thief. And you know what that means don't you? A good deed has been done, so karma owes me. I have always taken the view that so long as you do more positive than negative in the cosmic scheme of things you are tilting the balance the right way. In such a regard, I have done one hundred units of good. So clearly, it's time to indulge in eighty units of bad, and leave myself a nineteen unit buffer. Save a life, spend a month in a drunken stupor. Save a village, you get one free murder. That sort of thing. I'm not quite sure where my current life savings of being-a-complete-jerk-to-anyone-I-damn-well-please is at. Maybe I should just continue to save up and retire to a life of crime and infamy? Can you pass that stuff down generationally, and excuse the actions of a bad child later on down the line? Clearly, I must query the gods. Or maybe after I eventually die, moments or centuries hence I can simply approach Kelemvor with an abacus, demonstrate my sums of good and bad, and demand a cushy afterlife. Kind of a moot point since I have already taken a goodly number of steps to ensure that, but still icing on a cake which is both delicious and dead.

Theories, Thief. Theories. I have a number of them going at any given time which I gather evidence for as I can. And it appears that my theory on my journal and her habits is being slowly but surely confirmed. Thief, she's a minx. At least insofar as a journal can be. Dahab approached me with a complaint that my journal was found buried amongst her underthings, no doubt trying them on and deciding which to pilfer. It seems that my journal is preparing for a night of book based debauchery. She is a lady-journal getting ready for a night on the town. Or on the bookshelf, as it were. I expect a gaggle of War Wizards, which is approximately three to five, to knock at my door any minute and complain that my journal was doing......'things' in their library. Book covers scattered everywhere, pages mingled. Thief, the mind boggles. This is what you get for suggesting I chain her down. You have only given her ideas. Come to think of it, at least the gaggle of wizards won't disturb me at home, as our spire is fairly difficult to locate. This is evidenced by the fact that I have no idea in the nine where it is.

You listen to me young journal-lady, if I find any new or exotic books on the shelves with you I will be very angry! I will ground you for a month.......after I create a permanent antimagic field in our spire just off of the laboratory, that is. So really, if you're going to do bad now's the time. Just remember what I wrote above, and don't fall to the other side of the scale. You might think that the other books love a bad-journal-girl, but you're wrong. Probably? I suppose I'll have to find and consult a sentient tome and find out. Or another sentient tome?

(On that somewhat less than self confident note this entry ends. The fork bookmark appears to have faint stains on it, and smells of syrup, as if someone tried to eat with it just to be sure it wouldn't work.)

[ateara]

His journal was then found laying ontop of a Lathander Prayer book upon its usual bookshelf.

Within the the pages is golden round flowing script.

When the smattering of diamond twinkling stars across the velvety black sky begin to fade, giving way to warm familiar pinks, reds, oranges and violets upon the distant horizon with the cresting sun, there is always someone there "at your service" .Filling you with refreshing strength and renewal of a brand new day. Even if you miss one, One can go on happily knowing there is another on the way soon enough.

Beneath this a small picture of a sunrise with an apple in place of the sun.

[probablyamage]

I have a plan, Thief. A plan which will finally prove to one and all that I am indeed a master thief. My plan.....is to melt down the various room keys which I have stolen over the past however long (honestly, do they expect me to walk out like a regular person instead of teleporting away with their key?).....and create a monument in my own image. I really only have keys enough for about half a statue though. Should I make a statue of my bottom half, or a bust? On the one hand, a bust is formal, dignified, and displays in an appropriate way the grandeur of an arcanist......on the other, my ass is just fantastic. I should hate to deprive whichever city receives this monument of that. Perhaps I should wait until I have keys enough for a full statue.

There is magic afoot, Thief. I have started a new research topic. This one's a fascinating excuse to keep calling myself a necromancer. Anyone who has strolled carefree through the beautiful Hullack forest is dead. Anyone who has strolled cautiously through the beautiful Hullack forest, preferably not alone, has encountered a Drow Ghost. They're dangerous, Thief. But more important than that, they have goop. Goop is honestly just the name I have dubbed the red viscous substance which doesn't exist fully on our plane that they're so fond of launching at us, like so many snowballs. And like being hit by a snowball, it takes us back to our childhood. Unlike a snowball, this is because it blasts all conventional wisdom and inhibitions right out of you, leaving you with the capabilities of a child insofar as judging good ideas from distinctly poor ones. I SHALL CAPTURE THIS WONDERFUL SUBSTANCE! Honestly thief, its all the fun of getting insanely drunk with none of the hangover. There are drawbacks of course, but those could be addressed with further refinements or alterations after I figure out a way to can it. The primary drawback is that after you're slapped upside the head with the red goop, you have an angry Undead Drow shooting arrows at you, or trying to get touchy feely with his fists. Actually, its not just the Drow Ghosts that do it, there's some other monkish set in the Hullack that does it too. Last time I was there, I saw one punch Sashara after we'd all been afflicted with the stuff and......well, a fistfight with four incorporeal, invulnerable to all but magic and holiness ghosts seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm willing to count it as a victory though, since I narrowly survived while Sashara cut the hells out of them, and then promptly starting weeping that it was her cooking that made me sick and not you know.....the mountains of negative energy I had been subjected too. Mountains, Thief. That's how they measure negative energy nowadays. Normally just getting a glancing blow from a foothill is enough to ruin your day. But a mountain planted right atop your chest? That's awfully, awfully unpleasant. Almost as unpleasant as that time with the Tiefling, and the other Tiefling, with me between them. But that's another story entirely.

My ex servant is sad, Thief. Sad for the ex in her servitude towards me. I am certain that our brief time together will shine for her in the years to come. As a grandmother she will look back upon the day that she gave me an apple that one time....and despair that she was unable to do so again. As a servant, anyway. She could always feed me as a woman with no master-servant connection between us. As a beggar I'm quite satisfied with that. Some people ask me if I thought it was really necessary to crawl inside the fire when coming in from the snow (the answer is yes). Still more people ask me just why the hells I call myself a beggar. Personally I think its obvious. What with how I'm usually begging for food right before being asked, but for their sake we can look deeper right now. Its partially tied to a sacred religious vow made to Quicksilver. This sacred vow was taken.....to win an argument, as I recall. Clearly it wasn't the most important of arguments as the details new elude me. Quicksilver's a wonderful fellow though, I'm sure he will let me out of it when I stop finding it amusing. But damned if I don't derive amusement from it still. But even beyond deriving enjoyment, it serves an important purpose. It keep me humble to a certain hard to perceive extent, and it's a fascinating social experiment.

Oh no! I almost forgot oh journal my journal, my lovely book with silken soft pages.....Sashara wants to destroy you! Well, she wanted me to destroy you, but papa wouldn't harm a page on your head. And neither will she, now. I told her something at the time about a wizard regarding his creations almost as children and......well damn it, that tripe turns out to be accurate. At least it's accurate in the case of sentient objects, which you very much seem to be. And on that note, you need to work on your taste in men-books. I can only assume those books that teleported on and around me were your lovers. Romance novels, journal? Seven?! The seven or so history books and the like were acceptable. Although since they were all of other countries, with only one of Cormyr I get the nagging suspicion that you're trying to experience a history book for every country on Toril......I'm proud of you, Journal. It's just the sort of thing I'd have done if I ever thought about it. Notice the J? Much like Thief become a proper noun, so have you. Although a suggestion if I may. Bring home an Archmage's tome next time. Sooner or later you're going to have to start looking for a stable, intelligent book much like yourself. Just....avoid Hallaster's......and Cadalanter's......and Larloch's. The first because he's insane, and I hear he has a teleport cage around Undermountan which would be impossible for you to negotiate a way through, or back out of if you managed to get someone to carry you in.......The second because I get a feeling that he might have a way to snatch you devised, so that he can "improve" upon your design, and you're already perfect just the way you are.....The third because I don't particularly want a Netherese Archmage turned Lich angry with me. Although he would be interesting to chat with........ Actually, if you take my suggestion Journal, you will pick one of the Chosen. Alustriel or Storm would be my preference. Alustiel has a whole library in Silverymoon wink wink nudge nudge. Khelban or Laerel would also be acceptable. Even Elminister in a pinch. Although I would dread meeting any of the male chosen, especially considering that by the time someone gets to meet with the Old Sage, things have usually gotten pretty bad.

(Below the entry is an painstakingly detailed sketch of Lustig himself tenderly hugging the Journal. Presumably drawn from memory, his sketched features are sharper than they are in reality, and his smile can only be describes as proud.)

[probablyamage]

Thief, I have a new purpose in my life. No, it's not as important has having ridiculous amounts of sex, being happy, or committing as many crown sanctioned crimes as I can contrive (I've managed more than you might think). It is creating an arcanist's tower. I think I will name it.........Arcanist's Tower. That might need some work. If being made into proper nouns is good enough for you Thief, and you Journal it will suffice for my tower! That will make three towers in my possession. My, or more accurately our lovely desert spire (which is coming along nicely), my Wizard's Tower (anatomical nickname), and my Arcanist's Tower (presuming it ever rises proudly above the buildings of Suzail). I think half of my motivation to starting such a tower is to put up a sign outside of my office that reads "feed the Archmage". The other half is to rule over it with an iron fist! Which necessitates my commissioning a smith to make said fist. It would have to be a skilled smith of course, I wouldn't want to rule over my terrified subjects with some shoddy lump of a hand. Am I supposed to amputate and replace one of my hands with the fist? That sounds painful. Why can't I rule over them with a fleshy and soft living hand? Well, iron fist aside it should be a positive thing for Cormyr on the whole. I have met many "young" arcanists who all seem to have the same issue, that of having no clear person or institution from which to learn. Alizarins exists, and I tend to suggest it to those who are primarily interested in the study of ancient lore, but it suits neither the daringly experimental nor the unexpectedly erudite Orc-Ogre hybrids who have polymorphed themselves into humans to appear more presentable. Admittedly, the latter is a rare case, but damn it, I like to be prepared!

Good news Thief! I have a plan for my retirement from the Arcanist's Tower, which isn't actually yet created. I suppose this just goes to show how bad I am at iron fisted ruling, when my exit strategy is more thought out than my rise to power. It already seems like a lot of work. So clearly, I must train up a promising apprentice and palm the wholly thing off on him or her as soon as I think they can even remotely handle it. Ahh, I remember the days of leisure before the tower's creation. I have direct evidence that those days (which today technically qualifies as) were fun. I should take a vacation from all of this theoretical work that I'll have to do in the future. Kick back, relax......I'll deserve it eventually. I could probably get Sashara to do most of the work for me.....sure, she doesn't actually plan to join (though she will teach), but she's so used to taking care of me otherwise that maybe it will seem like a natural progression. Or maybe Hannah? She has a familial obligation to take care of her older brother. At least I think that's how it works. And all that time in the Corps has no doubt given her a good understanding of how to work in an organization. And Cald, my soon to be brother in law (Hah! The poor bastard doesn't know what he's in for.) has no doubt taught her some of what it takes to effectively manage a bunch of diverse personalities.

[probablyamage]

Thief, I have been told that good things come to those who work hard.......Balderdash!. In my experience, good things come to those who can convince others to work hard for them. To that purpose, I have oh so cleverly schemed to persuade another to do the actual, you know....."work" (that's still a strange word to pronounce) of building my grand planned tower of ....grand....fancy....alright, I kind of lost where I was going there. My arcanist tower, in short. I have cleverly tricked Darkharp and Ailren of Alizarin's academy into a mutually beneficial arrangement, by way of mutual benefit. This is quite wonderful, from my point of view. I have been accepted into the position of Headmaster.....so I'm one of three leaders of the academy, and will have the tower placed under my direct (albeit not total....damn veto's) control. And the best part? Darkharp is going to do all of the necessary tedious work in getting approval for this or that of the tower, arranging for it's construction, and so on. I need only do the fun parts. Like warding the tower, or creating a pair of permanent teleportation circles to and from somewhere in Suzail (hopefully we get permission for that), or designing the summoning circle, or even making an elaborate and fancy sign that says "Feed the Archmage" to go outside of my office. In the meantime, I am able to hold classes and teach in Alizarin Academy itself, which is handy. This means that you.....yes you, no, not you, the arcanist there.....yes, YOU. You should probably join us so that I have multiple heads to stuff with knowledge. If I have too few people, my teaching ability is so great that they might actually learn too much, and by sheer weight of their knowledge and newfound brilliance go mad, mad I say! Join me, and together we can rule the....well, I'll find something for us to rule. But in the meantime I can make you educated, and less likely to die horrible horrible deaths!

Thief, Sashara and I had a terrible fight....at least by our standards. She actually broke my heart at one point. It got put back together shortly after when I figured out what was really happening (It's a good thing I'm a genius, and sexy, and clever, and a fantastic lover....I could go on but I wouldn't want to sound vain). I was kind of disappointed that I never got to find out whether or not the jagged pieces of broken heart could be used to stab people (I presume my organs are composed of mithril and adamentine. I'm an Archwizard, don't question me.) But do you want to know the worst part? We never got to have angry sex. This is terrible since this is one of two occasions in the better part of a year together that she's been anything past mildly annoyed. And the first instance only lasted long enough for me to explain to her why I am innocent, good, fragile, and wonderful. Incidentally, that only took something like six words. Namely "No, I didn't agree to that" After which the anger was gone, and an opportunity lost. Obviously, I need to make things right. I need to purposely make her really really really angry, and then propose sex. It's a foolproof plan, isn't it Thief? Have you ever purposely made someone strong enough to rip you in half with her bare unaugmented claws angry, and then exposed sensitive bits to them? I'll bet you have you scoundrel! You and me Thief, we're two of a kind.



*Below are what appear to be planned outlines on how to make Sashara angry. They range from poking with sticks, to casting rather more dangerous spells than most would feel comfortable with at her. One involves putting her to sleep and transmuting her a tail (it is noted as a particularly dangerous plan)*

[elysiumfields]

In the forge hard at work, Tiberius is just about to burn in his emblem of authenticity on the leather work of another piece of steel full plate when the book appears from nowhere under cover of broad daylight. A cunning ruse that leaves the cover now embossed with the signature mark of his work.

Cursing slightly he places the journal to one side without daring to open and read private thought and loses himself quickly again in his work. When finished and satisfied with his product he turns to pick up the book and deliver it to its rightful owner only to find the book disappeared from his sight.

"Mages..." is all he says with added shake of carbon streaked face as flame dies and day's work is done.

[epicspire]

Devin is in the process of tossing some of his personal books into the fire place at the regal griffin inn. He reaches to the table to pick up what he thought was his last book, and as he flipped through the pages, preparing to tear them out, he soon realized the book was not one of his. reading a few entries he quickly discovered what he has found. He tucks the book into his bag, and then tosses his feathered hat into the fire. He then leaves to find his new Head Master, Lustig, to return the book to its owner.

[Muse]

Somewhere, the book appears on a stone, and bursts into flame.

Later, it's ashes blow away on the wind.