Lustig's Wandering Journal (Public)

[probablyamage]

An excessively fancy journal with embossed wording on the cover

Journal of

[glow=red,2,300]Lustig Luther Latherion[/glow]

The journal itself is magically resistant to harm, and seems to return to its owner via teleportation at random times. It is occassionally seen left at inns around Cormyr. Whether its left on purpose, or it's owner is simply extremely absent minded isn't clear. The writing inside appears to be a rambling stream of thought. In the margins and occasionally interrupting the flow of the one way conversation are drawings. Everything from detailed sketches of creatures to simple smiley faces. (If any "thief" wants to respond either anonymously or with their name signed feel free. The basic idea is that its a journal filled with information any PC could reasonably have a chance to read.)






THIEF!!! Why are you reading my journal? Aren't these things supposed to be private or somesuch? Well, I'll assume we're excessively creepy pen palls, only the writing just goes one way. You really should be ashamed you know. Tsk tsk.

Well, my lawbreaking friend, I have decided to record some of my thoughts every now and then. You know, as the mood strikes me. Did you know, my friend that the life of a wizard is awfully strange? Ordinary problems are almost nonexistent, leaving only the extraordinary. Clean a room? I'll mutter a quick arcane phrase and BAM, its done. As to the extraordinary....I must admit, when I was a child I never would have expected to devote a small portion of my daily routine to getting used to being a dragon. Ah, right, you may not know me too well, random thief. Well, for your edification, I rather enjoy shape-shifting into the form of a dragon. Its really quite comfortable, if you have the mind for it. Its my hope to eventually be able to cast spells in the form. Yesterday I thought I had mastered flying. A tip from someone with experience in the matter, flying and falling feel similar when you're thousands of feet in the air. Its when you're oh say...a few hundred feet up that the difference suddenly becomes very important. Happily, I can glide, so I didn't make a spectacular crater.

I recently heard a saying that goes "you can judge a man by his enemies". I wonder what that says about me? I'm not entirely certain I have enemies. Are you my enemy, thief? You stole my journal. Aww, I could never stay mad at you, so you're not my enemy. There are a number of people I would kill in certain situations, but that doesn't really make them enemies. Most of the people on that list I'd really rather drink or chat with. You could be a drinking buddy thief, but your not terribly talkative. I feel like all the conversation is going one way, which is vaguely depressing. Ah well, I won't try to change you.....yet.

Now my larcenous friend we come to the subject of responsibility. Are you a responsible person, thief? You stole my journal, which doesn't exactly lend itself to responsibility, but perhaps you steal only to feed your family? Silly thief, people can't eat paper. Well, they can, but paper covered in ink, particularly that which comes from a wizard is not part of any nutritious meal that I know of. Go steal an apple. Better yet, steal two and give me one. I'll spring you from the jail if you get caught. Promise. But back to responsibility.....I don't like it. Or rather, I don't want it personally. I want others to be responsible -for- me. I much prefer to be a resource. Demons attacking the town? I'll help with that. Keeping a vigil over the town to prevent demon attacks? No. Sorry, not my sort of thing. "The Town" could really be any town, although its probably Greatgaunt. Damn place is ravaged by demons, rampaging hoards, and probably giant vicious flamingos more often then....then....me? In fact, I've never been ravaged by demons, rampaging hoards -or- giant vicious flamingos once! So that's an entirely true statement.

I like to be taken care of, thief. How about you? I'm going to assume that the answer is yes, since your off stealing journals instead of working a steady job. Do you think my journal is worth enough to buy you a month's stay in a brothel?! Well, it might be worth that much to some people. Journals are valuable things. Listening in to someone's thoughts does give you a good idea of what that person is like, which makes dealing with them a great deal easier. An assassin after my life would be happy to buy this from you, but then again so would a merchant looking to sell me diamonds. Back to the subject at hand though, it really ties in with responsibility. Thief, I'll be honest with you. I'm good at some things. Really, really really really good at those certain specific things. But aside from that I'm hopeless. I'm quite convinced that I couldn't survive on my own. Probably the only reason I'm alive today, or yesterday, or whenever I wrote this particular entry is because one of the skill sets I have is to persuade people to take care of me. I've coasted along on that for a goodly portion of my life. I'll tell you thief, its nice.

Of course, thief. That can't last forever. The majority of the people I convinced to take care of me were in fact, women. Almost all, come to think of it? Why do i gravitate towards women, in general? Well, I can think of a few shapely reasons, but that isn't terribly important right now. What is important is that option has been closed to me. Mostly. Partially? Well, I certainly have to adjust my tactics at least. What I'm trying to say, thief, dearest friend of mine among those who have stolen my journal, is that there has been a paradigm shift in my life. Sashara. I can't even begin to go into detail on how necessary she is to my life now, or how wonderful said paradigm shift is, and has been. Its fun! Which reminds me.....

(The entry abruptly ends, and the journal is left unwisely close to the fire in front of the cushions at the Regal Griffon.)

[Levedara]

With fingers apt for the picking up of things, and the curiosity to open them thereafter, when the book is left in suzail it shouldn't come as a huge surprise when Mithika picks it up during her many wanderings about.

As such the journal has a new entry in tiny script, neatly written.

"I'm not a thief Lustig sir, and I don't much really like the thought of you calling me one, I happened to find your journal sitting about on it's own, and thought I might see what was in it, is all.

I'll leave it where it was really, and perhaps if you're lucky, you'll find it. Keep warm, though with ma'am Sashara, that shouldn't be much of a trouble really!

~ Mithika"

[jujumojo]

*Another entry is added in flowing, slanted handwriting that looks more accustomed to elvish script*

Dear Journal.

Reminder: I owe Rimieh 100,000 lions.

P.S. I have realised that Rimieh is the most attractive person I have ever met and I find myself with the desire to do unspeakable things with him.

I should really tell Sashara. Dear gods I hope she doesn't find this, whoops.

*a very shoddy signature of Lustig Luther Latherion forged here just as the journal teleports away to its owner or its next destination.*

[Teneas]

A pair of eyes blink as a journal suddenly appears very deep within the woods. Curiosity peeked, the figure pops it open, and takes a look inside..

After a short while he pulls out some ink and a quill....



"I am the greatest ever! No one can ever beat how great I am! I will tell you how great I am over and over and over. If you don't believe me, just ask. If you are unconvinced, I shall lecture you on it. By the way, I have a way to make sure this book doesn't get away from you, and I will have a very lengthy talk about it with you when next we meet"

*signed*

Entori the wise, and all powerful


The figure puts the book back down from where they found it, and after a short time, it vanishes once again.

[petrie74]

While eating her supper at the Wild Wolf, a book suddenly falls from shoulder height to the floor. Hannah glances around a moment, then sets aside her meal to lean over and pick the tome up. Upon reading through it she quickly puts it down and moves it several inches away from her. After several moments of watching it she takes her own turn with quill and ink and quickly writes out a simple message.

I told you teleporting would come back to kick you in the ass one day. A teleporting journal, Lustig? Really? It is not very tactically smart. Now everyone will know your secrets.

Hannah then puts her writing supplies away, after the ink dries closes the journal and pushes it even further from her. Then moves a seat over and goes back to her meal, watching the book as if it were a living viper ready to strike. Until finally the book once again disappears... causing the usually brave Hannah to yelp in surprise.

[Charon's Claw]

A young woman wearing somewhat revealing purple garb with a wide brimmed purple hat that sports a huge white feather enters the Cloven Shield in Marsember. She flicks some firey red hair from her face and peers over to a table and notices the journal. She pads over to the table, looking around for any sign of an owner.

When none presents itself she snatches it up and heads toward the fire, plopping down in a large padded chair. The purple garbed woman cracks open the journal and scans its contents with a curious emerald gaze. A few chuckles and giggles escape her lips as she reads.

She digs out a quill, a brush, and a few bottles of colored ink and draws the following...

[probablyamage]

Very clever, thief, displaying outrage at your moniker and pretending to be multiple people responding. Your impression of Entori was spot on, and that first speech pattern was the same as Mithikia. And don't even get me started on what I think of Rimieh, or his body, or the way his purse bulges so cutely after I put large amounts of gold into it. You're making me curious as to the identity of the master thief who could pull that off. Credit where its due though, your drawing makes my mouth water. Were you trying to make a hypocrite of me, thief? Did you want me to tear out and devour that drawing? Well I haven't! Not yet, at least. I'm quite strong willed, and probably won't eat it for hours, if at all.

Thief, old friend. What makes you think that the teleporting properties of this journal are accidental? Do you think i was testing out a perpetual teleportation spell tied to my subconscious, that activates at random times due to specific thought patterns of mine, such as when I very much would like an ale? And that said spell somehow became accidentally attached to a journal of mine? Nonsense!....Probably. And its not as if I'm divulging real secrets, thief. Those real secrets that I have written down would make you go insane if you read them, in a very literal sense. Or trigger that penitence spell, which is always hilarious. I have some stories about that, thief. Let me know if you want to hear them via your usual obfuscation-of-your-identity involved way.

Thief, can you keep a secret? I'm sure you can, you're an upstanding member of the thieving community. Honor among thieves and all that. Or was it that there was no honor among thieves? One of the two. Here's a secret of mine, thief. I have a plan to bring Cormyr to its knees. Metaphorically, that is. I don't think a country has knees, but if it did, you can bet that's where the Hin armies would attack first upon invading. Now, I don't expect to ever put this or any plan at all like it to use. But its there, thief. I have spent time thinking on how best to wreak devastation across a country with the resources at my disposal. Don't give me that look, thief. I'm a wizard. My master used to say that wizardry was nine parts preparation, one part action, two grams of iron filings, a pinch of sulfur, and then best left to simmer over an open flame for thirty minutes. The man was deadpan. I, to this day don't know if he was joking, or simply reading some amusingly mixed up lecture material verbatim. We had alchemy lessons next. The point I'm getting to in an exceedingly roundabout fashion is that I have plans....oh so many plans for so very many unlikely events. I know exactly what I'll say to Tyr if I ever happen to come face to face with his avatar. "I have never read a law that explicitly states its illegal to steal from the tithe plate to buy absinthe. Can I use drunkenness and hallucinations as a retroactive excuse?". My alternate plan to that is to describe how I intentionally donated far more then I stole prior to the theft. I just wanted to steal from Tyr for the novelty. I never said they were all good plans, thief, only that I have an innumerable amount.

Do you remember, thief, what I said about how Sashara is necessary to me? I'm going to assume you do. If you can manage mimicry you can manage a minor feat of memory. Well, one of the innumerable things she does for me is to limit me. Why, you might ask thief, would I want that? THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!! I'm sorry for yelling at you thief, I really, truly am pretending to be. Lets assume it is your concern for the moment, though. Thief, I'm a wizard. An Archwizard, in fact. I love arches to bits, elegant things.....but the point I was trying to get to is that I can do a lot. An awful lot. Lets take a look at the area of transmutation magics. Thief, I want a tail. I would find it amusing, and probably helpful if I transmuted myself one. Which is all well and good, but then just imagine what I could do with another set of arms. Or a second head? Pretty soon I'll end up some eldrich abomination who terrorizes the populace by looking very scary, and singing silly drinking songs in front of taverns whose doors I am now too large to fit into. I'm telling you thief, without Sashara, that's inevitably where I'll end up. There is precedence, maybe! The Phaerim. You probably don't know anything about them, thief. I'm not calling you scholar, after all. But they're an entire species who probably came about through exactly what I described, over many generations of a magically advanced culture. And that's just transmutation magics, thief. Just polymorph magics, actually. I'd end up involved in all sorts of shenanigans without my precious, beloved, winged, sexy....ahem, my Sashara. She provides the boundary conditions to my world. Without her, its just endless empty space, like the vast nothingness between worlds. Imagine you were flying, thief, seems like fun doesn't it? Zooming over the land without a care in the world. Now imagine you were flying in the vast nothingness between stars. How can you even tell you're flying? Its little different then just floating. A metaphor provided by the ever helpful Lustig Luther Latherion, just for you, thief. Just in case you needed it to understand. So I need an exceedingly attractive woman to keep a leash on me, in order to maximize my happiness. Again, that was metaphorically speaking....although I'll try anything once.

(The journal is left sitting in a peaceful area atop a tall mountain. Almost as soon as Lustig is out of sight, it dissapears, as if it didn't approve of the location)

[Spells]

A green robbed, oddly gnomish dressed elven wizard sat in the corner of the temple to Mystra's library, quietly eating a turnip while reading from the several piles of books spread out around her, the table and chairs having been made into small lectures to hold open other books, drawings of arcane knowledge, or half finished devices she had already started working on.

Looking to the returning priest she had requested examine the book, she quietly accepted it back slowly opening it and muttering to herself quietly as she read through it.

Finishing she smirked slightly quickly scribbling down her own message in gnomish...

"While I admit I find many of your actions entertaining, at times good practices for being a wizard, and some times even educational, creating a book such as this to have appearing about the land is actually something that will take some thought as to why you do it.

On one hand I could assume that this could be following many of the things they usually do with you, you are bored and wish something to entertain you, while you constantly think of something to gain or do out of the action to you took to entertain yourself, or the other that usually has you already having a goal in mind, and thus complete some over worked way to accomplish it, while entertaining yourself and many times drawing attention away from what you actually hope to accomplish, usually this would be anything from gaining food, to gaining a rare tome that can be found in no other way, though it is also many time some string of smaller gains that lead up to a larger one at times.

Whatever the case I must wander what Entori's reaction would be to the above, but I suppose I shall have to ask him if he sees it another time. With that due to wishing to know your reaction to such things I shall leave a few images to see if this book ever returns to you and if you ever accomplish anything from this book, be that to gain enough writings from people to do some task such as your earlier mentioned taking over the country part (written to the side of the page: "Honestly I am not sure why you would want to, running a country requires a lot of work many times, while others also work to take it from you, and you have to solve the problems of said country") or you wish simply to gain a idea to the reactions or actions take to such a book, or wish one of the other hundred reasons why you do what you do. In any event..."

The mage cast a simple cantrip as images of A turnip, cakes and pies, and one of Lustig first naturally as he is, then a second with him as he described in a earlier page, only with a very angry Sashara chasing after him

[probablyamage]

You intrigue me further, thief. Sufficiently that I shall bestow upon you a gift. You are now to be known as Thief. See the T? It's a capital letter now. You're a proper noun! No longer a random thief, you are Thief! That's how our relationship has developed, Thief. I feel like I'm really getting to know you. I'm impressed that you can write so well in Gnomish. I had a devil of a time translating that, and rewriting it for my own convenience under your entry. Not a Pit Fiend type devil of a time, more a lemur.....but still period of a time characterized by devilness.


Why did I create this journal, Thief? Why do most people create journals? It's to record some of their thoughts, isn't it? Not everything is terribly complex. Maybe I want people to get to know the real Lustig Luther Latherion? Maybe I hid some sort of spell that "infects" anyone who comes into contact with this book, and somehow magically obscured it? Perhaps I'm trying to reach out to you specifically, Thief. Trying to improve your outlook on life and lead you towards a more virtuous, non-journal stealing existence with what little snippets of wisdom or philosophy I record here, however inadvertently. Thief, if I were to explain my motivations for this journal in their entirety it would both take some time, and be counterproductive to the entire point in making it. If you want to know, Thief, you have to think, and figure it out on your own.


By the by, Thief, I may not have been entirely clear on my plan for how to bring Cormyr to its knees. I wouldn't rule it, in that case. Just sucker punch the hells out of it. Why would I want to do this? I don't know. I personally can't think of a reasonable reason to do so. That's why I said its not the sort of thing I would ever do unless a reason presented itself. HOWEVER, if I found myself in a position where I had to do, or threaten to do bad things to what is ostensibly my home away from home, I would have a way. When you get down to it, a wizard is of value only for his or her mind. Yes, I said "his or her". I have met some scary female wizards, Thief, and amazing women in general. You can be certain that I'm not about to discount the fairer sex as anything less then equals. Remind me to tell you the needle story sometime. Anyway, where was I? Ah, right. We wizards live and die by our minds. Even the best of us operate at only a fraction of our potential if we are caught unaware, or do not truly know where best to apply our strengths. So what do we do? How do we prepare for the unexpected? We plan. We plan and plan and plan. We plan for likely scenarios, and we plan for unlikely scenarios. We plan for the skies to turn purple and for blueberry pies to suddenly start tasting like strawberry. We plan for anything and everything that we can think of, and by doing this we accomplish a number of things. First and most obvious, we have a plan if any scenario that we have considered happens to occur in the manner we envisioned. More importantly though, we learn how to plan, and how to plan quickly. We exercise our minds until we are able to think with speed and precision no matter how odd the situation is, or how off balance we may be. Eventually, improvising becomes second nature, and indistinguishable from well thought out plans. So you see, Thief, planning to bring great harm to Cormyr is a thought experiment from which I can glean knowledge that can be applied elsewhere. It's also an amusingly disconcerting thing for Cormyrans to hear, which is a tiny bonus. Wizards should be feared and respected, regardless of whether they are friends or not and yada yada yada. Not really my sort of thing, but I do try to encourage the idea in general.

What is your goal, Thief? I'll tell you what mine is. The one goal that has consumed my life and been the ultimate driving force behind all of my decisions. My goal is to be happy. That sounds simple, doesn't it? When you see me on the streets of whatever random city or town in Comryr that I happen to be in, or in my mysterious home, which I can't direct you too because I don't have a clue where it is myself, what do you see? Well it depends on the particular time that you're creepily spying on me I suppose, but in general you will see me smiling, or otherwise enjoying myself. This is because I don't make things terribly complex. I like to be happy, and so I set out to be so. So many people make it harder then it is. They make money their goal, because money will buy them things or provide for them such that they can put themselves in a position where they think they will be happy. See the problem there, Thief? That person is injecting another step in the process. The more steps, the more difficult things become. Simple is good.


I have a gift, Thief. To celebrate our getting to know each other better. I will detail for you the grand plan that I mentioned previously, in all of its glory. Remember though, it is unlikely that the circumstances which could lead to such a plan being put into action would ever occur. If blueberry pies suddenly start tasting like strawberry, I will eat ten to thirty percent more "blueberry" pies, as circumstances and my whims dictate.

(The entry ends here and the page acquires some small red stains that smell of strawberries. Below which is a picture of a small brown mouse wearing Mouse's hat. The mouse is smiling, and has stuffed cheeks. The journal itself is left in the previously mentioned mysterious home of the eccentric wizard until it again teleports off to an unknown destination)

[Lady Frost]

Zodika finishes reading the strange journal and puts in in her pack before leaving the Wild Wolf Inn.

A few hours or so later as she treks through the wild magic Marsh of Tun she hears squawking from her pack. She pauses and looks down, carefully opening the flap and peering in to find a chicken with the words "Journal of Lustig Luther Latherion arcross its back. She pulls the chicken out and eyes it carefully. A moment later it vanishes.

[probablyamage]

Thief, I don't mean to alarm you but a chicken appeared and bit me on the toe. The chicken then turned, presumably, back into my journal. Was my journal itself bitten by a werechicken? Am I going to sprout feathers and cluck menacingly in the moonlight at the next full moon? I'm going to stab a chicken in the heart with a silver fork just in case (preferably after its plucked and cooked).

Someone once said to me "WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!". How was I to know that public nudity wasn't 'allowed' in that town? I blame the Elves I'd been spending time with prior to that. Another, more immediately pertinent thing that someone has told me is that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". While this is entirely, and demonstrably true, I wonder what it says about me. I have found that my opinion of people entirely colors my vision of them. Some of the most physically attractive people to me are viewed by the majority of the populace as unattractive. But damned if I literally can not separate outer and inner beauty. I'm not completely blind to outer beauty, in truth. But really, it doesn't last longer then a first impression. The more time I spend with someone the more their personality, vices and virtues color my view of them. I say first impressions because I'm a pretty good judge of people, and it doesn't take long at all for me to look past a person's actual looks.

(The entry abruptly ends there, followed by a detailed drawing of a giant demon-chicken with huge fangs inexplicably sticking out of its beak, burning red eyes, and spikes jutting through the feathers. Standing against the chicken is an armored warrior holding what appears to be a glowing fork. It is done much in the manner of knight versus dragon illustrations. The drawing is almost entirely finished, except for the detail on the knight from the knees down. Apparently the journal teleported elsewhere before it was the drawing was completed.)

[highknight]

Out for a walk, a skeletal man in a black suit and feathered hat stops suddenly. He picks up the book that mysteriously appeared in front of him. He flips through the pages.

Lustig, my friend, this journal is fantastic. I couldn't do such a thing better myself (though now that I think about it, it seems more and more likely that I could, I just never tried). It reminds me of the time I tried to mate a blink dog with a rust monster. Never have I seen a group of armed guards run away faster.

Oh, but those were good times. So, I'd love to meet up some time soon and discuss this journal, possibly another bit or two of magical theory. Ever given thought to teleporting underwear? I'll leave you to figure out the implications.

Cordially,
Robert A. Cadalanter III

Necro Bob tosses the journal on the floor behind him and doesn't look back as he hears a faint pop and a slight whuff of air as the journal teleports away.

[Levedara]

Vorel sidesteps suddenly, scant seconds before the book appears and thuds into place where she had been standing. Her beautiful baby blue eyes regard the tome with perplexity before she looks to the little pixie flitting about her.

"The pages do the coming to here where we are butterfly. What a thing that is strange."

Vorel keeps her distance, her protective auras thrumming as she returns to wandering down the riverbank in search of pretty stones to collect for addition to her hearth. The pixie however, little Vaerie, with a struggle forces the book open. After a time of buzzing about, flipping pages with some effort, the little pixie snickers.

"What a silly thing, ah well, men will do them!"

The pixie fetches some berries and mushes them together to coat her hands in a self made ink, then adds to the book two tiny little hand prints, and writes next to them in very tiny script.

"The book of many has come and gone beyond places found and made no more, whatever means and wants you've sought the truth remains as still : Watchman watches but does not see!"

The little pixie bursts into laughter and flits after Vorel again, leaving her favorite slight to Gerard drying on the pages, certain the book will find itself off again soon enough.

[elvishnation]

*Nakiasha finally comes across the journal and cautiously opens it, she relaxes after a bit and starts laughing as she reads it. She notes the writing from "entori" and just shakes her head. finally pulling out a quill, along with black and silver ink she thoughtfully writes in flowing elven script*

Lustig, this thief has never found such an amusing book as this before in my couple of centuries, and must say thank you for it! I know I probably shouldn't have read all this, specially a wizard's book, who knows what it'll end up doing to me later so I shall set it down for now.

*she switches to the silver ink drawing a very intricate crescent moon*

[arisnorman1]

*Aris comes across the book and picks it up seeing all the writing he scratches his head and sets the book back down*

[probablyamage]

I'm beginning to detect a theme here Thief. What with the impressions and all. Astoundingly good impressions, I'll grant. Hells, you even got the A in Robert A. Cadalanter right. No one gets that right. Not even me! Which of course means that I do not in fact know for sure whether it is correct. What does the A stand for anyway? August? Amusing? Absurd? Austere?.....well, not Austere. Not that one. Anorexic? He's just skin and bones! Well, bones anyway. I haven't actually seen any skin on him. I suppose he's old enough to just be bones. Awfully-dangerous? Its stretching it a bit just to have danger be his middle name. Well, short for his middle name at any rate.

Hmm, given that he is in fact Undead, Cadalanter might think that teleporting underwear would be hillarious....in fact, it would. But what is funnier still is casting teleport object on someone's clothes. Surprise of a lifetime right there. Or a day at least. Or evening? It stretches the rules on the whole "undress you with my teeth" game. But damned if it isn't effective. Besides, you can't see someone's underwear, unless they're stripping for you. In which case slow and deliberate is better anyway. And who even wears the stuff besides the vast majority of the populace? I don't! Cadalanter probably doesn't!

I would be agreeable to meeting up with Cadalanter though. I do like magic. Yay magic! I'll bet you wish you knew magic Thief. Or do you know some? Maybe a lot? Maybe you're a knight too. Should I call you Sir Thief? You could be anyone, or anything. Well, your probably not a table, or a chair. But I sure as hell am not going to trust any more mops until I figure out who you are. In fact, I shall remove them all from my abode/cave/home/place-of-joy-and-contentment. Its quite easily done actually, considering we don't actually have a mop. See that, Thief, I'm so cautious I have already removed all the mops. Or neglected to purchase or have a need for one, at any rate. And of course Cadalanter could make a better journal, Thief. I'm just taking my first exploding steps into item creation. Yes. Exploding. I expect it to explode explosively any moment now. Give it time.......more time......a little more......a liiiiiiiitle more......feh, it'll probably blow up later, when I'm not there to enjoy it.

Thief, what does Watchman not see? Why doesn't he see it? Is something wrong with his eyes? Oh gods what did you do to his poor eyes?! He needs those! For watching, and watch related activities. Those include processing the information that his eyes observe for him, and even occasionally blinking. One eye at a time, in order to maximize watching effectiveness. There's some piety or something included there too but that's all over my head. Or under it, as I'm taller then Gerard. I'd call him a tiny man but he's far bigger then me girth wise and....wait, he's a paladin isn't he? Haha! I wonder to what extent I can insult him before he gets angry. Then how much further I can push before he pushes back! Oh sure, I'll run then. Like a child seeing a huge spider, only without the trail of urine. But up till that point, oh my. Fun fun fun. Why did you write in blueberry, by the by, Thief old friend? Another attempt to make me devour a page? I licked it, so you get no more then a half victory. A halftory. A vic. Or an ory, if you prefer.

Thief, my friend. I believe I have begun to catch on to your game. You are going to give me bits and pieces of personal information. Clues which I must put use to piece together your true identity. Centuries, Thief? Centuries?! If you're centuries old, you clearly aren't human. You must be.....a GOD! Or an Elf. Or a really really old human. Does your beard reach to the floor? Do you trip on it? Thief, old friend. I'm telling you this for your own good. You really should shave. You might hurt yourself that way. I plan to live that long too, Thief. Well, probably. Exactly as long as Sashara is what I'm going for. Romantic, isn't it? Well, romance mixed with blatant defiance of fate, Mystra, and humanity in general. THATS RIGHT WORLD! She's more important to me then my humanity! Insofar as I have a claim to that anymore anyway. It gets really, really odd when you reach the heights of wizardry. I wonder just what precisely I am, sometimes. In my more introspective moments, I think about just what sort of new vice I can perpetrate for my own amusement. Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think I pondered the meaning of my life in my introspective moments? Read my words of wisdom from two entries ago. I've got that nailed down, I think. Leaving for the moment at least, all of the bedroom type enjoyments that my inventive mind might think up, I have been searching for ever newer vices. I think I have found a drug that no one has considered, Thief. Delicious positive energy. Healing magic! Oh my, Thief. Let me tell you, it's good stuff. Now if I could just find a priestess to feed my addiction.....

A subject which I have a great deal of fondness for is S--

(The entry ends quite abruptly, the journal to all appearances having teleported away from the wizard mid word. I'm sure you can imagine the colorful string of obscenities that he shouted after it. They were probably colored blue, purple and brass. He's fond of those colors)

[jujumojo]

Dear Lustig.

I am in fact, a doppleganger.

signed... Thief.

*in Rimieh's handwriting*

[elvishnation]

*Naki comes across the old journal again and eyes it suspiciously opening it she frowns at the mention of robert, then laughs.*

I am not the Theif, but I am indeed a

*she pauses for a moment in thought of what to really put and the book vanishes from her. After sitting there scowling for a moment she wanders off muttering her typical response*

"Mages..."

[yusef86]

Breeann comes across the Lustig's journel on a bench in front to Frubo's stage in Greatgaunt. Out of curiosity she begins flipping through the pages.

"Oh!," she exclaims, "another gnome found the journal too. I wonder who it is."

On the first clean page she writes a little note for Lustig.

You are a very funny, strange man. Still, I'm glad to read that you are continuing your flying lessons. I want you to take me flying when you learn how to take off and land properly. I'm not very fond of crashing.

Breeann

Breeann draws a simple cartoon of a bear next to her note, then turns her attention back to watching people loiter in the town square.

[soulfien]

A man in flamboyant robes the color of ash and flame, takes off his helmet with its green glowing eyes (a minor cantrip made to give him a fierce appearance) and begins to read the journal.

"Hmph! Insanity. Sheer insanity. All mages are insane! Every last one of them!"

He then takes a drink of his wine and opens his spellbook to begin his daily studies of his spells.

[Spirit of a Phoenix]

Early in the morning before the sun began to rise, a beautiful, young, blonde woman could be seen jogging laps around the Royal Gardens of Suzail. As she approached a fountain her pace began to slow and her breathing began to become heavier as she panted softly in an attempt to catch her breath. She leaned into the fountain and cupped some water in her hand to splash on her face. The beautiful young woman took a moment to stare at her reflection in the water. It was then that she noticed what appeared to be the reflection of a journal right next to her.

The young woman picked up the book curiously, and sat down near the fountain. She looked over the cover of the book a moment to read, "Journal of Lustig Luther Latherion". The blonde looked around expectantly, thinking to see Lustig nearby. When she noticed that he was no where in sight, she regarded the journal with a thoughtful expression and a soft sigh.

"I really shouldn't..." She spoke to herself in a soft lulling tone. With one last quick glance around the young woman slowly opened the book to the first page and began reading through the journal. As she read she could often be heard giggling, while at other times looking at the journal seeming mildly confused. When she came upon a blank page, she began to scribble on the page on the left side. The message is written in beautiful and elegant penmanship.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Lustig,

My apologize for reading your journal, I hope you will not think that I am a thief, but I found it laying out and could not control my curiosity. I have found the various writings and sketches throughout this journal to be highly entertaining. I will be sure to bake you a blue berry pie, as a way of apologizing for reading it. Anyways, I hope that you are well, and give Sashara my regards.

With Love,
Kiki

[/font]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Kiki finished with writing the message into the journal she began to dig through her purse and pulled out a perfume bottle labeled "Pomegranate and Grape". She sprayed it once onto the left page before putting it back into her purse and pulling out some art supplies. Kiki then begins painting on the page on the right side. The painting was of a picture of herself standing before a waterfall surrounded by foliage.

When Kiki finished painting in the journal she left it open to dry as she carries it with her to the Temple of Sune. There she lay the book down on a table to dry, while she bathed and performed her morning prayers. When she returned, the book was gone.

[probablyamage]

All mages are insane, Thief? The difference between genius and insanity is that while they both run around crazily with a knife, genius is sufficiently beneficial that the public at large is willing to hide a body for them now and then. That is the difference right? Thief, let me ask you a question. Have you ever stopped in the middle of Suzail and....sniffed? Have you?! Do it! Done it? I'll assume you have. Do you know what you smell? How should I know what you smell?! But I can tell you what you don't smell. You don't smell sewage. You have the War Wizards to thank for that, Thief. Go ahead and call them crazy if you're that fond of the smell of offal. I on the other hand shall call them genius, and quietly ignore that suspiciously person shaped bag that wizard just outside their tower has. Oh gods oh gods oh gods, I think its a body.....no, just a mannequin. What was that wizard doing with a mannequin!? We'll call them geniuses except that one, who didn't even have the nerve to dump a real body.

I am glad and a little frightened that you follow my flying lessons with eagerness, Thief. You want to ride me? Is that a proposition of some kind? I mean, I will presumably be on all fours when I take off, so unless you want to be in my mouth at the time you would have to ride me. I'm starting to wonder just how eagerly you are awaiting the completion of these lessons....

Doppelganger, Thief? Not a thief, Thief? Contradictory. Doppelgangers are at least identity thieves, in the most literal sense. But in either case you are wrong and obviously using clever falsehoods to disguise your true identity. They say that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. Thus my current suspicion is that you are in fact, Ao. The Overgod himself. Whose sole portfolio and general way of acting towards the populace at large, and gods themselves, is that of apathy. I must say, Thief....yes, I'm still going to call you that.....I must say, old friend, that I am flattered to be the exception. Did you know that number three on my list of preferred ways to die was to be smote quite thoroughly by you? Why? It'd be damn damn spectacular is why! You can smite like no god has smitten before. And I bet you involve marshmallows somehow, which would make for a delicious smiting. Why marshmallows? You're the Overgod, its not for me to question you. Which won't stop me in general, but in this one instance I want it to be a surprise, presuming you don't let me fall to number one or two on the list.

As we have already established what I am thoroughly convinced could possibly be your identity, I now comprehend your plan. Considering your power and knowledge is more or less unlimited, you are placing the plans for interacting with me in the heads of the "people who read my journal". While its true that I feel bad that Kiki is being used as a pawn in this game between you and I, Thief. I don't feel anywhere near bad enough not to accept a blueberry pie from her. Not even approaching that level of remorse, honestly. Besides, if I acted like I was confused as to why she was presenting me with a pie it would lead her to question why she made it, leaving her to suspect.....foul play!. She would no doubt make the same deductions that I have, and then our game will become even more complex. No no, Thief. This is just you and me. I won't let those who are tricked on to your manipulations. But you might think, 'won't they read you explaining right now how they are manipulated'? Thief, you know as well as I that as powerful as you, the Overgod are, this journal isn't going anywhere but straight to you unless you want it too. You aren't fooling me one bit. Well, maybe a little bit. I mean until just recently I hadn't even reached this obvious deduction.

You know Thief, someone today asked me how Sashara and I managed to get together, given that we are so very, very different. How she, who has strength enough in her arms to literally rip someone in half, beautiful brass wings and lovely scales....would deign to associate with, and love someone as thoroughly unusual as me. Honestly, I had a bit of a tough time answering her. I very nearly told the lady, who was Yulena, by the by, to go read my journal. But telling her where it was at that point in time would have proven somewhat difficult. I think I confused the girl, Thief. Although she was astute enough to know that unusual as my thought processes were, they were probably leading inexorably to the correct answer of whatever subject we pursued at the time. Our story begins where most do, Thief. With a drunk Lustig Luther Latherion ogling a very beautiful Sashara at the Leering Lecher. What do you mean most stories don't begin with me? Who wants to read stories about other people?! Well, our story begins where most good stories do. Happy? Wait a minute. You're the Overgod! You're Thief! You already know how it went. It was a lovely story though, wasn't it? Full of romance! Death defying feats! Lush, breathtaking scenery! Clever dialogue! Steamy sex scenes, with literal steam! Puppies! Wait a minute Thief, there weren't any puppies. You have erred in reminiscing with me. Feh, now the mood is gone, replaced with a different one. I'm going to go console myself with recreating some of those choice scenes!

(Lustig probably skips off happily to go bother Sashara at this point, presuming something doesn't distract him on the way. Their home likely has all the shiny objects locked up somewhere, so its almost certainly distraction free fun!)

[petrie74]

A couple lays sleeping in a room at the Wheel, the woman having the bulk of the covers while the man valiantly holds on what blankets he has left. The small woman rolls over to rest her head against the man's chest just as a book appears knocking into her head and landing on his chest. Both figures jump out of the bed, each on a different side, swearing ripely. Although to be honest, the woman is far more skilled in the art of foul language. They stand there looking at the book laying upon the floor at this point for a long moment, the woman rubbing her head, when a voice is heard in the hallway. The small woman gets a determined look in her eyes as she scrambles over the bed and scoops the book up. Immediately she marches to the door and throws it open to glare upon a brass half dragon's amused grin. The small woman, garbed only in a man's large shirt that comes past her knees, shoves the book into the half-dragon's hands.

Bloody hells Sashara, tell that damned wizard of yours to get control of his bloody journal!

She then storms back into the room and slams the door shut.

[LivingWasteland]

Dahab was idly doing figures in her ledger when everything on the pages suddenly changed. With a surprised blink, she flipped through them only to find the journal of Lustig. Reading it unabashedly, she giggled near the whole way through. Once finished, she dipped her quill in ink and began to write.

"You have me all figured out, it seems. There is no tricking you, clever wizard. Knowing who I am then makes you my only prophet. Go forth and do as I command. Experiment with polymorphic magic. Agree to do modifications to those that ask. Perhaps even give yourself a tail. Go forth and do as I command, yet tell none you are my prophet or you shall be punished!"

With a grin, she redips her quill to continue, but when she looks back to the page it is her old ledger once more. She shrugs, still grinning, and returns to her work.

[soulfien]

Glenduil finds the journal in a soft quiet glade as he moves about in his various duties. Curious, he reads the words held within the journal and laughs aloud, the words enhancing his mood a thousand fold.

"Well said, my friend... well said."

He then places the book right where he found it and sets a bottle of Elverquisst next to it. He frowns when the book quickly vanishes leaving the bottle behind.

"That's curious."

[probablyamage]

Thief, I think I have acquired myself a servant. It happened somewhat accidentally. I believe she is a priestess or paladin....ess, of some sort. In any case, she introduced herself as something or other...a formal name, 'Sunny', "at your service". So I'm holding her too it! At my service she shall be, until I tire of such, forget about it entirely in favor of other distractions, or feel guilty enough to release her from my service. The last of which isn't terribly unlikely. I've never been fond of those who put women in positions they don't wish to be in. Which is one of a few reasons that I make such a demonstrably poor kidnapper. I don't know what I'm going to do with a servant, Thief. But so far I have gotten two apples out of the process, so it appears to be going swimmingly. I have to share her with the Morninglord though. I don't quite know how I feel about that. Since he's the Morninglord does that mean he gets her sun up to sun down, and I get her in the evenings? I'm not great at sharing things with people who aren't Sashara. Maybe I could make some kind of wager with the god for her? Bet my half against his? That sounds like a completely reasonable idea to pursue.

Good news Thief! After long, long seconds of thought I have realized that you are not in fact Ao. Well, you are probably not Ao. You gave yourself away Thief, you silly silly not-Overgod you. Be your prophet?! While Ao (who you are probably not) might make an exception for me to chat with via journal related methods of communication, the one thing he wouldn't do is desire a prophet. Prophets and apathy don't mix. They're like oil and water. If you throw a torch at them only the prophet burns. Meanwhile the concept of a lack of interest or concern for things that others find exciting or important sits there smugly, not being immolated. You might be asking yourself at this point, Thief, if you aren't Ao, just who are you? Why on Toril would you ask yourself that? Don't you of all people know!? Well, regardless I shall provide you with the answer. You are clearly a Cormyran conspiracy. Who knows how deep your conspiracy goes, or who is involved. I do hope the Steel Regent is one of you. Mostly because I have always had a soft spot for assertive, martial women with a sharp intellect. On second thought, a soft spot isn't quite the way to put it. Why was such a Cormyran conspiracy as you formed? The answer is simplicity itself. Because I made this journal. Old Vanderghast was a wonder with divination I'm sure. He predicted that such an item as my journal.....this journal would come into existence, and he prepared accordingly ahead of time. It is truly a pity I didn't get a chance to meet him. I'm sure we would have gotten along terribly. Young whippersnapper that I am. Ahh, I do miss crotchety old mages, Thief. I haven't been swiped at with a cane or staff by even one superior in the past few years. Maybe I can annoy Entori until he takes a shot at me with that staff of his?

You realize Thief, that it was your desperate plea for Sashara to persuade me, presumably with her womanly wiles, to take control of this journal that gave away your conspiracy, don't you? You really should be more cautious. You make it too easy for me. Anything too easy isn't really worth my time. But I am intrigued as to why this journal is so important in the first place. Is it key to some distant apocalypse? It would be interesting to cause an apocalypse. I've never done it before. I do hope that I don't spoil my first one. Actually, now that I think about it, you are the one setting out to spoil my apocalypse. Why are you doing that, Thief? Don't you want my name to echo through the ages? Tell you what, we'll make a deal. Just mitigate the apocalypse enough that there are ages to follow, and a record is kept, and we'll both be happy. Except for all the unhappiness, that is. I really could do without the unhappiness and death and whatnot. While I do like a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart, I prefer it not to be caused by Hellfire. Dragon fire is much better. You get the same agonizing heat, with none of the messy theological implications. Plus dragons, which are always a bonus so long as they glint metalically in the sunlight, and its not the dragonrage, and they happen to be in a good mood at the time, and they carefully watch where they step so as not to smush we smaller creatures. I could go on, Thief, about all the caveats to dealing with dragons. But I'm cranky and irritable.

Why am I cranky and irritable, Thief? Well, your concern for my well being alleviates most of the crankiness and irritability. Actually, it leaves me feeling positively chipper! I knew you cared! Why was I cranky and irritable? Well, we all get like that sometimes I suppose. I generally stay in a genuinely good mood, myself. And give the image of being equally happy even when I'm not. After all, I rather enjoy making others happy, and it is difficult to do that while moping. Why was I originally in a poor mood? Well, Thief, since we're such good friends I'll tell you. Rimieh wanted to kiss me today, to prove that he was more skilled at the art. Which really, in and of itself only is only tangentially involved in why I was in such a mood, but I'm getting there. Patience Thief, patience. My line of thought was as such. The primary reason I refused was because of Sashara. I'm about as heterosexual as it is possible to be, but as ever she comes before myself in my thoughts and motivations. The main reason I would refuse because of her is due to the issue of jealousy. Now, I'm not actually sure how my dearest darling dragon would view that. I do hope she doesn't somehow get her hands on this journal, by the by. She dislikes being called a dragon, not being a full one, but the opportunity for alliteration was there....tempting me to do wrong. Blame language, Thief, not me. Where was I? Ah right, jealousy. I am....or was anyway, about as unfamiliar with jealousy as you could be. Its only recently that I have come to experience the emotion in quantities which really register. My first instinct when deducing whether or not I should do something that pertains to jealousy is to think "If I was in her position, how would I feel?". That's usually a good way to go about considering most actions, the whole considering how others would feel angle. Well, I really only do it for her, so don't go doing something silly like thinking I'm a good person. No, my good tendencies are due mostly to simply being natural inclinations to me, not well considered....consideration for others. Where was I again? Stop distracting me from the subject, Thief! Jealousy. I am torn, sometimes, between new and old instincts. Recently, Sashara took a dip in molten rock in front of Teneas and I, while he ogled. I will admit that while I didn't physically give the impression, I was considering suitably extremely excessive punishments for eying my Sashara like that. But as I said, the mixture of new and old instincts left me indecisive. The majority of the reason for that instance's lack of chastisement is that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my lovely eventual-wife is indeed entirely devoted to me. She of all women, leaves little to fear in that regard. ......Sorry Thief, where was I again? Distracted by the uh....simple joy of her being as devoted to me as I am to her. Right. So clearly, the jealousy wasn't due to any rational fears, beyond a vague worry of ineffectual competition which scarcely even registered due to the aforementioned mutual devotion. So logically it must be irrational, right? Thus, I didn't act at the time. And thus I'm still bothered by the event, and subject in general. If it isn't rational.....what is it doing in my head and heart? Maybe it goes with the territory of the whole 'relationship' thing. Maybe its just me? It is hardly a concern that comes up often though, in any case. But you did ask why I was in an unpleasant mood, so you have yourself to thank for the prior bit of rambling, ranting, and rationalizing. Alliteration again. I do love it so.

(Following the entry is an almost excessively detailed illustration of a pair of scaled wings attached to the back of a female with human proportions. Drawn next to that, as if in contrast, is an almost childlike caricature of a stick figure knight dueling a dragon. The dragon appears to be winning....but wait! What's that halfway across the page? Its a stick figure archer and spellcaster of some sort! The knight might survive after all!)

[elvishnation]

*she laughs as she stumbles across it after looking for it curiously, writing in the same elvish script as before*

You know thief I hadn't written "A theif" I wrote "the theif". Just a play of words. Either way.. Teneas is in trouble now! Nah, he can "ogle" anyone he wants. I trust him with my life.

Oh by the way. Definately an elf. Though what kind of elf I will not say. Maybe I'm an important elf, maybe not, maybe I am Teneas. You may never know.

*she closes the book with a small grin and lets it vanish*

[probablyamage]

Thief, the entire point of writing on that specific incident of jealousy is that it was more or less innocent for all involved. My dearest and I both prefer being naked, and I have been in a similar state of undress around others before, so I can hardly begrudge Sashara the same tendencies that I have. I believe in equality in all things, Thief. Anything that I could see myself doing, I can't object to others doing. I can be no more angry at them then I could be at a clone of myself doing precisely the same thing. Oh, by the by, Thief. I'm thinking of cloning myself. Although I am balking at the idea of lopping off a finger, or cubic inch of my own still living flesh. Would you do that to yourself, Thief? For science? SCIENCE!!! Magical science, as it were, but science all the same. I plan on a slight variation on the regular clone spell, so it does indeed qualify as new and personal research. I have a laboratory to put the clone in now, Thief. Well, its more of an extremely tiny room or niche where we won't trip over my extra body while it waits in stasis. Kind of like a morgue throwing a corpse in a closet, only without the rotting. Oh, did I mention the spire? We are in the process of moving in....granted it is currently no larger or nicer then the cave was. But spire sounds more impressive. And I'm enlargening and fancifying it as I go.


Oh Thief, how I long for the right to magically interrogate anyone I choose on any subject that I wish. It wouldn't lead to a terribly long life though since I would start with the Lionar, Bardknight Cald Ashall (Silverstring) and demand to know what intentions he has towards my sister!.......Oh right Thief, I have a sister now. I have been adopted. It was abrupt. It was unexpected. It was Hannah. I rather like Hannah. Even more so for doing something so spontaneous as this. Personally, I fully support the idea. Not only do I support it, I'll be treating it seriously. Although there is one caveat. Sashara. She recently in very short order told me that I did not in fact need a servant. I might have argued, as I don't automatically cede to her logic, but....she had a point. I have no need in the slightest for a servant. Particularly one which I neither truly know or trust. She might have spoiled a little fun by dismissing her, but as I mentioned in a previous entry, I very much need Sashara for this sort of thing. Hannah is another matter, though. When I think on the idea of having her as a sister, it just seems beneficial to me. And it particularly works with her, for reasons which I am having a difficult time articulating even to myself. Perhaps it is because I have already began to change my view towards her to what I presume a blood related brother would feel for his sister? I am awfully adaptable, and such changes in thinking come quickly to me, and it will hurt to have to change again. Sashara doesn't exactly object to Hannah adopting me, but she doesn't understand it either. She currently, and perhaps always will think like a Bedine. She doesn't know what adoption is in the Cormyran sense, and having to describe it to her in terms of how the Bedine do it isn't quite getting the point across. I expect one of two things to happen, with a third less likely possibility. Most likely, I will eventually make my dearest dragoness fully cognizant of the idea, and illustrate to her why this is beneficial towards myself, and Hannah as well. Slightly less likely is that it will simply persist to the point that Sashara will see that it will be a difficult, painful thing to bring to an end, and slightly perplexed, accept it. Least likely I hope is that she will come to understand it, and deem it unnecessary, or indeed harmful to me. She's quite protective, and unlikely to be dissuaded if she believes that the case. Considering that my happiness lies ultimately with Sashara, I would eventually unhappily relent.

In truth this unexpected addition to my family is fortuitous. Since hey, I haven't spoken to my family in years. Thief, since I am now adding on to my family at a rate which is infinitely larger than my prior rate.....my prior rate being nonexistent....I believe I shall write to my family in Waterdeep. Actually, I won't write. I will do a sending. In fact....I will do a sending at the time of day when my mother is supposed to be on stage, singing. Maybe I can freak her out! I'll consider it a bonus if they take her to a cleric for hearing her dead son's disembodied voice. Its unlikely though, considering that I get my wits from her. I rather hope that she is not clever enough to demand that I teleport home to speak with the family. She wouldn't naturally assume that the fledgling apprentice she once knew can teleport, just because he's capable of casting a sending.....right? Reassure me here Thief, I'm kind of nervous. Now, what should I say? Its only twenty five words, after all. I think I'll have it end abruptly, so that she will know its from me. I wasn't known back then for thinking things through to the end. To the midpoint, sure, but never the end.

"Good afternoon mother, your prodigal son thought it was time to stop avoiding a portion of his familial responsibilities and let you know he was."

That ends perfectly. She doesn't know much more about magic then your average artisan class...person. So I don't even know if she will realize she can respond. I bet the next thing I hear will be a string of obscenities. Although it might be slightly less humerus when she goes to my master and he performs a sending to me. He was researching it when I left. I expect he will have just finished his research on it, considering the glacial pace at which he works. Conservative old man...who I have a great fondness for.

Now to a still more worrying subject, Thief. The conspiracy.....it is massive. And so many people have brazenly admitted to having read my journal! Clearly, each one of them is in on the conspiracy. So I can't trust them. Not like I could in the past. In the sweet innocent pre-journal past. Do you know what its like to be watched, Thief? To know that anyone....anyone at all could be part of a vast organization whose motives are inscrutable, and centered on a creation of yours!? Do you know how to con the crown out of food? The secret, is the purple dragons. Why no Thief, I do not need to segue between subjects. Now shush, I'm "talking". I toured the Red Knight temple today, and they had a list of the twelve virtues of a Purple Dragon Knights...or some such. Feh, virtues. number seven...number seven said and I quote...with literal quotation marks. 'Be charitable to others and give to those in need" That's perfect for forcing several people I know to feed me. I may reach my goal of becoming fat yet Thief! Pudgy, Thief. I will be pudgy with victory

(The entry ends with a drawing of a pie. Apple, maybe?)

[Deleted]

A small elven woman with dark chestnut hued skin wrapped in tattoos of coiling vines sits in the bramblewood. She is at peace as she listens to the forest around her. Water burbles in a stream, and birds call in the trees, while various insects chirped and buzzed. A small smile crossed her small lips as she slowed her breathing.

The book was like a lightning bolt, sudden, abrupt, and entirely terrifying. She scrambled away with a startled yelp, sending the book that had landed in her lap tumbling aside. She snatched her bow and aimed at the thing recalling the flying tomes that had assaulted her in the ruins. She had explored them the whim of the man she followed, to hunt dead. Perhaps these books were somehow related to undead?

She didn't understand exactly what a book was, only that it was meant to convey words somehow with the strange marks upon the almost impossibly thin pages. As she had never learned to read the mess on the opened pages before her did no more than cause her to draw her arrow back. Yet as she loosed the arrow to fly at the offending journal it vanished, leaving the arrow to thud into the earth. She stared at the empty spot for a time before retrieving her arrow wearily.

Risi then wearily gathered her small haversack and moved away, wanting not to be caught there by the book again.

[Muse]

*This journal now appears to have a fork as a bookmark.*