Shiva, the Wizardress

**Shiva sits in her house at her table, the candle burning low as the night wears on. Writing in a fluid hand in a small book. She writes, memories, thoughts, dreams, hopes, experiences. She writes, as if distraught, as if in control. The dark ink shadowing her thoughts.**

I have left my village, hoping to control my powers. I nearly destroyed it, the magic coursing through me. I am
afraid...alone...

I stumble free of the grasping branches, onto the road, at a town.. a town... what town... they call it Hlint ... I have
heard of this place, a small town, prospering on trade... I know of it...I shall start here, perhaps one can teach me.

A dream, a dragon, words, speeches, commitments, why, why me, why now? Why ever? What does it matter to me? I am no use in this condition, I cannot help...

Work, I must find work... doing odds and ends, trivial matters, but enough to put food in my belly and clothes on my back.
Erag, Garent, Vale. All of them have required my help, and the help of many others it seems.

I have met people. So many people, so many races, faces, creeds, religions... I have my own. Not Aeridin, not Aragen... Mist
.. the Lady of Doom, Mistress of Storms... a Tempest. A powerful tempest, like the forces that course through my body.
An outburst, magic, each year my powers grow stronger, and each year they take a toll on my mind. Driving me closer to
madness, pressing my temples to oblivion.

Only releasing it, only by casting does it less, yet strengthen... Intensify, dilute. There is no end, no cycle, no ceasing of the screaming of magic within my blood. It makes it boil, yet freeze at the same time, as if a thousand pins prick your skin, yet all you feel is the gentle caress of the wind. I must control it...

A casting, my power had grown, I could please Mist, the power of the storms resides within my fingers. Fire... no....
electricty... it dances along my skin, along my mind, electrifying, like a fresh spring rain, like the glacial waters in
Greypeak... satisfying... seducing... dangerous .. Horror... I am too strong, to volitile, too dangerous .. I must control it, I cannot, a rage, it envelops me, the dark forest, the undead writhing, crawling, stinking. Rotting flesh falling from their bodies, hands as claws, the broken forest... it sings with death, reeks of decay, and whispers of power, locked within, of anguish and torment...

I nearly killed him .. I must get away, poor Vigg, I nearly killed him... my power, I cannot control it, I must get away, the
rage of the undead, slapping, clawing, scratching... I nearly made him join them with my storm... such rage, such fury
flowing through my veins, I must get away...

Across the sea's, a new land, a new hope. New dangers, new trials, the desert ... the forests.. the mountains .. the ever
shifting desert...it quells my power, as if a cloud over the sun... my power is not so strong in the desert .. The godess
dislikes this, she must, she has to, but it is safe...it has to be safe, it must be...A giant, tall, fearsome, strange wisdom in his eyes, he casts, my flesh burns and sears, like that night in the village when the storm raged, my fury returned, uncontrollable. Another companion, in the way, nearly killed...I must control it, I must...

A new twist in magic, scrolls acquired, knowledge gained, a new twist, yes, once not so dangerous. To quell those who cast.
Counter their abilities, fizzle, it drains me so much I can barely walk, yet it suffices. It shall have to...
Another year passes, the giants are too many, too strong, I can create... I build ... I use the sands, I enchant, I build, I
make... Gems, fruitful, precious, beautiful...

Necromancy, a taste, vile, disgusting, I deplore it, it is the opposite of me, I cannot stand it. I want no part of it. It taints me, taints my being, yet it calls, untold power. Never, never will I have it. Never will I accept it. Never will I take it.

More come to these lands, to this .. Dregar .. to Pranzis, a city, a hope, a citadel of hope. The capital, more flock, riches have been told of by others, many seek riches and power. I must guide lest they fall to what lies beyond it's walls. I must help..

A woman, seeks peace, a strange peace, something that can never work, that I can only hope works, yet has no chance. The
giants, the humans, a peace, an end to war. War is everywhere, we must be strong, we cannot falter, I cannot. She cannot.

The earth shakes, it rumbles in the caverns. The rocks fall, the dust stirs, growling I hear. Fear encompasses me. Where I
once felt at home amoungst the giants in the desert, they now scatter in fear. Not from me, from another. The blue. The great
blue, she walks. She flies, such power. I dream of it. I want it. I yearn for it.

The dust settles, an archway, old writings, time worn, faded, I can read some, it's almost elvish and common, with dwarven.
But older, the dialect and intonations wrong. The light seeks, the dark sleeps, the path small, the air fresh, the riches safe.

Anuroch? Could it be? So cryptic, so intriguing. I fear to return to that cavern, the blue may stir again. I cannot face that, I will not. But I must. It must be brought to see reason. See that it is needed to stop the war.

What lies in that city? Only hushed rumors, I must know, I must see it with my eyes. The knowledge, the wealth. Wealth is
nothing, I have wealth, the knowledge, locked within it's stone walls, I want it, I hunger for it. For what it can offer. I must have it.

We return, to seek the blue, she demands of us, looks down upon us, I am in awe. If I could but speak with her, what I could
learn, a dozen lifetimes of memories, a dozen lifetimes of power. No, I cannot, I remain silent, controlling my fear. Others
speak, convincing her to help, the task is done, I look longingly. Oh to stay, but to stay would be death. I will not die from that. I am not that foolish ... yet ...


*She cloes the journal, breathing heavily, her hands shaking* In time *she whispers* I will return to my crafts, my studies, use magic only when I must, I am too volitile, it consumes me, controls me and my emotions. I must control it or I will do more than hurt myself. I must reforge old ties, and ensure what has happened to me does not happen to others. I will need my old friends, the ones I abandoned from fear, they can help. If they are willing.

I will improve my skills, not my magic. I can hold the pick and hammer now, I shall use them, and then ... and then I shall find Anuroch... I shall take my friends, and we shall find what lies within that lost city ... *sighing heavily she rises and heads to her room, blowing out the candle and drifting to sleep*

*She sleeps, and she dreams, she dreams of a time she died, and lived. She dreams, tossing and turning.*

We were there. Me, Ahndar, Scherzo, and Derrick. We were hunting Malar, they were sly, cunning, quick. Yet their hides precious. So rare, yet so beautiful. We knew what laid before us, we prepared. My spells, Ahndars spells, Scherzo's spells. We planned.

The vampires would strike from the shadows, we were ready, we could see them moving about. The snakes, their gaze so consuming, so charming. Hypnotic, and then their fangs striking. Poison filling your blood. We knew, and Ahndar prepared. The Malars, cunning, fast, able to see through magic. Always striking the tender spots. Pouncing and striking. Such was their nature, they wanted blood. Flesh and blood. It was what they lived for.

We approached, the forest grew quiet. And we struck, luring them back, away from the vampires, luring them from the snakes. Then next the undead filth, and then finally the snakes. We were victorious. We swam, across. More snakes. I couldn't move. My horror, I was caught, my robes in the tree's. I couldn't move. The snake bit, it's venom filling me, and my mind clouded.

I was home, I was in the forest, playing amongst the ferns. My father working on a bow. The sandpaper making a soft scritching noise as he smoothed it. It bit again, into my thigh. Hard, sinking more venom into me. I tripped, I skinned my knee in an effort to run to him. To watch him work. It coiled about my body, squeezing, crushing. He rose and hugged me, a lingering embrace, so strong, so forceful. The heat from his body, the smell of his sweat. My father was so strong. I never remembered him this strong before. I gasped, blood spilling from my mouth, trickling over my lips onto my chin. He kissed me, a fathers kiss, a kiss of love for his daughter. So soft, so warm, so delicious. I fell, I screamed with my last breaths. I was in heaven, letting out a sigh of contentment, in his strong arms.

My soul screamed, was torn from me, ripped, as if a thousand hands were clawing me. Clawing my skin, clawing my body, my soul. I felt it hover above me. Part of it gone, forever.

Derrick ripped the snake off my lifeless body, I could see him work, above me, I could see myself lying on the marsh floor. Blood on my lips, his hands were shaking. Ahndar speechless, Scherzo moaning.

Ahndar knelt, Derrick holding my head up. He prayed, closed his eyes and prayed. Light filled me, I gasped, breath, I was weak, a shell of myself. My soul weakened, my body weakened. I rose, shakily. And we left. We left that horrible forest.

**She wakes, gasping for breath, a cold sweat upon her, shaking, shivering, looking about in the darkness. Breathing deeply she relaxes and lies back, closing her eyes, drifting back to sleep, a dreamless sleep this time. The night is still.**

Entry 3

A call was sent out, a powerful one, and a feeling gnawing inside my head. A dark and powerful magic was nearby. One I could feel even pulling me from my crafts in Hlint. Dregar..it called, sung with power, near the mountains. I had to investigate.

I traveled, hard and long, through the night. It was an easy trip for the most part, I had done it many times to reach Lorindars shores, and upon stepping off the deck of the boat, the captain leering at me as if wanting more than coin for his passage I paused to orientate myself.

Far into the mountains it called, the air seemed to hum with it's power. How the commoners could not feel it I didn't know, so towards Pranzis I traveled. The great capital of the world. Through it's mighty gates I went, and out into the Black Hills. Muttering a few minor incantations I passed unseen through the deadmans pass and emerged just west of Waysend. The pull was stronger here, like a sirens voice carooning on the wind, drawing me towards it.

I looked up, to see exactly where I was. The foot of Stormhorn. Home of giants yes, but home of an even greater power. It lie between Xoras mighty tower and the great Dragon King Fisteron. The power tugged me hard towards his lair and my feet moved as if with a will of their own... and so I went...

I emerged from the clearing at Xoras and found many others there, pulled by the call, strong people, powerful heros of the lands. I knew a few of them, had traveled with some, others I had never seen before. If they had felt it, something foul must indeed be within those dark and treacherous mountains.

A portal appeared and out stepped three women. I recognized two, one of the seven sisters, the Striker they called her. I had met her once before in Vale. Hushed whispers went through those assembled, two sisters, and Xora herself. Such a gathering of power. Yet it almost paled in comparison with what was in Firesteep screaming through my head.

Xora spoke, "A bloodwell has been found, deep within Fisterons lair" My breath caught, the entire group shifted uneasily, fear was seen in some eyes plainly, others masked it, but the tension was there.

I had heard she was a mage of years, but even she appeared slightly strained, oh how I wished to study under her, the secrets I could learn. She handed Triba, a small halfling, yet one I had fought beside before, and who had great skill a small vial. The hin nodded, as if she knew what to do with it and then Xora spoke again. "I have spoken with Fisteron, he will allow you safe passage to remove the bloodwell from his lands, he does not desire it there, nor do we. Be careful."

My breath caught again, she could speak to the King himself? Get him to see reason? My respect grew tenfold, a hundredfold for this woman. And then she was gone, taking with her the other two sisters.

Oh how I wished to speak with her ... perhaps in time...we had a bloodwell to destroy first...and survive...

Entry 4

Sorrow fills my heart, the library was unearthed, but at an incredible cost. Blood and Milara both stormed Hlint and destroyed half of it. It makes me wonder, if the citizens could do nothing against both of them, what would happen if they brought their entire army to Mistone... I would give it a week before we all lay dead. My heart is heavy for those who fell. I only pray that the library provides some use to us for such a grave price.

**Shivas fluid writing continues**
I was approached by Ellin today. He is seeking those of arcane intuition to open a school of sorts. The idea has intrigued me greatly, and I have given my support for it although it is still within it's childlike stages. I hope it comes to fruition, perhaps the once ledgendary grandor of the lost acadamy can be restored somewhat, or maybe knowledge of it found. Only time will tell.

**The next page is slightly torn, almost in anger**
That damable Elf and her drow pets. She walks a fine line by not telling all who enter the Serpent Isles at the Queens request that it may be linked to them. I could have strangled her for her ignorance. And the way her male friend danced about questions makes me wonder just how close we are to that vile rift in Silent Watch spewing forth even more problems than these lands already have. I only pray they have the brains to next time speak up rather than remain silent, even if the chance is slim there is connections. Such lack of information will get more than a few killed and cause reprecussions that nobody can forsee, especially since they are travelling with two drow whom they seem to trust for some strange reason. Such folly seems to be clouding their minds.

**The next page is in a calmer script**
Xantril has changed since last I was there. The giants are more alert, there are mages within their ranks now. I have wonder if it was from our foray into the underdark that has caused them to pull such powerful casters to their front ranks. Perhaps that demon is wary from all the people tromping about on it's accursed soil. I shall have to keep an eye on those lands for more changes.

The Great Blue must be stirring again, strange creatures almost like Bulettes tunneled up right next to me in her cave as I was mining. Or perhaps she sent them to shoo me out. At either rate, I think I will avoid the desert for a time. Perhaps a trip to the Bay is in order, I have yet to visit there and could use a vacation...providing the sharks I've heard about arn't too hungry for Elf meat.

Entry 5

Mar 9 - 1383

These lands grow dark in troubled times. My heart is heavy with sorrow, my rage all but quelled from my youth to a small spark that still sits within me, waiting to be unleashed should the time ever arise. The breaks I have taken from my studies have allowed me to focus my mind better. Untap powers I had only read and dreamt about. I never truely reallized the strength of my magic until recently.

Until my staying of my spells, I was chaotic, unable to control what heritage, or destiny flowed through my viens, fueling my spells. I had abandoned so many friends, made so many enemies, stranded myself in the timeless, ever-shifting deserts and forests of Dregar. Travelled into the heart of Xantril, all blinded by the lust singing within my blood. Screaming for more.

It was only when I returned to my house in Lelion, and spent a night in the temple of my lady Mist that the calm came over me. My mind focused, my rage quelled. Like a calm before the storm. I opened my spellbook in that temple and began to read. Looking for the first time over the knowledge I had accumulated.

It was vast. What had once started as but a few pages of cantrips was now a wrist-thick, book bound in leather made only parchments of hickory, oak, and mahogany. Words scribbled frantically, drawings of incantations, motions of the hand blurred by mis-use.

It was then that I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh and began tearing pages out. Discarding, organizing, sorting, filing, in a new book. One bound in midnight blue leather, unmarked, un-cracked. I sorted and copied, straightened and clarified, and then I read.

I read what these spells I had acumulated, this... knowledge I had, and as I read the candles in the temple grew dim. The acolytes moving about in hushed silence for their nightly chores. I saw what I had, and I realized I had squandered it in so many ways. Thinking to match the prowress of a fighter, thinking to match the skill of a cleric. I had not truely realized what I have become.

A mage. A wizardress. One who wields the powers of the arcane as easily as a fighter wields a sword, a cleric heals. The magic was my sword now. It forever would be. My flail, a last resort, when only my magics are spent. And now, now I am asked to teach.

How can I teach what I do not even understand fully myself? Perhaps it was the infusing I did, pouring so much of my arcane power into those items, into that cloak. That shimmering cloak, my greatest creation that quelled the fury in my blood. A piece of art, a masterpiece, a tribute to my skill, yet away I gave it. To aid others, to aid the one thing all who fight to survive fight for. Peace.

The dragon demanded price, and only one other moved to satiate it to gain the knowledge of Orn's tear and of the Shadow we needed, and I placed it before that dragon. The one thing that I had ever made that I could take pride in, I looked into it's eyes, fearless, for that brief moment I knew it could give us what we needed. I don't know if it sensed my urgency, if it sensed the pride in what I had made, or even if it acknowledged my presences, it's emerald eyes flickering to mine for a brief moment as it's giant claw picked up my cloak, caressing it in it's giant hand.

Had I created something so beautiful, or powerful as to garner the intrest of that great beast? Am I vain to think so? Or perhaps it mearly liked seeing the pain in my eyes as I parted with it. "Ask" it said, and we asked. Two items given, five questions asked. A bargain for us, or perhaps for the dragon. Only it truely knows.

And now I wander, confused, some friends regained, most have vanished. Unsure of my place in this world, unsure of my meaning. Was it to create something only to lose it? I do not know, perhaps only Mist knows. I pray someone does.

I wandered, confused, far into Rilara, deep into it, giants, past demons, and I stood before a tower. Giants, tall, powerful standing watch. Scorpion statues everywhere. The tower bathed in a blood red glow as I looked up. It's massive doors locked, I could see the magic warding it. Shimmering about the doors as clearly as I could see my own hands. And then I realized where I was.

I had no fear, no malice, no rage, only an emptyness inside me, and I turned and walked from that desolate place, past the giants, past the demons, all the way back to Hlint, and there I sat. Staring at the well. Watching Garent run his paces. Staring at nothing. The people milling about, shouting greetings, hawking wares. Yet still I sat, my lips moved as if mechanically in response, my mind numb.

For what do we struggle? To survive? For what purpose? The magic that once set my blood afire with it's song is quiet. Laying in wait. For what, I cannot say. I only hope it continues to wait for me to find the answers I seek. The answers to questions I do not know.

*She sighs and looks up to the stars, seeing the new constallation of the serpant before closing her journal, tucking her midnight blue tome into her pack and rising. Wandering into the night.*

"I only hope there is enough time to find out." *She murmers softly to herself as she passes through the heavy wooden gates of Hlint*

Mar 29 - 1383

The days go by, slowly, and still I wander. Searching for something I do not yet know of. I traveled far to the East, to Xantril. The forefront of the armies of Sinthar and Xandriel. Their homelands, their turf. The drows lands. The magic sung within my blood, dancing through my fingertips, yet still I held it back. Barely.

The sulferous smog hanging over Arabel, the only port on Xantril that I know of. The screams of those being tortured piercing the thick air, the dark obsidian walls of the Temple of Corath looming through the fog. Was I at home here in some twisted way? Maybe, although it sickened me being in this place. Still no rage, almost emotionless.

I left that city, that dammed city, a fallen city, and traveled. I walked, past giants, past hills. Everything a blur, and I found myself at the foot of the Cloven Mountains. I brushed away the loose dirt and rocks covering the door. I knew where I was going now. The great unknown. The awaiting death. The darkness. The underdark.

I gave a heave and the trapdoor slid up easily and I descended it's stairs into the murkey depths and hollow caverns. Stalactites and stalagmites littered the roof and floor. Many broken, many still solid. Like walking onto a giant mouth of teeth. Green rivers ran, mold and fungus moved about with a life of it's own. And still I walked. Only a single spell protecting me. Pushing my body partially from this plane. Unable to touch, unable to be touched. Like a ghost I walked. Silently.

I descended it's depths, past Duregar patrols, past Drow patrols. Beyond the Driders, beyond Spider, even beyond Illithid and Beholders. Down I went, I lost count at 25, it was dark. Foul undead creatures, queen hive minds of the beholder population. And still I descended. Searching. Waiting. Watching.

I crossed the canyon, crossed the great rivers and finally past a gorge with eye tyrants floating about, glaring at me, yet unable to touch me. And through a cave I passed.

A dead end, there was no way past. A sheer rock, as if the very lands mocked me. Taunting me to try scale it. I could not, there was no perch, only smooth rock. There had to have been a hidden door, but it was far too well disguised for me to see. I could hear the heavy hoof-falls of the Roathe as they meandered above me, oblivious and uncaring to my presence. The sounds of their hoofs a mockery.

Fury overwhelmed me, the magic coursed through my veins, but I was still not completly in this world, it faded, fizzled to nothing and I sighed. No where to go but back. Nowhere to go but home. If home is what I could call it.

I pulled out a heavy tome, one that had appeared in my pack a few years ago. Mysteriously, how I do not know. Perhaps a gift from Mist herself, perhaps something formed from my unconcious mind, I read aloud the proper phrases and the portal opened, like it had many times before. A simple white light, I stepped through and felt myself rushed forward, through unimaginable distances, through the rock, towards the surface, over the great seas, across mountain and lakes, to Hlint.

I blinked, my eyes trying to adjust to the dim rays of the dawn from being in the darkness for so long. This tome had far more power than I did at times I thought. If it could pull me from so far underground back to where I had last bound it's abilities. Sighing I tucked it safely in my pack. I must choose a new route, although where I do not know. Perhaps my feet will guide me again.

Apreal 24 - 1383

Still I wander, I have had no response since my initial talk with Elinmire about the acadamy, or even if it is still to be brought forth. I hope it plans to be, but it seems he has all but disappeared since our initial talks. Perhaps something I said or did? My mannerisms perhaps? Or perhaps he was simply trying to re-live his glory days as a teacher, wanting to know if any felt as he did.

My wanderings have left me without purpose, how do I find such a thing? There is only so much I can do alone, only so much I can do to help push back Sinthars armies and Milaras wrath. So little I know. If only I could find the relusive hero's to speak to them of such things. The bard has been absent as of late and I have been unable to speak with Kasha since she told me of the ancient dungeon. Questions, some answered, some unanswered.

There are few who cast magic in such a fashion as I do, few with such strength. How do I find them? I cannot bother Allurial, she is a queen, I am but a commoner, she is far too busy for me. The other hero's of the lands, busy with their own plans and preperations, the scribers all but reclusive and demanding more coin for their knowledge than I have available. How to learn, this rudimentary control I have over my powers will not last forever, I am as chaotic as the storms at seas sometimes. My fury I must control, and at times it takes all of my concentration not to lash out.

*She looks East*

Not Xantril, there is nothing there but death and destruction, something that if I embraced would control me, something that would corrupt me and in the end make me yet another tool in Sinthars plans. Something these lands cannot have happen.

*Her brow furrows in thought*

What of that woman I saw, maybe she can teach or help. I sensed her power when I stood before her. Xora. Perhaps she can help me, if she is willing. If she has time. I hesitate to ask, what could I possibly offer her in payment, or to help persuade her to help? What would I ask her to help me with?

There is only one way to tell I suppose, to ask, but how? and what?

Perhaps I will think of it as I travel. *She closes the journal, tucking it securely in her pack and rises, brushing grass and dirt off her robes and heads West.*

Apreal 27 - 1383

Point Harbor, a lush city, if not for all the courtesians littering it's streets. It was there I ran into Athus, hoping to gain information about the new constallation, a shame he only provided me with a bit, perhaps I shall have to try find that bard and get some information out of him.

It was then a hawk gave me a note, the paladin Remiel was planning a trip to Xantril and wanted to know if I would join him. Athus recieved the same biddings, and so we went. Standing in the harsh town of Arabel. I shuddered slightly and began preparing. The magic sung within my blood as I prepared my book, ready to finally let out what magic I could. To satiate the burning under my skin. And so we set out.

The cave, our target, giants tall and powerful blocking our way. We prepared, Athus and his divine magic, Me and my arcane. Talan checking his bow string and Remiel sharpening his sword. The rain fell from overhead as we approached, magic on our lips, steel at the ready, arrows pointed for hearts, and the battle was joined as he sounded the charge.

I held back, I knew what lay in that cave, simply loosing my bow through the hail of magic the giants let rip, many of my arrows incinerated or blown off course as stones and fire fell from the sky. Yet we triumphed. And pressed on, the magic screaming in my blood, demanding release, setting it afire yet chilling me to the core. Still we pressed on, to the final stairs.

We killed as many giants as we could before facing that beast. A primal elemental, one of the oldest of it's kind, hewn out of rock itself, it moved with a grace uncanny of it's kin. Dodging most of Talans arrows, shrugging off many of Remiels blows. Athus frantically trying to keep Remiel propped up from it's pounding, his plate mail dented and scratched.

I could bear it no longer, I had to unleash or be burnt to a crisp. The first words out of my mouth, I spat them at the elemental, and my movements blurred from my spell, Remial swinging faster, Athus chanting harder, and Talans arm moving with a swiftness even he was amazed at.

The magic screamed in my ears, I don't know if I screamed with it, fire, magic, all of it, poured out of my fingertips. Bolt after bolt of fire, too many for it to dodge, hundreds of bolts of magic filling the air and slamming into it. It tried to resist, tried to move in on itself to protect itself as Remiel chanted, his sword glowing with a holy light and chipping pieces of it's massive body from it with loud clangs.

And still I cast, the magic singing through me now rather than screaming, sweat streaming down my face. Oh how I loved the taste of it flowing out of me. So sweet, so heavenly. More bolts ripped into the elemental, shattering many pieces off of it, yet still it stood, trying to get around Remiel to get to me, to stop the pain I was causing it.

I shuddered as it's fist slammed into me, choking me off mid spell. So strong of a blow it caused the protective stone around me to crumble and slide off like it wasn't even there. My breath left me in a gasp and it's other fist, what remained of it, came towards my head. Then blackness.

I awoke to see Athus standing over me, only to have one thought in my head, to hide. The words tumbled from my lips and we ran from that cavern, I needed to rest, my body was weak, my magics spent. And so we rested, re-grouping, preparing to finish it, only to have the cavern collapse. No reason known, perhaps the primal did it, knowing we would be comming back to finish it, a last attempt to save its own life. Perhaps from the release of magic from Athus and I.

It was too unstable to dig through, and so we left, the magic still screaming in my blood like a sirens song. The giants outside the cave fell quickly, and we returned to Arabel, it's soft song fading from my mind, it was enough ... for now... but what of next time... if I could do so much to such a creature, I feared what would happen if I lost control around friends. I must be careful...