Journal - Trent - Entry 55

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I don’t even know where to begin with those letters. An “Agent of Chaos” is writing to me? Who in the name of Time is this “Aleph Prime?” The most worrying, of course, is the letters from Tr’nalith, Modeus and Sahtalus.

Modeus has my mother. Sahtalus has Jescha. And Tr’nalith laid some sort of Mystic Alarm trap upon his letter.

You know what I did this morning? I went up to James, the newly-empowered Greek “god,” and I started working with him to learn swordplay. Dark shadows of swordfighters, practicing on the frozen Russian landscape James Apolloson, the trailblazer of hope… and the god of last resort. Out in the frozen Russian wilderness I wielded an ancient godslayer sword against his own enchanted blade, and continued learning how to properly fight without the use of magic.

Why did I change the subject? Because this crap with these letters is just too big right now, and instead I need to keep myself together and focus on my “mundane” life. Mundane of course is relative – I’m learning swordplay from a young god while travelling overland through Russia as I and my teammates head towards an ancient, fantastic futuristic machine in another dimension which will destroy this world, the last Rifts Earth, unless we stop it.

So my old master writes me a letter with veiled threats and a supposed “trap?” The leaders of both Hades and Dyval take the time out of their busy days to write letters, personally, to me, inviting and enticing me to come pay them a visit, and bring them presents? No. It’s just too much. I can’t abandon what I’ve begun here. Would this team function without me? Could we still be J.F.C. if I wasn’t around? I like to believe that they would continue on, but I’ve saved their lives so many times now it’s… well, depressing, to think about how well they would fare without me.

Granted, my swordplay with James shows me just how skilled the man is, but I god is, but I know from experience just how little that matters when magic becomes involved. All I am really doing is giving myself another, small edge, for those times when I am unable to avail myself of magic.

Pall Mall has Helldamn has referred to me more than once as “Lord Magus” Logan. I’m not entirely sure why, but this is the same creature that used to call himself both “Pall Mall” and “Hablar the Speech-Giver,” so really I just think he’s so far into insanity that he can’t even see sanity anymore. I could give him one of those leaves, but… We need to focus on this mission, not continue to find excuses to derail ourselves. Letting the Sowki realize just how far gone he is would only prompt him to wish to break away from the goal, and we’ve traveled so far already.

Although we still, if my maps can be believed, have so much further to go. Isn’t there a faster way we could take to get to this super Nexus? I tried to get Rugar to pick up the pace with the truck, but he assures me that he’s driving as fast as he safely can. Otherwise, he hasn’t been very talkative.

Try as I might, ignore it as I might, I just can’t ignore these letters. I’ve written responses both to NÂș One and ‘Cady, but I fear that to send them now, via magic pigeon, would only endanger them both at this point. I don’t know how I’ll get these letters to them anytime soon. I have so much “heat” on me… I can’t get them involved too. I did what I did knowing there would be consequences. They were suppossed to be borne by me, though – not by Jescha or.. somehow, impossibly… my own mother… if either of these beings can even be believed. If these letters are even really from who they say they are from!

Like I said, it’s “too big.” It’s enough just to keep this group focused on the immediate task, and I’ve got the whole framework of time to envision and integrate into a megaversal vision. I know I’m missing something in my model, but what? How does the spiral fit with the other dimensions? Where do the pocket dimensions fit in?

As always seems to be the case lately, ever since my personal untethered dimensional envelopes began to fail me, there just isn’t enough time anymore. Sometimes I envy my simple companions, living their carefree lives on this jaunt. Zander, especially. I almost wonder if he even can consider the importance of our mission, or if he’s just tagging along for the “fun” of it.

J.F.C. until it’s no longer possible. I know there’s an old saying about flames burning out if they burn too bright, but that same flame will at the same time burn incredibly hot. Disturb it at your own risk.

Rugar stopped the truck. What’s Magnus yelling to us about? I guess I should go see…

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Journal - Trent - Entry 55

Ladies in Hades and the Dyval Wears Prada Tokobauzsos