Alas, as I am away from my quarters, I am forced to use Blue's notebook to record this entry. Who am I? Why, it is I, Sanjuro, t'skrang of Legend! I probably will get a withered tail for this act but I must record this conversation for posterity. I confess, though, this strange flesh-colored binding that covers the book is quite disturbing.

I was sitting in my room, practicing my dagger forms with Vitriol when Briana entered the room. She was looking pale and haggard, and even her tatoo seemed worn out. The shocking change in her personality these past few months has not ceased to astonish me. On many occasions, Briana has lamented the youthful waywardness of Miranda. In many ways, Briana is much like Miranda. There is a loss of innocence that I now see in her eyes. She is no longer the optimistic, curious tracker I met in Bartertown in what seems a lifetime ago. Once, only culture and exploration drove her imagination. Politics meant nothing to her. Now, she is driven by them, out of necessity and perhaps out of an unconscious desire to help one she cares about deeper than she is willing to admit.

Unfortunatly, the political events that have shaped her awareness are ones of epic, grave proportions. Where she should see inspiration, hope and clarity of vision, she only sees treachery, deceit and cynicism. I fear that these events were too much for a soul so long unsullied by the brutish realities of civilization. I fear that Briana stands on the brink of an abyss. She has resigned herself to the pending attack (the Battle of Prajjor's Field - V.S.) and the despair of that situation is destroying her from the inside. It was in such a condition that Briana entered my room that evening.

When I asked why she had come in, she stared blankly for a moment and asked if I was busy or if she should leave. Of course, I insisted that she stay and invited her to have some t'skrang spice tea. For whomever might read this, t'skrang spice tea is as precious and as sought after a commodity as a fine elven wine.

Anyway, Briana assented and we sat down at the table where I poured her a cup. After some pleasantries, I decided to strike to the heart of the matter. I asked what was bothering her, expecting to hear of Sonorious or the attack or something along that line. I had to coax the answer out of her, as she insisted it was so trivial a point at the moment, it was laughable. In the end, she expressed a reservation about our name - The Bearers of Akasha. After our encounter with the Grim Legion and their matching bow ties, she felt that perhaps we were not taking the concept of the group pattern seriously or treating it with the respect necessary. Perhaps it was the spice tea (so long had it been since I'd tasted its sweetness) or perhaps it was the inspiration of Floranuus, but I launched into a speech which I have written down in full.

"Briana, I understand your reservations. What other groups could we name that use a party member as their pattern focus? None that I can think of, and you know how far I have travelled. Granted we have no set color or item or standard to bear our identity. But it is that very lack of identity that is at the core of who we are and why we are together. Do you remember the last time we almost formed a pattern? The inability to settle on a Name was what delayed us. Why? Because no name fit all of us. We come from every part of Barsaive, with no linked backgrouds. We've fought for the Blood Elves, for Throal and even for the new ork nation. We hold allegiance to none, save Barsaive and we serve those who serve Barsaive. We have even worked with Therans to this end, something I consider a tribute to the devotion to freedom this group has.

No name of regional or cultural identity would be appropriate. Our group was borne out of diversity, drawn together by a common love. On that note, though, a generic Name would not suit us either. History is replete with groups called the Grim Legion or Defenders of Barsaive and I am sure you could find Bloodletters in there a couple of times. Anyone can let blood or be grim or spare airships or defend Barsaive. Just as we are unique as individuals and as a group, it would be self-defeating to have a Name that reflected otherwise.

Which brings me to the Bearers of Akasha. Do I consider this a foolish Name, more trite and humorous than appropriate? Not at all. In fact, I am deeply honored to consider myself a part of a group so-Named. I was privileged to know Akasha for a bit longer than you. There is something about her that you may not know. As you probably have heard, one of my first quests with our group was the destruction of a Ristular cult at a kaer in western Barsaive. Afterwards, we rested in the town of Camil to recover from our wounds. Two of us, Akasha and I, went to the village elder to confer about our conditions. As Blue will cheerfully tell you, I had a withered arm. Akasha went to inquire about her sleeping sickness. Although I was in the next room discussing my problem with a lower-level Questor of Garlen, I could not help but overhear what the elder said to Akasha.

Akasha was told that her sleeping sickness had reached a critical point. With the proper rituals, medicines and magical healing, it could be reversed. However, the process would require her to stop adventuring for a long period of time. When Akasha came out, I expected her to announce that she was being forced to stay behind. Instead, she said nothing. The sleeping sickness took her again soon after. Respecting whatever reasons she must have had for remaining silent, I told no one of her situation. Given the mitigating circumstances of the next few days, we were forced to leave her behind with members of the Gevin resistence.

She awoke soon after, at the crossroads between living and eternal sleep. News of the Iopan hunt for us and of the cruel endgame with the Corinthian soon reached her. Without a second though and devoid of all doubt, she exerted herself past the critical point. With a dedication that must have inspired the Passions, she drove herself mercilessly until she caught up with us in Viln. Again, without complaint and without a word of what she had done, she joined us in the fight. As you know, it was the presence of Akasha who turned the tide against the Corinthian. In fact, she was the last one standing and the one to bring him down. The price was her life, but the reward was our lives for without her sacrifice, the Corinthian would have summoned his dread master and all of us would have died.