https://youtu.be/dzNvk80XY9s

The sounds of clunking armor filled the Arvellon home in Talus Grove. The Three Arvellon’s Becclain, Renae, and Syllia preparing for what seemed like war. The trio dressed from head to toe in Druidic armor with weapons at the ready. 

The quiet whispers of plants quietly humming in the wind engulfed the trio. An uneasy tone filling the harmonic symphonies nature cast over the area. The three remained still with each moment leaving them. 

“Are you ready lari’onnan?” Becclain plainly states, his orbs tracing between the two. A simple uneasy hum emitting from his throat. Gently placing his hands on the shoulders of his sisters, a somber tone filling the lands as the group knew well that many were going to be lost. His hands sifting through his satchel to withdraw a small container holding orange-red fascial paint.

“Ti.” Renae bobbed her head, gently pulling her hair back, grabbing a small amount of paint sliding her fingers across her face. 

Though, Syllia’s thoughts wondered, an uncanny melodie filled with a detrimental overtone. “May Malin’s blessings guide us.” She too bobbed her head moments after Renae. Her eyes bounced around the area, placing the ends of her fingers into the paint canister. Smearing fang-like paints across the bridge of her nose, onto her cheeks. 

Finally, Becclain withdrew his hand, taking a small dagger from his pouch. With the simple swipe of his hand, blood drips from his palm into the container. Taking the final paints from it he withdrew the concoction of blood and paint, smearing it across his face just as his sisters did.

“We shall be off then.” The Hummingbird Druid states, clasping his hands together before quickly pacing off, his sisters following quickly behind him. 

The three made a small detour into the grove before finally pulling themself from the group, ending their trip at the Al-Faiz camp the pupils of Atlas had so harshly fought for each blood soaked inch. 

Moments after the welcoming of the remaining Druii, they joined them to do a pre-battle prayer. 

Nivindil led the prayer, the dreich lines of the ancient tongue Mali’ have been speaking since being cursed by Ibleese.

Oh Maln, il’kae ito llythera.

erneh kae’leh ihnsil orne lomereh,

kae’leh mahnihii oerne parioeh,

kaeleh’ehya hiylun orne ullreh.

il’cerun kae ahera,

il’Sirame kae ahera,

il’taliiyna kae ahera.

A silent tone filled the air, stiff moments lingered over the gathering before finally shouting “Bless me with Blood!” At that moment, the battle began. The blood soaked fields becoming the depressive fields Descendants could now recognize as the hellish Inferni camp. A certain march to the death for some. For others; The beginning of a battle that shall fill the mouths for generations to come. 

With the words of Nivndil instructing the young Druid group known as ‘The Ducklings’ to take charge of a mobile cannon. They finally set off, one of the trio would meet the beginning of their downfall; a final conquest to defeat the invaders of this realm. 

The thunderous sounds of cannons filled the deserts of Korvassa, near the Athalian Mountain range. After many hard fought hours which stained the grounds with blood spilled, entry points were created. The steady pace past the corpses of their brethren into the camp. A horrid show indeed.

The allied levies, a sight of which only blessed the eyes of a small population every hundred years or so, came to find themself in a… less than pleasant situation. The thunderous sounds that had bewitched the valley have awoken the swarm. A not easily contested force which proved themself more than complex to deal with. The descendants began to rush towards the wall to tame a beast for their usage against the Inferni. In a desperate attempt to plug the holes which they created, the waves came to the bottom of a tower. Attempting to topple it over but yet, it remained. 

The archers took hand, raising their bows; launching volleys of arrows, striking down a large portion of the hivemind creatures. Though not all perished, breaking through the ranks, raining acid among the battalions that were taking the camp by force. 

In an attempt to strike down the Deer Druid, Dwyn. Acid began ravishing the three Ducklings. Melting through their Arvellon decorated Shields, Renae and Syllia met the lower end of the deal. Acid quickly climbing onto their skin. 

“Syllia!” Becclain exclaimed, the burning sensation quickly enticing my body. Lifting me from the ground I was quickly leaned against the wall with my closest friend and family, Renae. Becclain and Vex tended to me and her, though each moment I could feel the grasp I had on this realm fading. Streams of tears coming from my eyes as Becclain shielded me. 

Giving me moments to recover, I finally found the dwindling strength within me to ready myself for battle again. Charging forth to what felt like the end, I could only think of my family. I felt as if their world was resting on my shoulder. The innocence of my children hopefully remaining intact at the end of this bloodshed.

We fought off the swarm to the few that remained. Marking the ending of the battle, yet it was not over for some. Our battle still continues even past the horrid sites we painfully observed.

The last of the swarm took aim at my Lari’onn, Seraphina. Her quick and nimble response to the swift aim of the swarm beings saved her. I could feel the burning sensation come across my body again. Attempting to call for help yet nothing came. Looking to my left I see my Mal’onn fall. I didn’t realize but the acid that was aimed for my sister came to us, marking us with the scent of death lingering near. My eyes instantly swapped to the right of me, watching my Lari’onn fall as well. I couldn’t hold myself any further. Collapsing onto the ground as I felt the metal of my armor fusing to my skull. 

A sensation I have never experienced before only coming to me which I could explain as the falling of the constellations; the stars collapsing atop of me. My vision narrowed, the dark abyss coming near. The dreaded feeling I hoped to never feel while my oem’ii were still young had finally greeted me with an agonizing grip. 

Turning my head to meet the gaze of my Lari’onn on the blood soaked fields. I could feel the searing pain coming throughout my body. Grasping my words to hum “Always and forever, Lari’onn.” Tears slipping from my eyelids, I quickly found myself lifted from the ground and onto Seraphina’s shoulder. Stars coming to my vision before quickly slipping into this undetermined realm. 

~Note to my little Kitten~

My Dearest Boy, 

Haelun has gone out on a small expedition with your marmal’onn and your marlari’onnan. There is never a guarantee that I will be back. I have full intentions of coming home to you and your lari’onnan. In the case, I don’t. Please know that I will love you forever my little kitten. Take care of your sisters and father for me. Lift the spirits of those around you as you have always done. Keep them happy for me, never let them frown. -Your Haelun, Syllia Evar'maehr-Arvellon

~Note to my beautiful Aegle~

My Little Girl,

Haelun has gone out on a small expedition with your marmal’onn and your marlari’onnan. There is never a guarantee that I will be back. I have full intentions of coming home to you, your brother, and your sister. In the case, I don’t. Please know that I will love you forever my beautiful Aegle. I remember this shy little girl giving a woman she didn’t know her full trust. A trust that will stay in my heart always. Never stop smiling and remember me as I was… your Haelun. Oh and brush that hair. -Your Haelun, Syllia Evar’maehr-Arvellon

~Note to my young Raven~

My Young Girl,

Haelun has gone out on a small expedition with your marmal’onn and your marlari’onnan. There is never a guarantee that I will be back. I have full intentions of coming home to you, your brother, and your sister. In the case, I don’t. Please know that I will love you forever my little Raven. In years to come, you probably won’t remember my face, or laugh, or anything about me. I didn’t want to leave you so soon and I am so sorry that you won’t grow with a mother to be by your side every step of the way. -Your Haelun, Syllia Evar’maehr-Arvellon

~Note to The Ducklings~

  Ducklings,

My mal’onnan and lari’onnan… I love you all so much. You are my family, my friends, my forever home. Each of you have played a special role in my life. 

Starting with Renae... you are my best friend. The first one of the ducklings I met...well you and Beccy. Of the five you are the one I had the strongest connection with. I never told you, but you were my first love. I still love you just not as I did and I will love you forever, even in my final resting place. You were always there for me, even after our biggest downfalls.

Becclain, my sweet mal’onn… I met you alongside Renae. My two little trouble makers, wanting to become druids but were put on probation. I was told to stay away from you two, but something in my heart only pulled me closer. I am glad that I followed my heart when it came to you guys… I got the best family I could have ever asked for, forty-something years of wishing for the family I never had.

Seraphina you are next, you and I met in the silence of Talus. No one else was around… You made me smile with every flirt you said to me. You tried so hard and got so far, but you met the perfect one for you, let Ven know that I love her. 

Melephor I know that you and I didn’t share many memories, but you are still my mal’onn regardless. We shared a dedicancy and a few laughs. 

Xodorin… listen here you little ****, you better watch after my kid. He looks up to his uncle Xoey. He is going to need you and Abelas trust me, please calm him. I should be honest, ti… I didn’t like you when we first met, but you grew on me in time. You helped me with some of my biggest struggles and I thank you for that. 

Always and Forever Ducklings… your favorite Syllia Evar’maehr-Arvellon

~Note to my Haelun and Maln~

Ducks,

The only thing I wish to say to you is thank you. You guided me to many of my successes, gave me the family I always wished for, and kept me safe. You are both ready to fight for either of us ducklings and we know you love us. I love you so much Raven and Wildcat. -Your malii’lari, Syllia Evar'maehr-Arvellon

Floating. She was floating. But she also seemed to be anchored by her consciousness. Her mind consumed her. Her body sank deeper. With bloodied arms outstretched, legs slightly parted and a face serene and placid, the seemingly motionless Miven would ruminate about the murder she had just committed. 

The mali’ame plunged both arms into the heavier waters and allowed herself to submerge in the depths of her surroundings. Miven’s eyes fluttered as she sank to the lake's bed. 

The environment above was surreal; a golden glow beaming on the creatures that wandered aimlessly. Lush green grasses, trees, and vegetation hugged the lake. The water was still until Miven launched herself to the surface, sucking in a desperate, hefty breath of air.

She swam over to the edge, hoisted her small body onto the soft grass and crawled some distance. Yet, weary and distraught, her frame eventually collapsed, limbs sprawled in a vulnerable state. The elfess was typically chirpy, vibrant, and vivacious, but it appeared as though her recent actions had sucked that very life out of her. Well versed in hunting, Miven was familiar with the unfortunate deaths of prey. However, this animal was no mere prey item. Rather, it was a cherished companion. Doe-like, round golden orbs pierced the dusk fallen sky as she contemplated her next move. But the girl was not one to dwell. Upon regaining her composure, she prevailed by propelling herself to her feet and went onward to gather herbs and berries.

***

Two decades later, Miven had found herself wandering in the same woodlands she had inhabited years ago. The encompassing deciduous forest felt welcoming to the mali’ame. She always had a sense of belonging when she traversed the boscage. The birds greeted her with chirps, sun with its embrace and the canopying trees with its protection. However, her latest trips brought about intense bounds of curiosity. She had witnessed a mother kodiak bear with her two cubs, one of which was obviously injured and feeble. It had a funky skip to its’ walk, limping and applying most of its’ weight to its right side. Miven mostly observed from afar, however, she had made several attempts to approach the cub, only to be guarded off by the aggressive growls feeding from the mother bear's maw. The mother bear lumbered about and neared Miven, warding her off to protect her young. The elfess was not to push her luck, nor wished to upset the mother bear. She retreated back to the village and planned a trip that would last days, perhaps even weeks.

***

A satchel draped the shoulders of the woman containing the random medical supplies she could scour from her burrow. Bandages, alcohol, water, a splint of sorts, food -- a lot of food, and only the weapons she had kept on her regularly would come along for the trip back into the woodlands. Miven explained the mission she was about to endure to her sister Medli, and she urged that she come along in case something went awry. After hours of trekking, the two arrived in the general vicinity of the bear's inhabitancy. They hunkered down and watched for hours. There seemed to be no trace of the bear family, until some groaning and crackling of leaves could be heard up ahead. 

“There-” Miven hushed excitedly, stretching a precautionary arm out to block Medli from continuing forward.

With the absence of one of the cubs was left the mother bear and its still injured baby. Miven’s doe-like, growing eyes observed the twos interaction intently. The mother kodiak nudged the cub with its snout, prompting it to lay down. The cub was curious of its familiar surroundings, and mostly the new, faint scent it began to pick up. It obeyed, lowering itself to the grasses. Before pursuing the bears, Miven reached quietly into her satchel for one of the three packed pieces of meat. As the elfess pulled the meat into the air, the mother bear picked up on the strong smell and made way toward Miven. Miven motioned her hand backward in preparation to swing the meat forward but paused. She recognized that the action might frighten the bear. So instead, she met the mother bear half way and placed the meat down quickly before backtracking to her original spot. The kodiak snatched the meat from the ground and huffed, bringing it back to its’ cub. They shared a moment in which the mothers' back was oddly vulnerable to Miven and Medli. The elfess peered over her shoulder to ensure that her sister was safe and then back to stalk the two bears. 

Now that she was closer to the pair, the ‘ame began to prepare another piece of meat from her parcel. This time her shakier hands crinkled the parchment that wrapped the meat so much so that it alerted the mother bear. The large motherly mammal turned almost instantaneously to the sound of the parchment and bellowed a horrific roar, one that caused the nesting birds to flee from their homes. 

Miven gulped audibly and listened to the bear's demands. She took many steps backward which appeared to be enough for the mother bear. The bear looked Miven over before returning to its’ cub. The dedicant decided to flank the kodiak, rounding to the cubs side. She presented another piece of red meat between them. The meat disappeared in a matter of seconds. All the while, the bear cub would be whining in both pain and hunger. It stumbled various times as it longed to stand; failing and falling over itself again.

“I only wish to help your young. I do not want to hurt you or the little one..” The careful elfess hummed as if the bear could understand. 

The prepared mali’ame lowered herself to the cub’s level, putting herself in an endangered position. She began to toss through her satchel, pulling out various items and made sure to show each one to the attentively protective mother. 

Miven’s fingers scanned over the wound, a gash six or so inches long, an inch wide. ‘Poor thing probably fell from somewhere high,’ she thought to herself. The girl then proceeded to palpate the twitching cubs’ left, back thigh feeling for any misplaced bones. Nothing felt out of the ordinary to the mali. Even with her minimal experience in the medical field, she could tell the bone was still intact. 

“Alcohol, to clean the wound..” 

She balled a piece of cloth soaked in the alcohol and dabbed at the dried blood. As soon as the alcohol met the cubs’ wound, it yelped, eyes eagerly looking up to its mother. The cub grasped the ground below it, scrambling to get away from Miven. The uproar agitated and alarmed the mother bear. She launched herself closer to Miven, causing the elfess to fall over to her backside with surrendering hands and a second to come up with a plan.

“Look, look!” The scatter-brained mali’ame flimsily patted the clean, side of the cloth against her own skin to show that it was safe to use on herself.

Heat and the lingering smell of every meal the mother bear ate radiated over Miven’s young, sweaty wood elven features.

Miven locked eyes with the mother bear. The mark of Bolomormaa was still painted on her cheeks and forehead from her coming of age celebration. The trust was instilled through the short connection they had just created. Because of the prior actions, Miven was able to escape from under the bear’s wrath. It flicked its head in the direction of her disabled cub, almost as if it granted permission for the ‘ame to finish. 

This time, Miven worked quicker and used water to clean the dried up blood. The cub was still skeptical, curious at least, shuddering as she began to wrap the healing wound with bandages. Miven lifted her arm to her forehead, wiping away the line of sweat that formed over her brow. All the while, her eyes danced back to Medli ensuring her safety. 

The elfess fumbled with the splint contraption she had built prior to the trip; two sticks and wraps set up so that over the course of a few weeks, the stabilization would come apart as the bear walked. The mother bear huffed at Miven and began to lumber off. She could not understand why the bear did so, but it evoked Miven. The dedicant finished up her work on the cub and reached back into her open satchel for a hand full of bears and the jar of honey she had packed. A gentle toss of her berry hand sprinkled the fruit about the cubs front. It excitedly groaned, especially when Miven smacked at the bottom side of the honey jar allowing for its slow ooze to coat the ground. The cub lapped at the honey as it wobbled to a stance. It clearly struggled for a moment, adjusting to the contraption attached to its leg. The cub poked its nose at the bandages before becoming easily distracted and pleased again by the honey. Miven rose a tired, uneasy hand into the air and hovered it over the cubs box-like noggin. She held her breath as she lowered it, meeting the bear's softer fur between its’ ears. The cub seemed untroubled and quite frankly unaware of Miven’s caressing, continuing about its treat. With that, the ‘ame felt as though she had done her job to aid the cub back to a place where it could heal -- a place where it did not depend on her any longer, nor would it hinder its’ ability to survive on its own. 

Medli and Miven left the bear’s home, and headed back for Siramenor. 

***

Six or so weeks later, Miven returned to the same location on her own in search for the cub. She had no means to interact or interfere with it. Her only intention was to observe how the cub had been doing, and if her contraption had worked. To her blessed surprise, the cub was seen trotting toward a body of rushing water after its mother. The curious Miven followed close behind, yet stayed at a distance only to witness the cub standing strong on a rock, swiping into the water for fish.

((OOC: This is Miven’s grand task for her Druidic dedicancy!  Thank you to @Kuila and @searose143 for playing the bears irp. Also @RainbowRoad1234 for the support. I no gud at writin’ so pls be easy on me hehe))

It was a calm night. The waves shifted about as the crew of the Stinky Sailor reached their first destination: the Druid Grove. Parrot Salmon stayed behind, guarding the ship like the great parrot he is. The three crewmates, Pirate Wasabi, Pirate Ginger, and Pirate Sashimi, led by their Captain, Pirate Sushi, make their way to the gates of the grove and call out for their pots and pans, as they require it to cook their ultimate gourmet meal. Just minutes later, Captain Treebeard and his first mate, Taileybones, appeared on the other side of the gate. Little did the pirates know that this event would change their lives forever. 

The four of them called out to the fake pirates, demanding their various kitchen utensils. 

“Pots!” demanded Pirate Sushi. 

“Pans!” demanded Pirate Wasabi. 

“Spoons!” demanded Pirate Sashimi. 

“Other kitchen utensils!” demanded Pirate Ginger. 

Captain Treebeard and First Mate Taileybones, however, selfishly held onto their kitchen utensils. They rallied for their friends, who came to their rescue by causing a tree branch to grab onto Pirate Sushi and send her flying! Their leader was gone! But just as hope seemed to disappear forever, Parrot Salmon came along. “Fook’n fakes!” it squawked. When the brave Parrot Salmon was told by Pirate Wasabi, however, that Pirate Sushi had been thrown and most likely had died, Parrot Salmon had had enough. He thrusted himself towards the fake Captain Treebeard, attacking his chest and brilliantly knocking him over, giving Pirate Sashimi just enough time to grab one of Captain Treebeard’s treasured pots and run off. Then, he turned his attacks towards the fake First Mate Taileybones, shoving his beak into the imposter’s chest. It was a glorious scene.

However, First Mate Taileybones wasn’t having it. He spoke to Parrot Salmon, stating he’d eat him if he didn’t stop. Parrot Salmon looked up at the Druid, narrowing his eyes. Parrot Salmon’s best friend was Pirate Sushi. And yet... Pirate Sushi was thrown aside by a giant tree limb, only for asking for their pots and pans, by ridiculous imposters. Pirate Sushi was wrongfully and brutally murdered, and Parrot Salmon knew it was time to be with his best friend. There was no way he could live without her. The wondrous pair, always seen together, always fighting for pots and pans together... 

He knew it was the end. 

“Eh’m com’n, Pirate Sushi.”

His last squawk rang out in the grove. 

First Mate Taileybones chomped. 

Feathers went everywhere. 

He knew it was the end. 

And yet... he would not be reunited with his best friend. For it is I, Pirate Sushi herself. Despite my leg being struck and dismembered, soon to be replaced with a wooden stick, I have prevailed. But my best friend, Parrot Salmon... He is dead. A tragic, unnecessary death.

But his sacrifice will not be in vane. Pirate Sashimi had taken Captain Treebeard’s most prized pot, all thanks to the distraction provided by Parrot Salmon. We have prevailed once again. 
 

Look out, Arcas, for I am coming. In his name, Parrot Salmon’s name, I am coming. 

And you will lose all of your pots and pans. 

In memory of Parrot Salmon, who fought bravely til the very end

((This is purely a Hallucination, and none of it is actually real or significant and nothing in it actually means anything.))

Errvan stands in front of a ‘lari; Awaiti Sirame. Whom he had asked for a task as part of dedicant tasks. Awaiti pulled a jar from her robe “You will consume a flower that will induce powerful visions. You will see what you have brought into this forest with you, and you will face it. Your goal? Make it back to Talus alive. Return to Nivndl and tell her your task is complete”. Errvan nodded, opening his palm and allowing Awaiti to place the flower into his palm. Errvan would then eat the flower, scurrying off into the wilderness.

---

Errvan, having eaten the flower would stumble away into the wildness. Now out of his sight, Awaiti Sirame would walk away. As Errvan stumbles around, he would imagine seeing birds, many birds infact gather as the sun would fall, notably Errvan did not watch the “sun” set on the world. The murder of crows would sharply turn in the air, starting to chase Errvan, he would begin to sprint and fall down the hill the murder followed him. As he managed to stabilize, not continuously falling now the murder sped up, he spotted a nearby cave and took refuge in a nearby cave, and as he entered the murder of crows disappeared and would proceed to fall to the floor and seemingly sleep what was a seemed like a day.

For anyone from the outside, not in Errvan’s flower induced visions, they would just see a Mali’Ame fall down a hill and then fall to a cave for about 2 minutes, and then get up. As Errvan got off from the floor, he walked out of the cave, and watched in horror as the sun rose. The sun in his vision was revealed to be replaced by the Autumn Druid, Nivndil- the ‘lari now the sun would stare down the Dedicant and smile serenely, looking calm as always “Karin’ayla dedicant. “



Errvan, justly gazed in horror at the sun at the sun, now replaced by Nivndil and murmur “By the aspec-” Nivndil, smiles interrupting Errvan before you finish his statement “No, no- it is time for a lesson… On the -” Before Nivndil finished her sentence, the sun turned back to the normal. And it would begin to fall rapidly and would the moon would begin to rise, being replaced by a woman unknown to Errvan.



This would soon return to normal. Errvan, now extremely confused would now wander into the birch woods near to Sutica. Deciding it was a good time to look for Blissfoil in his incredibility drugged state, as he wandered into the forest, Errvan would hear a bear approaching him.



The bear approached from the front of Errvan, looking increasingly worried at the very real looking (to him atleast) bear that now stood in front of him. Errvan took out the Morning Star and begun to swing at the bear, to anyone observing would see an ‘Ame swinging his Morning Star just hitting air, literally with very little thought or reason if to where he was swinging it, and a man would be watching Errvan, looking at him- the man would look as if he felt very bad for the ‘Ame and began to walk down. But, in Errvan’s visions, he would be attempting to subdue the bear. After a long thought “battle”, Errvan would try to mount the extremely large bear and would begin to ride it- but to anyone outside, it would appear the random man began to take Errvan to the Talus grove and drop him off, not knowing where else to take the extremely flower-induced ‘Ame. Where he attempted to find Nivndil.

A dwarf by the name of Mugdor-Dharok was allowed access into the Mother Grove after stating he is on a search for knowledge. Unfortunately for him, the gatekeeper did not have any information about what he was looking for, nor did not know who the dwarf could talk to regarding his search. Mugdor-Dharok explored within the Mother Grove, and talked to anyone who might give him a conversation,

“’Ello t’ere! Ah am a Dwed t’at goes by Mugdor-Dharok, an aspirin’ merchant and skilled miner! While workin’ in me market stall back at the city ov Kal’Evraal, ah received an order fer an item they called a “Kuila Shard”. Ah told t’is customer ah had no idea what this shard was, but wit’ a quest fer coin, ah would set out and try and locate this item! This customer specifically came tuh Kal’Evraal lookin’ fer a kuila shard affected by the volcanic activity around the city. Any help or knowledge would ‘elp me, an’ if it comes tuh it ah can reward any help wit’ coin.”

As the sun slips below the Arcas horizon, casting a shadow over the descendants’ domain, a hooded figure sits silently atop the branch of an oak tree. Clasped in one hand is a simple bow, the other, a quiver of arrows. The figure’s gaze is cast out over the deadly still lake that lays before them, the moonlit sky a perfect reflection upon the water.

After several minutes, the figure reaches down into the depths of their cloak, producing a small bound book. They flick through to the latest entry, skimming over its contents and re-checking the task they had been set. As they read, the figure’s gaze suddenly snaps to a point a few dozen metres further along the bank where a movement had caught their eye. 

A doe emerges gracefully from amidst the dense forest, pausing for a moment as it checks it is alone, before striding down to the water’s edge. With one elegant motion, it dips its head and begins to drink.

The hooded figure bestows the book back within the folds of their cloak, before dropping silently to the ground behind the tree. With long graceful strides they move from tree to tree, from bush to bush, all the while keeping a close eye on their target. Finally settling upon the root of a large tree, the figure pulls their hood back, auburn curls cascading out as the Dedicant Evelyn sets her quiver down, sliding out an arrow and nocking it slowly.

She takes a moment to compose herself before raising her bow, drawing back and releasing the arrow. It soars towards the doe, though it is caught by the breeze and nicks the deer’s left ear as it pierces the stillness of the lake. 

“No!” Evelyn groans to herself as the doe bolts down the shore of the lake, disappearing into the dark reaches of the forest. With a sigh, she retrieves her quiver and hops down from the root. The Dedicant sidles over to the water’s edge, gazing up at the moon before looking down at her reflection in the idle lake, pondering her evident failure. She had been too hasty. 

“Patience…” She mutters to herself, her mind casting back to what the Owl Druid had told her days before. With a soft exhalation, Evelyn looks down to where the doe had previously stood. The sea of grey pebbles was broken by one tainted by a small patch of red; her arrow wound had caused blood to drip upon the beach.

With a renewed determination the Dedicant crouches to inspect the pebble, pocketing it and heading towards where the deer had disappeared. Before the treeline, Evelyn spots another pebble, similarly splattered with a hint of blood; she now has a trail to follow.

The Mali’ame makes her way through the dense forest, pursuing the trail of crimson splatters. Before long she comes across a river, a gnarled log seeming to be her only way across. She slings her bow and quiver over her back, before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the log, which creaks unnervingly. The Dedicant takes a few steps forwards, causing the log to shiver and crack. She closes her eyes and slows her breathing. “Patience...patience…” she murmurs.

Evelyn lowers her stance slightly, reopening her eyes and taking a slow, measured step forwards. As soon as her foot touches the log, it emits a loud snap as it breaks in two, plunging her into the icy cold water.

The current is strong, pulling her under and carrying her along at an alarming rate. The elf flails around, trying to find something to grab onto to slow her advance along the river. After what feels like an eternity, her hand finally finds a root and she tightens her grip around it. With several, painful movements, the Dedicant heaves herself up the root and onto the bank, where she coughs and splutters, laying on her back.

After coming back to her senses, Evelyn pushes herself up into a sitting position. She starts to shiver, not just from the icy water but also because her cloak seems to have been torn away in the journey down the river. Luckily her bow seems intact, though only one arrow seems to have survived the trip. As she stands and looks around, the elf realises that she is in a small valley, which aside from a few trees is devoid of much else.

Suddenly, some movement catches her eye further down the river and that’s when she sees it; the same doe from the lake, drinking from the same water that had carried Evelyn to this spot. “The Aspects work in strange ways…” she whispers to herself, moving slowing behind the tree and removing the bow from her back. With considered movements, the Dedicant retrieves her one remaining arrow, carefully nocking it and applying a little tension to the string.

She slows her breathing as she brings the bow around the side of the tree, gently bringing it to tension. One of her eyelids slides down to hide a single emerald orb, the other’s gaze focussing along the arrow at the doe. The elf does not rush this time, the words of the one who set her this task reverberating in her mind. “Patience…” she whispers to herself. A quick glance to the branches above show the leaves blowing to the left in the breeze. This time she adjusts her aim to account for this. And with that, she releases the arrow. This time it curves with the breeze and strikes the doe where she intended.

As it falls, the Dedicant approaches, drawing a small dagger from her hip. Upon reaching the deer, Evelyn lowers to a crouch, running a gentle hand along its neck before sharply sliding the blade into the creature, bringing its life to an abrupt end. A soft exhale emits from the Mali’ame as she retrieves the small book from within her dress. It is still wet from the river but the pages are thick, and although some of the charcoal has run, the outline of her task is still legible. After consulting the Owl Druid’s request, she re-bestows the book, setting to work on the doe.

After a good hour or two, Evelyn sits back against the tree, having just washed her hands in the hissing river. She looks down to the bag beside her, its contents neatly packed, before turning her attention to what had taken most of her time: the wind chime made of bones. A small smile crosses the tired elf’s face as she re-reads the words inscribed across the bones, and then she sets it inside the bag with the other pieces. Using the tree as support, the Dedicant stands, slinging the bag over her shoulder and setting off towards the grove to deliver her task.

‘Haste leads to missing the mark.

Targets are met with patience’

[!]

The following poster is posted on bulletin boards around Sutica, Irrinor, Haense, Fenn, Aegrothond, & Brandybrook.

Naturesgiving

~+~

The Druidic Order welcomes all to attend our festival, to celebrate a successful harvest season. Nature provides to the wise, and as such we have deemed this Naturesgiving.

Baked goods, treats, pies, drinks, and all manner of foods will be prepared for the enjoyment of us all, and you are free to bring your own to add to the festivities.

The main event is a large, table-round meal and discussion with friends and strangers alike, in appreciation for the food nature provides for us. Additionally, there will be a jumping puzzle for you to partake in, extraneous items to purchase, and a large bonfire to end the evening off.

We hope to see you there!

-Druidic Order

(Saturday, Nov. 30th - 4 PM EST)

Styxius the Wizard addresses the allied Descendant forces, 9^th of Snow’s Maiden, 1730

The Talus Grove thundered with the sound of marching soldiers, the tranquillity of nature disturbed as men and women, Elves, Dwarves and Humans, all rallied together. Fennic flags swayed in the wind, sigils of Xan raised high, Irrinite banners planted firmly into the soil, Haelun’orian shields lofted proudly, Azdrazi artefacts carried through the gate and Urguani Legionnaires welcomed by their Druidic allies, clad in shimmering bronze. Dedicants and volunteers lined up at to be armed, quivers loaded onto shoulders, lamellar roughly shoved over heads and tugged into place, a hearty thump upon the back before attending to the next. The atmosphere alive with confidence and duty.

When the horns sounded to assemble, the assembled forces were accompanied by a host of thirty stone soldiers, golems marching robotically alongside their allies with monstrous greatbows swinging at their sides. “Alright you laggards- move out!” bellowed Archdruid Nivndil to her party of Druids and Mages, lead off toward the Voidal Tear by Archdruid Harold. Horns echoed around as the gathered warriors, Druids, soldiers, Paladins, dragonfolk and Magi marched off to confront their adversary.

When they arrived, the Fennic siege crews readied their trebuchets, the Paladins seizing control of a ballista assembled by Quavinir. Irrinite archers assembled on the rise, a Ivae’Fenn formed the rear guard, with Druids and Elsillumiran forming the main bulk of the infantry, bolstered with their Golemic allies. No sooner had the battle lines formed, than a gloating voice lifted from the Tear itself, teasing and goading the Descendants in an attempt at low cunning- to shake their resolve. Warcries rang out across the plateau as shieldwalls braced and archers knocked in preparation. There was no retreating.

Emerging from the Tear, lumbering abominations dragged their knuckled across the tainted soil to begin their assault, whilst seemingly impossible limbs stretched and warped from the great fissure of corruption. Soon a four-legged arboreal creature emerged, Ent-like in many regards, surely conjured in an attempt to shock the Druidic forces, or perhaps to deceit their allies into believing they had been betrayed. Loud clanks rang forth from the trebuchets, before the command was issued to let their shots fly, sundering into the titan, staggering the abomination. Its gaping maw illuminated with a Voidal purple light as it prepared to charge a beam of arcanic energy- Druids throwing themselves aside to avoid it, in time to see the energy gore through the soil where they had stood seconds beforehand.

Briefly scattering, the infantry reformed soonafter. Elsillumarin shields covering the staggered Druids as they came to their senses, while volleys of arrows were loosed from the Wood Elves of Irrinor. The ballista let out a great thunk as it loosed a bolt searing with energy, crackling and sparking as if plucked from a thunderstorm, it struck the face of its quarry. Arrows, shot and magical projectiles soared through the sky in great arcs, slamming into the titan’s body, forcing it to reel and groan in pain. In retaliation a great lumbering foot came crashing down upon the ballista rending it to splinters and scrap, the Paladins fortunately able to escape such a fate themselves, as they abandoned the cart. The monster then began to levitate, allowing it to continue grasping forward for the trebuchets. The recovering Druids then linked arms, the eyeholes of their helms illuminating in bright emerald, sea blue, limegreen, cyan and purple as they pooled their strength.

The woodland folk of Irrinor trained their arrows upon another grotesque horror as it levitated over the field, struck repeatedly with waves of black ferrum arrows, as flecks of pink blood rained upon the savanna. Spears aflame with dragonfire hurtled overhead, while arrows of Xannic light streaked in volleys like falling stars. Shrieks of pain and rage echoed across the battlefield from Voidal Horrors, creating a discordant cacophony with the shouts and cries of Descendant forces. The earth rumbled and churned as the titan bared down upon the trebuchets and their crews, crashing easily through the first and second, while something stirred deep within the soil of the savannah. As a low bestial moan shook the chests of all who heard it, a great haft of bramble and vine began to loft a huge stone axe blade into the air, surging up from the soil with a creaking of arboreal flesh. Pausing briefly to ready itself, it let loose a roar of nature’s wrath, swinging into the face of the Voidal titan.

The Golem soldiers loosed their arrows as orders were barked from below, another plethora of magical projectiles striking the Ent-like being. In its final acts of destructive self-preservation, it tore through the enormous axe of root and bramble, exposing its underbelly to the volley. The other floating monstrosity screeched and soon surrendered to its wounds. Wrenched to defeat by the combined might of the Descendants, the titan crashed into the ground, exploding into a shower of sparks and earth. The ground trembled and smouldered, before all went quiet. A giant brought low.

As the eerie silence crept in upon the battlefield, the cries of victory roared louder than any foe the Void had spewed forth onto Arcas yet. Even the wounded were briefly salved by the warcries and bellows, coughed from burned mouths, and through broken ribs. The Descendant forces then turned to their allies, shouldering the injured and supporting the weary on their way home. Banners raised, flags flown.

A united Arcas had prevailed..

For now..

OOC:

     The weather was clear, as he moved down the field. Chunks of the mans face and scalp still knotted, wooden scars. Healing, but not quite done. He turns back to look at the Grove, before sitting against a nearby tree and gazing back at his home. The people he was forced to fight. Harevens’ head lulling back against the tree as the event repeated in his mind. Everyone's words, everyone's looks. He hurt them.

Erase

     Time passes. A Entling would be setting up boulders within the field in lines, creaking and moving along its task endlessly. The man would march back up, and into a large pit would go several pilfered corpses, of men, of horses. Anything going unused. The ashes from his campfires, the piss from the ‘Ker Wolves, the deer that wander. It would take time. So he spends it carving. In time the boulders become people, with two holes onto their chests. They look plain, like dolls, but they’ll do. They can hold a shield and spear. They’ll do.

     He wanders through the Grove every so often now. He looks better, but the pressure is still there. He almost took out her eyes. He almost impaled the others. He infected one of his children. He was reckless. He hurt them.

He’ll tell you he’s doing better, but that’s to be debated. He’s trying. Most time in Talus is spent forging. Preferably at night when no one can be bothered by him. Assembling basic weapons, small parts, storing them in his particular pouch. Arbalests, bolts, some of the weaponry for the golems. He’d just do his best to not bother his Brothers and Sisters. Endlessly working in the field.

Remodel

     Urine. Straw. Turn and flip. Mix. Anyone who needed to breath would have a harder time with this. It should be ready soon, the test batch worked when rescuing the dedicant not long ago. Enough to throw the Horrors off at least. The field is a mess, Hareven using his gifts to permit him ‘”more hands”. The Entling harvesting raw materials, hefty roots and lattice work-webs by the brood holding up golem parts and helping shape them as runes are inscribed before assembly. He should ask Uruguan for assistance but he’s no dwarf anymore. No assurance of help.

     Glothirs joins the field, along with Dwyn and his own Entling as well as Harevens, directing where to place the remaining boulders. Helping carve out usable chunks where they can. Weeks and months of watching Hareven come home to be covered in dust and detritus, the two grew impatient and worried as it seems. Aurum dust could be found in small dust piles around the Grove, the field, his home, his tree. Twenty four bodies of stone lie randomly around the field. Two cores per body, to make sure they could be taught the basic formations. Most barely six feet tall, but ten would be sat to the side. Even 6’6 each, already armed with what would be ornate bows of great size. Nothing any mortal could pull easily.

Replace

     Mere days away, the boiled result of the piss-**** pit finally completed, mixed with charcoal and sulfur from the hot springs within the Grove. Barrels would be stuffed, and sat near them. The Thirty. Plain golems, basic golems, bloodless soldiers, soldiers with no concept of fear or resistance. Expendable soldiers. A few words uttered near each and they’d begin to rise, and the day begins to pass. Basic commands, controls, phrases, formations. Nothing else. They have no voice to complain with, just runes to see and hear with. No concept of freedom, they’re made to replace the blood lost from others. The Bow golems head to Talus Grove first, followed by the remainder. Plain scutum shields on all but five of their backs, the Entling loading up the five barrels of fire-powder on the rest.

When day would break upon the Grove the first to the Gate would see them. Ready, prepared, and standing in lines of five.

With Hareven finally rooted in the ground in front of them, waiting for his chance to redeem himself.

Waiting.

OOC: This is a post to cover some of the gaps seen in my RP involving the Voidal Tear event. Before anyone asks, no these golems are not playable, no they will not last any longer than the event, yes I made sure to ask Mystery before going this route, yes they still follow redlines, and no none of them will be available for a CA when the events done. They either get destroyed or the eventline ends and they fall apart by Sky-God magic. Shout-out to @Tha_Mystery_Man for the great events so far.

Rin had thought the past was behind her. That her new wife, her new child, and her new family would bring her peace. However, not even that quelled the demons that tormented the young woman. 

You really thought they would stay?

Rin trembled as she sat near the river. Her eyes looking at the water as tears threatened to spill over. Next to her was her notebook, writings of tasks to give her dedicant, to teach him what it meant to be a druid. But did she even know what it meant?

You are only lying to yourself.

Her fathers, her mothers, her sisters, her family. Everyone around her, close to her were druids. Everyone, meaning she had to be too. She had to live up to her father’s legacy. To her mother’s strength. To her adoptive father’s title. To her adoptive mother’s regallity. She pulled her knees close to her.

You are nothing next to them. You will always be nothing.

She stared at the notepad. Her gaze drifting to the river again. She saw images of Rosa, their new child, of her father, her real mother. They all were gone. Alone again. She buried her head in her knees. Her sobs soft as she curled up tight. She struggled to find Hareven. Struggled to find Nivndil. Riv’su had left. Rosa was travelling. Her only companions were the animals.

She looked to her ker wolf as it lay next to her and the Kairn. “Y-you two...a-are so l-lucky…” she stammered as she rested her chin on her knees. “I-I w-....wish….I had your strength…” Her eyes fell to the ker wolf. The wolf’s head peeked up and its ears lay flat. “A-and y-yours...” She sighed and looked down. “T-then...m-maybe….maybe I wouldnt be...s-so scared…”

You will always be a frail child.

She covered her ears. Her eyes closing as she whimpered, remembering the feel of the blade that had torn her flesh. The hammer that shattered her leg. A soft thump made her jump and recoil. She turned, only to have spotted a small rock had tumbled from the ledge where a squirrel had landed.

Even this close to the walls of the grove, terrified her to no end. She knew she was never going to be safe again. Especially now that she was alone. She was never going to be what her family expected. She had lost the tranquility she was named for.

[!]
[Two scrolls had been handed to a druid and requested to be pinned on the stone noticeboard inside the Mother Grove, where announcements are usually placed. The first reads as follows, while the second is a description of the Rangers of the Wild and their tenets.]

To My Rangers,

We have been graciously granted temporary rest in the Druids' inn/social area. You are to respect their laws, not cause disruptions, aid them under the leadership of the Archdruids, and protect them when called upon (if you are capable of doing so).

Make your faces familiar, and by extension, the Rangers a known guild. For the time being, we have no safer haven than here. Do not breech the Druids' trust, and do not create or attract enemies to this sacred place.

The penalties of not following the laws of the Druids will be steep. You have been warned.

To My Druid Allies,

Your kindness and understanding will not be forgotten. If any of your lot should find any of my Rangers misbehaving (breaking either your laws or our tenets posted below, please send a bird to me and they will be dealt with swiftly, but without violence unless direly needed and outside the Grove’s borders. Tobias, my red-tailed hawk and the Ranger’s official letter-carrier, will send my reply in due fashion.

Regards,

Ranger-Master Lythorien Banebow

The pain was unending. Days, weeks, months? She had lost count in her prison. The mind of the druid of Tranquility was falling apart faster than she could repair it. Each cut, each torment, each attack tore through her, stealing what little she could hold together. Why had no one rescued her? Why was no one looking for her?

The answer is simple Druid.

No one loves you.

Rin curled up tight in her torn clothes, her flesh freezing. She was exhausted, hungry, damaged. Every breath was agonizing. Even if she could cry for help, her throat was too raw and sore from the abuse. Bruises littered the young woman’s body. Cuts that had long since festered and grown infected, seeped ooze. Was anyone going to help her?

Why would anyone help you?

You will just scare them away.

Rin reached out, digging into the soil before her. She continued to drag her damaged form forward. She tried picturing those who had missed her. She paused as her mouth opened in a silent wail of pain and sorrow. Her left leg was at an odd angle, torn and shredded. Her body covered in various bandages.

Please, someone, find me.

Please...help me….

Why? You should help yourself.

You are good at harming yourself, are you not?

She closed her eye and buried her head into her arms and the grass below her. She wept silently as her mind continued to turn to dust. Each happy memory bringing more tears as the abuse grew louder. Her eye turned to her fingers, the blood staining them never seemed to wash out. She crawled further, each movement shooting pain through her abused and weakened body.

Just give up. No one will save you.

Just lay there, the animals can use the nutrients.

Animals. She looked up, noticing the vultures overhead circling her. She lay still, resting her head on the grass. It was warm to her skin. It made her feel comfortable. Maybe she should just rest here, let the vultures feast on what was left of her. Maybe peace will come to her then. Maybe then she will be worth something.

Just close your eyes.

Yes, close her eyes, let herself relax. The pain was already starting to ebb. She could hear the song of nature slowly fade around her as she drifted off. A warm feeling washing over her as she let herself give in.

Just. Become mulch.

A soft breath left her as she drifted into unconsciousness. The pain and exhaustion sapping all she had left. The vultures continued to circle around her, slowly approaching her. One even landing at her side, pecking at one of her wounds.

Just. Cease.

She awoke in the infirmary of the druids grove. Her father at the foot of her bed and Niv to the side. She had lost track of how many days she spent there, her wounds treated. They spoke of her leg being removed, the damage too severe for them to heal it. Days went by, soon turning to months. Her mind growing more and more desperate for just a small amount of love as the taunts and torments making her lose focus.

Forever deformed.

No one will ever love you.

She knew her father loved her. She knew Niv and Hare loved her. But she felt alone. She felt useless, unwanted, and resented. She was resented for how weak she had become. How she had to rely on others to even get from one room to the next. She eyed the saw on the table. She looked at the leg that was to be removed. She had done worse in her torment.

Yes. Remove it.

Remove the taint. Remove it all.

She managed to hobble to the saw and wrapped a vine tightly around her thigh. She shuddered as she looked at the mangled skin she had unbandaged. If she moved fast, she would have it gone in just five minutes. Yes, just five minutes. No, the time stretched on and on as she cut along the flesh and bone, eventually removing the appendage. It making her nearly pass out. The adrenaline and determination making her push on.

Remove the rest.

End your suffering.

She didn’t remember anything after that. Her mind completely unfocused. She just knew she was no longer in the grove. She knew she was no longer burdening her bothers and sisters, her fathers and mothers, her daughter and her friends. No, she never was part of a family. She never felt she belonged. No matter what others said to tell her otherwise.

She felt alone.

She was a burden.

She was useless.

“Brothers and Sisters:
      As most of you are undoubtedly aware, the September Prince is risen. A force to be reckoned with, who could most certainly end the Druidic Order as we know it if allowed to act unhindered. However, new facts have arisen which cause me much worry. It is confirmed that Fae native to Atlas have been joining his cause, and are being granted boons by this unnatural entity-- and Druids may follow. I have taken the liberty to clarify exactly what will happen should a traitorous Druid arise, and have also included a guide on how to identify a Fae or Druid who has joined September. I have behind me the agreement of every Circle and the Dominion government.

     If it is proven that a Druid or Fae has accepted boons from or otherwise assisted September, they will be branded as a KOS Shun, and will henceforth be permanently banished from every Grove and Dominion lands. Unattunement will follow immediately after September is defeated.

     I write these words with a weary heart, Brothers and Sisters. I do not believe that such a thing will come to pass, but I am well aware that not all of us agree with one another. It is not likely, but a “Druid” seeking an advantage in some petty dispute may very well join September for his boons. It is my duty to inform them of the consequences.

     I have every confidence that a common enemy, a spawn of a dream daemon, will cause us to cast aside our differences, even for a little while. Be mindful of September’s Soul Trees-- they are well-defended, but unattunement will destroy them, as well as magical fire. Aspects guide us through these troubling times.

     -Sister Sable, Archdruid of the Mother Circle”

[!] Another piece of parchment, shorter and more list-like, is attached.

“Be wary of Fae and Druids with the following characteristics, and report the individual to an Archdruid or Virarim immediately.

-Druids who can drive a passive animal to violence

-Druids whose blight healing slowly eats away at structures

-Druids whose herblore causes nausea in non-Druids regardless of which herb is enhanced

-Recently-made tree lords with autumnal colors, whose blood can be used for Thuleanism

-Tree lords resembling mushrooms, with chitinous husks

-Every Bryophite ever

-Spriggans who do not respond to Druidic commands

-Spriggans with fungus and mushrooms growing on them

-Satyrs with red skin and coiled horns, who feast on sapient flesh

-Cervitaurs with the intelligence of normal deer

-Cervitaurs whose hooves leave behind them green fire

-Sprites casting weak communion and control

-Dryads with reddish skin

-Non-Druid Dryads who can cast weak communion and control"

A missive is propagated within the Druidic Order's living walls.

     "Lately a great shadow has sprung forth from the depths of the jungle. A threat to us all, indeed. That is without question. If the Prince has his way, none of us will survive his reign. As my totem does, I too walk the line between mankind and the Wilds, hoping to bring peace one day-- And so, I know in which world my allegiance lies. September must fall; He is a symbol of an extremist view, a contentious opinion... But what he is doing, is it truly against the Aspects' will?

     Perhaps you believe that being grown from a dream makes the Prince a corruptive influence, for nothing of any other realm can be natural. But what is a dream? A manifestation of thought, a wish. And a powerful dream, a dream of many he is. At his core, he desires an end that would be most favorable to the Wilds: Total extinction of descendant-kind, a return to a world that only the Aspects may touch. An end to mankind's greed and exploitation, molestation of the Wilds. You who claim to serve the Wilds yet deny that end are being false with yourself. You deign to act in the Aspects name, yet fight against an embodiment of their most extreme ideals.

     I have heard that Druids caught cohorting with September are put on queue to be unattuned, and I ask: Why? What purpose would it serve to remove them from the Wilds after the war is done? Is what they want truly so egregious to our duty as Druids? As men, yes, we should fight- But as Druids, we have no right to use our gifts against them, not in such a vile way. The power and goal that the September Prince represents is not one that you should spiritually contend with, but morally disagree with. Those Druids that fall under his influence truly are doing what they believe would serve the Wilds the greatest. What claim do you have that you are doing the same? None. You fight for your husbands, wives, children and homelands.

     As one who walks the line, I know that I fight with descendant-kind, no delusion of doing so as a Druid. You appear confused.

     In war, one does not look down on the people who fight, but the one who brought it upon them. Fight the power, not the people.

-= Brother Barley"

Waking up in the mesa after having taken the herbs given to by Guyden, Nesrine slowly sits herself up from the ground. As she looks around, the world has taken on an odd look as the sky would be dyed red with a hunter's moon hanging in the sky. Setting out over the hills the landscape takes on a more twisted appearance and soon even the sounds of life dies off till there is no sound but her own footsteps.

“Where do you think you are going, you seem to be always going the wrong way?”

“Yes, you always need to make things hard for yourself don't you?”

Almost coming to a complete stop she would take a few steps in front of the two people in her way. They would look much like her in most respects except for some small details of them. One would be a pure uruk, while the other being a ker. They would both wear a cheshire smile as they speak to her.

In a calm voice that seems to hide something more she would look at the two and speak plainly to them. “And here is it that I am meant to be going then?” she would now seem on edge as they seem to just look at her without speaking.

They glance at each other before looking back at the Tal’Uruk with the same smile “Home with the...” as they speak they seems to match word for word with perfect timing till the of last word where both seemed to say a different thing. One saying elves and another saying orcs before following up with a small continuation “So pick, you know it's better to just follow one. The path you walk will always lead you down the path of most resistance.”

As she watches the the two speak with an unsettled look she nods slightly knowing they are right inside her own heart. It would be more simple to give up one of the lives she holds in a misguided attempt to find a balance. As they speak the thoughts flood her mind of both paths and what it would mean. With tears in her eyes, at the thoughts she would move between them as she goes on. “That is not who I am.”

“See there you going having to make things so hard on yourself. It's not that hard to find pleasure in killing now is it. You’re already so angry and I think you would like it after a while.”

“Yes, it not all bad. If you keep going down this path both sides will only despise you more than you already are. Now is that really worth it?” They both would seem to just turn as she walks past them as she would walk closer to where she would think home was.

As she would find the road, she would see them yet again but but this time a fog would seem to hang on the ground as a scene would playout in front of her. It would seem like a battlefield with one side being elves and another being orcs. Their weapons would clash as both sides would fall left and right. Yet they both speak plainly as if it was not even a bother.

“You see, this is all that waits for you. Do you see a third option in this?” they would both seem to say “You know, with your help you could turn the tide of the battle for one and end it, if you only pick a side.”
 

She would instead to make her way into the battlefield in search of wounded, but as she does so the scene appears to vanish in front of her as she would get there. With both figures just looking at her with a look in their eyes as they would simply vanish from sight. Taken aback she moves on with the single goal of getting back to the grove and getting away from this waking dream.

As she makes it to the gates of mother grove she would seem to be more weary as she looks around for the two to make another appearance, but they do not manifest. Instead she would see a constable of ravens watching her from the gate. As she would make her way inside of the grove she would hear the notable dual tone in her mind this time. “Who is really in control?” As she would look back to see where they are but would only see the raven look at her before flying off.

“There is no need to look for us we are always with you. Your hope, dreams, and even your doubts.” The last word would be a whisper as the voices vanish. As she would cross the threshold of the gate the vision would fade as she would lose conscious again.