What Lies Dormant Within the Cherry Blossom

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

Spoiler

 

 

Artimec stirred in his bed.

 

Something was pulling at his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and began tossing and turning restlessly, trying to find solace despite the nagging pull in his consciousness. A few moments of struggle ensued before he threw off his covers and and rose to his feet. The sleepy eyed, stoic gazed Hawk Druid threw on his one-sleeved robe and grabbed his staff- Talon. He made his way out of his house, and into the clear moonlit night sky of Linandria.

 

He felt the tug more-so now, to the point where it made him grimace. Something was calling to him, something more than the regular voices of communion that all druids were exposed to. He knew its source- the lilting cherry blossom tree atop the Linandria plateau. Something lay dormant within this tree. Something the Aspects were telling him to awaken. But, he didn’t know how.

 

 

Artimec sat cross legged under the tree, in a meditative stance. He closed his eyes, steadied his breath and laid his staff across his lap. He poured all his effort into communing with the cherry blossom. Something was there. It’s presence was overwhelming. Artimec bared his teeth and tensed up. It was there, but his mind couldn’t touch it, couldn’t pull it out. It was like a word on the tip of his tongue, impossible to remember. He heard a voice, faint as a gentle breeze.

 

Awaken me.

 

---

 

Artimec’s pull towards the cherry blossom had started awhile ago. This was not the first time he had felt compelled to meditate under the tree, nor was it the first time he had heard a faint voice beseeching he ‘awaken them’. It had become a routine. Feel the pull. Meditate under the tree. Hear the plea. Never be able to figure out how to do it.

 

He couldn’t draw much connection to what was causing this phenomenon either. All he knew is that it had some form of direct connection with the attacks mounted by the undead. On peaceful days, the pull would be non-existent. Yet there would be days when he felt it faintly. After every fight with an unnatural being, it grew stronger. Every lich that Artimec slew (or ordered slain), every wraith or ghoul, the pull would grasp his mind harder, drag him back to the cherry blossom, compel him to attempt to awaken the dormant being within the tree. Which, of course, he could never do.

 

The latest such incident of this had occured only a few hours ago. The Sirame and he had rode back from a burning Savannah grove only to find yet another hooded lich sitting upon their bridge. They had made quick work of the cursed being, only to have Artimec fall to a knee and bare his teeth in evident pain, like a headache. The pull had become stronger than ever. The voice within the cherry blossom called out to him, louder than ever before.

 

Awaken me...

 

I must serve...

 

As usual, Artimec’s attempts proved fruitless. The stoic eyed prince was later found knelt before the shrines of Cernunnos and Cerridwen, glaring up at the proud statues of his gods. To them he began to plead.

 

“Why do you torment me? What trial is this which you put me through? What is calling to me? What am I awakening? Tell me!”

 

As was characteristic of wooden statues, no reply came.

 

“Tell me! Have I not been a loyal servant? Have I not championed your ways? Tell me what I must do!”

 

Still no reply was given, other that the idle crackle of the burning sacrificial brazier.

 

---

 

So, Artimec had returned home, assuming the Aspects would give him no signs. Of course, he had continued to feel the pull, and thus had torn himself out of the bed to meditate under the cherry blossom once more in the night sky. As he meditated, listening to the dormant being within the tree call out to him in its faint, wispy voice- he began to realize.

 

The Aspects were not testing him. They were giving him a gift.

 

The gift lay within the tree. He could not open his gift, because he had not proven himself worthy through the old rites.

 

Artimec pushed himself up to his feet and jogged down to the shrine with a sense of urgency. Behind the burning brazier, he picked up a ceremonial dagger made of bone. A dagger used to cut one's’ own flesh to made a sacrifice of blood to the Aspects. It was clear now- The Aspects themselves were giving him a boon, and a boon from the Gods must be paid in blood.

 

Artimec knelt back before the cherry blossom tree, unsheathing the curved knife from its leather sheath. As he sat facing the trunk and pressed the sharp ivory blade to his palm, he closed his eyes, remembering his own words, often repeated to his disciples.

 

Elves who honour the old way, the Aspectist rites, we give all sorts of offerings to our Gods. Some offer bone charms, some offer pelts, some offer food from their plates. It all depends on what you wish to convey to the Aspects. But one gift is more sacred than all. Blood. Blood is the essense of both life and death, the most serious offerings and most solemn oaths are always sealed in one’s own blood. For it means thus- by bleeding for our Gods, you pledge that in life, and until death, you belong to the Mother and Father.

 

Artimec cut into his own flesh, drawing a sharp hiss. Rivulets of crimson immediately began trickling down his hand and onto his lap. He drew his knife to create a clean gash across his entire palm, then quickly raised the bleeding hand and pressed it up against the tree. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the pain as he chanted.

 

“Mother, Green Lady. Springmaiden, Bringer of Birth.

Father, Horned Man, Hunt Lord, Harbinger of Death.

With my essense and my soul, I submit myself to your will,

that I may prove worthy of your boon.

Grant me the strength…

Grant me the will to awaken your gift to us.”

 

On that note, he renewed his focus, harder than ever before, trying beyond trying to pull this dormant, sleeping presence from within the cherry blossom.

 

A glow emitted from within the trunk.

 

Artimec’s eyes widened. He pushed himself up to his feet, clutching his bleeding palm to his chest as he stumbled backwards, watching a miracle unfold. The fae-like, deep emerald glow spread across the cherry blossom tree’s entire trunk. Bumps began protruding out of the trunk, bumps which grew into limbs, wooden hands with sharp, jagged fingers. Two soul-piercing, glowing, pupiless eyes were seen next, and a wooden visage began growing its way out of the tree.

 

Before long, a creature stood before Artimec. It looked alien, yet familiar as well. It had a body of sinewy wood and bark, the enchanted glow of the fae pervaded brightly in the gaps of its body. It towered over Artimec, who had to crane his neck to look up at the flaring eyes of the glowing construct.

 

 

The ent-like beast merely stared down at the druid with its gaze devoid of emotive features. A numb pain had begun spreading through Artimec’s palm, but despite it, he could only bring himself to stare up at the creature in front of him. The hawk druid steeled himself. He had seen odder things than this. He would get himself together.

 

“What are you?”

 

The creature did not reply, at least not in words. A jumble of creaks, groans and the crackling of wood was all Artimec got. Nothing remotely legible. But of course, he thought. These are creatures sent by our gods- so we must communicate with them as befits. He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and prepared to commune with the construct in the druidic way.

 

“What are you?”

 

“I am what I am.”

 

As expected, this time he got a reply. Artimec was surprised. Communion with animals usually entailed the exchange of basic emotions at best, but this creature spoke clearly. It’s voice was monotonous, otherworldly and chilling. Artimec shook it off and kept prodding.

 

“What can I call you?”

 

The creature looked upwards to the tree it had been born from.

 

“Cherryblossom.”

 

Artimec couldn’t help but smile.

 

“What is your purpose, Cherryblossom?”

 

“To defend.”

 

“Defend what?”

 

“Sacred...ground…”

 

Artimec clutched his throbbing palm more tightly. It all made sense now. The pull becoming stronger when the undead attacked. It had been a message, a calling. The Aspects had laid this creature dormant within one of these trees for Artimec to awaken. To call upon to defend this land- this sacred land where the Aspects influence was great, from beings which spread imbalance.

 

Cherryblossom’s neck groaned as his bark encased head panned about the area. The city of Linandria lay quiet, most of its elven inhabitants dwelled within their homes at this time of night.

 

“Drui call… I answer… I roam. I defend.”

 

At that, Cherryblossom the Spriggan began melting back into the tree, his limbs becoming one with his namesake- the Cherry Blossom tree. His two flaring eyes sank back into the trunk, their bright green glow beginning to fade.

 

Artimec barely had a chance to extend out his bleeding palm.

 

“Wait!”

 

The creature had already faded, and all that remained now as the cherry blossom tree, swaying gently. Artimec heard a wispy voice on the wind.

 

“Call…. And I will answer.”

 

Artimec knew it to be the truth. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and smiled faintly. He had two things to do. First: bandage up his palm. Second, inform the druids of Linandria that they had a new guardian to call upon.

((Everyone take a moment to thank b3ast for his beast spriggan art))

 

[CombatRolePlay 1863]

(( *Touches the +1 button

[Man of Respect 5471]

Eath'Lur takes the opportunity and chance to take his revenge of all the comments that Artimec has subtly done about his people just to strike back with sneaky words

 

"Wi zhould've raided dem." grunts as he chuckles evilishly, feeling done about the task of taking his revenge "Hrmfhfmrrhfmmm...!"

[Daisy 9740]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.