A Father's Final Words

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

Spoiler

 

Artimec flipped his curved ivory knife in his palm. The bone blade bore carving of the Mother's fruit woven about the Father's horns, the iconocraphy of the Aspectist rite. Artimec had handed this blade to hundreds of elves as the years went by, and it had touched the blood of them all as they swore their blood oathes to their people, and their ancestor's faith. Slowly the rite of the wood elves had gone from moribund to living again, on his back, and the backs of his disciples. His circle grew, fostering their own teachings, their own way to do their duty to the Aspects.

 

One would think that would make the druids of the old guard happy. But that wasn't to be the case, was it? No. When el'Naelurir was founded, barely time for a pin to drop had passed before they began conspiring to cull the Hawk like he was part of a hedge grown crooked. This trend went on for years, decades, centuries. Always Artimec would hear whispers of attempts to hunt him down and take everything from him. The reasons differed every time. He is a Prince and a druid, that is blasphemy. He is training elven soldiers, that is blasphemy. He serves his people, not the wild. That is blasphemy. Abuse. A false druid. 

 

There was always a reason that he was a false druid and a reason he deserved to be unattuned. He was the black sheep, an outlier. Him and his circle defiled the teachings of the Aspects. Of course. It wasn't just him though, was it? No. There were other targets. Brother Solace, Sister Azalea, they even turned on Brother Wolf and Brother Song, who later turned on Brother Bull. They were always turning on each other. It seemed every moot of the outside circle ended in someone demanding someone elses unattunement. Some druid being hunted down for some new asinine reason.

 

It was all Artimec could do to isolate himself from druids outside his circle, to focus on his people and the wilds around him, and his duty. To ignore the constant infighting. But never since his attunement so long ago had Artimec lived in a world where the ever lingering threat of losing everything to druids with hearts full of jealousy and childish ire did not exist.

 

When would they see that the right of judgement does not lie with them? Who but the Aspects can decide who deserves to lose everything? How much hubris can one druid have to believe he has the divine authority to determine such things? No, Artimec had given up on hoping they would see. They would never see. They would always believe that their laws were laws they had the right to impose on all druids, no matter the circle, no matter the circumstance.

 

 

Artimec whispered softly.

"For years I avoided you all, and hoped you druids of black hearts and juvenile minds would not turn your ire back upon me as you have so many times in the past."

 

"But now you've killed my son."

 

He sliced the knife of bone across his palm and led blood run down in small rivulets between his fingers, staining the dirt below.

 

 

 

[The Templar 195]

"It is curious how fate works.." The voice is not that of a druid, but a paladin, and one long since deceased. Taking his rest in the Halls of Xan, as news filtered in like gossip from the faithful who observe, he would remark aloud to no one in particular. "I remember Hareven speaking so highly of him, what could have.." With leaden heart, he'd cast his gaze in the direction towards the famed pillar, not quite seeing as he shakes his head. "Brother of mine, What have you done?"

Without further ado, and indeed, without thought for how mindless the Bull would consider it, the Waveharp takes a moment to pray for Toren's soul, that it be spared the purgatory he had suffered. As the Solace druid still suffered.

[Delmodan 855]

A shift within the melodies moved across the canopies of the trees. The flora giving a rustle then still for but a moment in time before returning to its normal hymn of harmonic songs. Within that moment, the Owl Druid suddenly awakens from her slumber. Beads of sweat glisten down her cheeks as she sits there panting heavily for breath as if awakened from a nightmare. She knew that feeling all to well and suddenly moved from her chambers and down the tunnels until she came upon the Hawk Druid, pausing in her tracks as she stood there in silence. No words would come from her lips while she watched the blood gently drip upon the ground. Only her form silently stepping over to stand next to him with a calm, serene like presence emitting from the old Hierophant's call upon the flora around them. The light reflecting off several tears that gently ran down her cheeks.

[Sister Sequoia 438]

Lillith's head tilts just a little as she feels the passing, meditating within the fae ring in her grove. Her features remain calm and relaxed, perhaps even more relaxed after realizing who had passed. Her face is impassive and emotionless as her eyes shift to her staff, taking it up and pushing herself to stand as she leaves the fae ring and slowly starts to head to the surface, eyes looking up at the moon. She raises her staff and lowers her head, clasping the ancient staff with both wooden hands as her silken, reedlike hair falls around her face.

 

"Nemiisae, your cycle continues once more. Aspects, please allow Brother Bull his rest. His sins in life led him to this inevitable end, his death should bring him peace." she murmurs softly, lowering her staff and looking upwards once more, silent for many long minutes before mumbling to herself.

 

"Guess someone found his tree before I could...at least I can stop hunting now. Blessed be, whoever has brought Toren to justice."

 

She turns on her heel and heads for the gate...

[Jygg 330]

A black-furred Kharajyr shuffles his way along one of the many paths which wind through the grove, his staff gripped tightly within his hand, shoulders hunched forward and head held low as he pressed onward towards his home. He curled his free hand around the door knob of the front door, his wrist flicking to the side as he turned the door knob to open the door. He steps inside the home, slamming the door shut behind him, which results in a rather loud bang, a bang which echoes through the home. The Kharajyr tilts his head back, lips parting to allow for an enraged snarl to escape him. "Aspects, damn eet! Dawt's anawthawr fawking brawthawr lawst! Why did eet hawve to be him? He haws done wrawng, bawt we all hawve messed up. Fawking shite, he did nawt deserve to leave dawh world as he did." The Kharajyr stomps over towards the dining room table, where he proceeds to seat himself down in one of the chairs. His form slumps forward, a low groan escaping him as he reaches into his bag, his digits curling around a glass bottle which contains liquid. He pops the lid off the bottle, the strong stench of alcohol immediately filling the air of the home. "...Arghh... Tonight, Za drinks fawr yawh, Toren. Aspects give yawh dawh peace yawh deserve. Za hopes all yawr pains awnd wawwries hawve left yawh, as yawh rest in daw realm of daw Aspects." He leans back into the chair, head tilting back as he raised the bottle to his lips to allow for the alcohol to flow into his mouth, and then down his throat.

[winterblood 11181]

The home to a certain elfess now sits in silence, the curtains to the front windows pulled shut. The wooden front door, locked. Inside, a woman laid in her bed. She was turned on her left side, so that her back faced the room... and a little golem, approximately a foot in height, who gently poked at her backside. 

 

"Forgive me, Allric," the elfess muttered aloud, an emptiness lingering in her voice. "I don't quite feel leaving bed again today."

 

((using mobile and I just woke up, so this might be bad))

[ImCookiie 1950]

A mourning child found herself lost, within a grand forest of vast landscapes— An array of delicate gradients casting large shadows of the monstrous beings that surrounded her petite figure. Worn paces led a sluggish being through the overshadowed scenery. As crystal tears began to form within the sorrowful visage of a once innocent child, the setting grew louder and louder, louder once again. The trees harshly beaten by rapid winds, immense waves crashing unto deteriorated constructions of nature, every creature surrounding the childish being startled by the emotion that echoed through the overgrown environment.

 

“Maln?”

 

An obscure visage led unresponsive movements around the woodland for a moment, eventually allowing the grieving figure to fall upon the canvas beneath her. An awkward silence grew for few moments, becoming the most powerful being within the chaotic setting— a small cardinal, of auburn gradient lay beside her, chirping noisily in hopeless aid to the child. The remaining creatures circled the air above the curled figure, growing louder as the youngest began to stew a temper. As they became more aggravated, similar emotion corrupting the child anew.

 

“Maln! You can’t go!”

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

"Once again the Mother Grove has shown a complete disregard of the Naelurir. One step forward, two steps back. Toren was a Druid of no Circle, this decision would require the Archdruids of both the Naelurir and Mother Grove. This will not go unanswered." Remarks Abelas

[Gone 869]

And the story
Takes an unexpected turn
A friend is suddenly gone
We can cry our lives away
But if they were here they'd say
Go forward you must keep moving on

 

- - -

All day she had managed to keep it together, even worked to help others while old wounds reopened in her mind. Voices screaming at one another, arguing, unable to decide how she should feel...

It hurt.

She had watched Toren grow, had been one of many to help guide him. To her he was family without question. Even if he acted up she'd thought of him like a wildfire. Burning so brilliantly yet never able to quite predict the younger elf's actions. To hear that he was gone, that someone had managed what she'd thought would never be, it shocked her to the core. Suddenly everyone dear to her seemed so much more vulnerable.

And then to find out that one who she had grown so close to took the blame willingly? She wanted to hate him... But she couldn't. Each time one voice started to scream for revenge another would point out the pain that such would cause her. Even if it seemed selfish, even if her main reasoning was not wanting to see another she cared for hurting, she just couldn't stand the thought of him being captured for this death.

Once the exhaustion became too much Cheza turned to the one that always knows how to comfort her, letting him guide her home and hold her. Finally allowing a tormented sleep to overtake her... Dreams of trees burning as men scream for her to help.

- - -

 

Can we get back to a happy place?
We've suffered so much pain and sorrow
After yesterday is there any way
We can trust tomorrow?

 

- - -

Within the Naelurir grove, among those already mourning one more voice adds to the sorrow. A young Kharajyr wails and screeches as she claws at the base of Cernunnos' statue.

 

"Gyve heem bawck! Yuu say ef Nee pray yuu lysten, su gyve Dawddee bawck!"

 

Nemain has to be dragged away and by then her hands are a bloody mess. The small Pantera screaming until exhausting herself and then falling into a silence that she refuses to leave.

- - -

 

Will we go through life
Filled with strife like it's torn and tattered
Can we keep this up
When we all know that every hope has shattered?

And the lesson isn't new
That some dreams just can't come true.

 

Spoiler

Song Lyrics Source

 

 

 

[MrMineLoveDude 299]

Ruin'nir sits within his home, unable to come to terms with the news that had spread all throughout Atlas. He sat upon the floor, back flat against the wall as he brought his knees to his chest. As much as he could, the young mali'ame fought back the tears welling within his eyes, teeth biting upon his bottom lip as it quivered helplessly. In a faint tone he speaks:

 

"Toren.. You knew me since I was a little infant; you watched me grow. I never got that opportunity to thank you for everything you've done for me. I'll miss yo-"

 

He pauses, sobs ringing throughout the cramped abode as he succumbs to the sadness that filled his form. He sat there for seconds, minutes, hours, mourning over a dear friend before falling completely silent; exhausted of tears. As much as he wanted to deny reality, it just wasn't enough... What many may not know, other things troubled the ex-druid's mind.

 

Losing those you confide in makes it harder to do the right thing.

[Callistus 988]

.

[Chase 3793]

A Dominion officer heads on patrol, though constant whispers, rumours, exchanges, leads to deliverance of news to the 'Ker, stopping him dead in his tracks as he learns of info spreading through Atlas like wildfire. His visage bearing a grimace, before he continued on his patrol.

 

 "Find peace in your rest, llir..."

[TheIchorDruid 1986]

((On mobile so might be bad))

 

Silence, it all fell numb upon her ears amongst the distress of family and loved ones. Quillian was like a brewing volcano, the magma like fury building so intense that the elfess had finally burst. It burnt her insides, filled her screams with a newly found aggressiveness. He couldn’t be gone.. mere days ago her lover was upon one knee. An oath of marriage to unite the two. The wooden ring upon her finger engraved his his own hand sat upon her finger. 

 

The Azalea Druid nestled the ring against her chest, the tears streaming down her cheeks like a free flowing river. Though she was not alone, for her pack lingered close by. Each in their own sharing the woman’s grief. Her eyes were a vibrant golden hue, the young Kha’Pantera huddled against her leg. 

 

Elandria, Hope. 

 

Monsters had taken a father from a child, a fiancé from his lover and a brother from the Druid. Slowly she turned, canines descending from depths of her gums. 

 

“My love, my heart will forever be yours. You claimed it like a whirlwind and now leave me in the aftermath. Our family will prosper, our children grow to know the hero you were. The Bull. I wish I could have one more day with you, in the haven of your arms where I found myself so often after long days.” Quillian lifted a dagger to her hand, one familiar to her family. Serene’s xlaw. Slayer steel. One which would leave a deepened mark against her skin. She didn’t hesitate like one usually would, the metal scorched her skin, slicing it apart as a snark followed suit, she turned to her pack “I swear to you now, Our Brother’s death will not be in vain. We shall shed those monsters blood and make them suffer how we do. This.” Her bloodied hand was displayed to them “Is my oath. Let the hunt begin” 

[Unwillingly 18096]

Cyrene would clasp her hands together, looking to the ground upon hearing the news. However, she'd give a forced smile.

 

"Take it easy, yeah?"

[Farryn 860]

Elvira would pour herself out a mug of mocha and sighs - although she did not know Toren very well, and the fact that he was the one who killed her when the Dominion captured her, she did not decide to speak ill of him or held anything against him. Afterall, she never spoke ill of the dead and she took in the news of him killing her as a sign of mercy, a quick death than what the Dominion wanted to give her. The druids had lost another member of their order, many losing someone they've considered family. Yet the Ascended now hoped that Toren would now be at peace by his daughter, Lyadrin's, side.

"May the Archaengul protect your soul as you journey through the Soulstream, Toren" she would exclaim in a toast before drinking her mocha.