With the Wind...

[Chuuwys 502]

She didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this. 

 

On entering Iryalen and hearing the news of death, her mind spins with the shock. Was it her Guide? Someone else? There's trepidation in the wake of everything as the toll of a lost soul shakes the very Song they're attuned to. She never hears it, or feels it. Her eyes instead are the ones to bear witness.

 

It dizzies when she discovers who. How. No why's given, other than the warning to trust nobody. Her heart hurts, and grief finds her swiftly and deeply. Still, her resolve steels, for there is work to be done.

 

It sharpens, when the Prince shows up to their gates. Leverages and accusations of fault to those who lost the most by a man who didn't even own the land he laid fresh claim but half an Elven day prior. She holds her head up, arm set to the shoulder of a friend in comfort.

 

It focuses, clamps down on preconceived names. A selection that has plagued her home for years. Draoi. Draoi did this. And somehow, the safest place everyone knew had been breached. 

 

It points, like the tip of a spear. A single dedicant, with a newly grown bite to her fangs. Gathering the wills of Druii who all alike bid for the same thing in anguish:

 

Retribution.

 

 

 

 

"Maybe it is a warning or advice? That the path you are following will lead to some violent parts, 

and if you follow it blindly, you will come back to the point you started?"

"And yet you stepped up to the responsibility, and perform it admirably."

"And that is why I advise you to take time to examine your own heart and soul...

..But you cannot tell your heart to stop loving so easily, can you?"

 

Spoiler

In the short time I've had for interactions, you've been a wonderful player with an amazing character who has a lot more depth than I think you've ever given yourself due credit for. Nenar is a lovely character who I know I, the community, and our characters will adore and continue to miss for a long long time. You gave me clarity when I was so close to giving up on the server, and have given me a lot of quality fun and roleplay that I wouldn't have missed for the world.

 

Thank you for all the wonderful RP between Suliin and Nenar. It's truly not something she'll ever forget. Thank you Taters! 

 

Edited February 7 by Chuuwys

[Spoopy_Duck 3217]

Some days, perhaps years in the future would a lone raven find itself landing amidst a grotto above Illivira. The bird poked around the remains of the Aspen grotto. Before it then flew off oncemore, forever in motion did this bird seem it find itself.

The 'ame remembered when he was younger, of a choice he had almost unknowingly made that night. Nearly two centuries would have played out entirely different if he was not robbed of that foolish decision, this fate would have been entirely avoided in some cruel irony. "Why is balance so cruel?" he would ask the empty forests of Azuras as he traversed. "If this was to be her fate no matter what why enslave her to this realm for countless centuries beyond?" the questions continued to be left forever unanswered. Minutes... Perhaps hours passed as the elf enjoyed the santuary, for that small period of time the druid remembered his own youth truly. For certainly a happier time all of that was, "I hope she is finally content to rest." The final words were offered to the empty forest before the 'ame oncemore disappeared into his own obscurity.

[ClassyDryad 2366]

Though she walks alone in the wood, a beast of nature somehow knows her mother has passed. She once found herself worrying day and night to that druid’s fate, that reckless Nenar would find her life cut short from one of the numerous enemies she had acquired. But now the beast was old, older than her mother when she had been born. She was glad, envious even, that her mother could know peace at last. She found herself ill able to spend much time on that though, as her talons curled about a tree's stump. Another had wandered into her forest, another life to be cut short.

[StrongBear 1239]

Spoiler

 

 

In due time, the deepest of wounds. . . . heal. 

 

 

As the  news of the Nenar's  passing  spread like a wildfire, once he knew Arle was put back  together and being watched, he'd slip of  out  a clinic  and head deep  into the  surrounding Forrest, alone. 

 

With  each  step that Haldir took, each  just as painful as the last,  slowly did he find  himself truly alone. It was eerily silent, no  wind  in the  leaves and there weren't any critters about. The 'ame eventually collapses, knees driving into the  soft mud bellow him. His blood  soaked hands plant  themselves into the ground in front of  him, "They will have what's  coming to  them, for who ever has done this, they shall  rue the day of  which they  have taken their first steps in this realm."  His  voice was soft but it was laced  with  anger and  hatred, the  emotions finding their release, something which  was long over do. First it was one fist  into the ground,  followed by another and  another, until his strikes has little to no  force behind them. And then that's when the  pain  really started to set in - Haldir didn't  just lose someone close, he lost someone that called him son, a mentor,  someone  he looked up. Nenar saved  him and he kept his promise of staying on the path  of light for  Nen, he had grown tired of  hurting  those around  him. 

 

She saved him. . . But  he couldn't save her.

 

"Reni, you're a good kid. Just miss guided, come to  me when you're ready to change."

 

"I will always love you, my son."

 

"I swear, he has changed,  I have seen to it. He is here to make better."

 

"Take  things easy with  your sister,  what you  did to her wife, that'll take time to  mend."

 

"Don't be stupid, be smart like I know you are."

 

"And one last thing, Haldir. Take care of Isilme, you  know what will  happen  if  you  don't."

 

"I love you, my son."

 

Frozen in place, frozen in time, a calling sudden cuts through the silence. It was welcoming to him but a nightmare to others. He surrenders himself to the night sky and the moon. For a he  was a man but he was also a beast, further disappearing into the Forrest, everyone has different ways to grieve the loss of someone they loved, but this one was different.  Nenar kept Haldir held together, with  her gone, there was only so much Arle could do by herself to keep him sane. But that will be an issue dealt with at a  later time,  for  now, he drowns himself in  his curse, leaving humanity behind. 

 

 

[ProcaPro 557]

A machine wouldn't hear about the loss til late. She was wandering. She always wandered in these days, searching for comforts in being alone though she missed her mentor from when the machine curse - so she called it in private despite her family's opinions - had first taken hold.

Nenar understood what had happened better than anyone else the machine had met. She'd been a comforting force, the only one that could be trusted amongst the growing loss of emotion and understanding the machine bore. The only question now was if the machine had enough descendant left in her to grieve when the news broke.

[Adelemphii 1766]

Moonlight cascades across canopies, gracing the forest with its ever-soft presence. Beneath it, Miyu sits unmoving, hands together in meditation, listening to the sounds of the forest to quell the unease which grew within her heart. When her eyes opened, they find the moon waiting, 

 

"With waning crescent a story comes to close.." she breathed, voice barely a whisper,

"but with new moon begin new horizons."

 

The exhale that followed did not belong to her. It passes through her like borrowed air, and she shudders as unseen threads begin to loosen.

[PrinceJose270 1211]

From Atop the Karst, Did gusiam look towards the sea, hearing such news he could not help but smoke a cigar. his mind recalling moments of battle, of aid. "Friend, Defender, Ally. One of the few Druids that I can even respect and had more common sense then most. You sacraficed a lot, Nenar. Yet my only sadness is knowing you had written your final chapter in pain, unimaginable pain from those of the Dark. To This? May I hope to see you return one day, be it as a sprite or some other creation of the nature you so held in hopes for."Is all Gusiam said. Final words for an old friend.


Upon the Forests did the Raven druid rested, Surrounded by many crows he had started to befriend.  An old sword made of Older steel, yet his demonor and what he used to be long gone from the days before. Through the voices and letters did he watched, though he did not shead a single tear, not..yet."Nenar, You were my lover, my wife from long ago, and mother. You have bled and sacraficed yourself when the world demanded it. Though it felt nothing but unright. You return to the Eternal forest, where it is deserved. For you have done so much for this cursed and blighted world." Then, he held his arm out, Kagura watched as a silver raven landed, he'd offered it some seeds. "I have been a fool, and now i have regrets i cannot make up, But one thing i shall promise, as a promise till the day i meet the forests as well. I shall destroy those dark forces that took you from the world. To slay any thereafter without the mercy. It is time to become the force of nature that this cruel world dares to pin druii as weak. You will be avenged, but for now..sleep. You of all people deserve such. Goodbye, My former Mayilu. May the forests treat you well.""And as soon as he grabbed his swords, the grows swarmed, and thus, he made way to start his Final Promise

[Hyperdron 355]

An 'ame listens from a far corner of the realm, head turned to the sky as nature wails. Their thoughts would not settle for many a night. Whoever it was that the Chorus so mourned, they could only pray for their safe passage into the Forest; perhaps one day, they could attach a name to this prayer.

 

Spoiler

Popping back from indefinite hiatus to salute an excellent character. Nenar will be missed. Wishing you even more quality narratives in the future, Taters. o7

 

[hearth_ 1023]

In some far corner of the world, nestled in the roots of a maple tree, a pile of armor sat motionless. Its wearer had been limp for too many days to count, a slick of loam that ran off from the trunk painted across the plate.

 

It was peaceful there. A place cradled still by the Aspects. A hospice for their broken servants. The melody of the Song was enough to lull even the fiercest of faith into trance - until it was shattered.

 

A shrieking tore through the darkness. A Mother’s grief. A Father’s fury. A Grandmother’s loss after all too many. The heap of metal jolted, senses bleeding back into the present only to be mercilessly stretched thin.

 

The Druid had heard this agonized chorus only once before.

 

Who.

 

The word rang once through the hollow of their skull.

 

WHO.

 

Again. A thundering drum that spurned rust from neglected joints.

 

White light that had pooled behind their eyes - the gentle, drifting thing that had shown them soft and still - flickered, guttered, and was swallowed whole by a fury of amber.

 

The Lord wrought themselves from the shadowed mulch.

The Harvest would begin again.

[Bethinwonderland 2213]

Spoiler

I didn't really know Nenar that well; however, I adored seeing her around the server and hearing bits and pieces of her life. The wonderful rp stories that you and others were able to weave. It is truly a chapter closing on the server as a whole that such a bright light has been snuffed out.

 

[PrimnyaQuorum 3998]

The Pale-Elf, Annyerir, emerged into that spiral the morning after. It was not the wounded ground beneath him that brought him such worry, but the silence. The air hung still and heavy, and not a soul made a sound. He had never enjoyed that silence, after so many years spent around the guardians of nature. 

 

It was not until some time later word crossed his way of the Aspen's passing. For nearly a century to that point, the Pale-Elf had been stoic in his duties, and so too had he considered his friendships with Nenar as merely that; a thing that was, and would continue onward as all things did. It would never cross his mind he would have a final conversation with her, and bid her farewell one last time. 

 

It stung. To be eternal was not to be invincible. To outlast would always mean to lose, and lose things, but in so long the Pale-Elf had forgotten what it meant to lose someone. 

 

Nenar had been one to accept him, and prove that the sanctum was sanctuary. She had offered aid when he needed it, and answer the plethora of questions that had become habit of that elf to ask of others. He trusted her in the executions of his duties, and in the knowledge that she would have been there to help, should the worst have come of his failure. That he had to learn of her demise left a wound upon him; that he was not there, that he had not offered more, that he had seen the last of his friend and not truly known it. 

 

Those bitter emotions of grief - sadness, anger, futile attempts to proclaim untruthfulness - swelled beneath that exterior of his. Many decades ago, perhaps they would have remained that way, before he had became so enthralled in his self. But he was a Librarian - blessed and cursed to always remember.

 

So he would weep in his abode, for his slain friend. Whatever memorial was to come, whatever the world was set to continue on with would simply have to wait, in the mind of the Pale-Elf. 

[Itz_Cookie 1974]

Spoiler

reserved </3

 

[Rayalia 537]

 

"Aspen is dead."

Nenar had been a staple throughout nearly all of Phaedra's life. There hadn’t been a day in which the woman lacked influence upon her. 

At first, it was as one of Nevaehlen's leaders when she had once been nothing but a small girl bolting past the red head without a second thought, playing pranks upon the woman or outright ignoring her - for adults were boring, and boring wasn't worth the energetic child's time. She was an aunt, but one that was removed, distant from the child’s life, remembered only in the gifts she’d been given as a baby - a time in which she didn’t even remember.

 

"Nenar will kill you if she finds you, you must run."

Then came her mistakes. Her idiocy as a teenager  that followed her into life as a young woman. She was banished from her home with the knowledge that the druid would slay her without mercy. Years, decades passed with that belief, always present at the back of her mind even when the danger simply wasn't there. Conflict with others, those that reminded her of the Aspen Druid, kept her from approaching, grew resentment and anger and hatred. Hypocracies turned to fuel for discontentment and terror and fury.

 

But time changes all things, and both had learnt and grown.

She’d grown sick from illness, both of the physical and mental. Escape from one life led her to another, guided to a land by the sea. Illivira became home to her amidst her dedicancy, amidst attempts to save her own life and soul. She hadn’t known Nenar lived there until after she'd moved and settled in. And then the both of them were forced to confront each other due to proximity alone. Nenar thought Phaedra hated her. Phaedra thought Nenar wanted her dead. A single conversation was all it took to begin mending things; for apologies to take place and bonds to start repairing. Something fragile formed.

 

And then she was attuned.

And when her teacher disappeared, left her ("you were just a project", she would later come to find. Not a sister, or a niece, or whatever weird family dynamic the two had once had-), it was Nenar that picked up her teachings, filled in the gaps. Infusion. Blight healing. Phaedra owed her abilities to heal blight to the red head and none others. The skill, the magic, became her most used tool. It was what she was sought out for, what she held experience in. Step by step she was guided and through it all, Phaedra’s protection was offered in turn. It wasn’t much, but she’d long since known of the treelords and she took up the burden of watching over the other’s true form. It was of love and of duty, mixed and melded into one. Nenar needed to know she was cared for, and Phaedra needed to be assured that she deserved the love she’d been given. In that time, they’d talked. They’d come to know each other, of the failures and successes, hopes and dreams, regrets and desires.

 

Adventure uncovered the Voidal Eldritch.

And for twenty years within Númendil did Phaedra fight, side by side with Nenar, just the two of them. There were others of course - mostly Númendillians, as Phaedra so cheekily called them, as well as some (rather foolish, she had thought) Druid and Druid-adjacent despite her better wishes - but Nenar was a constant. They saved each other's lives more than Phaedra cared to count. Phaedra had healed the treelord of blight on more than one occasion, and the treelord had saved the Drui from a bolt or two, as well as kept her from insanity after the brief encounter she’d had face to face with the beast. They had travelled to the fae realm, or somewhere in between, and succeeded in sealing off the creature’s influence. They had nearly died. Nenar had died, but it had only been her vessel. Her tree had still stood, and so she had returned. Allies were crafted. Mistakes were made. Battles were won. It took years and a great deal of effort and risk, but the creature, Delgorthad, was eventually slayed by the Númenedain, aided by the two Druids, and things began to go back to normal.

 

Mostly.

The effects of a long war took their toll, just like all do. Their relationship strained. Ebbs and flows, back and forth, as it always had. And yet, the bond remained, even if weakened and, in the end, they worked their differences once more and settled into a comfortable relationship; aunt and niece - one that had always been there since Phaedra had been born but only truly felt so in the latter half of the woman's life. Stolen hugs. Mended wounds. Love without its words. They continued to fight together, though not so consistently, not like they had against the Delgorthadi; some battles had more success than others but they had both always made it out the other side.

 

Whether it was in war or it was in life, Nenar was always there.

 

---

"Oh."

The Hummingbird takes over. Phaedra, she who would mourn, gets shoved to the back of the Druid's head, disallowed a single tear. There’s no time for that. There is no need for sadness or pain. The Aspen is resting now, after all her hard work. But she is not. She has been lax in her presence and in her duties. She wasn’t here to help. She wasn’t here to guard her, as she once always had been.

"Someone let them in. Draoi."

The curse of the elven, she ponders, to live such long, arduous lives. There would be plenty of time to remove the filth from their ranks. Plenty. She holds no fear in forgetting this. No. This isn’t some benign event and Nenar is no benign lady. They ripped away an important part of the world, of her world. It was planned. It was on purpose. And for the first time since she’d been attuned, The Hummingbird Druid doesn’t wish to walk along the brightness of Kholibrii’s wings, but rather the wicked, terrible shadow that everyone, everyone forgets the chipper avian hides away. There is no desire to spread new life or hope. No. She wants to see it all burn. She wants to see them burn. And when she finds out who them is…

 

…not even Kholibrii’s light would save them from Her Wrath.

 

[VenomKNight 52]

Nalinor Caerme'onn shot up in his bed, the cries of Nature piercing his mind. He'd felt the passing of a fellow druid before, but this was far worse. Sharper, focused. His hands gripped the sides of his head, clutching his hair between his fingers as he let out a scream of pain, anger, and regret. His teacher's last words rang in his ears: "I am going to go dance on the graves of Necromancers. I'll let you know if I need a group to come back and help clean up." The druid rises from his bed, grabbing his warpick, and setting out to Iryalen's training ground with the intent of beating his anger into inanimate objects. His thoughts consumed by the wave of sorrow and the dormant rage now awake and active.

 

The soldier arrived at the training grounds, his teary eyes locking onto the training dummy one of his students had set up months ago. His grip on his weapon tightened to the point of white-knuckling it, arms shaking. "Whatever happens next, know that I am proud of you." Words his teacher said to him many times before, always meaning the world to the Druid, brought further tears to his eyes. As he focused on them, another voice crept into his head. "Wha' 'ave ye done to earn her pride? Wha' has that pride gotten ye?" Nalinor shook his head as he muttered a quiet response to the voice. "She took me in. When nearly everyone else had disappeared, and I was lost, she was there. She helped me realize who I am, who I want to be." "'ave ye already forgotten? Did she take our place?" The words stung Nalinor to his core; any response he had lost in his mind. He began his attacks on the dummy, striking it with the hammer side of his weapon as he practiced his form. The voices in his head screamed for his attention as he desperately tried to ignore them until one unfamiliar voice made itself known.

"Weak."

The man halted, mid-swing, at the singular word. He shook his head once again, remembering the lesson Nenar taught him about listening to the voices in his mind. He returned to his exercises, this time with more power behind them as the hammer began to splinter the wood. Again, the voice spoke.

"Someone got to her. Someone she trusted. Someone she loved.

More than you."

The attacks began to get angrier, more forceful. Cracks began to form across the wooden dummy as he tried to retain his focus. He knew the voice was right in some respect. Someone had gotten to Nenar's tree and helped their enemies kill her. "Draoi" is the only word that the man said as he came to the conclusion. It had to be draoi; no one else could have gotten to one of the most protected places he'd heard about.

"Finally. You realize. But will you do anything about it? You are

a coward, Nalinor. You. Are. Weak. But I can help you."

The voice grows stronger in the Druid's mind. Hungering for control, for power. Until it nearly encompassed the man's being. Sheltering him from the pain and the sadness. Until all that remained was rage. 

 

The attacks continued to get more reckless, swinging the hammer with more and more anger. Nalinor bellowed a horrific, primal cry to the skies as with one final swing, the dummy split in half. The top half fell to the side as wooden splinters scattered across the sands. The voice spoke one more time.

"Kill them all. Rend their souls from their gifts.

Make them pay for our mother's demise!

KILL."

A final scream could be heard from Iryalen's training pit as Nalinor raised his hammer above his head and brought it down onto the broken training dummy with all the might he could muster. Again. And again. And again. Until all that remained were chunks of woodchips, splinters, and cracked semblances of a semi-humanoid wooden creation. The druid hunched over the remains of his anger, supporting himself with his warpick as his breath drew heavy.

 

The figure stood straight up after many minutes of heavy breathing. His stare was long and cold as the slightest smirk crept across his face. He looked upon his home as if seeing it for the first time. "To all who took my mother from me, you will not know peace. You will not know the Forest. You will not know life." He completed the vow, then walked into the city, dragging his warpick behind him. All while another voice clawed for control, screaming that this is the opposite of what Nenar wanted. But the voice went unheard, as something new stalked the streets of Iryalen, wearing the face of someone familiar to all who lived there.

 

Spoiler

Nen was an incredible character! She meant so much to so many people, and she will be missed. (Even if she wanted to be forgotten) Love you Taters!

 

[lemonke 6014]

Spoiler

 

 

A being of joy and wonder felt true agony bloom within her chest upon witnessing the assault and decay of her friend, Nenar. She could still feel the blood of the corpses hurled at her, and now she shredded them one by one in a wrahtful attempt to reach the demons that sought to consume her soul. Not long ago, she had told her student how she wished to give up and stop fighting, then all of this occurred. That sensation of Malflame still burned in her, and her desire to fight made her stand up. Alas...

 

She could do nothing but feel rage, the very emotion she had long tried to not let such control her, but now it surged uncontrollably. The echo of death rang within her, the song of one of her sister druids dying forevermore, and a part of her own. She could not hold it back. She sought carnage. She sought to paint the earth in crimson and embellish it with the bones of her foes.

 

"I WILL KILL ICHIKA. I WILL KILL DEMONS. I WILL KILL EVERY DRAOI. I WILL KILL EVERY DRUID WHO EVER SPEAKS LIES. I WILL KILL THEM. I WILL KILL EVERY EVILDOER. ONE BY ONE."