Chapter 23 Through Fog and Fire.

As we sit in planning for what will come, I look about. What little magic I learned from my brethren in the army doesn't connect me to the divinity of Nature. I can call upon it to move faster, to hit a creature harder or track it through any environment. Even to heal others, providing new growth the way plants would grow over a wound. But I have never been able to talk with the trees, to understand the complexity of a hive from the minds of bees. As I see what this forest has become, I am glad of that. I shudder to think what the trees have to talk about. I have nightmares enough, thank you.
I remember some of the druids I used to march with. When I had just started we had a set of twins that were really in touch with Nature. Often playing tricks on everyone, turning into various woodland critters and hiding in boots, bedrolls, and pockets. One of them even turned into a bear inside of the commander's tent, and ran off into the woods with it wrapped around their giant furry form. When they were off duty they could be found on the ground under the biggest tree they could find. Lying on the ground, looking up into the branches and just taking in the very essence of the towering tree above them. If they were to see the trees around me now, they would probably have some strong reactions as to what may have done this. Right now We have to figure out what we are going to do.
After a short discussion we decide that Marda is going to do most of the talking, with Melfina helping. As the two that actually live here, they should be a bit more persuasive. Rorin and I will act as look-outs, making sure that nothing can sneak up on us, and Aurane will act as our truth detector. With all the dealings he has had with city folk he has learned to read people better. Much better than I have at any rate. And the wraith is to attack the Rakshasa should it appear, as the spectral claws seemed to do the most to it.
As we prepare to head into the fog, weapons are drawn, and masks are placed over our faces. When we enter the fog, vision is so reduced that I can barely see to the other side of the group. The damp air clings to use entirely, condensing on weapons and clothing. I make a quick note to check everyone's gear once we are done, if there is an opportunity to do so anyway. We don't try to sneak, as everything in this part of the forest should know that we are coming. And it does. I turn to look behind us, and spot creatures on the very edge of my vision. They wanted to be seen, and sure enough, as soon as I say something they start coming forward.
A proud stag approaches with antlers loosing the soft velvet covering. Bloody tatters dangle around it's head, detracting an observant eye from the rest of it. One of the legs, broken off below the shoulder hangs from the body as if the leg was simply a bother, and needed to be left behind. Melfina speaks, saying we want to talk to whoever is in charge, and a Badger, eye falling out, fur peeling off, starts plodding forward. It walks straight through the group, walking further into the fog. We all look at each other and start to follow. An owl, internal organs hanging out flits from place to place along the ground, keeping an eye on us across from a rabbit with only one ear.
The gruesome critters lead us into a clearing and as we look around it slowly clears out so we can see where we are. A twisted, corrupted courtyard surrounds us, natural seats sloping upwards, almost if we were in a colosseum. Vague animal shapes sit around us, perched, waiting, as if spectating. Or possibly a jury waiting for evidence. Like a terrifying scene out of a twisted fairy tail, all manner of shapes loom in anticipation.
A horrid mass of thorns, briars and vines are conglomerated together into a throne. As we get closer to it I can see bones, some bleached white, some diseased and green, are mixed into the plant matter to help form the throne. And every one of the bones is from a humanoid. Marda mutters that this must be a Druid grove, but this would be some gross abomination of anything a normal druid would want. The chittering and calling of the animals on the slopes stops suddenly, and there is a stillness to the area. Movement behind the throne catches my eye, and at first I can't tell what it is coming out of the gloom towards us.
Then I see it, an alabaster white creature, papery and rawboned. An Elvish woman, she comes to a stop beside the throne. A set of antlers extends from her head, maybe some part of a headdress that would have added regality had the situation been different. A tunic of natural fibers and leaves of greens and browns cover her body. In one hand is a staff, long and decorated with a large crescent stone on the top. A green crystal pokes out of a jagged wound in her chest, pulsating with energy. In a bored crackling voice,”Why are you here?”
“To discuss what is happening in our forest.” Replies Marda.
With a scornful tone the pale woman retorts like a whip crack,”Your forest?! To claim any property in this forest is theft! You corrupt the lands, pollute the air. Serve me and you will be allowed to leave this forest!”
Squaring her shoulders Melfina declares in a powerful voice,”I serve No one!”
“That is the Natural Order of things to eventually serve another. Your own civilization is doing that, and your progress hinges on it.” the Woman declares. It sounds like she hasn't had to use her voice in some time. As if there wasn't anything worth her using her voice on.
I can see her eyeing Rorin with distaste, and I feel Aurane try to shrink behind me, not an easy feat for such a man. I know He does it to avoid antagonizing this disgruntled woman so maybe this can be ended peacefully.
“These animals are not normal, Polluting what you claim to protect!” Cries Melfina, but it seems to fall on deaf ears.
“Wait!” I proclaim, taking a step forward in front of everyone.”Some of us have learned to live in harmony with Nature, fighting only brings Destruction to the lands you are trying to protect!”
Without saying anything, she gives her response. I can feel some dark force playing on my body, stiffening my joints and clouding my mind, as if I had run for days with naught but firewater to drink. With a deep utterance from Aurane I can feel other forces at work, as if someone was helping me move my sore muscles. The low thrum of his spiritual hammer pops into existence next to the elf. I can hear Rorin grunt as something hits him, and a crash of blades, fists and claws comes from behind before I can turn. When I look, the others are facing an empty space between them. Suddenly, the maladies that are afflicting me vanish, but before I can do anything insects of all manner group into a whirling cloud to bite and sting at us. Multi-legged beings start crawling on me, getting under loose scales. Inside my armor, flying at my eyes. But I can really only feel one thing.
A low fire had been building in me, all those emotions culminating into anger. Anger at the corrupted land. Anger at the stubborn lack of sense. Anger at presuming she is in charge of this forest, and has the final say. Anger at the senseless loss this has all caused. The killing that could have all been prevented. And Lastly, and probably the stupidest thing she has done, attacking my friends, who have been doing nothing but helping me, pulling me through my own problems. Resetting the grip on my ax handle, I focus that anger, that heat, into one point, and pound it into a narrow spike directly at her.
Melfina, deadly dagger swinging on it's chain, calls forth spirits to guide her strikes and hinder her enemies, but our foe has disappeared behind the throne she has made. Vines sprout out of the ground, but are unable to grab onto anyone Sprinting out of the swarm of insects, I find the Elf standing behind her accursed seat. Giving her once last chance, I ask her if she really wants to do this. Before she can respond Aurane's spectral hammer comes flying over to hit her. Aurane himself steps out of the swarm, not quite getting to us, but he doesn't need to be next to his target to do damage. Rorin comes charging out of the swarm to take up position behind her, opposite me, and with a wink I know he will aid in anything I try to do.
Melfina and Marda get out of the the swarm just in time for new vines to rupture out of the ground, grabbing onto them. With nothing left to bite, the swarm moves to cover some of us, but Rorin and I are too far from the insects, and are unaffected. Suddenly the Rakshasa appears, bloody and cut, and I know what the noises were behind me at the start of the fight. The thing had started off trying to ambush us, and it seems it took quite a few licks before a short retreat. Now it has come back, and right in Melfina's face. Swiping claws into her, it tries to move away towards Aurane. Before it can go ten feet, Her dagger, swinging like a pendulum, flips out and slices into the neck of the magical being. It falls in a heap, dead.
I turn back to the elf, but instead there is a large bear standing in front of me, which swipes at me hitting me twice. The massive bear tries to head towards Aurane, only to be tripped up by my ax. It still gets away, raising it's arms and letting out a roar. With it, more undead creatures start clawing out of the ground. As they pull themselves up and out, skin and fur are torn by rocks embedded in the ground, adding to the gore. The new creatures bite and nip at us, not doing any damage to me. Melfina has clearly had enough of things not staying dead, holding her dagger aloft, shouting in that angelic language, and a force blasts through the area, destroying three of the new beings outright. A slight breeze blows dust and fur away from the fresh bodies, and I take the change to grab onto it, infusing that divine power into me. I dart away from the last of the undead woodland critter, and catch up to the bear and cut into with a series of four blows. The third blow trips the bear, but it falls differently than I expected, and a killing blow hits the ground instead. Aurane's spectral hammer thrums back into the air near us, and slams down into the body of the bear, pale light casting dancing shadows around the fog and thorns.
With just a blink, Rorin appears in the shadows. I had lost track of where he was, but I was certain I had left him behind, but his powerful form steps into the light and with a flurry of blows from fists and feet kills the bear. Or I thought it would have. As the vicious blows finish, the bear on the ground turns back into the pale elf, which had shape-shifted into the bear. She pops up into a crouched position, and cries out again, summoning more of her undead thralls to her. Bloody claws snatch at her, and the Wraith makes itself visible as it's hands dig into the body of the elf, tearing great chunks out. Marda runs up to us, bleeding from multiple bug bites and a torn leg. She must have been caught up in the vines that keep coming out of the ground. As the new minions join the fray, the druid turns into a giant eagle. While an undead skunk occupies the Wraith, and Melfina slices a beaver clean in half, I throw a bit of power at Marda to heal her, keep her in this fight.
While birds are masters of the sky, they can be rather awkward on the ground. Hooking the legs and pushing the eagle-elf off balance, it starts to flail around on the ground. Focusing on the Bird in front of me, I hadn't noticed a baby bear, claimed by the forest into an undead existence. About to bite into my leg, Aurane's hammer slams into the poor thing, and without looking Marda simply extends an arm, and the hook of her sword finds the neck, slicing off neck to arm. Two small pieces hit the ground, an atrocity that should have never happened.
With the bird flapping uselessly on the ground, Rorin chops down with his staff, once, then twice on each wing joint, breaking them. As if pole vaulting, he lets the momentum carry him up the staff, and as the elf transforms back into her own form, he comes down. Propelling himself off the staff, with a grand flipping kick his heel lands on her forehead, crushing her skull, killing her.
After dispatching the smaller animals the Elf had summoned we pause. Undead bile, insect goop, and sap cover most of us in some puree of gore. We check injuries, making sure nothing is serious, and try to decide what to do now. Marda and Melfina want to check the body, Aurane and Rorin will check the throne, and I will keep an eye out, making sure none of the denizens are out for warmer blood than theirs. And Lucky I did so. No sooner had the others occupied themselves, the owl, still with organs poking out, tries to swoop down at me. Not even bothering to draw my axe, I simply open my maw, take a quick breath in, and exhale hot bright flames into the thing. A stinking horrible slurping follows as the remains hit the ground. It better just stay dead this time.
The Men come back with a couple potions, a scroll, and a golden chalice worth at least several hundred gold. Aurane declares the throne probably isn't the source of the blight. The only thing the Ladies find on the body is a holy symbol of Asmodeus, and the druid's staff. The body of course still has the shard of some sort of gemstone, made to look like bark, impaled into the torso. Now, without the need for haste, Melfina tells us all she needs to cast something, and it will take some time. Over about ten minutes, setting down some of her holy symbols, lighting incense and using holy water, she tries to talk with her god, much like High priestess Hearthforge had done for me. And while I cannot hear the answers, I can hear the questions.
“Is this the source of the Blight? Should we destroy it? Are you still on my side?” The last question took me a little by surprise. While She has always shown confidence in her magic, or everything really, she obviously doesn't have that confidence here. Why? As Melfina comes out of casting her spell, she tells us that this shard is the source of the blight, but we cannot yet destroy it. Marda tries to remove the shard from the body, and as soon as she grabs it, a reaction of intense shock and pain wracks her entire body. Letting go, sweat immediately breaks out, and she takes breath after breath, as if she was unable to do so for a long time. I guess we shouldn't touch the shard again. We try to figure out how to remove the shard, and when the suggestion to cut it out comes up, I leave my axe with them, grab Rorin, and tell him we are going to go see where she walked out from. Behind the throne we find a small nook in the ground, and it turns out to be a small office of sorts, but not anything to live in. My smaller friend finds a potion and an herbalism kit, but not much else. Seeing a path that leads further into the forest, we head back to the others before going deeper.
The rest of the group had clearly decided to wait to deal with the shard, as the body was now wrapped in a piece of extra canvas and thrown over Aurane's shoulder. We tell them about the path, and the group starts heading out. A squirrel, skull showing through the fur jumps at the canvas covered body, and stops in midair. One of the Wraiths claws comes into vision, impaling the creature on it's fingers. I could have sworn I saw a toothy grin appear for a split second. As we approach a hovel up in a tree, the stag tries as well but we cut it down, cutting off two of the remaining limbs.
While the tree doesn't look very climbable, Rorin simply bounds up the tree, not appearing to even try. Sneaking into a window, he is inside before I could have made it past the first branch. He reports to us that there were some basic traps inside, but nothing to be afraid of. Marda decides to head up as well, also going through the window. I resign myself to not even bothering. Once she is up, I hear an indignant exclamation, and Rorin pokes his head back out the window, and informs us there is also a Guillotine above the door, which would have definitely hurt a lot, had someone come through the door.
After some rummaging and a good wait, a shout comes from above, and a Carpet is thrown out of the window. The thing is absolutely filthy, a heavy layer of dirt covering it. Throwing it over a low branch nearby, I use divine magic to clean it, and while I find it silly to use divine magic to clean a rug, apparently Daja doesn't object, as the dirt dissolves off, leaving a colorful carpet with draconic runes underneath. “speak --- and rise ---and you will ---- horizon.” Some of the carpet is a bit threadbare, and the runes are unreadable.
By this time Rorin and Marda have climbed down, Marda wearing a new bag. Well. New for her. It looks like the bag should date back to the beginning of time, but it somehow holds together. The leather doesn't even creak as she moves. She explains that she found the bag in the corner of the room, and had mysteriously pulled a potion and a journal out of the bag, which had appeared to be empty when she found it. The journal, being in elvish, was unreadable by everyone here. Almost. I had also been shown how to understand any language, spoken or written, I just had to take some time to cast the spell. In ten minutes I had it down, and it was a shock.
The journal belonged to one Charles Corbin, Elvish inventor, investor in black smithing shops, and Father to Mythic Max, my business partner. The entries are dated nearly two hundred years ago. Charles is a man I have met and I respect him a great deal. How had his journal ended up here? Did he know who this Elf woman had been? Inside it was also drawings for a mysterious machine that ran off Natural magics to make some sort of portal, but I can't understand enough to gather more from it. Is that what the tent is? Some extra dimension? Which came first? We decide to head out of the forest, and try to get back to town to get answers.
Getting out of the forest at dusk, we set up camp, and rested. After an uneventful watch, during which I cleaned everything I could, I tried to get to sleep. But it felt like something was pounding into my head. No. Not pounding into my head. Around me. Something large was hammering something massive, some huge clump of metal. Abruptly, a cacophony of noise assaults my head. And I open my eyes. My vision clears from the horrible clattering, and I perceive an armor stand, complete with a magnificent specimen of scale mail. A stool and workbench are on the other side of the stand, and I move to find the person responsible for the beautiful project. The stool sits vacant, but the work bench has two piles of metal on it. As I get closer, I can see that one pile is worn, broken scales, once part of the armor, now twisted and shattered. In the other pile are scale blanks. Metal that can be shaped to fit into the chain and scale already part of the armor. Looking at the armor, I now see wonderful brass inlay work on the scales.
I suddenly feel the need to work on this piece of art, but I have no tools. And something like this would need a grand tool indeed. Not some pitiful hammer, but a great tool matching the work of art in front of me. But there is no tool rack around, no tool on the bench. A warmth comes from behind, one that goes into my very soul, beckoning to me. I turn to see a forge fire, complete with a massive anvil, one befitting the rest of the project. There, resting against the anvil is the tool I need. It looks like it was just made, only awaiting someone to pick it up. Steel handle, wrapped in a rough leather beckons to me, and I grab it in my hand. It is warm and welcoming. As I go to lift it, I suddenly wake in my bed, hand gripped in the air clutching nothing. But I can still feel that tool, and I know how I will be able to use it. I just need to spend a little time to get it.