Flowers Among the Ruins

[Sighter Tnailog]

Closed to Jennifer Oakley and Rehtul Orlouge

It was the first time Findelfin had been beyond the borders of Daer Taurë since the Fall of Eluriand, and he was shocked at the sights.

He passed quietly and under cover of night from the fortified villa north of what used to be Valinatal. The villa had been attacked a few times, by ragtag bands of undead, and once or twice by larger hordes commanded by some petty undead vampire-lordling trying to make a name for himself. The villa was located enough in the woods that it was easy to harry the approach of anything that tried to assail it, and most such bands were destroyed before they ever reached its walls.

But south of the forest, there were no areas where elves could hide in the tree branches and pick off straggling scouts. Findelfin had encountered a patrol of six corrupted rogues just northwest of Narenhad, and had been forced to slay every one lest one survive to report that a great elf captain was abroad in the land. He cut a wider circle after that encounter. It would not do to encounter even a substantial force sent from one of the ruined now-evil feudalisms of the former elven citadels. Though powerful, he was not that powerful...and sometimes power lay in silence, and stealth, in not being seen.

The lands around Narenhad were charred and blackened; trees that had once stood proud were ripped over, as if they had been pushed backwards from the force of some mammoth collision. Their stumps did not seem to be dead, though, but worse; some sort of liquid-like gunk seemed to ooze from them, bubbling up as if the sickness that laid hold of the land could only find its outlet in the pores of the tree roots and the shattered stumps of a once-proud countryside.

Findelfin averted his eyes and went on, though. He had to get to the Red Forest. The commanders still gathered around him, those who called him Hir-Menegil and looked to him for leadership, had been planning raids into the Red Forest for some time, for that still a prime location of evil emanations within the befouled continent that once called itself Raiaera. Whatever else they could do, striking the centers of power within Lindequalmë itself would be a powerful boost to morale for Findelfin's fledgling communities, and would send a message to the feuding monsters of the plains that they needed focus not only on offense, but also look to their undefended rear.

Yet when Findelfin had awoken in the night, convicted by the strange tossings of his dream that something called to him (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?22388-A-Legacy-of-Blood) from the depths of Lindequalmë, his captains had tried to talk him down. And their arguments were sensible. He was a leader now, it was no longer time to adventure. Why risk a stray arrow to the heart when he was needed to guide his people? And a strike too soon or in the wrong place and without proper planning, either could be disastrous, it could galvanize the enemy to attack before they were ready to defend themselves.

It was all true. But still, though he could not remember the wordless dream that troubled his spirit on that night, he knew that he had to go. He was obligated to go. Something in the forest needed his help. And for some reason, a thought gnawed in the back of his mind. He could not shake the feeling that he was to blame for this inchoate psychic distress signal. To refrain from going would be betraying someone he knew.

And so now he crested a low hill, and before him spread the vast Red Forest, Lindequalmë. Slowing Pelektar to a trot, he moved forward cautiously, trying to stay low, to move in shadows cast by the clouds over the moon. There was never any knowing what might watch from the low-slung boughs of this cursed woodland, and there was no point in tempting fate now. As he reached the edge of the forest, he dismounted, pulling a few bags of supplies from her back, just enough for one to carry comfortably. Turning to face Pelektar, who he had ridden gently enough that she would be able to get back on her own steam, he whispered softly to her in the tongue of his people.

"Shhhh, Striking One. Travel quickly, do not let yourself be captured, and to Coiameth with all haste. I shall come for you there when this is through. Noro lim!"

He pulled the reins from off her head, setting her free to move as wisdom moved her. Without protest or hesitation, she turned and set off, and he watched her disappear over the low rise. I will see her again, he told himself. This forest will not be the end of me.

Folding the reins up, he slipped them into a side pouch on the pack he bore, then hoisted it up, slinging it over one side of his body while leaving him room to reach his sword or his bow should a Dur'Taigen threaten or a Fealotë come too near. For now, he had laid his plans. He would head for the Glenrunen, one of the few areas in the forest consecrated by Turlin magicks. Whether it still stood consecrated or not was an open question, for evil had a way of despoiling the havens set in the forest by elves. But it was a good first step, especially for a journey as ill-formed as the one he was embarking upon.

With a deep breath, and the ambiguous sense that he was either doing something very great or something very foolish, Findelfin took his first steps into the Red Forest in many years. He hoped he would live to come out again.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Raiaera, a land of magic and mystery. Rehtul had come hoping to learn more of his powers, despite the fact that the land had been torn apart by the war with the necromancer Xem’Xund. He had heard tell that the damage to the vast continent had been terrible, but this was beyond anything he had ever seen. He found himself drawn to the former site of Valinatal, his curiosity piqued. He dared not venture too close, for he had heard from his Uncle that there were people who called the desolate land home that he would rather not meet.

Two of those people had helped his Uncle in the past, but only temporarily, and neither seemed to keen on his Uncle’s quests for the blessing of all the Thayne. Thus, the young Mystic travelled around the burned out husk of a city and onward toward the Red Forest. The place was considered dangerous, but there was one thing that drew the young man onward. He’d heard tell that the liviol woods in the forest were second to none, and that one could be the envy of all mages if one carried a well made liviol staff.

After cresting a rise in a hill, the young man looked out across a small plain to the edge of a forest. “That must be it…” he said to himself. He’d developed the habit of talking to himself, even arguing with himself over the course of his learning. He often had no one to talk to, so his own company was all that he could count on. It often helped him focus on problems, attacking it from differing angles with far flung points of view. He would argue with himself concerning the merits of both points and build his way towards a final conclusion, whether it was one of the points he’d been arguing for, a compromise between them, or some other random thing that had entered his head.

At this point, he was arguing the pros and cons of entering the Red Forest. It was supposed to be highly dangerous, even for one well versed in magic or other means of defending oneself. “I probably won’t last in there too long if I go it alone…” he said. “But think of the liviol… a single branch would make me the envy of so many other mages…” he retorted. “Alright… I’ll go in, get what I’m after, and get out. Yeah… that’ll work.”

He straightened his back and cracked his knuckles before heading down the other side of the grassy knoll he was perched upon. It was at that moment that he saw another person entering the forest. “If another person is going in the forest, it might be prudent to travel with them. After all, there is safety in numbers.” He paused for a moment to consider that perhaps the person was not friendly, but he had little time to think about it. Soon, the person would be inside the forest, and a person could get lost in there rather quickly.

He ran as fast as he could to catch up before the person disappeared completely from his line of sight. When he was within earshot, he spoke, “Greetings. Might I not accompany you into this forest, sir? I’m seeking something within, and I believe I would be safer with someone accompanying me.” He stayed far enough out of reach that he could run if he had made a mistake and begun talking to a dangerous person, but close enough he could hear an answer without the man having to shout at him. Whatever lived within that forest, if one spoke too loudly it could easily come out and attack them.