In Defense of Life

[Sidhe]

A red ocean of leaves spread out below Sidhe as far as his eyes could see. Lindequalmë’s beautifully tinted woods masked a dangerous world under its crimson canopy. Soul eating flowers and wolf-trees aside, some blight was said to have befallen large regions of the Red Forest. The redheaded crane soaring above it was not idly wafting on the thermals, as it seemed. Sidhe had been roaming Raiaera for months now, without any real aim or purpose. Only recently did he begin to feel a pulsing ache of the land, guttural turmoil that had to be accounted for. This, coupled with rumors among the elven people of something making entire acres of the southern half of the continent infertile, was enough to send the avatar of nature in search for answers.

Nothing here for us but varying shades of red, he thought as he shifted his feathers and began to descend.

His traveling companion, a minute black spider hidden among the feathers at the base of his neck, was scratching at the surface of his skin to signal her displeasure. They’d been flying for hours and hadn’t stopped once. Thea didn’t like to fly. So when Sidhe spotted a decent clearing, he quickly folded his wings and went into an angular dive. Air rushed past his streamline form and the ground whipped up at him. Just before they collided, Sidhe spread his wings wide to catch air and slow his descent. A couple of stabilizing flaps later and his feet were set firmly on Raiaera’s rich earth.

Moments later, he returned to his original form. The bird’s slender white neck began to shrink as the rest of it expanded. Feathers melted together to form leather clothes and his beak retracted to make a mouth. In a few seconds he stood upright, fully human with staff in hand. He flexed his muscles experimentally to get reacquainted with them. Sidhe had always found the most off-putting thing about changing shape to be the shift in his body’s physical make-up. Using arms that had recently been wings to wave a talymer staff around just felt weird.

“I’ll never get used to it, Thea,” he announced to the small arachnid now hidden under his shirt collar.

After shaking off the post-morphing effects, Sidhe began jaunting through the red foliage toward the sound of running water. He had hoped to land near a river, but it was hard to keep track of the many thin streams that snake through the woods of Raiaera. As it was, ten minute’s time found Sidhe meditating on a rock by the edge of a rapid brook. The rushing sound muted everything else and soothed his troubled mind. He sat cross-legged with eyes closed trying to commune with the life around him. He was irritated that he was so willing to act against an unknown threat but incapable of finding a single concrete trace of it. His meditation did little more than renew the feeling that something was amiss in Lindequalmë.

Why do you ache? he silently asked the forest.

Getting no immediate reply, he continued to sit silently and attempt to identify his sense of looming violence against life. Thea walked freely on his immobile shape, knowing he wouldn’t be disturbed out of his trance by so light a touch as hers. She had free reign and soon climbed the summit of her owner’s head. From there, she took in the sun’s heat while keeping all eight eyes on anything that moved nearby. There was a vine climbing up the side of the boulder Sidhe was on. Empowered by his presence, it began to slowly grow in a spiral pattern up the rock. Troubled, Thea watched the green tendril closely as it continued its ascent, rotating on her perch.

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[Raelyse]

They might spend their time lifting boulders and making clubs of trees but rampaging giants could not even begin to stop the ambition of the prince of Myrusia. He had set out from his teenage years with the sole aim of making a mark, leaving his imprint upon every place that he had reached. More than a few told tales of his skills with the blade or his effortless proficiency with magic. Perhaps even more spread whispered, giggling gossip of his exploits with the female populace. But all of this was wives' talk. At first Raelyse smiled when he rode into town and with a wave of his hat, women's knees weakened and men practiced with their weapons just that bit harder. Then he realized that this would mean nothing in a few year's times. He would become a myth, a story with only illegitimate children seeking him out or even knowing that he existed.

The Bladesingers was the perfect solution. Raiaera's elite fighting force were stronger with the prince in their ranks and were an ideal stepping stone for Raelyse, who was quickly advancing through the hierarchy. He knew that once he reached the top or was close enough to it, opportunities would throw themselves at him for him to become a hero. So when his latest mission was presented to him, he welcomed it with open arms.

Despite his high rank, Raelyse always dismissed lower ranked officers who were assigned to him as bodyguards. Portraying himself as the ever caring, flawlessly good hearted Bladesinger was taxing and he took every opportunity to revert to his greedy, haughty self in isolation. That was only the first reason though. The prince knew that chances would reveal themselves where he would be much better if he was alone. Maybe a spoil that he could take for himself or a damsel he could bed. None of this with those pesky companions who would report him to superiors. He might be ambitious, but he was also a shameless hedonist.

Today's mission tasked the prince to ride out into the Red Forest, where he was to inspect a disorder within one of Raiaera's biggest landmarks. Raelyse's fine mount rode him there in a matter of hours and he was barely tired when he slowed the horse down as it fearlessly trotted into the imposing forest. Instinctively, the prince's fingers fell to the handle of his sheathed rapier, secured to his waist. Countless dangers were within striking distance of him and he needed to be ever vigilant to ensure he did not end up fertilizer for his killer.

That didn't seem to be an issue though today, which was a strange occurrence in this normally deadly area.

"So this was why they sent me, Valon," Raelyse mused to his horse. He patted the white horse's mane gently and heard it neigh pleasantly. "Let's go figure out what's making this hell hole so hospitable."

Patience flowed out of Raelyse like sand from a hourglass only much faster. Nothing seemed out of place, except the lack of aggressiveness this day. It wasn't long before the prince quickened the horse's pace, though in the narrow paths between trees, he only had to slow moments later which only seemed to feed fire to his frustration. Only when the first figure he had seen in the forest since he had entered reveal himself did he temporarily relax.

The prince dismounted, jumping off his white horse and grabbing it by its reins and guiding it towards the man he had seen. He was wearing rather scruffy clothing, which didn't seem to compare to the intricate and expensive clothes that Raelyse had on his person. The prince figured that he was in the presence of some form of druid. The way that he sat on that rock, contemplating only seemed to heighten that hypothesis. It wasn't alien for their kind to play with flora, making them magically grow, so it didn't surprise Raelyse to see a vine creeping up the rock. Only when he saw it reaching for the man's body did he hesitate. He wanted answers from this man, not a demonstration of how vines could encircle his body and how he could commune with nature.

Magic flowed through the prince's body as he opened his palm and faced it towards the vine. Almost instantly after, the vine stopped its advance, freezing in place. The plant gradually lost color until it was visibly duller. When Raelyse clicked his fingers moments later, the frozen vine shattered into millions of ice shards at the base of the rock, releasing a sound akin to glass breaking across the forest, more than getting the attention of the druid.

"Well met, master druid," Raelyse said loudly, throwing his long silver hair behind his ears to reveal his eyes, burning with unstoppable ambition. "I am Raelyse, Bladesinger from Eluriand. Do you mind stopping your play session with the plants of the Red Forest? I'm sure you sense the danger that tinges the air."

Raelyse tugged Valon forward, moving to within five feet of the druid. He threw his coat backwards, revealing the rapier that lay sheathed and strapped to his belt. The prince could feel the energy that vibrated from the enchanted weapon and knew that the druid could sense it to some extent as well.

"I'm sure we would make fine allies," he said, flashing a smirk that didn't exactly ooze reliability.

[Sidhe]

Sidhe’s eyes flew open at the sound of shattering ice around him. He was abruptly seized from his meditative trance and returned to the real world of sight and sound. The sounds were harsh enough on their own, but what he saw was even more displeasing. Before him stood a young man of some strength draped in the most aristocratic of garb for a trek through the forest, complete with well-fed steed in tow. Here was a person who valued appearance and monetary acquisition to an extent that obviously outstripped Sidhe’s. Not usually one to judge, the avatar was put on the defensive by the unnecessary destruction of his spell’s subject. Thea, too, had been obviously startled. She clicked her many legs rapidly to come and stand at Sidhe’s left shoulder, facing this new development by his side.

“The only danger I’ve encountered thus far in these woods,” Sidhe spoke clearly over the rushing water, “is your wanton disregard for the sanctity of life for your personal displays. A simple ‘excuse me’ would have sufficed.”

What is it about taking life for show that gives people such a jolly?

He stood fully erect on the rock, with considerable height on the boy. Sidhe gripped the staff in his left hand tightly, though it bore little chance against the rapier at the youth’s hip. Like its master, the blade seemed to radiate with self-assurance at its own power. A strong wind blew through their patch of forest, pulling at their clothes and releasing a cascade of red leaves from the canopy above. Initial distaste was not enough to make the avatar of nature seek open conflict with this man. He relaxed the grip on his talymer staff slightly and stepped down from the boulder to stand before the Bladesinger without sign of intimidation. A few breaths gave Sidhe the coolness of mind to go on less aggressively.

“It is a… pleasure to meet you Raelyse, agent of Eluriand. My name is Sidhe. If you, too, have come to ease the suffering of the land, then we indeed find ourselves allies of circumstance.”

He paused to extend his right hand in open invitation.

“However, you misplace my affiliation with the druidic order. I am likewise a servant of nature’s call, but my initiation to its fold was presided over by more grand a master than they.”

A first impression of dislike was now giving way to unbridled curiosity for this man. What would one such as he be doing here in service of the elves? In Sidhe’s experience, the aristocracy of Althanas cared for little else than surrounding themselves with expensive trinkets and entertaining guests in the lavish styles expected of them. This well-groomed individual instead saw fit to share his handsome face with the birds and trees of Raiaera’s red woods. Obviously, there had to be more to this man than what could be surmised at first glance. Sidhe resolved to keep a close eye on him in hopes that his motives were revealed in time.

Beauty is only skin deep, he thought to himself.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Excellence is achieved through action.

The words of Tura Niemonar ran through Findelfin's head as he pressed ever deeper into the Red Forest. Moving slowly and carefully, Findelfin's eyes never stopped flitting from one thing to the next, watching for anything lurking in the foliage. Once already he had stumbled on a tree root that had not been there when he looked the first time, and nearly fallen right onto a snake resting quietly in the undergrowth. And knowing this forest, it was sure to have been a venomous snake.

And so he had learned already a certain truth about traveling in the Red Forest -- always look twice. And so he did, checking the base of every tree for the tell-tale signs of the Dur'Taigen, keeping an eye on the roots that seemed to shift when no one was looking, and trying to avoid patches where the undergrowth seemed to be a sea of unending crimson. Although the Red Forest was seldom ventured into, there did seem to be paths among the leaves that were less treacherous than others, and Findelfin was getting to be quite good at finding them.

Tura Niemonar had been quite plain: To master the songs of Turlin, you must spend some time in the Red Forest. To understand purity you must experience corruption. I will not teach you until you can bring me something from the Red Forest that proves you have been there. It had been a crushing blow: Tura Niemonar had a reputation as the strongest teacher in the entire school, and Findelfin had been specifically instructed by the High Bard to learn from him. And once he had enrolled, he had been sent away from Eluriand immediately to muck about in the woods. But he had his own reasons as well; he had seen things in Raiaera's mountains, not a few months past, that made him want to know what might be happening in Raiaera's forests.

Findelfin moved farther in, knife at ready, eyes alert, with all his senses tuned to high. He could hear, for instance, some people discussing something not too far away. He moved slowly in their general direction, hoping to discover what reasons there were for fools to be abroad in Lindequalmë.

[Raelyse]

Despite the fact that numerous particles of dirt had failed to escape his vision, the prince of Myrusia pushed past his normal instincts and grabbed tightly onto Sidhe's hand. It was a handshake of shifty alliance for Raelyse could not help but eye this one uneasily and he knew for certain that he was seen in no different light. Still, the prince flashed a confident smile, one that betrayed the friendliness that sparkling white teeth boasted. Reinforced by the steady handshake, the prince almost believed for a second that the two trusted each other. Almost.

"Danger? Me?" Raelyse said between laughs, pulling his hand free and resting his body weight on the elegant cane which stood firm in his right hand. "I am of no danger to anyone that does not deserve it. And you my friend, certainly deserve nothing more than my smile."

Now that there was a slight pause in the conversation, the prince allowed himself a brief moment to analyze the man that stood so confidently in one of Raiaera's most dangerous areas. He was sure of himself, that much was certain and even more assured about the cause that he served. His tensed muscles that quivered with power told the prince that Sidhe would make a fine ally on any day. The prince of Myrusia would definitely do well to make sure that this one did not view him as an enemy. Whatever blighted the forest was his main aim, this Sidhe would be secondary objective until that objective was complete.

Then, Raelyse would assess and remedy the situation with the fellow the best that he could. At that time, it would not matter whether he was ranger, druid or knight. No one stood in the way of Raelyse's ambition.

A tingling sensation quivered through the prince's body moments later, halting immediately whatever train of thought was running through his mind. It took him another moment to process it, but it was definitely one of his powers activating. A powerful being approached, one that radiated energy, though only Raelyse's highly attuned sensitivity to magic ensured that he would sense it. The power matched the prince's, though it was different. If this one wanted a fight, Raelyse was confident he would win as long as his newfound companion sided with him.

Perfect.

"Master Sidhe," Raelyse murmured just loud enough for his new ally to hear. He tilted his head slightly to the right. "A stranger approaches from the north."

The prince shifted his body posture slightly, tensing muscles that had laid dormant and bored for too long these days. Fingers ached to slide around the handle of one of his fine swords, arms hungered to unsheathe the blades and ears begged for the sound of metal ringing through the air.

But Raelyse resisted.

"Let us demonstrate our loyalty to this cause. Let us find out whether the poison that burns at the Red Forest reveals itself to us," the prince said, in that soft murmur that only Sidhe could hear, surely.

The powerful being approached, closer and closer, until Raelyse had to pant slightly to resist the urge to engage him straight away. But that was not the way of the goodly people and as long as Sidhe was in his presence and he had not finished his mission, Raelyse was an angel.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Still alert, his feet falling deftly upon the thinnest points in the undergrowth, Findelfin stalked forward. The voices had died away, but his guess was that he would see them soon enough. Judging from the texture of the air -- thick and humid -- he assumed they would be standing in one of the thinner places of the forest where the Escaldor River flowed past.

He could now intuit the faint sound of water -- ever-so-slight, for this was no rushing stream but rather a broad and deep source of life for the entire forest. Although undoubtedly filled with subtle poisons and deadly creatures, it still managed to feed Lindequalmë with water; it was the closest thing to uncorrupted life that one could find in the whole region.

Suddenly the river came into view, and with it two figures. What was worse, one of them stared directly as Findelfin as the elven warrior emerged from behind a tree, and nodded slowly. It was as if he knew I was here the whole time! The thought deeply disturbed Findelfin; he was better in woodcraft than most, and he could tell that the person now staring at him was no elf. He was traveling quietly, and none but elven ears should have detected his presence. But something in the man's face struck him as familiar, and he wore the sigils and signs of a Bladesinger. Although it was not common for men to serve as Megilindari, it was not unheard of.

Putting aside his initial concerns, and knowing there was now no point in trying to creep up on the figures to intuit their purpose, he decided to approach cautiously and announce himself. Flinging back his cloak in a gesture that bespoke both friendship and clearly revealed the hilt of his weapon, he called out as loud as he dared, "What brings travelers abroad in such a dangerous place? Surely no treasure is worth your soul..."

Stepping forward, he noticed a bulbous growth at the base of the small hillock on which the two figures stood, and quickly stooped to earth to sever it from its roots. "This, for instance, is no simple vine, but a Ruilserk. It is not the kind of decoration you trail along a fence. It will sap your lifeforce away in a minute and render you, for all intents and purposes, a plant just like it is...only with far less cunning." Examining it for a minute, he said, "Although it does look like someone did away with this one, albeit only temporarily -- leave the bulb and it will return in time. But if it was one of you, I will admit that you know how to carry yourself in such dangerous places." His gaze naturally fell to the one dressed as a Bladesinger. And the gaze carried with it a question, unspoken but not unheard.

Bladesinger, what is your mission?

[Sidhe]

“Some of us have less to fear from Lindequalmë’s flora than others, wise elf,” Sidhe allowed with a knowing smile. “Besides, blood vines get much bigger than that in these woods.”

This golden-haired native sported a strong, yet passive stance towards them. It was a form of stoic neutrality that was so characteristic of travelers meeting unexpectedly in the wild. This way, the humans both knew the elf meant them no immediate or obvious harm while still fully aware that his sword would take little effort to unsheathe. The elf gave good advice, at any rate, demonstrating knowledge essential to anyone volunteering themselves to explore the Red Forest. It had taken Sidhe more than ten months of roaming around the outer border of Lindequalmë before he felt confident to explore its inner depths for the first time. Yet, as he had insinuated, Sidhe now had less to worry about from its vegetative perils than others.

To illustrate this point, the leather-clad adventurer looked over the elf’s shoulder and caught sight of a tree branch with promising-looking red berries not five feet behind. Pointing his staff in its direction for show, Sidhe obliged the branch in question to grow beyond the reaches of its peers. The bark stretched and creaked with the effort of sustaining the suddenly expanding limb. As this happened, it turned slowly and came unmistakably toward the trio by the river. While under this spell, plants no longer responded to the stimuli of water and heat, but instead obeyed Sidhe’s quiet direction; hence his lack of concern for the Ruilserk before. The guided branch passed over the elf’s head and then curved downward to present its bushel of fruit in mid-air for all three of them.

“Now here’s a bunch of tricky buggers if ever I saw one,” Sidhe chuckled nonchalantly, not wanting to make the meeting of three strangers any more awkward than it had to be. “I couldn’t count the times I’ve been tossing and turning in my bed from eating the wrong ones.”

He pointed at some small, purple orbs among the berries for demonstration.

“The trick is, see, to wait till all the berries in a bunch are done ripening. That’s how you know there’s no poison in the whole gang. Now, since we don’t want to wait the season…”

With another unnecessary flourish of his staff, Sidhe prompted the purple berries to swell and brighten at an advanced pace. After several seconds, they were all as red and juicy as could be wished. Setting an example, the older human picked the one nearest him and popped it into his open mouth. The meat of it was fleshy and sweet, running most agreeably down his throat. He felt more than willing to have another, but took a step back to see what the others would make of this olive branch. His demeanor welcomed them to partake in turn.

“May I ask your name, friend?” Sidhe inquired of the elf. “I am Sidhe of Knife’s Edge and this is…”

He indicated Raelyse but neglected to complete the introduction, figuring it was the boy’s right to present himself however he wished.

[Raelyse]

Petty druidic magic, even one that generated apparently delicious fruits, had no chance of impressing Raelyse or come close to earning his trust. Sidhe was intelligent in his actions though, apparently trying to break the ice and get the trio talking and relaxing for a moment. At a different time in a different place, there was a chance that the prince would give him the time of day. Not now though. Raelyse stepped away from the extending branch and the fruit.

"Unfortunately, I make it a habit not to dine from foliage," the prince said, rather snobbishly as he turned his posture to face the elf, his body relaxing to reveal a much more relaxed frame. Raelyse didn't trust Sidhe just yet and wouldn't eat something like that in any case. Shifting his attention to the elf, he subtly and quickly eyed him from head to toe, from the peaks of his golden hair to his footwear, which had not a trace of the forest on it, thanks to his grace. Raelyse knew that this one was skilled and would definitely be one who the prince would much rather be fighting with rather than against. It would be best to try and appease him, at least for now.

"I am Raelyse," he said to the elf, in his accented, yet steady command of the Raiaeran language. "My mission is to deduce the reason why the Red Forest has not been feasting so heartily in the past days. I'm sure you have sensed something alien in the Red Forest, at least to some degree."

The prince of Myrusia moved to a nearby tree and secured his mount to a thick, sturdy branch before returning to the other two. The time he spent tying a secure knot was more than enough time for him to grant himself some private time to think to himself. He still didn't trust either of them. If that didn't change soon, this would be a difficult mission. And yet, he had to make sure he didn't jump into the arms of friendship too soon. Raelyse was no novice to adventuring. He knew there were people out there like him, who would exploit goodly hearts.

"Now that we have revealed our intentions," Raelyse said in Common, turning to eye the elf shiftily. "It would only be polite of you to reveal yours."

The prince returned to the duo, allowing himself a quick second to eye the elf once more. He seemed honest enough with no ill ambitions, or he was as good a liar as Raelyse. Hopefully the latter was not true. The prince wanted no rivals for whatever spoils he could garner from this situation. If the elf had wicked intentions, it would almost be guaranteed that they would get in each other's way.

Whatever happened though, Raelyse just hoped that this mission would stop complicating itself. At this rate, he would find out the life stories of his companions before they even left this clearing.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin was impressed at the Salvaran's knowledge of the woods, but he did not take the berries. What was harmless to one skilled in the arts Sidhe displayed might still contain poison for the one with less skill. And Findelfin knew well he could not bid berries to ripen or Soul Vines to crawl where he wished.

As the two introduced themselves, he quickly decided not to reveal himself. Or at least, his true self. He had heard of Raelyse before, here and there in reports that occasionally crossed his desk. But out here in the wild he was not to be Findelfin ap Fingolfin, Dagorathar of Raiaera, commander of both Tel Aglarim and the Noble Guild of Bladesingers. Out here he was a student of Turlin magic. An advanced student, true, but a student nonetheless.

"My intentions are simple. I study the arts of purification at Istien University, and my teacher sent me here to gain experience...Tura Niemonar is a firm believer that nothing can be purified unless it is first corrupted. And so he sent me here to study corruption."

Giving a slight bow, and letting his cloak fall back over his sword hilt as an indication of good faith, he said, "My name is Cildorian, graduate of Istien and student of the deeper mysteries."

Smiling at both of them, he said, "At it appears you have a deeper mystery at work here. Shall we try to solve it together?"

((Cildorian is "Person-Hidden" in Elvish. It should raise suspicion for anyone who speaks Elvish))

[Sidhe]

“Your offer to help is well met, Cildorian,” Sidhe grinned, voicing the alias with a tone of deeper recognition.

He’d learned the elven tongue long ago on his pilgrimage through Raiaera. However, he made no further reference to it and popped another couple of berries into his mouth. He couldn’t blame the others for not joining in. Too often were Althanians covering their heads in memory of past grief, only making themselves blind to the helping hand before them. It was a survival instinct, to harden one’s shell thus. It saddened Sidhe that things were so, but even he could not let his guard down around new and unknown persons. Actions spoke louder than words and these two had only demonstrated a flair for freezing plants and sneaking up on others so far. So, though he was honest in his peaceful intent and kind manner, he was wary. It’s the only way nice guys don’t finish last.

After a pause, Sidhe attempted to break the silence.

“Well, now that’s-”

KRRRRRREEEAAAAAAAAAAK

He was upstaged by a terrible sound splitting the forest. From somewhere upriver, the gut-wrenching noise of bark being snapped under tremendous pressure reached the trio. It started with a soft creaking as the first splintering occurred from stress and was followed by an almighty crack that sent flocks of birds flying irately from their perches in the canopy, protesting with all their dissonantly shrill voices. It then began again and repeated itself with disturbing regularity. For a couple of seconds after each of these explosive sounds there was utter silence in the woods, then the creaking would start revving up again from a low whisper and soon another blast was released. The eerie, disembodied clamor chilled Sidhe to the bone.

What is doing that?

The question was one he felt sure all three adventurers shared in that moment. Unable to bear hearing the dreadful melody repeat itself any longer without acting, the avatar sped off toward its source without a word. With the river to his left, his practiced legs leapt over tree limbs and patches of clinging foliage as his ears guided him forth, not bothering to see if the others were following. He felt the rush of air cling at his hair and clothes, but paid no mind, squinting through watering eyes. Thea quickly relinquished her post on his shoulder to hug the skin between his shoulder blades, safe under a protective layer of leather. The river curved away ahead, but Sidhe didn’t slow his pace as he plunged into denser woods, now bobbing between superfluous trunks. It seemed to him to thin close up ahead though, and the violent noise was louder than ever.

All of a sudden, he burst out of the trees into the single most appalling scene he had witnessed to date. He now stood within a circle roughly a hundred feet in diameter. Within its arc, the ground was not grassy and fertile as in the rest of the forest. The earth had been blackened beyond recognition and severely cracked throughout. The few trees remaining within the circle’s perimeter were also horridly changed, their normally crimson leaves tainted a dying grey. Sidhe found this so distressing in itself that he did not immediately register the source of the noise they’d heard by the river, but it was soon made painfully clear to him.

As he looked, a mighty oak just in front of him began to glow a soft violet. The alien aura consumed the massive tower of leaves at a deliberate pace, starting with the now characteristic hum of countless splinters. It seemed to Sidhe to happen in slow motion. Every inch of its tainted spire bent in on itself, snapping and cracking in places under enormous pressure. The force then spread lower to the thicker branches, intensifying the unpleasant cacophony. He’d heard it happen before, so he knew exactly what to expect. The avatar gasped in horror as the stress reached the oak’s trunk and made it squeeze tightly inward until it snapped with a tremendous release of climactic sound, collapsing the entire structure to a pile of dried bark and twigs.

Sidhe fell to his knees and dropped his talymer weapon, feeling himself drained by what he’d seen. After the clockwork pause, however, a new tree was besieged by the odd purple light. Not stopping to think, the avatar of nature immediately stood and raised both hands toward the oak to evoke his powers as best he could in defense of its life. As he did this, two things happened unexpectedly. First, the offending aura dispersed suddenly with a shrill whine of metal on metal. Second, dozens of rotting hands broke fiercely upward through the black ground, sending dust and rubble flying through the air. The appendages, in various stages of decomposition, began pulling the rest of their interred bodies upward, breaking through the earth amid ghostly moans. Sidhe’s actions had somehow triggered an undead exodus from the soil.

Now all I need to know is how to get them back into it, he thought as he lifted his staff from the ground and pointed its blunted steel tip toward the animated corpse nearest him.

[Raelyse]

The awkwardness of the silence between the three of them was not lost on Raelyse and he was more than relieved when the sound of trees being destroyed rang throughout the forest and more importantly, through the ears of each of the three in the clearing. Not as attuned to the forest as the other two, his first thought was to simply watch them deduce the cause of the situation by themselves and just lend his help when strength of hand was a virtue required more than quickness of mind. That option quickly threw itself out of the window when Sidhe strangely sprinted off into the distance. The prince of Myrusia could not help but chuckle to himself. Ironic that the one wanted to break the ice was the first one to dash off. Hardly surprising though considering now that someone was attacking his precious trees.

Raelyse turned to Clidorian, someone that he had come to trust even less now that he knew his name, and shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly and flashed the elf a silent smile. He gestured towards his cane, which he was now leaning heavily against and moved for his horse. Even though he was more than capable, the prince of Myrusia was in no mood for a dash through the forest, espicially when a fine mount such as Valon was in his presence. He moved to undo his horse's reins at a leisurely manner, twirling the straps slowly around the trees in a matter as ornate as possible. Predictably, when he finally turned back to glance at the elf, he saw that he had vanished, already chasing after Sidhe. Still, that was the way that Raelyse had wanted to happen. If left to his own devices, the prince would surely get lost in the endless expanse of the red forest. Now that Clidorian would soon be in Sidhe's presence, he had a homing beacon that he could easily seek out using his magical talents and prevent the humiliation of arriving later than the other two.

As soon as he had jumped aboard Valon and rode the white horse from the clearing, it became obvious that he needed no such thing to guide him. Now that he was no longer focused completely inwards on himself, he could hear clearly the sound of the grand trees within the Red Forest being felled. Even though he could really care less about the state of Raiaera's flora, the prince knew that if the frequent sounds did really indicate a tree collapsing, power of grand potential was demonstrating itself. Was this the blight that had weakened the Red Forest? Impatient for the answer, Raelyse whipped the reins on his horse and followed the direction of the enormous crashing sound. Valon grew slower the closer that they got and that was when the prince knew that this was surely that blight if it could rile the well trained horse so easily. He only whipped the creature cruelly harder, beckoning it to advance on something that it clearly feared.

The sight of a gigantic tree falling to the ground, sending a flurry of splinters and leaves across the area was enough to make even Raelyse freeze in his tracks. That was not what caught his attention though for just a few feet away, he found his companion from before, his arms thrust forward, as he evoked his magical talent to try and save the tree. That was not what the prince saw however. He saw a man thrusting his hands forward as corpses crawled out of the ground in front of him.

"What have you done?" the prince shouted in rage, alerting all that did not notice his prior arrival. He jumped off his horse emphatically and glared at Sidhe. Distrust quickly turned to rage as the prince unsheathed his rapier, the fine blade Lhustaril before triggering the magic that would prepare him for battle. A few confident steps towards Sidhe was all that Valon needed and the horse sprinted off into the distance, visibly frightened by the simultaneous resurrection of the undead and the harm to nature. Raelyse didn't care though.

He had found the blight.

"What have you done?" the prince repeated, this time louder and angrier.

[Sighter Tnailog]

((C-I-L-Dorian, not C-L-I))

Findelfin could scarcely believe how foolhardy the shaman was. The sounds were indeed terrifying and painful to hear, but he did not see that this was any reason to plunge headlong between the trunks of Raiaera's most dangerous forest. And in this forest, wisdom would be to move away from such a cacophony, not towards it.

But Sidhe had already moved. The druid's skill in controlling the vegetation was impressive, but Findelfin doubted his mastery would extend to mesmerizing an entire pack of Dur'Taigen. With surefooted steps, he melted into the forest, following both the terrible sounds of cracking tree-trunks and the more subtle sounds of Sidhe's push through the trees. Although Sidhe was moving faster than Findelfin, losing ground was a tradeoff Findelfin was willing to make. He would not run the risk of falling headfirst into a trap.

Behind him, he could hear Raelyse, and what could only be a horse. Still more foolishness! A mount was good enough while near the river, but get too deep into the forest and any horse was bound to break a leg or throw a shoe at the most inopportune time. There was a reason Findelfin had left his own steed, Pelektar, safely stabled at Carnelost.

But for now, Raelyse's horse was swifter than Findelfin could move, and soon he could hear the horse ahead of him. He could only intuit where he was by the sounds, and in a moment he could tell that Raelyse's mount had been reined in, and heard shouts of anger coming from just ahead.

Quickening his pace as much as he dared, Findelfin soon emerged into a blackened, charred wasteland. And what he saw chilled him, for he had seen it before.

There was an army of them, the bodies of men and of his fallen comrades. Bold swordstrokes proved futile, the strength of bow and blade blunted by the ferocity of gaping mouths and festering flesh. They were forced ever back to the walls, then to the inner city, where they watched in pain and horror as Eluriand fell to the enemy.

Paying no attention to Sidhe nor Raelyse, Findelfin drew Ainalindil in a flash. It was probably an unwise decision; the blade was well-known by most Raiaerans, and Bladesingers at least would recognize its pale light. The blade that had led the last desperate charge at Eluriand, the blade that had flickered but had not gone out. Leveling it at the nearest undead monster, Findelfin concentrated for a split second. A burst of white light shot with devastating accuracy from the swordtip, striking the ghoul full in the face. It was knocked backwards by the force of the blow, its entire body wrapped in the glow of purification, and where it fell, it did not rise again.

With an angry cry, Findelfin shot three more such blasts at random into the mess of ghouls, then raised his sword heavenward and charged. He had seen undead claim the most beloved city of the elves once, and he would not let it happen again.

[Sidhe]

Findelfin made his arrival plain by blasting one of the moaning puppets of flesh full in the face with a blazing white beam. Raelyse, for his part, saw fit to accuse Sidhe of summoning these abominations himself and brandish a sword at him, but the avatar had little breath to spare in defense of his honor that moment. The nearest of the undead threats launched itself toward him with claws scratching at the air. Before it reached him, however, he used the far-reaching length of his staff to smash it into the side of its blank face. The monster fell with a dull thud, but began to rise again almost immediately with a stubborn groan. Sidhe then took aim at another of them on the opposite side of him and bashed the butt of his staff into its pained visage. It toppled just as easily as the first but exhibited the same resilience in rising again.

“If these minions were my own,” he spat at Raelyse in his aggressive stance, “don’t you think I might set them on a different target, you fool?”

Mr. Nice Guy was gone. When survival instincts kicked in, courtesy was no longer a priority for the avatar. Becoming quickly surrounded, he swung his staff around in an arc at neck height in an effort to give himself some breathing room. It worked. The ghouls that didn’t step back to avoid the whistling rod had their necks snapped before it went on with its trajectory, their heads coming to rest limply on shoulders still willing to support their weight. During this, Sidhe launched his free left hand into the back of his collar and retrieved a severely agitated Thea. As the staff came around full circle, he spoke softly to the spider in his palm.

“Make yourself scarce, friend,” he managed between deep breaths. “I think things are going to get messy.

Appearing to get the idea, she aimed her spinneret upward and launched a trail of silk to catch the air and glide away. Her miniscule form was quickly lost to Sidhe as he began to transform. The hair all over his body began to lengthen and become dense while simultaneously being dyed pale. His nose and mouth elongated to form a snout with teeth that sharpened and curved. His leather garb soon melted away to be replaced with a natural coat of thick white and grey fur. The shape change took a couple of seconds, giving the ghouls ample time to recover from his desperate swing. This left Sidhe completely surrounded by five of the creatures by the time he’d fully assumed the shape of Salvar’s enormous timber wolves, standing some three and a half feet off the ground on all fours.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt for the closest one, whose neck had been previously fractured. Sidhe’s canine teeth bore deep into the bruised flesh where his staff had struck, sending the attacker flailing back from the added weight. When they fell to the ground, Sidhe put a paw on its chest as if to hold it down and delivered a violent yank from his powerful new jaws to finish the job, severing the head from the rest of the body as it rolled idly away on the black earth. The zombie tasted terrible, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind. Then a strong hand grabbed at the avatar’s tail and obliged him to curl his muscular body around to snap at the offense. He got the grip he wanted and snarled viciously as he played tug of war with the creature’s own forearm.

Like the very force of nature he pledged his life to, Sidhe presented a loving exterior, but was a sight to behold when his wrath was tempted. He soon won the struggle as something snapped and the limb came off its owner at the elbow. They had closed ranks on him again, but Sidhe welcomed the opposition now as he dropped his inert trophy, feeling the pulse of combat coursing through his veins. He became a flurry of snarling teeth and slashing claws while the clumsily moving undead attempted in vain to get a grip on the white blur. He clawed at chests, bit at legs and growled all the while in fierce determination. He had no chance to check up on how the others were doing, entertaining what felt like quite enough of the beings on his own.

[Raelyse]

His hypothesis quickly shattered thanks to common sense, the prince stumbled backwards as his pride took a blow. Too often he was too emotional to the point where he became irrational. Now was one of those times. He had already been frustrated by the complication of these two strangers and now... Undead rising in the Red Forest? Raelyse did not possess the deductive mind capable of solving this mystery or even to discover whether these two were really as disconnected with the rising corpses as they claimed that they were. Luckily for the prince, he was given extra time to think over this situation when his allies demonstrated their talents, making quick work of the undead, even if they kept rising from the dirt.

The plot thickened even more when Cildorian drew his weapon, a fine elven blade that instantly stole Raelyse's eye. He had never seen it himself, but had heard tales of the battles that it had won. Ainalindil was a sword that should only belong in the hands of Findelfin, a famed warrior from Raiaera. Cildorian would definitely have had encountered him to possess this weapon. The more Raelyse thought about it, the more time that passed, the more confused he seemed to get. Still, he decided that the best thing at least for now was to wait. When the right time came, he would find out who Cildorian really was and why Ainalindil fit so well in his grasp.

The sight of the fine blade flashing around, crushing enemies only whetted the prince's desire to slice these undead himself. His fingers itched for his own weapons, fine blades in their own right but not possessed of the stuff of legends just yet. At the rate that this tale was complicating itself, Raelyse had a feeling that Ilrathion and Lhustaril would carve themselves into bard's songs soon enough. The undead and the blight had to be connected or the prince had surely gotten himself into a situation that was beyond him.

He had never been a thinking mind, despite what he liked to think. He would much rather be fighting but since Cildorian and Sidhe were keeping the majority of the undead busy, he might as well think and survey the situation. There seemed to be no end to the way that they constantly raised themselves from the depths of the earth. Raelyse moved himself into a corner where his view was unobstructed, a way for him to get a better look.

Eyes widened when he realized the sheer rate at which these zombies were rising. He had thought that it was manageable but even if he did draw arms, their situation was dire. Without Valon, he had no chance of escape. Eyes glanced downwards, at Lhustaril which lay sheathed and tied to his waist.

"How do I get myself into these situations?" the prince said to himself, his words separated by sighs on each side. He took a deep breath in and pulled Lhustaril free of its scabbard prison, feeling a sense of relief release from his body as he gave into the temptation that had pulled at him since he had first seen the undead.

He sprinted forward, his blade raised high above his head. The next thing that Sidhe knew, a zombie's head rolled from its body next to his canine form. Bodies fell almost at the rate at which they were rising as the master swordsman severed arms and impaled rotting bodies. Still, his mind could not focus.

Raelyse could not help feeling that he was fighting against an enemy that never tired.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin well noted the quizzical light in Raelyse's eyes, but he ignored it. The time for revelations would come after these monsters were disposed of. Quickly leaping to an area clear of their influence, he launched three quick bursts of Ainalindil's purifying light. One went wide, but the other two hit their mark, stilling one zombie before it could dig its way from the ground and another as it raised a festering arm to land a blow on Sidhe while the strange shaman was occupied with another monster.

From his vantage point, Findelfin could tell that things weren't right. The flesh of the zombies was decaying, no doubt about that, but there were patches where the rot had not fully reached yet, where the dead skin seemed only one subtle hue away from the healthy pallor of life. These zombies did not have the full decay characteristic of so many of the ghouls he had fought in Eluriand, where more often than not the evil beast was nothing but a fearful mass of bones held together by magic and the will of their lord.

Their lord. These were surely zombies newly raised, and the thought sent chills down his back. But there was no time to ponder. He felt the earth churning beneath his feet, and he looked down to see a hand emerging just shy of his left boot. Quickly tapping at the hand with Ainalindil, as a mother might slap away the hand of a child reaching for a sweet, the hand stilled its movement as the blade touched it. Such was the enchantment on Ainalindil: when it touched a mortal foe, they would see and feel nothing other than the bite of cold mythril. But when it touched an enemy drawn to life by the powers of lichcraft, the Turlin enchantments on the blade would still it instantaneously.

Looking up, Findelfin could see still more undead emerging from the soil, a number too great to contain. Even with Ainalindil and the ease with which it dispatched such perils, they were too many. There was only one thing to do.

"Sidhe, Raelyse, to me!" he ran forward, slashing at an approaching zombie. It was another bad sign when the zombie dodged away. It was a sign of a more advanced intelligence than was exhibited by the minions of a less skilled necromancer. It showed that the ghastly things were beginning to learn the dangers posed to them by the blade. And learning was not something anyone wanted a ghoul doing.

"Defend me...Raelyse, take this, it will help more than your own sword thanks to the enchantment." Thrusting Ainalindil into the Bladesinger's hands, he said, "Only Music can help us now."

And with that, he began to sing. He had gauged the size of the clearing, and it was well within his power to cleanse. But it was up to Sidhe and Raelyse to protect him while he completed the incantation.

[Sidhe]

They just keep rising! the raging timber wolf thought desperately.

The wolf’s powerful muscles were giving out. Though Sidhe clawed and bit his way through the waves of festering flesh, he didn’t seem to be making a dent in their forces. The strain was making itself known in every new strike he made at them. Where Raelyse and Cildorian tore through the undead ranks relatively easily, the avatar of nature had to gnaw down necks until heads parted company with their bodies before he could be sure they wouldn’t rise again. Wolves kill by bleeding out their enemies and weakening them with a series of bites and tears. This method was proving particularly ineffectual against a foe that no longer required pumping fluids to move.

Something sinister was at work here. Though not exactly a mage in the practical sense of the art, Sidhe could nevertheless detect an odd emanation from these rotting puppets. Obviously, their mobility and awareness were bestowed upon them by a third party. The Salvaran had never witnessed necromancy before, and the experience so far was one he’d sooner wish to forget. It was an aberration of life and an interruption of the natural cycle. Their foe was tireless and fearless, as no living thing could be. These advantages posed a dire threat to upset the delicate balance of existence. If one could manipulate the dead and bolster one’s forces with the bodies of the newly fallen, there’d be little stopping the destructive potential of such an army.

The trio had repositioned itself with the elf at the center, ghouls on all sides. The golden haired being handed his potent blade over to Raelyse and promptly began to sing. Sidhe knew better than to think this a mark of resigned insanity. The elves of Raiaera had long been studying the power of song in magical application. Surely whatever Cildorian had planned was meant to rescue them from this desperate circumstance. They needed only to keep him singing for it to work. Though his four legs ached from overexertion, though his jaw was locking up from biting at bone, Sidhe had to go on. In an unexpected outburst of pure animalistic passion, he let out a tremendous howl that escaped his throat like a beacon of defiance in the flood of undead opposition.

“Let’s send them back to the earth!” he roared telepathically to his allies in a moment of divine clarity while his howl still rang in their ears

Sidhe jumped for a zombie raising a violent arm toward the elf. The next moment, the limb was a chew toy, having been ripped forcefully from the socket. There was some blood in it still, dripping a delicate crimson into the wolf’s mouth and sending the invigorating rush of a hunt through his body. The one-armed monstrosity seemed to take offence and switched targets, moaning agonizingly with blank eyes. Sidhe was about to snap at its head when he saw a pair of the creatures behind it dashing toward Cildorian as well. Since they weren’t keeping an eye on him, he managed to tear around his immediate opponent and bowl them over at the knees, gushing arm still held fast in his jaws as they tripped onto the floor. Seeing this, others seemed to divert their attention toward the singing anthropoid, and Sidhe made a chilling realization.

They’re getting smarter.

[Raelyse]

Without Cildorian's deadly blasts of purifying light, the zombies were starting to multiply and had already corralled the trio, surrounding them on all sides. Sidhe ran rings around them, attacking any that dared get close enough to the singing elf. Raelyse had no idea how to use Findelfin's sword, but could feel its magic emanate throughout his body as soon as his fingers had grabbed around the hilt. He turned his attention to the nearest ghoul and pointed the enchanted weapon's blade at it. Without a second thought, he sent his own magic through the weapon, using it as a conduit. Luckily, no device existed within it that allowed only the original user to utilize its power. A shining blast shot forward and instantly downed the zombie. The attack pierced through the dead flesh of the creature and struck another, finishing that one off as well.

A quick survey of the situation informed Raelyse that a gap had appeared in the wolf's defensive wall. Quick strides brought him to the Cildorian's front. He had no time to summon those magical blasts so he had no choice but to use the blades that he held tightly in his grasp. He twirled in front of his quarry, spinning the blades around as he did so, cleaving torsos and necks of all those closest. Raelyse finished his movement a few feet in front of Cildorian, already deep into his song. The zombies were enclosing though and abandoning his section to protect the singing elf had closed the circle in which they were trapped.

Before he had time to worry though, another zombie struck, a blow which he easily parried with Ainalindil in his off hand. The rotting hand fell to the ground and Lhustaril shot forward, piercing through the creature's torso and rising shortly afterwards, cutting from the center of the zombie's stomach all the way through his head. What remained of it fell lifeless a moment later, but not without revenge from his companion. An attack like that was more flamboyant than effective and at this point, Raelyse needed to be more economical with his attacks. His punishment was two flailing hands, one striking him straight in the face and the other in his stomach. The prince fell backwards, nearly toppling into Cildorian. Instinctively, he roared forward and brought both blades to his sides in a scissor movement, slicing the ghouls that had struck him in half at the waist. In the same movement and before the bodies had fell, he twirled around, swinging Lhustaril to strike at any that got too close while evoking another of Ainalindil's blasts to down the closest enemy.

Without time even to pant, the prince struck the nearest zombie, slicing its head off with Lhustaril before retreating, a decaying palm scratching across his lips and drawing blood. The undead stepped over their fallen comrades and advanced and even repeated blasts of Ainalindil did not discourage them.

"Why won't you fall?" Raelyse screamed at them, before slicing wildly in the area in front of them. That did discourage them but only for a moment. He had only struck them in the waist and of course, without pain they moved on.

Now as they enclosed in numbers, the prince realized just how much these creatures stunk. The stench was unbearable and only the fact that his arms were swinging blades around wildly prevented him from protecting his nostrils. That was the only thing he could do now, flail his arms around wildly with the twin blades and discourage the zombies until his arms turned soft and into jelly.

Raelyse had no idea how far Cildorian was into his song but before he had time to hope or even ask, an arm struck him and his attacks stopped for a moment allowing the ghouls to advance to within a few feet.

"Now or never, elf," Raelyse said, though he wasn't sure if his bleeding lips had even moved.

[Sighter Tnailog]

He had sung this song too many times to count. He had intoned the notes, beginning with the wordless aleatory that flowed into the more strictly regimented mixolydian fragments, in myriad circumstances. It was the first song Findelfin had ever learned, and the first he had ever used in combat; the first that had saved the life of a friend, the first that had saved his own life. By now, the song was as much a part of Findelfin as his arm.

But this time, something was different. Something more wicked seemed to dwell in these beings; the amount of effort it took to concentrate on the aleatory was always based on the number of beings being purified. There were zombies all around, yes, many zombies. But not enough for it to be difficult. It was as if they were surrounded by them, by motes of undead life, flecks of evil and miasmas of impurity that flitted and floated on the air, resided on the skin, embedded themselves in the tissues of the body and the soil of the very earth.

Reaching out a hand, he scratched three runic symbols in the dirt; he had not needed the runic concentration aids in many years, but now he did, and he focused on them. He let the notes flow through his body and touch each corner of the angular designs scrawled in the earth, felt the sweet music intermingle between him and the ground and the earth, as battle sounds faded from his sphere of influence.

He was drifting into somewhere else, a place where only the runes existed; they burned in the sky like fire-signs, filling the visions that lay before his closed eyelids. Through them he could see one face; the face of Devon Starslayer, and he wondered what it meant. The portents he had seen in the mountains were strange, and Devon walked abroad where no Devon should have walked.

But suddenly he felt it; that subtle shift as the aleatory music began to achieve its objective, and the random and senseless nature of impurity began to concede the fight, to condense and form patterns, to grow into a mode of being and doing. The zombies around him began to slow, but he did not see it...he merely felt the resistance of a multitude of beings fighting against order, but slowly pulling into alignment. Entering the mixolydian section of the nocturne, he let himself go, the runes superimposing themselves in his mind, the endless hordes of evil seeming to clutter against the runes.

And then he released them. His music forgave them their efforts to resist, granted them peace, gave grace where none was asked for. They shattered away from the runes, his mind letting a million fractured pieces disperse into the ether of the air. And he stopped singing.

Opening his eyes, the clearing was empty. Zombie bodies still lay around, some cleaved in two, some still whole, but they were now nothing more than dead bodies. No evil rot consumed their flesh nor strange creatures rent their bodies. And he felt as though, on a sudden, he could breathe.

The song had taken something out of him, though; as with all Raiaeran music, he had invested something of his soul in the singing, and he was a little winded from the music. Looking up to Sidhe and Raelyse, he said, "There was something in this clearing besides the undead that I had to purify; I think some of it was within both of you. It was like some sort of spreading disease, I think, but as far as I can tell it is no longer within any of us."

He didn't really know what else to say. This clearing was now clean, but how many more might there be? He knew, at least, that he did not have the strength to cleanse another.