Almost immediately after leaving the relative safety of the Grove of the Elder, I felt as if I were being watched. It didn’t help that after taking a few steps, the Grove was completely hidden from me. Unless the Elder wanted me to come back, I would never find it again.
Without that comfort, the entire forest’s malevolent feeling took on a whole new edge. It was as if I was anathema to the forest, and it wanted nothing more than for me to cease to exist. I cannot express how completely disquieting the silence was. No birds singing above, no insects trilling below. Not that they didn’t exist, in a manner of speaking. The few living birds I saw were carrion feeders, crows mostly, though I caught glimpses of vultures and buzzards that had adapted to this horrible environment. Mostly I saw skeletal birds flitting impossibly through the air, making nests in an amusing mockery of life. The insects below were of the standard kind, for the insect world is a constant churning machine complete null of emotion. Existing only to feed, and grow. The ants for example were larger than one would expect.
I knew however the true dangers were much larger. As I ventured deeper into the forest, the fur on the back of my neck rose. I felt someone watching me. I could not make it out, it was merely a shadow that flitted at the edge of my vision. Sometimes it keep to the branches, moving quickly from tree to tree. Other times it kept low to the ground, moving about with an almost feline grace.
I was fairly positive that my stalker was one of two threats. Either it was a member of the Wyldefires, the ranger organization that called the Forest home, or the Oakenshields, the druidic order that did the same. Two sides of the same coin. The druids cared for the forest, the rangers guarded it from threats both within and without.
Most people forget minotaurs have an amazing sense of smell. And while I could smell the stench of undeath coming from my pursuer, I did not smell any herbs or incense that would normally accompany a druid. Fortunately for me, I was prepared for this adventure, and with help from a ring of spell storing, generously gifted to me by Kor’riaenna, I soon turned the tables on my pursuer. With my Black Skald pendant, which allows me to use my significant charms on all manner of creatures, living or dead I soon had a story worthy of my audience.
As I’ve stated before, the Wyldefires were rangers, a companion organization to the Oakenshields. While the druids were tasked with the overall care of the forest itself, from the trees to the animals, the Wyldefires policed it, for lack of a better term. They chased off poachers, kept the lizardfolk in the south from raiding travelers, kept bandits out of the forest altogether. They were also liaisons for the city of Kor’Korai, escorting visitors to and from the hidden elf city. That was all before the Corruption.
If you recall, the Corruption was a field of energy growing ever outward from the center of the Forest. It was deathly gray, and everything it touched soon began to wither and take on a deathly pallor. No’rka and the Wyldefires had been given talismans to protect them from the foul energies so they could move about the forest without succumbing to death. The problem being, aside from the pesky killing properties, was that it was spreading beyond the confines of the forest, and threatened the kingdom of Cheshire itself.
My “charmed” guest, No’rka by name, a half-orc ranger was not there for the halting of the Corruption. She knew a great sacrifice was needed, and the Oakenshields and Wyldefires had been preparing for it. She was escorting a fresh group of volunteers who had entered to help the guardians of the forest. They hadn’t been traveling longer than a few minutes before the entire forest shook with the power of a massive explosion, accompanied by a shriek unlike anything she’d ever heard. It was a cacophony of sound, mortal, animal, and something else. All in obvious pain. The noise was so powerful it sent them all to the ground. It was at that moment her group tried to run.
“Try” being the operative word. The volunteers broke ranks, and fled as fast as they could, some even trampling over the slower ones. No’rka said it all happened so fast. The ones in the lead sprinted faster as they neared the path out of the forest. Even No’rka decided discretion was the better part of valor. The runners made it no more than a few feet outside the confines of the forwards before they were stopped by the grey field.
Somehow it had solidified. It was impenetrable, and the wild mage in the group panicked. He cast a fireball at the wall and it exploded, causing a terrible backlash. Those closest to the wall were vaporized, including the wild mage. Those further back suffered catastrophic burns, becoming living pyres as the collapsed to the ground. One managed to run screaming past No’rka who was was bringing up the rear.
She did not have time to grasp the direness of her situation, trapped as it were by the death field. The ranger noticed that the field moving back, towards the forest. Also, the burned remains of her traveling companies, began to rise. Even worse, some of the ashes coalesced into a form vaguely resembling the wild mage. Arcane energies danced on his his fingers, and pulsed in what used to be eye sockets. All of them, turned towards the living members of the group. As one, they attacked. For her part, No’rka turned and fled.
No’rka tried to make her way to the city of Kor’Korai. She encountered no living beings. And any undead that saw her pursued her with a deadly intent. She killed more than a dozen such beings. She ran from large groups. She spotted the elven city a couple of nights later. She planned to get there first thing in the morning. An unsettling feeling woke her up in the middle of the night. She crept out of her hiding place for a look around. She did not see anything. She didn’t feel anything until a jagged horn pierced her back and exploded out of her chest. Then she was tossed aside, the horn snapping rips and ripping sinew on the way out. As her vision blurred, she was aware of blood red horse with a glistening horn that regarded her. It then silently strode away. I shivered unconsciously, having met the creature myself a few nights ago.
When she “awoke” No’rka was as she is now. One of the undead, more specifically, a ghoul. A druid stood over her. It had been an Oakenshield. It was now like her. It spoke to her, and her mind cleared. Where the overwhelming hunger consumed her thoughts, now another thought held priority. Protect the forest. Protect it from the living. Eating them was acceptable. A ghoul has to eat after all.
After our interview, I sent No’rka off to the Wyldefire base to report in, while I headed in the opposite direction. A number of questions are now forming in my mind. Did all the “heroes” meet the same fate as the Wyldefires and Oakenshields? Does the elven city of Kor’ Korai still stand? And what of its inhabitants? I decided to head to the elven city. Most of the answers I sought pointed in that direction. A druid circle is a closely guarded secret among its members. IF I could find and Oakenshield, and “persuade” one, it would answer another, and provide more fuel for my songs.
Assuming I survive this accursed forest that is.
“Music is immortal, and my gift to myself and those I write about”
Chord, the Ivory Bard
A Darkness Rising 