Post by Avvy on Dec 2, 2011 3:03:38 GMT -5
The arch druid of Siranda stirred in her pile of pillows. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head as she rolled to her back, pale eyes glancing to the side, to the slumbering form of her Alpha and mate. She still didn't really understand how it had all happened, it just suddenly was there. The strong feelings, the need to be near him, to make him proud of her. One hand moves, touching her throat. She had worn her collar for many years, it seemed like forever in her mind, but it had only been since her return from being sick, as it was called. He had told her to take it off, she didn't belong to anyone, she was free. She liked that. Free.
She rose from the pillows and fur, careful not to wake the human. She didn't need to worry, he would sleep for several more hours unless disturbed, and her silent paws made no sound on the cave floor. In the dim light two yellow eyes appeared, looking to her but a soft growl saw them closing again, even her brothers of fur needed more sleep. She moved away from those slumbering and moved deeper into the cave system, down into the Heart of Ringwood. The hidden place of power and life. As she entered the cave a long, low sigh of pleasure ripped from her lips. This was where she felt safest. Even with the Heart corrupted by the undeath above, this was where her heart lay. Not her love, but her heart.
Silently the bone white elf moved amongst the large red crystals, trailing her fingertips along the smooth surfaces, stopping when she touched a darkened, black, place. New corruption showing. It made her sick to think about it, but think about it she had to. It was her job now to protect the forest, protect the Heart, to guard Siranda. There were only a few other druids, and none she had seen were as strong, none had the same connection she had. She climbed up into the nook of one crystal, curling up against the warmth of it, her tail flicking ever so slightly. Pale blue eyes close as she remembers.
"All gone Hajiri. Just us left. Need protect Ringwood. Come."
The elf and the dire wolf raced through the streets of Kalaram, they didn't bother trying to fight the dead here, there was no point. Instead they burst into the forest, losing any pursuing undead amongst the trees. They'd have to kill them, but now, there was no time, they weren't strong enough yet. Soon though. Soon they would have the strength needed.
To the circle of tree and stone they moved. There they slaughtered the undead. Moved them from the powerful center stone. So corrupted, but still, it was needed for this. It was connected. Niamh knelt down, placing her hands against the cool stone. Soft chanting rose from her frail body. Words that only another druid would understand. A ritual she had never been shown how to do, but was so deeply engrained in her every fiber that to watch it was to think she had done it a hundred times. But there was no-one to watch, only a single dire wolf, standing guard as his sister cast, as she performed the Last Rites of the Forest. This forest's guardians had died, she was all that remained of the Order. The forest was dying around her, she could slow that death.
Green energy flowed through the stone, through the tiny elf. The forest went still, no wind, no sound, even the zombies seemed to pause for a spit second, like the entire forest had drawn a deep breath, and then it was released. Wind rippled through like a sigh, and then it was all as it should be. The trees were still corrupted, but they stood a touch straighter. The small elf slumped forward, head against the stone.
"It is done. I am Ringwood."
How many years passed between that day and this? She didn't know. She had been sick so long before they had fixed her. Well, made a new her really. She didn't understand the difference, only that there was an evil person out there who looked and sounded just like her, that shared most of her past. She shook her head, silvery hair flicking around her pale face. Not the time to think on the Cyricist problem. There was so much to do to fix Siranda. She didn't know where to start, she had started already.
Paws moved softly in the mossy grass of the cave. So many were shocked that she had made this. She was a druid. She was strong in her connection to Nature. Even other druids, the young ones, seemed surprised at what she had done. How could they not know what Nature would do if you only asked politely enough. Never ask too much, only what was needed, always give back in return. Now it was time for her to give back to the land.
She moved deeper into the cave, into the den she shared with her Pack. Django wasn't home now, that was good. She loved him, but right now, she needed no others. She nodded to the three wolves, growling instructions for them to remain in the Den. Silently she slipped past the boulders to a crack in the wall. One hand touched the rough stone.
"Niamh is ready now."
The crack split, rumbling into a passageway further into the earth. Down she went until she found herself in a watery cave. A few stones formed a path to an island, and there was the Heart, or the visible part of it. Large crystals of varying shades of red, most larger then herself. Some corrupted with the undead disease, the negative energies that flowed through the world. She knelt before one, untouched by the corruption. Her hand lifted and she bit deeply into the soft flesh, her sharp teeth easily sinking in, crimson blood welling up instantly. She placed her bloody hand against the smooth ruby surface.
"Niamh comes. Gives freely of herself to Siranda. Niamh is Ringwood. Niamh is Siranda. Niamh is connection to Land. As Land suffers so will Niamh suffer. Share life. Share death."
Green light flickered around the druid, crackling like lightning, burning like fire, cold as ice and still as the stone, all at once. She felt the energies of the Land flow through her, forming the connection to a druid once more. She rose, her hand healed and turned, leaving the Heart for the first time, but not for the last. She was bonded now to this place, to this island. It was truly her home.
She sighed softly as she remembered these things of the past, her binding. She felt the pulse of the Heart. She had tried to explain to Django once, but she didn't know if he really understood. It all made so much sense to her. Why was it so hard to explain? Why could she never say the right words? Never find them. She sighed again and shook her head. Her eyes was mostly healed now. She couldn't see colour with it, but that wasn't important. The other eye made up for it, but she looked fine, save the faint silvery scar left by the sword. That didn't matter though. She had to focus on what did matter. The den, the Pack, the undead. She rolled off the crystal seat and padded away from the Heart again, she had been too long in thought, Django would wake, and he would be hungry. The wolves would be hungry. Her family needed her. Serious thoughts drifted away as she drew nearer the den. The sounds of life above drawing her back to her normal state.
The arch druid of Siranda bounced into the light of the cave, her eyes sparkled as she pounced at the still half asleep human male. her voice split the still, silent air of the Den, high and delighted.
"DJANGO!"
She rose from the pillows and fur, careful not to wake the human. She didn't need to worry, he would sleep for several more hours unless disturbed, and her silent paws made no sound on the cave floor. In the dim light two yellow eyes appeared, looking to her but a soft growl saw them closing again, even her brothers of fur needed more sleep. She moved away from those slumbering and moved deeper into the cave system, down into the Heart of Ringwood. The hidden place of power and life. As she entered the cave a long, low sigh of pleasure ripped from her lips. This was where she felt safest. Even with the Heart corrupted by the undeath above, this was where her heart lay. Not her love, but her heart.
Silently the bone white elf moved amongst the large red crystals, trailing her fingertips along the smooth surfaces, stopping when she touched a darkened, black, place. New corruption showing. It made her sick to think about it, but think about it she had to. It was her job now to protect the forest, protect the Heart, to guard Siranda. There were only a few other druids, and none she had seen were as strong, none had the same connection she had. She climbed up into the nook of one crystal, curling up against the warmth of it, her tail flicking ever so slightly. Pale blue eyes close as she remembers.
"All gone Hajiri. Just us left. Need protect Ringwood. Come."
The elf and the dire wolf raced through the streets of Kalaram, they didn't bother trying to fight the dead here, there was no point. Instead they burst into the forest, losing any pursuing undead amongst the trees. They'd have to kill them, but now, there was no time, they weren't strong enough yet. Soon though. Soon they would have the strength needed.
To the circle of tree and stone they moved. There they slaughtered the undead. Moved them from the powerful center stone. So corrupted, but still, it was needed for this. It was connected. Niamh knelt down, placing her hands against the cool stone. Soft chanting rose from her frail body. Words that only another druid would understand. A ritual she had never been shown how to do, but was so deeply engrained in her every fiber that to watch it was to think she had done it a hundred times. But there was no-one to watch, only a single dire wolf, standing guard as his sister cast, as she performed the Last Rites of the Forest. This forest's guardians had died, she was all that remained of the Order. The forest was dying around her, she could slow that death.
Green energy flowed through the stone, through the tiny elf. The forest went still, no wind, no sound, even the zombies seemed to pause for a spit second, like the entire forest had drawn a deep breath, and then it was released. Wind rippled through like a sigh, and then it was all as it should be. The trees were still corrupted, but they stood a touch straighter. The small elf slumped forward, head against the stone.
"It is done. I am Ringwood."
How many years passed between that day and this? She didn't know. She had been sick so long before they had fixed her. Well, made a new her really. She didn't understand the difference, only that there was an evil person out there who looked and sounded just like her, that shared most of her past. She shook her head, silvery hair flicking around her pale face. Not the time to think on the Cyricist problem. There was so much to do to fix Siranda. She didn't know where to start, she had started already.
Paws moved softly in the mossy grass of the cave. So many were shocked that she had made this. She was a druid. She was strong in her connection to Nature. Even other druids, the young ones, seemed surprised at what she had done. How could they not know what Nature would do if you only asked politely enough. Never ask too much, only what was needed, always give back in return. Now it was time for her to give back to the land.
She moved deeper into the cave, into the den she shared with her Pack. Django wasn't home now, that was good. She loved him, but right now, she needed no others. She nodded to the three wolves, growling instructions for them to remain in the Den. Silently she slipped past the boulders to a crack in the wall. One hand touched the rough stone.
"Niamh is ready now."
The crack split, rumbling into a passageway further into the earth. Down she went until she found herself in a watery cave. A few stones formed a path to an island, and there was the Heart, or the visible part of it. Large crystals of varying shades of red, most larger then herself. Some corrupted with the undead disease, the negative energies that flowed through the world. She knelt before one, untouched by the corruption. Her hand lifted and she bit deeply into the soft flesh, her sharp teeth easily sinking in, crimson blood welling up instantly. She placed her bloody hand against the smooth ruby surface.
"Niamh comes. Gives freely of herself to Siranda. Niamh is Ringwood. Niamh is Siranda. Niamh is connection to Land. As Land suffers so will Niamh suffer. Share life. Share death."
Green light flickered around the druid, crackling like lightning, burning like fire, cold as ice and still as the stone, all at once. She felt the energies of the Land flow through her, forming the connection to a druid once more. She rose, her hand healed and turned, leaving the Heart for the first time, but not for the last. She was bonded now to this place, to this island. It was truly her home.
She sighed softly as she remembered these things of the past, her binding. She felt the pulse of the Heart. She had tried to explain to Django once, but she didn't know if he really understood. It all made so much sense to her. Why was it so hard to explain? Why could she never say the right words? Never find them. She sighed again and shook her head. Her eyes was mostly healed now. She couldn't see colour with it, but that wasn't important. The other eye made up for it, but she looked fine, save the faint silvery scar left by the sword. That didn't matter though. She had to focus on what did matter. The den, the Pack, the undead. She rolled off the crystal seat and padded away from the Heart again, she had been too long in thought, Django would wake, and he would be hungry. The wolves would be hungry. Her family needed her. Serious thoughts drifted away as she drew nearer the den. The sounds of life above drawing her back to her normal state.
The arch druid of Siranda bounced into the light of the cave, her eyes sparkled as she pounced at the still half asleep human male. her voice split the still, silent air of the Den, high and delighted.
"DJANGO!"