Gaurdinal Sarisay

[CooCooCachoo]

She settled in securely, having placed magic alarms at all the shrines of the green triad. She was listening to him talk about his day, and an unfortunate encounter with an air gensai. She was listening, as she always did, but also her mind wandered. Between the various prejudices her new found friends and lover had she was going to have a time managing them. She knew that wasn't fair. She had her own prejudices. One being mages, particularly those that practiced the sphere of necromancy.

It was hardly original to be distrustful of those that practiced necromancy, even as she herself made use of spells such as the Healing Sting, and Death Ward. The followers of the oakfather were known for their zealotry in attempting to thwart all threats to the balance, and undeath was a obvious target. No... It was not an interesting prejudice to have, and few questioned its reasoning.

But in that moment she was small again; A little girl told to leave the house and wander the forests so that her mother might entertain another gentleman. She was all her mother had left of her father, and it seemed she was an unwelcome reminder at that. At the river she looked into her own reflection, and her eyes glowed under their own power. That was a recent development, and the township of Brookshire had almost lynched her for it. They had settled for further ostracizing the horse-faced little girl. She was a homely child. Everyone said it, and her glowing eyes just made her all the more a freak.

"My, my," A man's voice found her ears, "Such a rare resource to leave alone and unprotected..."

Her memories were interrupted by a sick, unnatural feeling. Her mind came at once into focus, and she looked in the direction of the Cloakwood. She hadn't thought to alarm the entrance to the grove, but her connection to that place had been instantaneous and deep. She could feel the writhing worms of a dark sickness moving over the entrance. While it was said no one could find the entrance without a key, she didn't trust this wretched feeling in her gut to be benign. An unconscious growl rolled up from within her, alerting her lover that her attention had been fully stolen.

They warded and took flight, making haste into the Cloakwood. She looked all over the area around the entrance and was struck with a feeling of guilt. She couldn't tell him what they were there to protect. She couldn't tell him about its importance. That was only for the circle and those married into the circle. While she felt she loved him, they were no where near marriage yet. Likely they would not be for some time. He was sharp too, and would certainly catch on that she was hiding something from him. Would he be able to accept as they grew closer that there were secrets she had to have even from him?

She shook her head to clear it. Her mind was always in too many places at once. Running around was getting them no where. She turned her eyes to the ground, and then lifted her nose to the wind. There it was; the putrid fetid stink of rotten flesh barely clinging to bone.

"I smell undeath!" She snarled and took off, "In the direction of the river!"

Again they ran but it was not the druid with all her keen senses that spotted the necromancer and its undead slaves. Sarisay had been distracted by a dark druid launching incantations a her. It was Corey who spotted the source of the disease. He alerted her to fall back to him and she moved to confront the foul, fallen mage. She was stopped dead at the introduction offered by Corey. This was Batibat...

They were already under orders not to engage this abomination. Elder Sane could not have known how hard such an order would be on her. She looked into the halfling's smug features. Sarisay's eyes then flitted to the half dozen rotting corpses milling around Batibat. Every one of her muscles tensed around the visceral desire to shift her form and rend the halfing into unidentifiable scraps. Like a dog straining at the end of a short chain she stood on her toes, desperate to strike. It was foolish. This necromancer would be difficult for Elder Sane. She herself would be down in the mere flicker of a candle. Death stood before her. Undeath laughed in her face.

Corey took care of it for her, striking down Batibat's minions and demanding that she leave or be removed. While Sarisay only felt yet more impotent, she was deeply grateful. The threat to her grove was removed... For now. He found her side again and wrapped her up in his arms, but as she drifted to sleep she heard it again and knew that rest would be fitful.

"Such a rare resource to leave alone and unprotected..."

[CooCooCachoo]

His servants shuffled about. He'd long gotten past their rotten stench, and no longer bothered to walk around the bits of decay that dropped off them. It was a nice little underground niche he'd found for himself to study in and they guarded it for him.

He flipped through a book on planar life, with a predatory smile. An aasimar child in a little do-nothing village. No paladins, no churches, no holy men to identify her. No one to tell her just how precious she was. No one... To protect her.

The theories varied. Celestials might be born of the energy of a god, pieces of the infinite energy of the astral sea, or the gods themselves might take this form out of love for a particular human. He didn't like that last one. The human mind was so perverse, so of course someone believed a god might take some other form to bed a pretty maid. It wasn't even an original thought. He scoffed and flipped the page. If a god wished to take a mortal they'd just take them.

Divine energy... The descendants of the celestials were full of it. A near infinite reservoir of divine light. On this page... Oh this page... A way to harvest divine life energy and convert it to raw power. He only needed to master it, to translate this forgotten language.

In a little farming village, he'd found his own crop.

[CooCooCachoo]

In a far off plane a thunderous roar was heard. A young, scared druid huddled for protection beneath the overgrowth, but his nose was too sharp.

The ursinal gaurdinal Ramsus brushed back the fronds that covered her and she stared up in awe and horror. The beast knelt and looked into her with glowing amber eyes.

"What are you doing here? You are not a petitioner. You do not belong," He spoke in a low, soft grumble.

Her eyes widened. It was speaking to her? She sat up a bit and showed her hands as unarmed as she spoke, "I am Milani. I do not know how I came here. I was trying to entreat a dragon to leave a small village be. He knocked me off a cliff and I fell. I was sure I was dead, but I awoke here."

He was built for power. She had no doubt he could rip her in half, but all his moves were slow and non-menacing. He stood with a grunt and nodded.

"You surprised me, " He explained, "I am sorry I frightened you. The fabric between planes is thin in places. Sometimes a traveler may fall through it. Some say that those who do are no accident, but chosen. We will see if the six will accept your presence here or if you are to be moved on to the impossible city beyond forever."

That was how they met. They spent the next weeks in each other's company. A druid and a gaurdinal in a world beyond the Toril we all know. A world of unsurpassed beauty in nature. It was both the most serene and the most cruel place to behold. Nature had those sides to her. Some parts of it were plunged in eternal night and the Lupinals roamed freely there. In some areas the sun never set. For many wilds there was an unending winter, and others spring.

Ramsus turned out to be a gentle soul for the most part. He stopped in many a settlement to give council to Leonals, and Milani watched him... Then grew to love him. Milani was a pure heart. A rarity in humans. She was resilient and kind. She was soft-spoken and wise. Ramsus found himself leading her in circles to avoid shortening his time with her before the six would decide her fate.

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Guardinal

[CooCooCachoo]

She stepped out of a tree onto a well-worn path. The path had gotten bigger, and better packed down from consistent travel. It seemed the years had changed it, as they had changed her. As she walked toward Brookshire she concentrated on raising her walls.

Don't let them see how much it bothers you. Don't let them see how much it hurts. Show them no fear. If they are cruel, hold your head high and do not give them the satisfaction of your tears.

She built the walls, higher and higher as she walked. Her face became placid, emotionless. As her she stepped on to Main St. she was struck by the new lacquer on the hand rails. Many shops had new signs and well-patched or fully replaced roofs. There were so many faces she didn't know, and the ones she did barely noticed her.

"Miss!" A young man's voice called, "MIss, pretty necklace for a pretty lady?"

She didn't register that he was talking to her until an arm caught her own. Her head whirled toward the unwanted and sudden contact, and she looked into the face of a very handsome young man that she knew well. His face pulled into a smile and he leaned back lighting a pipe.

"Well, hell," He smirked, "You won't be buying from me I'd wager... Welcome home, Sarisay, for what it's worth."

She took in his outfit and sniffed, "So what are you trying to pass yourself off as?"

He puffed his pipe and looked her over, "Respectable merchant of arms and armaments... I did get more training with at sword than anyone else in this town, but you know me better. Times have changed, Sari, we hit silver and the war on the coast made it worth more than gold. We've had all sorts through here."

He looked down at his feet, "Not all of us know better, but I know I came to regret what I did to you."

"You didn't do anything," She stated flatly, "Your kiss never landed."

He looked up at her and said, "Yeah, a shame that..."

She scoffed and moved away, "Excuse me, my mother called me here and she said it was dire."

He frowned and called after her, "Sari... She ain't changed. If you're here for her, best turn around."

She flinched in spite of herself but kept walking. She followed the main drag right out of town. Four farms down on the left of the road, it was nestled up against the forest. Her lips twisted at its disrepair.

[CooCooCachoo]

She knocked on the door and it creaked open unlocked. The musty smell of stagnation hit her nose as she breached the threshold. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. She moved to the mantle where a small print of painting had been turned face down.

She remembered that day. Her mother said she was sending the original away to her relatives. Her brother had come up barren, so Sarisay was the only heir to her grandfather's small fortune. They weren't noble, but they were well off. Her mother had long ago been disowned but Sarisay was perhaps a way back into their good graces. More family... Her mother spent all day with her, trying to tame her hair and pinching her cheeks to produce color. Sari smiled her best smile and her mother looked almost proudly on it. The artist gave her a small print and the canvas was shipped away.

For a few days her mother almost seemed interested in her. Her mother spoke of the grand parties and all the family she had. She assured Sari that someone in the main family could make a proper girl out of her. She said it as if Sarisay should take comfort in it. The days got longer it seemed. Her mother's energy for anyone but herself waned, and soon Sari was back out tending the fields, the animals and the forest.

An adult Sari looked at the only painting of her younger self and saw something new in it. This was not an ugly little girl. This was a hopeful light of youth, full of love, kindness as a desire to do well. She looked at herself and spoke, "I wonder... Why no one could love you. I would have."

She heard a carriage roll up and her mother's voice, "Here's the property, I only stop by to check on it mind you. The house is worthless. You are buying the land, but we can look if you want."

"I'm aware," A male voice sounded, "I just wanted to verify the location. I suppose we can look inside if anything in the structure is salvageable for a storage building hm?"

In her mother barged in with a sweaty, portly man in toe and the scene seemed to freeze in her mind as mother and daughter looked upon each other.

"Who's this now?" He scoffed, "Some vagrant?"

"This is the heir I mentioned," Her mother sad flatly, "Here to sign the papers."

[CooCooCachoo]

Her mother stared into her, pulling out a set of papers from the bottomless bag she always carried, "Your father wrote into his will that I could only sell this farm with the consent of any and all heirs. You haven't been here for years, I don't want it, and this man will pay handsomely for it."

Sari's glowing eyes moved to the man and back to her mother, "What does he want with the land?"

"I'm going to set up an inn," He smiled, "The town is expanding this way and new prospectors come in every day that need a place to stay."

"What do you care anyway," Her mother spit, "You abandoned this place, and me, just like your father did. Sign the papers and you'll never have to come back."

The man seemed to just then realize this was a tense situation. He began to fidget and sweat as the two women stared each other down. Sarisay should have wanted to yell at this woman. She'd given her gold to hire help to keep the farm running. Where was it? Why was everything so run down? Her mother abandoned her to the wilds as soon as she could walk. What right did she have to talk about Sari as if she did wrong? Her mother watched her stepfather torture her and did nothing. Sarisay was the scapegoat for her mother's useless nature, and that's all she had ever been.

But she didn't. She didn't bother asking what happened to the animals. She already knew. She already knew looking into the venomous face of the woman that claimed to raise her that they'd been sold for pennies or neglected until they withered away. Sarisay's heart ached. She knew who her mother was. She should have come back. She should have bought the livestock, or just spirited them away one by one. She didn't. She didn't and it was because she was too much a coward to face this woman before her. This pitiful creature who could not help but hate the world for her life gone wrong. She who just expected people to love her and take care of her, and was so surprised to find that they wouldn't.

There was little conversation after that. She signed the papers and asked for the sending amulet back. Her mother threw it at her, and it bounced off her chest into her hands. Sarisay put the print in her backpack, and left Brookshire. This time was truly, for the last time. Or so she thought.

[CooCooCachoo]

She got back to the den Karn had and settled in. Karn lifted his head to watch her and then invaded her space by shoving his wet snout into her face. He sniffed and then grumbled happily. He rolled and somersaulted all over the cave like he had done when he was cub. Sarisay smiled and chuckled, "You impatient thing. Is that what you were out of sorts over?"

Karn laid back down with a heavy bear thump and moaned at her as if to say, "Yes."

Sarisay shook her head and chuckled, pulling out a rusted music box. She carefully cleaned it before winding it up and setting it on a ledge. She curled up on top of the beast and sang along with the twinkling melody as she fell asleep.

https://youtu.be/yi-UJk28FRI?list=RDMMyi-UJk28FRI

[CooCooCachoo]

Sarisay

Female Aasimar Druid

Small but extremely well constructed, not from a sexual standpoint but in the idea that she is built hardy. Physically she looks almost engineered for survival and fitness. Her expression is placid, even when dialed up to 10 because she's on mushrooms, she is understated. Animals communicate with subtle twitches of the face. Over-expression is reserved for extreme joy, pain, and aggression. Sari's lack of expression stems from this, as well as some self-protection as the human world has not been kind to her.

Animals do not cry, and Sari has also never been seen crying.

Attributes of note: Honey to amber colored eyes, more brown than yellow. The color of a bear's eyes, but more importantly they glow. It is faint enough to miss in the daylight, but obvious at night.

===================

Character history uncovered thus far:

Sarisay was born in Brookshire south of the High Forest. Her father left during the pregnancy and was killed in a skirmish. Her widowed mother used Sari as a scapegoat for her life gone wrong there forward.

Her mother remarried around the time Sari was 8, but the man was a necromancer and only interested in harvesting Sari's divine energy to further his power. He failed for 7 years to master an ancient ritual that would siphon her divinity; experimenting on her and torturing her. Her mother looked the other way.

Around the time she was 15 he went mad and rose a small army to ravage the small farming community. Sari killed him, and saved them all, but was still blamed for being the reason he was there to begin with. A year later, things had quieted, and Sari was even asked on a date with a very popular boy. She then found out he'd been dared to do it and was to be paid 10 coppers if he could secure a kiss from the town freak.

Of all the things she suffered, it was probably the least, but it was the feather that broke her will to remain. At 16 she packed up what little she had and walked to Secomber. There she joined her first caravan and has been on the road since. She is now 23.

She is given to wandering and exploring, but you might also find her reading a book up on some high tree branch. She is a voracious reader and surprisingly well-educated. She almost seems to crave knowledge. She loves to dance because all wild things dance.

[CooCooCachoo]

Ramsus put on and tied her shoes. Her growing womb made such simple tasks difficult. He splayed his hand over her belly and looked up into her eyes. She looked so loving, so trusting, in that moment. He smiled, thought his heart broke into a thousand pieces. What had he done?

They were on the move constantly, moving closer and closer to the edges of the plane of nature. He had abandoned his post in the Pridelands and kept Milani at his side despite the decree from the six that she should be ejected to the City of Doors. He’d known this whole time that he only delayed the inevitable and that he would soon answer for his crimes. She knew it too…

She knew that they moved ever closer to the portal, chancing that they might be caught for just one more day. Then one more… One more.

He woke from his thoughts near the peak of a muddy hill. He looked back and saw her struggling in the mud. She was pushing her legs as they shook and complained. A low rumble escaped him as he made his way back down to her, “It is time. It is… Past time.”

“No,” She protested as he hoisted her up and carried her up the hill, “I am strong. I can keep going.”

“The portal is close,” He said over her.

“Ramsus, I said no!” She cried and buried her face in his chest.

“You can’t keep up anymore,” He said as he breached the peak and walked into a rocky chasm, “And the portal is close. I cannot carry you and protect you at the same time. You know what they will do if you are found defying their orders and carrying blasphemy in your womb. We are not as deva’s, Milani. Gaurdinals do not sire half-breeds without consequence.”

“Come with me,” She whimpered.

“You know I cannot,” He murmured, “Our laws-“

“To the abyss with your laws!” She cried, “We have already broken them. What is one more?”

He stepped up to two pillars and the air between them glowed and opened, showing a city the stretched into the distance. He set her down and she buried her hands into his fur, latching onto him. He closed his arms around her and murmured, “We both knew this day was close upon us. We have selfishly clung to every day we might have at great risk to you and to our cub.”

“No you have always said this day must come! You refuse to go to the city but you would send me there. I won’t! I won’t wither surrounded by stone and abandon you to judgement here!” She barked back at him with every ounce of her wrath even as tears rolled down her face. Oh, how he loved her innocent fire…

He took her wrists and pulled her hands free of him, “I have no doubt that you will curse me until your final breath, but you will go. I am not giving you a choice.”

She twisted and kicked, “NO! Ramsus! Don’t do this!”

He let her expend her energy against his vastly superior celestial strength and then placed his forehead against hers, “I will bare it… I will bare it and love you long after you pass in old age. Who knows, perhaps then you will be allowed to petition here. Until then, my love… Take care of our cub.”

He shoved her through the portal and stepped back from it. He held the key, and so it closed with the loss of his proximity. He stared at the empty air between the pillars a long moment and roared before hitting his knees to weep. On the other side her knee hit the pitted cobbles of the City of Doors. The acid rain soaked her instantly and burned her wound. She stood and pounded her fists against two pillars connect to an ornate building as passers by stopped to gawk. She yelled at the air between them, “No! Please! I love you!... I love you…”

She collapsed against one of the pillars and cried, until a pair of blue hands gripped her shoulders, “Ah… Another clueless… Poor thing. Brace yourself my dear. There is much to explain. Let us get you out of the rain before it sloughs your pretty skin.”

[CooCooCachoo]

She was wound up in his arms. Neither had slept, nor were they like to. She needed very little sleep anyway. It was a night of diversion from her unsettled mind. He’d knelt before her on one knee before they escaped to their chosen den. He hadn’t proposed, and from what she could tell he did not mean to any time soon. It was a thought that hadn’t troubled her until he knelt before her and looked up to her with those loving golden eyes. She was a wild thing. In nature courtship and mating are just done. In a dance a pairing is decided, and it lasts for a season or for a lifetime. Human courtship was so much more complex, ignoring instinct and treating partnership and mating as something to almost be avoided. It had been cruel to her, and she still wrestled to understand it.

Marriage was a of terrible importance in the civilized world. She’s seen that in her mother and the long parties that accompanied a match in her hometown. She’d looked into the origin of it, going all the way back to times when only men held property. They wished to hand that property down to children that they knew were theirs, and so they sought to own the woman next to them. Taking away her identity, and sometimes forbidding her from seeing her birth family there forward. The mantra of sin began. A man was a man, but an unfaithful woman was a wretch to be disposed of. An unfaithful man could be divorced, but an unfaithful woman would be stoned. Somehow they built the narrative that the single most important thing a woman could do was to be absorbed by a man. To cease being herself and be only his extension. It came with a great ceremony and party to celebrate captivity.

Mating in the wilds was never this. You were with a partner because they were your match. He was him, you were you, and together you were a force of life and protection for your young. She had not looked much into the various marriage traditions beyond that first bit of research. Horrified by it as much as she was confused by human courtship. The courtship, the conclusion were understandably terrifying to her. Then he took a knee and everything in her mind ground to a halt. It replayed in her mind vividly.

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Her lungs… Her lungs wouldn’t fill… Her heart left her chest and stopped up her throat. Her stomach knotted and her pupils dilated to let in more… More moonlight… More of him. Dear gods, what was he doing? Is he going to propose? To me? Now? So soon? This is terribly soon by human standards is it not? What do I say? Do I think he’s ready for that? Wait, am I? Am I ready? Is he ready? Am I ready for him to be ready? Ready for what? Do I tell him what I think of marriage? Will he take that as a direction? If I am ready and I don’t think he is ready, should I say no? Do I want to say yes to a human marriage? Gods, what the hell is happening here?

He’s still talking. He’s just talking… He’s not asking anything yet. Why has he chosen to talk to me on one knee? What is going on? Is this preamble? Is he working up to it? What am I going to say? How do I look tonight? Gods, he looks amazing. He smells amazing. He tastes… FOCUS. He’s… Still talking? He got up…

Am I disappointed or relieved? He’s talking about work now. Missions and whatnot… Asking me for a favor. I… okay… Swallow. There, my heart is back down in my chest. Now, a few breaths to bring in air and fight the dizziness. What was I just feeling? Terror? Joy? Some mix? Oh… I am going to make you pay for that, my lion.

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And so the night was met. No further talk on what just happened. Just a lot of long, slow, meticulous, distraction. She rose and left a kiss on his forehead, touching a tree outside and moving about her normal patrols. She didn’t bother with breakfast. Her stomach was still doing flips.

Her daily patrols took her from the farmlands through the fields of the dead to cull their numbers, then through the Trollclaws to Soubar. From there she headed north to the Reaching Woods to watch over the Shrine of Eldath where she would take her lunch. She'd gather a few plants and mushrooms there and then she would strike out again, tree-striding to the Shrine of Mielikki. She studied the ground for tracks with her glowing eyes... Nothing but golbins of late, which was as reassuring as it was unhelpful in telling her what Batibat was currently up to. She jogged then toward the gate, stopping in the Woods of the Sharp Teeth to gather more, cull the orcs, and put down those animals that could not be saved from the rabid state the Orcs imposed on them. In the afternoon light she knelt before her god, Silvanus and prayed for continued guidance and growing wisdom. Completing the circle in the farmlands, she would visit the graveyard to end the tortured moans of the unnatural that dwelled there.

Karn moaned up at her. She nodded an took rest in the nearby woods, “You’re right… I can’t stop thinking about his golden eyes.”

[CooCooCachoo]

Three bowls. A bowl of red stones, a bowl of white stones, and a bowl in the middle. Red stones for her, and white for Emmanuel. The vote for archdruid had come quickly. Sane was eager to step down. Her lips pressed thin. Only one druid had sought her. Only one had even attempted to make this decision an informed one. Yet... There were three stones cast in her favor. Did she dare to hope that they had -at least- read her reports? Maybe seen her act on the behalf of nature once? Three stones cast for Emmanuel. He likely felt the same frustration. The gods knew they were of a like mind on many things.

How could they be so unmoved to not even have a conversation? Six stones cast. Had the rest abstained, leaving it to others? All assuming -someone- had given it -some- kind of thought? The laziness... The gal... The utter -lack- of wisdom from a people that were supposed to be wisest of all. She took a breath and calmed herself. She knew her frustration was misplaced. She wanted to do great things for the circle, but only one had even bothered to hear her ideas. Her frustration was her own self-doubt. Could she really do this? Especially if support was so very thin. Before coming to the coast she'd never have even considered it. She'd never had friends, never a desire to affect things beyond what she could do with her own hands. She was a servant. She was dedicated. But was she a leader as well? She passed her trial of combat... But did that actually prove anything?

She looked at the stones hard. She could make this decision for them with her vote. She actually did deliberate for some time on the pros and cons of her vs Emmanuel. She looked... and looked... and looked... and walked away. She would be chosen, or she would not be archdruid. She would not make the choice herself.

And if the vote remained tied... She would simply step down.

She stopped by her den with Karn, who now watched over very precious cargo. He rolled away from the hole in the wall where she had hid it. Arturi, Emmanuel, Ashling, Daishi, and herself had thinned the frost giants, freeing what great blue ice dragons they could and putting down the ones that had been too far corrupted. That day she'd taken three eggs, and attempted to slide them into another dragon's clutch. The mother rejected them, smashing two with one swat of her massive tail. Sarisay grabbed the last one and narrowly escaped with her life. She smoothed her hand over the egg, carefully turning it so that the cold side would now face Karn and develop correctly.

"How do you suppose I will explain this when it hatches, Karn?" She asked softly, "If... If it hatches."

The bear grumbled and laid up against the hole, again obscuring it's presence.

[CooCooCachoo]

His name was Jellal. Nobody cared. He was just a hive rat barely living in the city beyond forever. His mother was a prostitute and told him stories about some great ancestor gaurdinal that watched over them. Yet, he went to sleep listening to the insane howling from the Gatehouse. If this is what being watched over was like, he shuddered to think on what his life might look like elsewise. But then… Not many lived well in the City of Doors. There was a reason it was called “The Cage”.

Generations had passed since Milani arrived. Her life had been an equally miserable lot. Druids never lasted long in the Lady’s crowded city with its artificial light and acid rain. Her twin daughters had managed to survive without her in the care of a bleaker couple. From there it went as life always went in the hive. You were a thug, a thief, a prostitute, or a pimp, and never anything more. Unless you counted being dead and dropped in the sewers as better, and it just might be.

Jellal worked at the Bottle and Jug as an enforcer. He was tall and built heavy. One night a group of planeswalkers happened in and he heard the stories. Worlds behind gates. Gates that had keys and a key could be anything. They spoke of primes, particularly of Toril, which seemed to dump an uneven number of clueless into the streets. That was when he decided. He was going to find a door to Toril. He was going to get out of this miserable place. He would have a fine home, in sunshine and clean rain, and a beautiful wife.

He would have it all, and never look back.

[CooCooCachoo]

It was early morning when Karn got up and moved away from the egg. Arturi was already gone for the day but Sari had not yet begun her patrols. Karn moaned at the egg and Sari moved over to investigate. That’s when she heard it, “scratch, scratch, scratch.”

She knew that some birds helped their young by producing a small hole. She went to fish up a dagger when the world went dark. She awoke against the opposite side of the den with Karn crumpled in a similar state beside her. She moved over to check him quickly and wrapped him up in a healing cocoon. That done she survey the scene. The den was in shambles with flakes of metallic blue everywhere, but at its center sat a bronze hatchling. She moved over slowly and the hatchling peeped at her, snapping at her outstretched hand.

“Easy now,” She cooed as she reached into her pack, fishing out some cured meat. She tossed it to the infant, which voraciously gobbled it up. It then sat, canting its head and appraising her. Its little tail whipped behind. She sat down and started emptying all the rations she had out of her pack. The child was bottomless, and when it was done, shrieked for more. She had little choice but to take it fishing and hunting. 4 full stringers of fish, 2 boars, and 3 deer later, the young dragon seemed to mildly settle. It placed its head in her lap and went to sleep.

“I hope that appetite slows down, little one,” She cooed as she stroked its shimmering scales. Karn flopped down, exhausted from keeping up on the full day of hunting. He looked longingly to the forest. He’d been doing that a lot lately. The urge to find a mate, and to be a proper bear was upon him. Sari knew it, but she’d been holding on this past year. That wasn’t fair, it wasn’t kind, but she’d found him as a cub, letting go as a parent wasn’t easy.

He looked up to her, and she to him. His warm brown eyes then fell to the infant in her lap, already larger than a wolf, and slowly rose to her again like he was asking. If he went now, would she be alright? It might help to have two to hunt for the bottomless youngster. She smiled gently to him. It was time. It was past time. She ruffled his fur and placed her forehead to his.

“You are my cub,” She murmured, “Always. Come back to me if you have need or if your wilds are threatened. I love you, little bear.”

He rose with a grumble and took a few steps before looking back. She gave him an assuring smile and made a shooing motion with her hand. He moaned a final time and then disappeared into the underbrush. She felt a prick of regret that Arturi and Sorcha would not get their good-byes. Perhaps, they would meet on the trails at some point. Life had a way of crossing paths where the meeting was needed.

[CooCooCachoo]

Greengrass, while a holy day to her, had always been spent alone. This year she braved the large gathering at the Uldoon trail. She had even helped decorate for the event, but with all these people around she had to stop herself from running and hiding.

When she first arrived on the coast the most people she had to tolerate at any given time was limited to the caravan she traveled with. She fled gatherings of more than five, and could not have been found at something of this scale if the balance depended upon it. She then met Merrick…



He was a half-elf of substantial genuine charm and a voracious appetite. Their friendship had been near instantaneous, and for a time, she’d given thought to more. She’d decided against it due to his professed desire for multiple partners even if he had offered that monogamy may be obtainable for the right person. They grew close. It settled into the steady rhythm of deep friendship and she looked upon him as a brother. He’d offered his arm at multiple group events, helping her comfort grow with larger crowds and giving her the confidence to press herself harder.

Now, as archdruid of the circle she’d felt compelled to be present for events of import to the coast and represent the circle. She had acted admirably with the Helmites in investigating the state of the ancient white dragon but had been a social disaster causing a rift between the circle and the silverstar mate of one of the circle’s oldest rangers. Here she stood at Greengrass, barely a moment of peace between the various people bending her ear and asking her aside. She did not mind the private conversations that drew her from the crowd, but she kept having to return to the crowd. She had to face it, over and over. By the end of the day the her introverted nature left her completely exhausted.

“I earnestly lost track of all the arms that took you away,” Merrick mused and handed her some spiced wine.

She offered him a warm smile. A smile that might have been surprising to most that had only passing discussions with her. She settled into his and Ronja’s comfortable company and talked about caravan business. They were called away and she desperately needed her evening prayers. She wearily gathered herself and moved to find the stone circle at the head of the waterfall. She’d run into Shandril on the way and made promise to seek her soon, but the archdruid could not have predicted the shadows waiting for her.

A sinister plot that was weeks or months in the making closed in. The archdruid, her wards all fading from having kept them active to protect the event, wandered alone to her predictable evening prayers. She was exhausted and missed the heavily armored footsteps that tracked her. Her choice of location was also unfortunate, leaving her easily cornered. Batibat and her minion closed in on a tired, unwarded, and solitary druid.

The battle was predictable even as Sari had attempted to avoid it. She sent her baby dragon to flight to protect it. She expended her storms and what remaining spells she had. Batibat watched with a smug smile as the dark knight in her company summoned swarms of undead, wave upon wave. Even in her state Sari managed to make it difficult for them, and the battle raged for near a candlemark. Sadly… A druid is no god. Eventually her oaken resilience waned, and her already drawn thin strength snapped like dry twigs under the weight of her fatigue and the unending assault.







She crumbled like a castle under months of siege, and her divine shapes faded. Batibat was not satisfied with this humiliation, hitting her with energy drains until Sari could not think to even wiggle her fingers. Sari cursed at them, snarling and growling out her venom. She yelled at them to end it already, and leave he slain, but that was not the goal. That was far too simple for this pair.

Far too merciful.

“Eventually you will have no strenght to fight on now Arch-Druid,” The hin chuckled cruelly.

"What is to become of this druid, mistress?" a summoned devil cooed.

Sari tried vainly to find her feet and could only manage a pitiful snarl. Her limbs did not obey her any more. After some rummaging Batibat, searching in her possession and unveiled a vial. Inside the vial lied the contents of a sickly green slushie like substance. She held the vial up to the black knight. He looked down. Then swiftly took up the vial in hand.

“Confirm you rites to me and the under-city, my Knight,” the necromancer cooed, “Please the gift of our gods in her blood and submit your legacy”

He looked to the vial, then to Batibat, and finally at the Sari. Sari snarled like an animal, even in her helpless state. He knelt down beside her. He whispered as he tilted her head back, “Nothing... set... in stone."

He poured the vial partially into her mouth. She tried to fight him off but had no strength. She could only spit it up. He took a few determined steps back and looked to Batibat.

“Worry not to make her drink it you can just pour it on her wounds,” She reassured him, “Allow it to touch the blood.”

He moved forward again and rubbed it into her open wounds. Sari spat at Batibat over his shoulder, “The hells is that. I'm a druid. You can't poison me.”

Then her eyes then went wide as a sickly feeling washed over her, “What... What did you do?”

“I gave you a gift,” Batibat offered, “A gift from another who wished to see you and your pityful circle fall like the rest.”

Her eyes widened. Did Batibat mean to turn her undead? Sari snarled and found some strength returning to her arms. Just enough to claw at the ground and she tried to pitch herself into the water and over the falls to her death. Sadly, she did not quite have that much strength and the hin, small as she was, stopped her. Batibat lowered her voice, speech blunt and full of anger, “Your previous arch-druid failed to understand my message... or my influence.... Mayhaps he will think differently now... once he sees what you become from this...”

“Stop your gloating,” Sari growled, “Kill me or leave me to die in peace.”

But they were not done. They desecrated the ground where she fell and then the knight picked her up, bridal carrying her into the fields of flowers they had blessed earlier that day. He laid her gently among the flowers as Batibat continued to gloat. He desecrated the grounds and left Sari at the center of the vile rot. Spirited to her last, the archdruid interrupted Batibat’s continued monologuing, “Gods... do you ever shut up? I will see the whole of the feilds of the dead consecrated you blasphemous creatures!”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Sarisay,” Batibat smiled.

That’s when Adrian arrived. He was surprisingly calm as he faced down Batibat and her dark knight. Luckily they had not intention of fighting. The damage was done…

[CooCooCachoo]

“I told her, that when I would be with the Caravan, I would be wholly with the Caravan,” Emmanuel went on about his disagreement with Ronja, “It would be my priority, but that I wouldn't do anything that would make the Circle look bad.”

Sarisay humed in the back of her throat. There it was again. This pressing concern of image. Image was nothing to the wild. Image had not kept the forests safe from clear-cutting. Image had not convinced the dukes to set aside any reserve of land. Why should the circle be concerned with image? She cast her line and muttered, “Another curiously one-sided notion. We are forest kin... Right and wrong are always relative to-”

There was a beautiful jovial voice on the wind. It was too far off to hear clearly but it was entrancing enough to interrupt her thought. It was a pleasant sound on a quiet night and she couldn’t help but enjoy the sweet musical tone. She smiled whistfully at the music, and then frowned at how easily her mood was swayed and her attention diverted. She listened harder and with more focus. This had the feeling of enchantment upon it. She lowered her pole and asked, “Do you hear that?”

Emmanuel nodded and looked out at the sea. Their minds began to wander again at the sweet sound, but the will of the druids was not to be trifled with. They casted their eyes away from the deep waters and the crackling fire, in a moment of unified realization that something was trying to influence them. As they came to their senses they noticed a figure on the beach. Sarisay new in an instant that the figure was a Sirine and attempted to speak to it respectfully in sylvan, “ethi ta tairge ll'seell'lvean vakel?” <<Are you lost, songsmith of the fair-folk?”>>

The siren approached, looking somewhat shocked at her calm response. Sarisay spared a glance to Emmanuel, just to be sure he was not ensnared. Seeing him quite in control of his senses she turned attention to the fey. The siren’s silky voice purred to Sarisay, “Mmmm, thy speak Sylvan.. I... I did not expect.”

The fey casted a wary eye at Sarisay, occasionally looking towards Emmanual with a barely concealed intent of hunger and mischief. Sarisay knew she had to keep the creature’s focus on her. A focused attempt at just Emmanuel might work and Sarisay had no desire to fight the fey and her friend. She stepped between the Siren and Emmanuel and spoke, “We are forest kin, druids. You are fey-kind, are you not? What prompts you to come so close to a village? You must be aware of the danger in such.”

The siren insisted she we bored. She wanted to dance with the male. She wanted to sing to them and bring them with her to her waters. Sarisay stood firm, “There is no dance to be found here, return to your ocean home where you belong before some paladin comes along with less patience than me and mine.”

Just then Ashling walked up on the beach. Sarisay’s entire form went tense immediately calculating all the possible scenarios if this came to a fight. Ashling was no druid and did not have their force of will. The siren could charm one or both of the couple and that was a complex and possibly unwinnable fight with obviously dear collateral. Telling Ashling to run was not an option. Showing the fey fear or apprehension would only fascinate it and prompt it to act. She settled for motioning to Ashling to stay back, and hoping that Emmanuel would catch her tone and see to his mate, “Emmanuel...”

Please gods understand. I don’t want to have to fight either of you…

Ashling seemed confused by the tension, but Emmanuel nodded. He nodded to Ashling and motioned with his head to the fey creature down the beach. Emmanuel moved to her side and took her arm just in case. It was something only a mate could do and be trusted. Thank the gods he understood. The siren carressed her arm, languid and soft. She stepped into the water, almost merging with it. Sarisay was almost captivated by the beauty of it for a moment and shook her head to clear it. The Siren eyed Emmanuel past Sarisay with an intoxicating innocence, as her thighs melt into the ocean waters.

“Are you sure?” The fey crooned sweety, speaking over Sarisay to Emmanuel, “You sure you don't want to experience these sweet shores, in a new way?”

For a moment, Emmanuel looked a little too hard. Ashling sensed the shift in his demeanor and her hand moved to his. For Sarisay’s part she watched with deep curiosity. Her glowing eyes became warm and intoxicated as the met with the fey’s gaze, “These shores are beautiful, to be sure, but we have duties to this world yet.”

The siren looked hard on Sarisay, almost irate but with a sense of understanding. There was the feeling of a child glaring at elder sister, but Sari sensed she had said the right things. Sari smiled ever so slightly and she offered peacefully, “Be well, beautiful spirit.”

The siren rolled her eyes and sighed, moaning in frustration and a hint of sexual tension, “Alright...”

She began to lean back before doing a backwards spin in the air and diving into the water. The ocean surface did not react, instead seeming to glide off her body, like oil and water. She slipped beneath the surface of the waters, no movement in response from the ocean except for the waves and the tidal pull. It was as though she was never there. Sarisay offered a bow in respectful closing, breathing out a relieved sigh. She turned to check on the couple.

Emmanuel shook his head a bit to clear it as the fey disappeared. Ashling looked as confused as ever, looking from Sarisay to Emmanuel and back again. Sarisay raked her hand back through her hair and her lips twitch into a subtle but apologetic smile, “Sorry about that, Ashling. I did not have time to explain the situation. She was fey-kind... Likely a siren by her beautiful song. I am glad I was able to send her off without dispatching her. Their kind can be vengeful.”

“I trust you, Sister,” Ashling offered, “I'm glad you were here. Seems I can't leave Emmanuel on the beach alone anymore.”

As the two women spoke Emmanuel’s keen sight caught a pure white mote of light. A single pearl was floating amidst the white foam, and he drew attention to it, “There's something there.”

“Should probably leave it,” Ashling offered apprehensively.

Sarisay looked back, seeing the pearl herself and moved over to look at it in the surf, “I am not so certain Ashling. A gift of the fey should not be dismissed.”

“So, now she's gifting my mate?” Ashling asked. Sarisay blinked once slowly at the assumption that it was for Emmanuel. Still, Ashling understood social cues better than Sarisay, so perhaps it was so. She looked at the thing before picking it up and then she looked back to Emmanuel after casting detect magic on it and finding it inert..

“Just a pearl, brother... But a gift of the fey,” she brought it over to him. “And as the one that saw it first... Rightfully yours. Your prize, high druid.”

And just like that the siren’s pearl was entrusted to the high druid. Sarisay’s mind was buzzing with how it might later show its value, but she settled on the idea that fey liked shiny things. It was probably just a keepsake. Something to inhabit space in a collection on a shelf. Perhaps at some point an object that the scholars may argue over the authenticity of on the hundredth or so telling of its origin.