Strange lights and chanting came from the depths of the Sharpteeth woods... the charred stump of the ancient Runetree was at last put to rest, and now cradles a sapling Oak, radiant with life energy...
((Huge thanks to DM Gluthdroði for the event and quest, and to Planehopper for the coming Map update! Can't wait to see it))
"All is in cycle, deftly and beautifully balanced"
With Highharvestide in swing, Anachaine patrols have grown more populous. Men and women. Hin and genasi and more strode through about patrols. Outside of the Cloakwood as well, but especially there. The sounds of skirmishes (punctuated by sudden thrums of thunder) grow more frequent. Seems the practice of avoiding brutal bloodshed has passed and violence is in-season.
This past day though there was a new development: rising smoke. First in distinct columns but as the day wore on more wisps began to rise and conjoin. The Cloakwood is on fire. With that came even more activity from the forestal community - Anachaine were seen moving to and from the forest relentlessly afterwards, often radiating an aura of smoke and soot.
Anyone who would come into contact with the gnolls outside the entrance to their cave on The Lion's Way would hear them speaking in guttural anger about the appearance of two dark elves and trails of dead brethren throughout their tunnels.
Some time has passed in the Cloakwood and rumours filter from the forest. A story of Gnolls skirmishing with each other. A great meeting with potential allies abandoned. The Gnolls protected by spirits, and corrupted forest life, even perhaps a blessing of Bhaal upon their weaponry. It seems these two factors define them and the hunt by allies of the forest to remove them. Whispered rumours of a search for more bane weapons remembering the last lot failed and adventurers fell doubters wonder if anything better has been found.
If the Gnolls are staying, others may not be as one quarter of the Flaming Fist departed north called back to assist at Baldur's Gate.
The Tradeway remained open and free of gnoll raids.
((OOC: Anyone or any group may post here with their own direction or send me a pm if planning an active move in the great game. otherwise it will move on as NPC play dictates and result in some mechanical changes.))
Need these in by Friday 15 October when plot will enter round 2 (this being a measure of time and IC group and npc energy to take an action or direction)
A quiet procession heads back to the Camp of the Flaming Fist. An armored figure, a hooded woman, and wizard guard the path of two Ilmatari. The Guardian Nathan Goldemane holds a child in his arms, exhausted. Sister Ashenie shares a few words with the Flaming Fist officers. The group seems to bring relief with their return. The boy safe, he is given to the Sister, a warm embrace sheltering him from nightmares. He is secured, wrapped into a strange cloak that seems to be warm enough to ease his rest. The insigna of the flaming fist adorn the cloth.
The Sister turns once more to the group, cheering words offering admiration and gratitude. Tears shimmer in her eyes, though they refuse to fall. She disappears in a tent, guarded by the soliders, while she treats the wounds of the boy, offers a meal, and shares fairy-tales until he finds some rest.
The Sister spend the night by the side of the boy, standing watch. She only disappears a few moments to help the healers of the Flaming Fist Company, mending the soldiers and offering blessings to the dead. She offers letters from the city, and receive those written by the soldiers. As Dawn comes, the Sister leaves with the child in her arms, escorted by a patroll of soldiers until they reach the Orphanage.
Relief, at last, after so much time.
A special thanks to DM All Father & DM Foresight for the scenario
Thank you DM Spartacus for taking over their plots and for playing this chapter
Stories emerge around the edges of the Cloakwood of smaller independent groups of Gnolls on the move, carrying loot and belongings. Raiding parties too striking out at small groups of travellers but driven off by any organised resistance.
There is growing body of support to accept a report that a small elite group of warriors numbering no more than 3 stood toe to toe with a large Gnoll war party near the centre of the forest and won. A Prince or King of Gnolls among the fallen.
Quieter more discreet scouting boldly pushed into the same area where it is said a spirit of Bhaal guards the way. The truth of this report is unclear, the forest long hidden in a tissue of lies, but a supposed rescue of a child has been reported elsewhere.
What is certain is the forest remains occupied, corrupted, nature in retreat and the Gnolls restless.
As the Gnolls move out in all directions perhaps splitting up on the death of a noble or some other fall out the Tradeway might briefly be particularly dangerous.
There have been reports that a large group of druids and rangers entered the Cloakwood, disappearing into the corrupted heart of it. There were sounds of a battle against the gnolls but beyond that, it is unclear what took place.
Now, however, those attuned to the balance of nature perhaps feel or even see the beginnings of transformation. Something has changed in the heart of the Cloakwood, a steady, silent power is pressing back against the corruption.
Since then, those same guardians of nature have been seen more often, replanting and healing the land, reclaiming it from the Bhaalists.
Iolanna: High Druidess of the Green Enclave, Arch of the Crescent Moon, Druid of Greenest, Faithful of Eldath
Elle Avery: Knight of the Radiant Heart, Cleric of Tamara
Ophelia Hawthorne: Whitewood Vanguard
Daigon: Guardsman of the Rocky Creek Trading Company
There have been reports of fires being extinguished in the Cloakwood. Of forestals of all sorts venturing into the depths to seek out smoke and stamping out burning wilds. Coaxing burning clearings to swallow themselves without touching the vulnerable forest around. While these spots of arson weren’t allowed to thrive it seems the opportunity was used for some real forest management, at least where invading gnolls could be kept at bay.
Places choked in shrubs and grasses caught fire in curated ways that cleared the space but didn’t endanger the forest. Glades matted with years and years of old dried grasses were tended as slow-moving fires crept across them, then isolated. Trees were licked by low, cool flames that tickled vainly at the bark before meandering on. In short, overgrown parts of the Cloakwood got singed. Groomed.
Places impacted by arson were certainly apparent but successfully cordoned off before a true conflagration could spread. The beginnings of transformation were accompanied by hard, practical work. It took several days but the smokey pall over the Cloakwood cleared little by little and the sun began to truly shine once more.
Ytarya hefted the crate out of its hole. While the thing wasn’t heavy the smell had developed its own personality and its disposition was decidedly off-putting. Purchased from a farm weeks ago, the eggs within were on the technicolor side of ripe. Perfect for her purposes. The wild elf’s eyes watered as she took the volatile package in her arms, the thing emancipated from the temporary prison she’d buried it in.
As she strode back towards the road she reflected on the task ahead. Autumn pranks were always a weakness of hers and it was likely she couldn’t have resisted the urge if she wanted to. The Flaming Fist camp in all its glory sat as a rickety silhouette in the pre-dawn light, a prime target for lobbed missiles. Ytarya stopped at the edge of the clear-cut clearing and pulled a glove on. Seemed silly that the Guardian had convinced the Flaming Fist to make their palisades completely out of dead and salvaged wood and then they’d gone and destroyed so much anyway. What was an utterly hilarious prank on Emmanuel’s part was muted by the devastation that still occurred. Still it meant that she would have to cross a bit of open ground before the camp was in chucking distance.
Guardian Emmanuel would likely balk at the thought and worry that she was about to commit more crimes against nature. Well, inspire more crimes against nature. Committed by the Flaming Fist that ultimately would be laid at her feet. The narrative timeline of that baffled Ytarya but she hadn’t been invited to any trial nor asked for her opinion. It was how it had been explained to her. Gladly a happy ending seemed to be forming. Both factions invading the Cloakwood were on the back foot and it would only take a little more pushing before the gnolls and soldiers were excised. Honestly Ytarya owed Emmanuel – mediocre driftwood palisades were the best kind of inflammable. The time wasn’t appropriate but come spring, after she’d patiently and subtly treated the wood, it would be time to really give the Flaming Fist a memorable sendoff.
For now, Ytarya cocked an arm back and sighted up a tent visible through the gap in the palisade. Then spotted the glint of a helmet in the night and was glad she brought a whole crate.
A Feast for the Spirits took place on the outskirts of the Cloakwood, hosted by the Druids. The servants of nature were joined by many others from all walks of life, including friends from the Temple of Ilmater, and a talented bard from Beregost. As the sun began to set, they were joined by the forest spirits themselves.
Iolanna: High Druidess of the Green Enclave, Arch of the Crescent Moon, Druid of Greenest, Faithful of Eldath
Elle Avery: Knight of the Radiant Heart, Cleric of Tamara
Ophelia Hawthorne: Whitewood Vanguard
Daigon: Guardsman of the Rocky Creek Trading Company
Hot on the heels of the burning there was a healing procession that is rumoured to have recovered remains from old Gnoll sites. The forest then is still tainted but things are happening. An assortment of woodland creatures led by Druids from the far north is said of have visited working their magic on the forest at the beck and call of their faiths. Some animals were spotted here and there in greater abundance. Pockets of Gnolls and troubling Bhaal spirits occasionally drove them around. But overall signs of change and hope. A wild forest though.
An elf in a blue dragonscale breastplate continues to watch the woods, best he can.
He is encouraged by possibly seeing fewer Fist, and by the regrowth he sees - likely from other druids, he's not entirely sure. A mighty storm has raised much within the Cloakwood, and now may be time for fury to wane and the following parts of the Cycle to wax. Curious to see improvements - were the humans finally driven from the lands?
He observes pockets of Gnolls, proselytizing the Furies as he's able. With emphasis put on both Talos's might and - probably of more interest to the gnolls - Malar's hunts. These people have their place. Now that they've been broken, it's important that they find a way to rebound and regrow.
If he came across a Bhaal spirit, he would dispatch it if he could. But he would not hunt Gnoll nor Fist. At least for now.
Once the healing of the forest had begun, and the Fist's presence diminished some, there was an absence of the presence of the Guardian of the Cloakwoods and his mate. Few would know the cause of the absence, but it was held for roughly a tenday before they were seen in the Cloakwoods again. Stray gnolls of Bhaal who remained in the area were hunted with a vengeance. If any Fist were found within the forest, they were reminded of their promise to leave the forest.
"Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky,
And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die."
- Rudyard Kipling
*Sane Fensen may have been seen planting saplings around the damaged area of Cloakwood , hoping the hard work will take his mind of the darker calls for now , as that the effort will buy more time for a better solution to be found .*
WarpedMirror Monald , your friendly neighborhood Pied Piper (retired) Sane Fensen , elderly follower of the Oak-father Muristan Briin , a storm is coming (dead) . Neldorian , dreamer of the darkness (dead) . Silian Gein , singer , sniper , gossiper and Administrator of the Phoenix Company .
The presence of various woodland supporters working their own ways, planting trees, returning to familiar haunts and paths, removing foes, marking a return to a wild version of nature and a fulfilment of promises made. All observe the continued slow return of wild animals and other creatures, a renewal of the forest often inspired by Druid actions. The Flaming Fist all but withdrawn from the area.
This attracts another interested party a merchant usually found dealing in luxury items arrives at the Friendly Arms Inn taking rooms there. Domar Deel makes himself known to the remaining Flaming Fist seeking to buy timber and other bits of their fort at knock down prices. All the while the Flaming Fist are indeed knocking down their fort as promised.
