Tales from the Glade

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LivT
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Tales from the Glade

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The first stars began to dot a satin sky, shadows of the Reaching Wood thickening under the canopy. The night was still, its unusual quiet broken only by the soft footfalls of a couple navigating over roots and through underbrush.

Iolanna held Aiden’s hand with fingers entwined; the habit formed at a time when he might have needed help navigating the dense forest in the dusk. Now, the gesture was simply comforting and familiar. They both knew their way to the glade by heart, how to follow the sound of the water, and the gleam of light through the trees.

The treeline met with lush grass, canopy opening to the moonlight that hung over gently streaming falls. The the pool at the bottom had been carved so deeply, it let the water remain still, lapping onto smooth rock and muddy banks. A tranquil sanctuary in the gloomy heart of the forest.

This time, Aiden didn’t allow himself to bask long. He rested a hand on the small of Iolanna’s back.

“Do what you need to, love. I’ll keep watch.”

"You know it could take time, right?" She asked again, "If something happens, you can wake me-"

"Hey, some stray gnolls won't bother me. Go, you'll be safe."

Aiden left a kiss on the woman’s forehead and squeezed her to his side, then turned back to watch the thickening darkness for danger. She watched him go, now a wandering figure in the trees, and smiled. There was an unspoken promise the swordsman had made to her, to not ask or pry into the secrets of the Druids even when he guarded those same rites. It was a small kindness to save her the trouble of choosing between him and her duty.

Iolanna stepped to the water’s edge. Her bare feet sunk into the muddy grass and bit by bit, she tugged away her outwear. The blanket-robe, gloves, the worn bodice and hide trousers were all dropped into her gathering basket, till only the old shift remained. The druidess knelt down then, and pushed her hands into the mud.

Rich, cold earth clung to her skin; she raised her fingertips and began to carefully paint a pattern on her face. An inverted teardrop on the bridge of her nose. Upward swoops over her eyebrows. Feather-shaped streaks that radiated from her eyes and over her cheeks.

And then, in the softest whisper, the Druidess began to chant in that most secretive and sacred language.

"The domain of night,
Under starlight’s map,
Great Owl, I invoke your guidance."


She drew more mud, the patterns continuing down her arms. Symbols of feathers weaving into those of a lotus flower; long waving lines to symbolize water straightening over hands into the shape of talons. Giant Owls were a favoured servant of Eldath; she chanted for their insight.

"Eyes of night,
Silent flier through dark skies,
Lend me your vision, that I might find my way to secret knowledge."


Iolanna covered her neck right up to her jaw, fingertips flecking the mud into featherlike marks down her chest. The markings completed, her earth-coated hands came to rest on her knees, her eyes heavy lidded, and her whispered prayers faded to silence.

All became still. The druidess watched the moonlight gently dance on the water, letting the gleaming sink her into a hypnotic trance… an owl called nearby and the rush of its wings beat in the air. Sounds echoed in unison with the dancing light... then, as a waterlilly opens to the sun, Iolanna's mind opened to the cosmos.

The invocation was deeper than a simple spell of wisdom and insight. It began to disconnect her consciousness, it plunged her into deep meditation. So still and peaceful was she, the only sign of movement was the slow tide of her breath.

Time stretched… the lights on the water warped and danced, and made shapes sparkle in the mist of the falls. The longer she stared, the misty shapes became familiar. She saw wings, then the whole owl, weaving and swooping in the air. Glittering droplets formed constellations, circling in a path as the stars do in the sky.

The rotation continued thus, whirling closer, tighter, till the sparkles had created a ring, a wheel, rotating in mid air. The stars of dew moved with it, constellations telling a story. The circle rolled on, drawing in more mist… till a droplet of water formed like a cancer, gathering, growing heavy, and dropping into the pool below. Droplet, after droplet, forming, dropping, breaking the wheel and unbalancing it.

Marks melted away as the wheel had turned, but it was only now there was movement from the druidess; a flinch around her eyes, a flinch of pain within her soul as the shapes in the mist fell apart.

Then a beam of moonlight caught on something in the middle of the rainy mist… Iolanna’s eyes narrowed, peering. A thin veil had begun swirling again, another wheel, though paler and more difficult to find. After all the chaos it hung peacefully in the air, slowly rotating, new constellations rotating around it and continuing the story.

The first ray of sunlight bloomed between the mountains, and the message ended. Shapes were nothing more than mist once again, and the sounds of the forest returned so abruptly it broke Iolanna from her trance.

Pain shot through her folded legs and with a wince she rolled off her knees. Every muscle was tense and cold from being frozen in the position for so long, no matter how calm and relaxed the meditation had been. SHe hadn't felt the hours till they ended.

Iolanna started rubbing the feeling back into her legs, and let the mud crack and flake off with her movements. A sudden rustle preceded Aiden pushing through the brush. It looked like he’d encountered a scrap or two through the night as he guarded the little glade. The swordsman went to Iolanna’s side, and helped her to her feet.

“You were out a while. Did you get your answers?”

She glanced back over at the waterfall, and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what to do.” She looked up at Aiden, smiling as he wrapped her blanket robe around her shoulders. “But first things, should probably find some food, huh?”
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
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LivT
Posts: 359
Joined: Tue Sep 18, 2018 8:47 pm

Re: Tales from the Glade

Unread post by LivT »

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The earth was raked and turned, nourished with fresh water and the leavings of deer that dotted the grove. Iolanna smirked at a faint ringing in the air, pixies, perhaps, looking in at what she was up to, digging around in the garden patch.

"You want to help me grow this thing?" She asked aloud in Sylvan, though did not expect a reply. She reached into her bag, and gingerly lifted out a damp wrap of cloth. She sighed at it softly.

"Because we might be relying on you, little one...
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Only one mark earlier Iolanna paced back and forth over the soft grass, blinking hard to keep the sleep from her eyes. Fatigue gripped her hard; so much had filled a single day it was hard to believe the sun hadn't compelted a whole cycle. Not even the safety of her beloved Shrine could abate the anxiety.

The scent of blood and battle marred the land around it.

Menolly's, Sheara's, the musk of werewolves and the imprints of an elemental being. She had been tracing the paths all over for some sort of a clue, but the one deliberate handprint of the Rune-carved tree was the only sign she held on to, the sign that just maybe, her sister had managed to stride away, and had found some place safe.

Footfalls rustled softly behind her; Iolanna lifted her head, letting go of a small breath as Arturi arrived, Sorcha trotting in tow.

"I'm sorry if I've dragged you away from something," she greeted. The ranger just gave a subtle shake of the head.

"This is important, eh? Idle talk does not compete with a druid's life... or a matter of faith, eh?" Arturi stepped into the stone circle, and rummaged through his belongings. He must have caught the harrowed look Iolanna wore, as he added: "I'm sure Menolly will be well, however."

Iolanna glanced to the rune-carved tree, and the browned bloodstain on it. She swallowed hard.

"Given what's been haunting these woods of late, I don't want to take any chances."

The ranger nodded, and from his bag pulled out some folded cloth, taking it to the druidess and carefully unwrapping it. The long, spindly plant was a little dry, but whole, roots, leaves, flowers and all. Iolanna cradled the little plant as one might an injured bird, taking it and gently dipping its roots into the water of the Shrine's fountain.

"Where did you find it?"

"I'm a Selunite, eh? I've taken lycanthropy seriously before this. For months I've traded Oth Neren any he found for powerfully blessed holy water." He tucked hands into his pockets, and shrugged, "I cannot say where he found it, eh? Probably stored for use in long forgotten places."

"Smart move. I will see this one planted, try and grow more as quickly as possible. So long as you and the others have some on your person, in case of an attack."

"I do," Arturi nodded, "But... should you need more, eh? If it helps to cultivate more, I'd gladly surrender my own."

Iolanna was quick to shake her head at that. The Arch Druidess, the High Druid, their mates, they had samples each which she had to trust would be enough for themselves, or any individual of the Enclave.

"If it's truly needed I will ask, but it puts my mind as more ease to know my friends are safe. Keep the curse off you in case one of those Lycans should bite."

The fact Iolanna's share would be buried in the earth and not at the ready to heal her was left unmentioned. Her mind was with their sister Menolly, her worry was that one of the werewolves or Malarites had actually gotten to her-

Iolanna blinked, going still.

"As you wish; I've uh- what is it?" Arturi canted his head.

"It's just that, Menolly has been targeted by Malarites before... a complication when she was born put a target on her. But that's... no. I'm sorry, that was back in her own home land, it's far fetched to think any here would take issue with her."

Arturi took a breath, with an even slower exhale and thought on that a moment.

"Unlikely... but if she came across something here and they were at odds..." He sniffed once sharply, leaving the thought. Iolanna nodded mutely.
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...Now, she knelt in the rich and fresh turned earth, safe within the Grove. She unwrapped the little plant again, a few of its flowers having dropped away but its stem and leaves plump again from the water.

"Alright little one. Back you go. We need you strong, we need more of you, okay?"

A hole scooped from the earth, the wolfsbane pressed in and planted again. For a brief moment Iolanna swore she saw the light of life rush up its stem to the tips of its leaves. The Grove was a holy place, it's soil radiant with life. Even so, for this plant to grow quickly as they needed, it would need all the help it could get.

Iolanna closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, the grit of the mud pressing into her palms.

'Earth as my bone, water as my blood, wind as my breath, fire as my spirit...'

Her awareness pulsed out, following the trickle of life that flowed through every root and bough and creature. She drew it close, drew it out of herself. More than a temporary summon of a vine tangle or a simple spell, this incantation called on more than just magic. Her voice became lyrical, reciting the enchantment in Druidic.

"Grow now uninhibited, your beauty elicited;

Immortal life in sprig and shoot, in flower's bloom and twisted root;

Rise and birth into the world, the power of nature's will unfurled."


Iolanna felt a faint chill and weakening in her own body, but it was a calming and comforting kind, the kind after a long day's work, where her own energy was willingly gifted to something else. The Wolfsbane bloom strengthened in the soil, a creaking in the ground as the sapling's roots reached out and firmly grasped the earth around it, its leaves reaching tall. The old blooms drooped away and littered the soil, new buds rounding along the tips of the stems.

Iolanna softly chanted her incantation, over and over; after a few short moments of this, her eyes peeled open, and she smiled at the not so little plant that stood proud before her.

The sapling was strong; not quite ready to propagate, but any who saw it would be sure the wilted little transplant would have been growing in that spot since it was only a seed.

She reached out, and gently touched the leaf of the Wolfsbane plant.

"A few more incantations like that, little one, and you might well take over the Grove huh? Keep us safe from the werewolves. I'll keep you safe from everything else."

With a groan, the druidess stretched, and rather than finding a hollow for the night flopped down onto the grass nearby, contented to make that patch her bed for the night.
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Last edited by LivT on Mon Feb 01, 2021 3:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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
User avatar
LivT
Posts: 359
Joined: Tue Sep 18, 2018 8:47 pm

Re: Tales from the Glade

Unread post by LivT »

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A small flame burst to life, cradled in the druid’s hands and set to rest on the moss wick of a beeswax candle. Iolanna guarded it from the breeze and mist of the fountain till the flame grew strong and settled, then shook last of the cantrip from her hand, looking up at the statue before her.

The Reaching Wood was still and quiet at this hour, lit only by starlight glinting on frost, and populated by shadows and threats. But here, enclosed in the standing stones… she felt safe.

“It’s just a place, I know.” Iolanna spoke to the statue, her language slipping between Celestial and Druidic and Common, landing on whatever felt comfortable. A formal prayer, this was not.

“But, You did come here. Once the warriors and the swords and weapons were gone, you were here.”

Iolanna paused, her secret heart hoping it just might happen again; where the water lay still as glass even with the fountain pouring into it, where droplets glistened still on unmoving leaves, and pure, utter silence permeated every fiber of her being. Her Goddess had appeared to her that day, and to Emmanuel, and even to Taka and Ytarya, those who followed Furies but still gave their respect to the Green Goddess.

… No such miracle recurred on that night before the Holy Day. But it was special in its own way, now that solitude had returned for just a little while. More people would be back to patrol, to hunt the Drow, to stand like sentries around the stone circle.

“They remind me of Tempus, you know? Like Aiden, before. Like Aiden now, a little.” She smiled to herself, mind echoing something of their dogma; '...that Tempus commanded his followers to not harm those of Eldath, seeing that war was meaningless without peace following, and he punished followers who disobeyed that command.'

"I mean I can understand them I think… when you dedicate your life to risking your life for the greater good, you’ll want to do all you can to keep it safe.”

Iolanna reached out, letting the ice mist over her palm, landing in a dust that instantly melted away.

“Isabella told that parable today, by the campfire. You know the one, the Malarites coming to hunt the Eldathyns. And you taught us to just leave, just retreat and be out of the way, stay hidden. So the Malarites came, and destroyed the shrine, but couldn’t find any Eldathyns to kill.

“So they tracked us to the next sanctuary, and we retreated and hid again. And they destroyed that sanctuary, but still couldn’t find any Eldathyns to kill. And they chased us all the way to the third Shrine. Again, we stayed out of their way, again, they destroyed everything around them. But they never satisfied that bloodlust, and turned on each other. Violence, creating violence, till there was nothing left for them to destroy but each other.

“When it was all over, we just went back, and rebuilt the shrines, and kept on with our lives, and our prayers.”


She thought of the small stone ruin just a little to the south, by the waterfall. What violence happened there, she couldn’t know for certain. But now it was quiet, reclaimed by vines and roots, and home to the ravens and sparrows that nested in the broken roof. Eventually, nature takes it all back. By her own work, tranquillity should too.

Iolanna tucked her chilled hands into the pockets of her skirt, her eyes tight with consternation.

“I um… I know you would want me to leave too, if the Drow come back and attack, if we can’t stop it in time. I would. I will, if that’s what happens. It’s just a place, after all… stone and water and a blessing. I - and my Sisters, Brothers, - we’ll work to the bone to build it again, and cleanse the land again. Just…”

Ere long, it seemed the druidess came to the root of her struggle.

“…The people. The ones protecting this tiny sanctuary, they are good people each in their own way. And unlike a fountain, they’re made of bone and blood, not stone and water. You showed me that hate leads to hate, and kindness to kindness, so, if it’s in my power to help keep them safe… I will.”

She looked up at the statue, and after a moment huffed a bemused laugh. This wasn’t the first time she’d rambled so irreverently to the Goddess that had saved her, likely would not be the last, but the silliness of it never managed to escape her.

“Maybe this is all just a roundabout way of saying… ‘Goodbye, just in case’. Not to You, clearly, just to this place. Just stone, and water… and grass, and burrows, and a blessing. But it’s loved, regardless. Figured I should be ready to let go, just in case. And You’d know me better than anyone, letting go wasn’t always my strong suit.”

Iolanna eased down to a sitting kneel, her spine straight, eyes closed, and hands brought to prayer. Most festivals and feast days required communal celebration; this small moment at the witching hour, though, the High Druidess kept for the Goddess of Singing Waters.

In that ancient, sacred language of the Druids, Iolanna sang, the solitude letting her voice be sweet and clear and uninhibited.

"Embrace the magic that darkness bears,
Breathe deep the chill and changing air.
We find peace in the promise of Midwinter's night,
That each day forward is blessed with more light;
That the cycle of nature, unbroken and true,
Brings faith to my soul and my love to You.
Rejoice in darkness, deepest before dawn
For from darkest night, the new day is born."
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
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