Alloryen Kingdom
East of Hith Elee
6th day of the 8th month: Temoth Ore
11:18 am
The battle was a hard one. In fact, it was the hardest they had ever been through. Two of the group were already down, and the rest of them felt the strain of combat on their muscles and aches in their bodies. The two lizards were down, but they still had an obstacle or two to overcome. And communication and trust were definitely among those.

Loda didn’t have time to communicate though. She had her mind racing, one part commanding Gothard to attack, another part directing the ball of fire towards the branches, and the biggest portion of her brain aimed herself at Geim, who desperately needed healing, if it weren’t too late already.
The branches of the tree snapped at her, but missed, and she arrived at Geim’s side. While the flaming sphere hovered over them to keep the vines from coming close, she whispered her prayers to Kharox and she was very relieved to hear a faint rasp from the Runemaster’s throat. He wasn’t moving however, but his breathing was apparent, but now he had to get out of the danger zone.

Thondrek was positioning himself for a daring feat. But his attempt would be worthless if he didn’t have one of the potions at hand, or a bit more strength to suffer the willow’s vines. He activated his healing belt, and felt instantly refreshed, as if he had just taken a long pull from Khordal’s finest Lemonicage Ale.
Then he called out to his new companion, asking the vial and her trust. She decided to take the risk, and he was handed the potion. But he could see in her eyes that she was unsure of what he was capable of doing with it.

Geim and Draven both balanced in between worlds. They were fighting to remain with their companions, but the afterlife was luring them in as well. For now, all they could do was hold on with all the power of will they possessed. Geim was being guarded by Loda, but Draven lay all alone. Alone on the soaked floor, taking in the rigid stench of the polluted soil. Alone with a body that was no longer a vessel for his mind, broken and heavy. Alone, until two arms gripped him and pulled him away.
Elessarae had dodged into the swamping area to the place where Draven had been dropped. Two vines caught one of her legs and one of her arms, but again she knew to snap loose before they could get a true hold on her. Perhaps it was her experience in dodging constricting menaces, or maybe the God’s favoured her after her many calls for aid.
She reached Draven unharmed, and started dragging him away from the tree.

Quilanday had nodded at Elessarae’s request to cut off the lizard’s head. But the creature proved tougher to slash than it was to puncture with a rapier. She started hacking away, and blood and scales flew around her.

Malius stood looking around, indecisive. The two lizards had been killed, the vines were currently not constricting anybody, so what should he do? He pulled out an arrow, but went from vine to vine without letting it fly.

The tree seemed to realize something was about to happen, and its vines rose high into the air and slashed down upon the ground simultaneously. The impact sent a tremor through the forest, rippling outwards from the trunk. They were all fighting for balance and were able to keep standing, but the quake shook their innards up and around in a nauseating manner that lead to an internal pain and disorientation. Not each of them was affected as heavily, but Geim sunk back into an unconscious state, and Draven went limp too.

Alyssia had been ready to cast her magic, but was now unable to do more than trying to keep standing.

When the tremor eased away Loda cast her magic once more upon the Runemaster in her arms. A second time she pulled him away from the dark tunnel, but this time Geim didn’t come back as steady as earlier. Something had to be done, or they would lose half the group in this fight.

Then Thondrek darted forward, the potion in hand. He started slow but caught speed quickly. When he was about to step on the swamped ground he saw at least ten vines coming at him, ready to grab and stop him from coming closer. Such an intense reaction had not been seen from the tree yet. But the vines caught nothing but air, for Thondrek had disappeared from his path. The Khord was now standing at the tree trunk, and was rubbing the ointment all over the bark.

The effects were instantaneous. The white tree went limp, its vines dropping from their ready positions to ensnare people into the normal branches of the average willow. The goo didn’t stop oozing from the appendices, but the hostility was over.

The Khord moved as though his life depended on it, and surely the truth of the matter was it did in fact depend on his ability to move faster than any living creature ever could. He would have to bend space and time and even then, at the split second before likely he'd never see daylight or taste the finest Khordish ale ever again.

He had the potion, his sturdy feet pushed him forward and then the tree lashed out at him, more vines than he could even count his mind so focused on the task at hand. The branches whipped out to strangle the life from him just as he finished the quickened incantation practiced for just such life threatening situations. His vision blurred, and in the blink of an eye he was no loner treading on marshy round, but instead stood on the thick roots of the tree, where he quickly unstoppered the potion held in his free hand with his teeth, poured it upon the tree and began rubbin it in to the roots and trunk.

The effects were immediate, as the possessed tree floundered and de-evolved back into the weeping willow it once was, it's branches fallin inert, though the viscous goo still dripped.

Thondrek afforded himself the luxury of wipin the sweat from his brow and finally letting out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding until now.

The goo dripping still seemed to seep into the round and that bothered Thondrek, but he didn't know exactly what to do about it.

"Anyway to stop that Goo?" Thondrek asks to anyone who cared to answer.

He walked towards the closest fallen lizard, avoiding walkin beneath the drippin branches as best as possible, bringing his Moonblade to bare on the neck region of the lizard, happily hackin and sawing through the creature's head as instructed.

Elessarae had dodged into the swampy area to the place where Draven had been dropped. Two vines caught one of her legs and one of her arms, but again she knew to snap loose before they could get a true hold on her. Perhaps it was her experience in dodging constricting menaces, the aimated ropes used in the Blademaster’s testing, or maybe the God’s favoured her after her many calls for aid.

She reached Draven unharmed, and started dragging him away from the tree, clear of the festered earth and out from under the tree.

Her eyes had been on Thondrek when he darted forward, the potion in hand. He started slow but caught speed quickly. When he was about to step on the swamped ground he saw at least ten vines coming at him, ready to grab and stop him from coming closer. Elessarae’s heart lurched as she prepared to drop Draven and go to the little man’s aid. Such an intense reaction had not been seen from the tree yet. But the vines caught nothing but air, for Thondrek had disappeared from his path. The doubt that lingered in the back of Elessarae’s mind, after tossing the potion to Thondrek, was erased in a blink. The Khord was now standing at the tree trunk, and was rubbing the ointment all over the bark.

The effects were instantaneous. The white tree went limp, its vines dropping from their ready positions to ensnare people into the normal branches of the average willow. The goo didn’t stop oozing from the appendices, but the hostility was over.

"Anyway to stop that Goo?" Thondrek asks to anyone who cared to answer.

“No, the tree has to fully recover and it takes time.” Elessarae answers “Now if you had contact with the tree or the soggy ground, strip and immediately wash yourself once you are clear of it.” Elessarae calls out her advice. “We will need to burn the affected clothes later.”

Next she uses her Bardic heal spell CLW to aid Draven. With a quick change of weapon she draws out her dagger, its keen edge glittering in the dappled sun and deftly cuts away Draven’s clothing. Elves had no inhibitions about nakedness so she stipped away his clothing without hesitation to remove the contaminated material from contact with his body as quickly as possible. Unslinging her waterskin with she washes his entire body, rolling him over when she needed to get to the other side. Only when he has been washed from head to toe, does she will take the time to remove all the extra protective clothing she had put on earlier and strip off the oiled boots and gloves she wore. She will wash her face, as it was the only exposed place on her body. She will check Draven again and make a decision if she needs to use the healing wand on him.

If the heads are not yet off the lizards Elessarae will move to help.

(Only after the liards are guaranteeds confirmed dead, will Thondrek remove his wooden plank shoes, and gloves, (As those were the only item to touch the ground or tree itself) and prepare to burn them at Ellisarae's wisdom.* )

The battle was a hard one. In fact, it was the hardest they had ever been through. Two of the group were already down, and the rest of them felt the strain of combat on their muscles and aches in their bodies. The two lizards were down, but they still had an obstacle or two to overcome. And communication and trust were definitely among those.

Geim and Draven both balanced in between worlds. They were fighting to remain with their companions, but the afterlife was luring them in as well. For now, all they could do was hold on with all the power of will they possessed. Geim was being guarded by Loda, but Draven lay all alone. Alone on the soaked floor, taking in the rigid stench of the polluted soil. Alone with a body that was no longer a vessel for his mind, broken and heavy. Alone, until two arms gripped him and pulled him away.

The tree seemed to realize something was about to happen, and its vines rose high into the air and slashed down upon the ground simultaneously. The impact sent a tremor through the forest, rippling outwards from the trunk. They were all fighting for balance and were able to keep standing, but the quake shook their innards up and around in a nauseating manner that lead to an internal pain and disorientation. Not each of them was affected as heavily, but Geim sunk back into an unconscious state, and Draven went limp too.
In this moment Alyssia lost her concentration for the spell and in place was focusing her concentration on trying to keep her balance. The tremor had indeed caught her off guard and she fought to keep her footing. By the time she was ready to cast her spell anew, the tree had already been destroyed and her team members were chopping the heads off the lizards.

Within moments her world was unraveling, perhaps their enemies were defeat but now she had an obstacle to overcome. Draven had confided in her to keep a secret of what troubled him long ago in their journey. Her love for this man was what kept her from turning a cold shoulder to him after hearing his secret. He had confided in her, and together they hid his secret from the rest of the group and now they would see his scar. Thankfully he had hidden the mark that showed his secret. When she noticed Elessarae start peeling off his clothes she threw herself over his body but her frame was smaller than his and a portion of his scar was visible to the woman who had begun undressing him.

Without thinking Alyssia covered his body and dragged him away from the party to where she would clean him. Surely the party would think that she simply wanted Draven for herself, more for the reason of infatuation than the reason for which was true. Hoping to keep him concealed she had dragged him away from the party simply saying "allow me, I feel as if I owe it to the party to take care of him." she had spoken hastily. However she hoped that the rest of her party wouldn't question her motives. Perhaps they would understand she felt useless during the battle they had barely survived, and would shrug it away. However she wondered what questions would be raised with Draven and Alyssia alone, and her stripping him in his unconscious state.

Cautiously her hands ran over his scar and carefully upon his chest. Her hands slipped his shirt off slowly, carefully and threw it into a pile. Next she hesitated naught but a moment before starting to remove his boots, and the rest of his clothes. She had been red with anger when Elessarae had began removing Draven's clothes, and now she was a different shade of red. Her eyes closed as she removed the last of his clothing and tossed it into the pile. Being so in love with the man, she couldn't bear looking at him naked, without having his permission.

Having been battling from a distance from the tree, she didn't have much to remove from the tree. It had only really been her boots, and her shirt from the goo that had splattered when vines had slashed. Slowly she threw her clothes into the pile, she had worn a couple layers, so she still wore a shirt, it was a white shirt, a tank top. She now sat beside him out of the view of the rest of the party. Alyssia was respectful to the man she loved. Unlike what Elessarae would have been to him. Deep down she was wondering what Elessarae was thinking.

Her eyes slowly ran over his face, and she could feel his body going cold. Quickly she ran through her mind going over her memorized spells in hopes of having something to save his life. Alyssia decided to cast Cure Critical Wounds on the love of her life. After she cast she took a quick look at his body, he had a broad chest and with the exception of the scars, he had a perfect body. Definition lined his muscles and he seemed perfect to her, despite the large scar he bore. She was the only one in the group who knew the secrets he hid, and knew they would have explaining to do once they returned to the party. For the first time she was surprised with what he packed. Her eyes wouldn't budge from everything he had hidden, and couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it prior to seeing him completely naked.

As she and Draven were away from the party she ran her hand along his cheek and forehead gently. Waiting for him to return conscious after having cast her CCW spell.. Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper "You were almost discovered, love, I think we may have some explaining to do this day." she sighed softly and wondered what he would think if he woke before she spoke those words. Occasionally she would glance over her shoulder as she drew deep breathes trying to calm herself and organize her thoughts. There would be questions she was sure, but how would they answer the questions. Biting her lip gently, Alyssia waited for him to wake, knowing he would be angry when he came to, yet still she knelt at his side.

‘A Cursed Hunter‘…..‘Or to die by the blade‘….’Dera’Vainne Irezsu’Dantes…’ And the blackness was all encompassing. Not light above nor below and the fall would be eternal. Eternal until the flames began to lick, and below writhed the mass of madness. Gibbering wordless, slobbering maws. Shadows who’s touch was plague. Tendrils of decay. Reaching, reaching upward as the descent continued. Closer and closer and the wild, shapeless masses were pocked with eyes, but they were eyes that could be recognized. Not all. Death is eternal and so too are it’s denizens. But so many eyes, gleaming with madness…seen before. Seen in life…and the shapeless sucking mouths came, hungrily, thirstily. Longing. Devourer or Hel? He could not be so sure…
He was unmoving when she got to him, and she could tell that he was dying. What had happened in the fight? Elessarae did not know this man but she had heard enough about him to know he was greatly renowned for his prowess in battle. And she could see in his golden eyes, that he was a being that never accepted defeat. And yet he had froze in battle. Just stopped fighting, and slipped away…Why?

Such questions however, were clearly better saved. Grabbing him and dragging his heavy corpse away from the tree and onto solid ground, she took a moment to inspect the damage. He was pale as wet snow and tendrils of blood were running from his mouth. He wasn’t breathing, but his heart was beating faintly.

He needed to be healed and cleansed of the plague that festered at the foot of the tree. Without hesitation, the Knight began unfastening his black, leather armor. Beneath his equally black clothing were soaked with the vile stuff. Withdrawing her dagger, she began to cut away his tunic, from the collar…

His chest was pale and well shaped from years of physical conditioning. Scrawled across his pecks and spiraling down under his clothing, black, knot work tattoos marred his smooth skin. This however, was not where her shock lay. The jagged mark that ran from beneath his right collar, and down across his chest was astonishing. A Scar? It smoldered like hot coals, but it was not hot to the touch. If it indeed was the result of a scar being healed, it was unlike any seen before. Scars weren’t supposed to burn…And morso, the would have been utterly fatal…

With a desparate cry, Alyssia landed on his body, covering the scar. Throwing the cloth back over it, she pleaded with Elessarae to let her handle this….

And he reached for Grishnak and realized it was not there…

Draven was unmoving when Elessarae got to him, and she could tell that he was dying. What had happened in the fight? Elessarae did not know this man but she had heard enough about him to know he was greatly renowned for his prowess in battle. And she could see in his golden eyes, that he was a being that never accepted defeat. Grabbing him and dragging his heavy corpse away from the tree and onto solid ground, she took a moment to inspect the damage. He was pale as wet snow and tendrils of blood were running from his mouth. He wasn’t breathing, but his heart was beating faintly.

He needed to be healed and to be cleansed of the plague that festered at the foot of the tree. Without hesitation, the Knight began unfastening his black, leather armor. Beneath his equally black clothing were soaked with the vile stuff. Withdrawing her dagger, she began to cut away his tunic, from the collar…

His chest was pale and well shaped from years of physical conditioning. Scrawled across his pecks and spiraling down under his clothing, black, knot work tattoos marred his smooth skin. This however, was not where her shock lay. The jagged mark ran from beneath his right collar, and down across his chest was astonishing. A scar? It smoldered like hot coals, but it was not hot to the touch. If it indeed was the result of a scar being healed, it was unlike any seen before. Scars weren’t supposed to burn…And moreso, they would have been utterly fatal…

Within moments her world was unraveling, perhaps their enemies were defeat but now she had an obstacle to overcome. Draven had confided in her to keep a secret of what troubled him long ago in their journey. Her love for this man was what kept her from turning a cold shoulder to him after hearing his secret. He had confided in her, and together they hid his secret from the rest of the group and now they would see his scar. Thankfully he had hidden the mark that showed his secret. When she noticed Elessarae start peeling off his clothes she threw herself over his body but her frame was smaller than his and a portion of his scar was visible to the woman who had begun undressing him.

Without thinking Alyssia covered his body and dragged him away from the party to where she would clean him. Surely the party would think that she simply wanted Draven for herself, more for the reason of infatuation than the reason for which was true.

For Elessarae the act of stripping Draven of the offensive apparel was none without any maidenly qualms. The naked body was a thing of beauty, only Draven’s beauty was marred by a smoldering scar that went across his body. Elessarae did not even blink at the sight, she could not be slowed in the tasks of saving Draven from the accumulating effects to the tree’s poisons.

With a desperate cry, Alyssia landed on his body, covering the scar. Throwing the cloth back over it, she pleaded with Elessarae to let her handle this…. Some may have been stunned at the suddenness of Alyssia’s actions and her cry of distinct agitation. Elessarae stood and backed away leaving the warrior to her

Hoping to keep him concealed she had dragged him away from the party simply saying "allow me, I feel as if I owe it to the party to take care of him." she had spoken hastily.

“He needs healing,” comment Elessarae without reaction to Alyssia’s actions, “I have a wand of Cure Light Wounds if needed. You will also have to strip and burn your clothes since you just polluted them.”

As Alyssia did not ask for Elessarae to heal him, she assumed that she had the power to cast healing spells, or that she had potions for such. Nor did Alyssia give an excuse for her display. Since she knew very little of these people she did not judge or question.

Elessarae had been going to help with the lizards, but Lady Quilanday and Thondrek were already hacking at their necks. Immediately Elessarae turned back to see if Loda needed help with Geim. If she is needed to help get Geim free she will do that first, donning her oiled boots and gloves and putting on the extra cloak, and entering the soggy ground under the tree.

If she is not needed her gaze in that direction, and back along the path plowed into the soggy ground by Draven’s heels will reveal a lone sword. Rather that donning her boots again to traipse across the tainted ground she wove the spell Mage Hand, and then reached for the sword to bring it back to solid ground. (I am within the proper distance and if it is just a long sword, or bastard sword I can lift it.) Once she has it she brings it to her and lays it down on the good grass.

Elessarae will finally looked to where Wulf had been left crouching, assailed by some unknown force that left him incapacitated and she will go to him.

With the last effort of the tree to defend itself a failure Malius found himself standing looking around very much for the moment indecisive. With the two lizards dead, the vines not constricting anybody and the tree for all intents defeated, standing with an arrow possibly not needed in hand he felt almost the fool. Yet he justified his present stance as being on guard as all who could heal were doing so.
There was no telling if more creatures were yet lurking awaiting the chance to attack if any did so Malius would be ready.......

Geim knew where he was when he picked himself up off the ground on the broad hero highway. There above him build out of the towering rocky cliffs was the finest example of Dwarven master builders. The palace home of Kharox, God of the Dwarves. The stones fit so tightly that no seam could be found and polished until they shown like gems though they were made of the strong bones of the earth. Geim knew all the stories that had come down to Dwarves over the millenia---was not he a cleric of Kharox?

All Dwarves knew one day they would walk this road though he did not expect it to come so soon, Good or evilm lawful or chaotic or anywhere in between, Geim tried to look on his life objectively. Had he done well in the sight of Kharox,? That question weighed heavily on his mind---nay, on his soul. He had served Kharox for most of his adult years as cleric and loremast3re. Had he done his best? Geim sighed IF was not what he felt he had done that mean a a stone chip worth of difference Kharox would judge him fairly one way of the other.

Geim did have one regret hanging heavy on his mind. He did not know how his companions had fared, he only knew he had fallen and would not get up, not in the mortal world at least. Perhaps he could ask Kharox, at least about how Loda faired Though a stranger dwarfness he had never known. A Druid. Gaim shook his head, but she was staunch in a battle she and her companion, perhaps Kharox would not answer Geim's question about her none-the-less he would ask.

With steady strides, Geim’s short legs carried him steadily onwards climbing the Great Dwarven Road upwards. He did not tire, he felt no pain, his pack felt weightless. The ache in his chest was as if it happened long ago and been forgotten except for memory that it did happen. He wished his comrades well and though only Loda was a dwarf, they had all stood together during many trying times that had tested their mettle. Each dwarf walked this road alone, to meet with and be judged by Kharox.

Suddenly Geim felt faint, darkness wiped away his vision and he must have fallen because he could feel himself on the ground and partially sitting up struggling against the darkness of his vision and against the overwhelming disorientation he felt--and pain. Smells and sounds assailed his ears and nose. For a moment he seemed to struggle to breathe, but it hurt too much to take a deep breath. Then it faded again as the earth shook beneath him.

Geim regined his sense and the world righted itself. He picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his pants and continued on. He was back here on the road just about where he last remember. It was quite a climb up the Great Road winding back and forth from the valley floor to the hieights above wher Kharox's Great palace stood reaching for the heavens themselves. UP Geim went though he felt no strain. The sky was brilliant blue and the air warm and filled with heady scent of earth and stone Geim felt better than he had for years. LIke a yound Dwarf in the prome of his life.

He steps seem to speed him forward as if there were some sort of traveling spell on him or the road. It wasn’t far now, another few bends in the road had zig zag up the cliff face to the base of the palace fortress of Kharox. As Geim drew closer to the great gates he marveled at the architecture and the skill of dwarven builders, Up close it was even more impressive--and so it should be Geim thought It had dwarven beauty, not the “beauty” that elven work, but the superior dwarven construction that was functional, practical, durable and awesome in size and scope --truly magnificent and worthy of Kharox.

(Waiting on further developments)

Alloryen Kingdom
East of Hith Elee
6th day of the 8th month: Temoth Ore
11:20 am
With a firm hack of her rapier, Quilanday severed the last muscle that held the lizard’s head to its body. She looked to her left, and noticed Thondrek was also finished. They had but one thing left to do, and so she started a fire, away from the tree, but not quite in the middle of the clearing. Once it burned brightly, she dragged the lizard’s head into the flames, and watched skin sizzle and scales flake and curl.
Aided by Malius and Thondrek she pushed the creature’s heavy body over the grass, but she knew it would never burn of its own, protected by size and surface. Therefore, she started hacking and sawing once more, clearing off body parts that would fit in the inferno of cleansing flames without dousing it. She ordered Thondrek to do the same, then caught herself, and asked politely.
And so came an end to the protectors of the poisonous willow.

Elessarae, in the mean time, wandered around the battle field, helping where she could. She had taken Draven’s sword from the ground where Alyssia had snatched him from her well intended handling. It was a strange weapon, crafted in a form she had never seen before; long, flat and only slightly curved. It was like a breed between a long sword and a rapier, but still different. And there seemed to be an unbalance in it that pulled it to one side. But when she turned she could feel the unbalance shift in her hand. Going back and forth with the katana, made her realize that it was pulling towards the bushes that were covering Alyssia and Draven from her gaze. Stepping closer she knew for sure that the weapon was longing for its master.

But something distracted her from this discovery. She had passed the place where Wolf had been kneeling, clutching his head. Now, the sylvari warrior was gone. The screaming had stopped at some point, but none of them had noticed. She flashed her eyes over the grass field, and finally caught him, standing next to the willow. He was in a trance it seemed, gazing at the tree like it was a long lost lover. Red goo dripped from the branches onto his helmed head and shoulders, staining his bright, long hair. His longsword and shield hung loosely at his side as he took in every detail.

It was then that Alyssia completed her healing spell. It was a powerful one, and Draven’s body shook as his body mended, bathed in a brilliant radiance of power. Lysora was pleased with Alyssia, it seemed. Through the haze of healing energy, the sorceress could see Draven’s features change. The strain of pain and torment was relieved, though only slightly, as she knew that he would never heal of this. But it was delightful to see the man come back to life under her touch.
When Draven woke up, he was almost back to full health. He was naked, and by his side sat Alyssia, wearing nothing but a white shirt which had been washed too many times and bore the stains of one who promised poverty. Still, she was beautiful, through all the filth of travel and battle. And she was eyeing him strangely. How did he end up here? Where were the rest of the party? How was he going to react?

Loda had no eye for anything that was going on. In her arms lay the Runemaster she had met back in Khordal. Not many words had been spoken between them, but now she felt a longing to be with him. She could sense that he was struggling for his life, even after the healing he had already received.
Gothard came to sit next to her. The wolf peered at her, his eyes full of compassion, and for the first time since very very long, he was not pleading with her to give him alcohol. He licked Geim’s face, but was suddenly distracted as Wolf, the sylvari warrior, passed by.
Loda didn’t notice the man, but closed her eyes and prayed to Kith-Jora, patron of Nature, to heal this Khordaldrum cleric once more. Through her hands she felt a power flow into Geim’s body, but it was faint. She realized she wasn’t feeling to strong herself, as she had suffered in this battle as well. But she forgot all about her own misery when the Khord in her arms opened his eyes. She had saved him from a certain death.

Thondrek, Malius and Quilanday were now done chopping the lizards into pieces big enough to burn. Casting them into the fire one by one they were distracted by a sudden humming. They turned towards the tree, where the sound originated. They could see how Elessarae was also staring at the willow.
At its base stood Wolf, and from his body flowed a song that was both as pure as a refreshing waterfall, but also as rugged as the roots of an ancient forest. The tune caught them all, even Loda, Geim and Gothard; possibly even Draven and Alyssia who still remained unseen.
Through their bodies flowed slow waves of relaxation, but it also made them very aware of how heavy their arms and heads were. Their vision blurred, and vaguely they perceived Wolf stretching out his hand towards the tree-trunk, going through the bark as if it didn’t exist. Then the warrior stepped forward, and they tumbled onto the ground, rolling forward and landing on the soft earth.

When they woke up, the sun was already casting long shadows over the field, and the fire had been reduced to embers that smoked softly in the wind. In the distance they could hear the song of a bird praising the beauty of day passing into evening.
They felt as new, like a week of nursing comfort had passed over them. Refreshed and confident they rose, to find the white willow showering the field with glory. It had healed like they had, and undergone a transformation as if it had been a ghastly cocoon opening up for a rebirth of beauty. Its bark shone like mithril, its leaves almost radiated health. Gone were the tears and the twisted branches. They had grown into lush bearers of life. Gone was the goo that dripped down in overflowing pollution. And at the base of the tree lay a helmet, a shield and a longsword.

(OOC: Alright guys. You’ve done it! Check the Q/A for more info)

Elessarae, in the mean time, wandered around the battle field, helping where she could. She had taken Draven’s sword from the ground where Alyssia had snatched him from her well intended handling. It was a strange weapon, crafted in a form she had never seen before; long, flat and only slightly curved. It was like a breed between a long sword and a rapier, but still different. And there seemed to be an unbalance in it that pulled it to one side. But when she turned she could feel the unbalance shift in her hand. Going back and forth with the katana, made her realize that it was pulling towards the bushes that were covering Alyssia and Draven from her gaze. Stepping closer she knew for sure that the weapon was longing for its master.

Elessarae started for the brush that hide Draven and Alyssia from her view to return the magic sword to its master, but something distracted her from this discovery. She had passed the place where Wolf had been kneeling, clutching his head. Now, the sylvari warrior was gone. The screaming had stopped at some point, but none of them had noticed. She flashed her eyes over the grass field, and finally caught him, standing next to the willow. He was in a trance it seemed, gazing at the tree like it was a long lost lover. Red goo dripped from the branches onto his helmed head and shoulders, staining his bright, long hair. His longsword and shield hung loosely at his side as he took in every detail.

Immediately Elessarae moved that way, for the tree was not entire cleansed and the goo that was dripping on the warrior could do him harm. Only Elessarae’s move to Wulf was paused as the man began to hum to the tree. She had thought at the beginning that somehow Wulf was connected to the tree. Not only did he lead them directly to it, but she not believed that his sudden collapse to his knees and his screams were not due to the lizards, but more probably to his connection to the tree. IT made some sense. His voice seemed to voice the screams of the tree.

As she watched Thondrek, Malius and Quilanday finished chopping the lizards into pieces big enough to burn. Casting them into the fire one by one they were distracted by a sudden humming. They turned towards the tree, where the sound originated. They could see how Elessarae was also staring at the willow.


At its base stood Wolf, and from his body flowed a song that was both as pure as a refreshing waterfall, but also as rugged as the roots of an ancient forest. The tune caught them all, even Loda, Geim and Gothard; possibly even Draven and Alyssia who still remained unseen.

Through their bodies flowed slow waves of relaxation, but it also made them very aware of how heavy their arms and heads were. Their vision blurred, and vaguely they perceived Wolf stretching out his hand towards the tree-trunk, going through the bark as if it didn’t exist. Then the warrior stepped forward, and they tumbled onto the ground, rolling forward and landing on the soft earth.

When they woke up, the sun was already casting long shadows over the field, and the fire had been reduced to embers that smoked softly in the wind. In the distance they could hear the song of a bird praising the beauty of day passing into evening.

They felt as new, like a week of nursing comfort had passed over them. Refreshed and confident they rose, to find the white willow showering the field with glory. It had healed like they had, and undergone a transformation as if it had been a ghastly cocoon opening up for a rebirth of beauty. Its bark shone like mithril, its leaves almost radiated health. Gone were the tears and the twisted branches. They had grown into lush bearers of life. Gone was the goo that dripped down in overflowing pollution. And at the base of the tree lay a helmet, a shield and a longsword.

Elessarae continued to the tree and reached out to reverently touch it. “Be at peace,” she said simply.
The young Bladesinger reached down and picked up the shield and the helmet, lastly she reached for the hilt of the sword. “Wolf, I would honor you by taking up your sword. It is my quest to rid Sylvaria of this threat and all others.”

She was not sure what connection the willow and Wulf had, but the effect of their merging was miraculous. Slow tears fell from her eyes, for the those that had died before they knew of the danger about them. It hurt to think they sat eating breakfast while hundreds of Hith Elee’s citizens were being killed. She also wept for her mother, tears that she had held back when Lady Quilanday had inform her of her mother’s death, having died protecting others in an attack by MAOUS in Sillarion. Her wonderful adoring mother who had taught her all her initial swordsmanship which made it possible for her to enter the Bladesingers academy and a very young age.

The new Bladesinger added a private prayer to Adaron (Kith-Jora) thanking him with all her heart for his aid in healing the tree and them and request a boon of him, to be there at her mother’s funeral in her stead. As she wiped away her tears she let them fall from her fingers onto the roots of the willow.

“Adaron’s blessing on you,” she added touching the willow one more time. Finally she turned to the others and walked back carrying Wulf’s armor and weapon.

“We do need to see if there are people still alive, that survived the attacks and roars of the lizards........and take care of the dead.”

Only then does she remember Comrade and she whistles to him. He also need healing and she is not sure if the range of the healing that had taken place would have reached him wherever he had gone to.

Elessarae's crisp clear whistle sounds out through the nearby woods.

A thousand maws snapped and slobbered, and their pestilence strained with a earning to spread. To devour. To destroy. A thousand eyes rolled with madness. Familiar eyes. And the flames licked and lapped and flickered and danced their macabre dances.
The fire burst suddenly into a flood of brilliant, soothing light. It’s caress swept over him, and lifted him on high. The weightless freedom of disembodiment succumbed to the imprisonment of flesh and blood, and the discomforts of living. His eyes snapped open suddenly. The moonlight caught the reflective, golden iris, and his eyes glimmered eerily. The trees swayed overhead and a gentle breeze swept through his hair and over his skin. Far too much skin… The smell of smoke and burning flesh hit his nostrils. He rolled his head slightly and realized it was rested against flesh. Snapping his gaze directly overhead, he peered into Alyssia’s worried face. His head rested in her lap. He was….alive.

His wits were quick to return, as well as his demeanor. Snapping to a sitting position, he patted his exposed body down, almost frantically. Glancing to side, he found his armor and clothing in a pile, beside hers. The wrath was twisted into his face when he returned his gaze to her was terrible, and his eyes were alight with golden fire.

She wore only a long, stained white undershirt, but it sufficiently covered her, unlike him. Even so, she was very beautiful. Her skin was like smooth ivory in the moonlight, and her exposed legs long, and elegant. Her peculiar white hair shone silver, and hung over curved breasts her undershirt did little to veil.

The flames and the fury that welled within him were so great that he raised his tattooed arms, grasped the air, took a deep breath, and fought to contain himself. She had brought him back. Was that a good thing? What had happened? He had hesitated…let death take him. Why? Why now? Never before. Never had he hesitated. It was as he feared. The fire. The hate. It must be fading. Images of torment flooded his mind and he tried to shake them away. There was something wrong with the fate he saw. Something that didn’t go according to his bargain….Ah!!! So many questions!
“Grishnak.”

He glared at her, then glanced down at his exposed body. Should he feel shame? Embarrassment? He didn’t. But the scar... One hand went to his chest and ran gently over it.

“You hid me from the others?”

His voice was softer now. A low rumble.

With her response he let out an exhausted sigh and dropped to his knees. Wearily he ran his hands over his face and through his hair, which fell back in a dark veil over his face. He had reached his limit and could feel no more. Whatever had happened, it was his own fault. His next words were broken. Forced like stone over gravel.

“Please…retrieve my blade.”

Draven had stirred only slightly before he had awoken to see Alyssia's worried face. He had asked her about the scar and she answered slowly "I did my best to hide it, they had seen only a small part of it." When he spoke of his sword she nodded and couldn't help herself but to hug him close to her quickly before releasing. While he rested she had derobed and had began sewing Draven a shirt. She did not want to share this man she had laying at her side. In her eyes, he was hers already, even though he had not shown her the affection she openly displayed for him.

Slowly she rose to her feet after hugging him close to her near-naked body. She softly kissed his lips to prove her happiness and love that he was alive. Her words nearly cracked as she looked very near tears "I am so glad that you are still with us Draven." in her mind she didn't use his name, she simply used the word love. A faint smile found her lips, he would be able to note that it was more for him than for her. Once the tears had abandonned their threat she drew in a deep breath and strutted towards Elessarae to retrieve her love's sword. Alyssia wondered if Draven had eyes for anyone in their party.

Once she had reached the elf she smiled to her and said "I would like to hold Draven's sword please. He requested I bring him his sword" she fell silent and smiled to her friend. In that moment she spoke up "I also wanted to thank you for trying to save him. But you had done so much that I had to do my share" she offered and explanation. Yet her mind was forming the real words she wished to speak. Did you see anything? Will Draven still be able to travel with us? Thousands of questions raced through her mind, yet she did not voice them.

Alyssia accepted the sword that had been given to her and she thanked Elessarae anew and returned to where she and Draven were hidden from the rest of their company. A small smile formed on her lips as she caught sight of the man. When she saw that he was still naked she rememebered about the shirt she had made for him, and that she had nearly finished a pair of pants for him to wear, until they could find another pair of clothes. Alyssia sat down beside him after handing him his blade and offering him the shirt she had made for him, and returned to work more easily to finish his pants.

Her eyes often wandered to find his to secure her thoughts that he was indeed alright. She had finished the pants for him and smiled as she offered it to him. Draven would notice her eyes had not once been led to his naked body, save for his face. She respected, loved and trusted this man whom she sat near this entire time. Once worried when she knew he was dreaming, when perhaps he had nearly been lost to her. Tears swelled anew as she looked at him with eyes that perhaps gave him a key to her unvoiced words. She was sure that he was the one she wanted in her life. Even if they were complete opposites.

She had chosen a path of light, while he blazed a trail of darkness. Yet her heart told her to hold strong, that her work was not for wrong reasons. Something, or somebody kept her heart focused simply on Draven throughout their entire mission. Often her gaze found his body, sometimes their gazes caught, but not long enough to voice what she felt. Now Alyssia had the moment, but her words were caught in her through as the tears continued to threaten her.

Elessarae saw Alyssia come toward her, and she knew she come for the sword.

"I would like to hold Draven's sword please. He requested I bring him his sword" she fell silent and smiled to her friend.

In that moment she spoke up "I also wanted to thank you for trying to save him. But you had done so much that I had to do my share" she offered and explanation. Yet her mind was forming the real words she wished to speak. Did you see anything? Will Draven still be able to travel with us? Thousands of questions raced through her mind, yet she did not voice them.

Elessarae took the sword hilt across the back of her right hand and brought and lifted the blade on her left forearm, extending the hilt to Alyssia. “His blade wants him,” she said as Alyssia grasped the hilt.

Alyssia accepted the sword that had been given to her and she thanked Elessarae anew and returned to where she and Draven were hidden from the rest of their company.

Elessarae watched her return to her hidden spot. An unusual sword, she thought, for an unusual man.

Once she is gone Elessarae turns back to the others awaiting their next move.

"I did my best to hide it, they had seen only a small part of it."

She was referring to the scar of course, but Draven didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze was lost somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t until she suddenly hugged him that she got a response. Her arms suddenly wrapped around him, and he stiffened, and turned his head sharply towards her, like an a caged wolf who’s back was leapt on by a toddler mistaking it for a tamed pup. Then she kissed him! His eyes flashed yellow light in the dark, and a corner of his lip lifted. A smirk? A sneer? The snarl before a bite? He didn’t kiss back, and as she went about sharing her concern for him, his eyes followed her. Two golden, glowing orbs in the dark.

"I am so glad that you are still with us Draven."

He couldn’t say he felt the same…Then the memory of his experience lapped at the back of his mind and he shuddered. He had much to think about. Much to do. When Alyssia left he remained unmoving for a moment.

“Lugsnadah…”

The word was more snarl then anything else. His fists clenched in a rage that threatened to burst through his flesh. The feeling he had been betrayed hung heavily on him. So heavily he determined he would require council soon. Oh yes. Very soon.

Turning he looked at his clothing and his armor. Without hesitation he strolled towards it and knelt over it. It was smeared in a puss like substance. The filth that had bogged the meadow around the willow. They had had the nerve to strip him naked over this? Sticking one finger out, he dipped it into the goo. It felt…like goo. A jelly like substance. Or sap perhaps. He raised an eyebrow.

Grabbing his clothing he began shaking them out, one article at a time, shaking his head and growling the whole while. When Alyssia returned, he was dressed once more in the flowing, black garbs. Enwrapped once again in his cloak, and the night, and with his eyes burning in the shadows, he appeared a wraith. She had his sword, straining from the weight of it. The blade held before her, as if pulling her towards him.

Reaching one palm out, he waited for the blade, and when it was placed in his hand, his fingers closed around it, and a smile spread across his lips.

“Thank you.”

She stood beside him for long moments in the darkness, and he peered ahead, silently. His eyes no longer glowed, but their eerie gleam danced in the faint moonlight that fell through the boughs.