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Fires That Burn Anew
Funny, a fire can incinerate entire woodlands and raze all in its path, but it can also cauterize a gaping wound. Sometimes, its the same flame that does both.
Questioned townsfolk in Hidden Gulch produced several leads. I am grateful, for the sickness worsens. I am queasy continually, though not enough for the time being, to diminish my agility. Battle will test my true mettle.
One lead takes us to an old deserted manor house up the road from the town -- to the family cemetery more specifically -- where we discovered and began harvesting one of the herbs. The banewort I believe. Caldair had been harvesting for a short time when a foul rotting hand reached up and attempted to throttle him. I nocked and loosed several arrows at the full creature that emerged – a half flesh eaten, putrid, writhing corpse of some kind. Victor, who is usually quick to command a moving ball of flame, to dispense enemies, hastily retreated – the target of a devious magic, perhaps a fear- invocation. We eventually destroyed the creature and resumed collecting the banewort only to discover that patches of it had already been taken, and recently. Too little was left for a cure.
The townsfolk also told us to look for herbs on a tiny island off a body of water near Hidden Gulch – there we discovered more herbs and a recently lit campfire. Aside from the herbs, the island was too small and desolate to be of interest to anyone. Clearly, others needed the banewort. We had to find them or fail to find sufficient amounts for a cure -- and die.
We returned to the inn discouraged. How much time did we have? I certainly was not getting better. I rested my queasy frame.
I awakened to hauntingly familiar sounds: grunts, screams and blazing fire. It was like a nightmare that torments me. Outside Hidden Gulch was chaos. Buildings were bursting with flames, townspeople were screaming and scrambling everywhere. Smoke shrouded the night sky. Charred flesh, mixed with burnt wood, and thatch, suffused my nostrils. I recalled that horrid night my mother was slain. The memories raged in my brain like an unchecked inferno.
Fire commands too much dominion in my life. It sears all. Ashes are everywhere.
Hooded goat-headed beast like humanoids led by surly human brute with an elaborately eerie headdress, riding a tall warhorse garbed comparably sinister, were torching the town. Led by a coven of witches. These female witch creatures were of a races unknown to me. We quickly engaged them. A resident at the inn named Theodred who walks the path of nature joined the fray. He and his uncommonly large dog Fang proved able combatants. Their assistance was welcome. Draznor set off in one direction, I another, and Theodred, Fang a ranger whose name I cannot recall, set off in a third since each of the witches seemed to have taken responsibility for destroying a different section of the town.
My aim rang true for the evening. My bow sang. At least in those realms I could see. One witch however cast some shadow spell that prevented all from seeing in. From there she launched other incantations to attack our party. The new ally, Theodred summoned animal creatures to fight beside him but even they were confounded by the complete ring of darkness. Finally I loosed an incantation spraying color over the area and though we still could not see, it was clear that numerous beast within the darkness suffered the worse for my evocation.
Finally, only one witch remained. I chased her and was gaining on her until she suddenly disappeared. In her stead were bushes. I grabbed the bush, but she had disappeared before my very eyes. Several companions further behind in pursuit, laughed and mocked me, thinking me a girlish fool for embracing a bush and soon I too made light of my absurdity. Still, Theodred and I did stand guard at the bush for when she emerged.
I do not recall the series of events next, but I was vindicated. She did emerge eventually and we learned that she had been the bush. I suppose I got the final laugh.
When the battle turned, the helmeted brute Draznor set after initially, galloped away on horseback. It was clear our party would get the better this battle. We did not pursue him for the town was still aflame and he had too great a lead.
We doused the flames, treated the wounded as best we could, rounded the witches up and locked them in the most secure existing structure and questioned them. The next day Theodred demonstrated his value yet again when he tracked us to the brute’s den.
A fortress of twigs and branches quartered the surly fighter. I had never seen such a structure. We crafted a small opening. Draznor is very brave. He entered first, I second and rest of the party followed suit. Fighter-brute charged with his warhorse and meleed us but was too greatly outnumbered. We offered mercy but he fought on. We slew him.
I was not prepared for what we discovered amongst his den.
Charred and ashen with barely a binding to keep the few remaining badly scorched pages secured, was my mother's spellbook.
I wept openly. Memories flooded my brain.
The sounds felt familiar because they were. These savages killed my mother. They must have been the ones who raided our village in Ardeep that night four years ago. Oh that you were here to witness this night mother. Oh that I could hear your voice again. My skull ached but some closure has been granted me. My wounds begin to heal. I am forever grateful.
I walked alone in the woods for a while afterwards. I feel like a tree whose limb has been cut and whose frame is forced to grow in different direction. Finally now though, the wound from that severed limb is mending and the clear sky is in view. I still have many questions -- this answers some -- but creates others - why? what for? what are the connections between then and now? but healing commences.
I think I frightened Theodred, for he did not talk to me for a great while after that. Perhaps he thinks me a foolish girl, perhaps he finds it weak to openly lament. In either case it does not matter, my heart heals.
Funny, a fire can incinerate entire woodlands and raze all in its path, but it can also cauterize a gaping wound. Sometimes, its the same flame that does both.
Questioned townsfolk in Hidden Gulch produced several leads. I am grateful, for the sickness worsens. I am queasy continually, though not enough for the time being, to diminish my agility. Battle will test my true mettle.
One lead takes us to an old deserted manor house up the road from the town -- to the family cemetery more specifically -- where we discovered and began harvesting one of the herbs. The banewort I believe. Caldair had been harvesting for a short time when a foul rotting hand reached up and attempted to throttle him. I nocked and loosed several arrows at the full creature that emerged – a half flesh eaten, putrid, writhing corpse of some kind. Victor, who is usually quick to command a moving ball of flame, to dispense enemies, hastily retreated – the target of a devious magic, perhaps a fear- invocation. We eventually destroyed the creature and resumed collecting the banewort only to discover that patches of it had already been taken, and recently. Too little was left for a cure.
The townsfolk also told us to look for herbs on a tiny island off a body of water near Hidden Gulch – there we discovered more herbs and a recently lit campfire. Aside from the herbs, the island was too small and desolate to be of interest to anyone. Clearly, others needed the banewort. We had to find them or fail to find sufficient amounts for a cure -- and die.
We returned to the inn discouraged. How much time did we have? I certainly was not getting better. I rested my queasy frame.
I awakened to hauntingly familiar sounds: grunts, screams and blazing fire. It was like a nightmare that torments me. Outside Hidden Gulch was chaos. Buildings were bursting with flames, townspeople were screaming and scrambling everywhere. Smoke shrouded the night sky. Charred flesh, mixed with burnt wood, and thatch, suffused my nostrils. I recalled that horrid night my mother was slain. The memories raged in my brain like an unchecked inferno.
Fire commands too much dominion in my life. It sears all. Ashes are everywhere.
Hooded goat-headed beast like humanoids led by surly human brute with an elaborately eerie headdress, riding a tall warhorse garbed comparably sinister, were torching the town. Led by a coven of witches. These female witch creatures were of a races unknown to me. We quickly engaged them. A resident at the inn named Theodred who walks the path of nature joined the fray. He and his uncommonly large dog Fang proved able combatants. Their assistance was welcome. Draznor set off in one direction, I another, and Theodred, Fang a ranger whose name I cannot recall, set off in a third since each of the witches seemed to have taken responsibility for destroying a different section of the town.
My aim rang true for the evening. My bow sang. At least in those realms I could see. One witch however cast some shadow spell that prevented all from seeing in. From there she launched other incantations to attack our party. The new ally, Theodred summoned animal creatures to fight beside him but even they were confounded by the complete ring of darkness. Finally I loosed an incantation spraying color over the area and though we still could not see, it was clear that numerous beast within the darkness suffered the worse for my evocation.
Finally, only one witch remained. I chased her and was gaining on her until she suddenly disappeared. In her stead were bushes. I grabbed the bush, but she had disappeared before my very eyes. Several companions further behind in pursuit, laughed and mocked me, thinking me a girlish fool for embracing a bush and soon I too made light of my absurdity. Still, Theodred and I did stand guard at the bush for when she emerged.
I do not recall the series of events next, but I was vindicated. She did emerge eventually and we learned that she had been the bush. I suppose I got the final laugh.
When the battle turned, the helmeted brute Draznor set after initially, galloped away on horseback. It was clear our party would get the better this battle. We did not pursue him for the town was still aflame and he had too great a lead.
We doused the flames, treated the wounded as best we could, rounded the witches up and locked them in the most secure existing structure and questioned them. The next day Theodred demonstrated his value yet again when he tracked us to the brute’s den.
A fortress of twigs and branches quartered the surly fighter. I had never seen such a structure. We crafted a small opening. Draznor is very brave. He entered first, I second and rest of the party followed suit. Fighter-brute charged with his warhorse and meleed us but was too greatly outnumbered. We offered mercy but he fought on. We slew him.
I was not prepared for what we discovered amongst his den.
Charred and ashen with barely a binding to keep the few remaining badly scorched pages secured, was my mother's spellbook.
I wept openly. Memories flooded my brain.
The sounds felt familiar because they were. These savages killed my mother. They must have been the ones who raided our village in Ardeep that night four years ago. Oh that you were here to witness this night mother. Oh that I could hear your voice again. My skull ached but some closure has been granted me. My wounds begin to heal. I am forever grateful.
I walked alone in the woods for a while afterwards. I feel like a tree whose limb has been cut and whose frame is forced to grow in different direction. Finally now though, the wound from that severed limb is mending and the clear sky is in view. I still have many questions -- this answers some -- but creates others - why? what for? what are the connections between then and now? but healing commences.
I think I frightened Theodred, for he did not talk to me for a great while after that. Perhaps he thinks me a foolish girl, perhaps he finds it weak to openly lament. In either case it does not matter, my heart heals.
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