Purity of the Soul

[Swirling Stars]

Purity of the Soul
A young druids memoirs and tales of her time on Arelith.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOG”

A loud, obnoxious ringing echoes through the cavern walls of the Heartwood shrine. Within one of the rooms labeled accurately as ‘The Nest’, a lithe female form stirs awake.
A pair of tired, blue eyes open in the darkness of the room, a soft groan escaping the awoken figure figures lips. She stirs, looking around her surroundings in the darkness, the only lightsource that of a few glowing, bioluminescent mushrooms by her cave’s wall. Seeing nothing in the darkness, she turns back to her soft, lumpy bed: A pile of fluffy pillows made into a nest-like bed. Pulling her blanket up, she closes her eyes once more to fall into sleep once more.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOOOOOG”

The obnoxious call echos once more, this time a bit louder. The female form lifts herself up, eyes narrowed in annoyance as she stares into the darkness, this time towards the room next to her. For it was known to her exactly the origin of the obnoxious sounds, it was that of WIll Aers, and that of his boar,Phil , her neighbor and associate within the grove. Normally, the snoring did not bother the druidess as she tended to be a very deep sleeper. However, this night seemed to be troublesome to her and for what, she had no idea. Her hand rubs the side of her face idly, her lips pursed in frustration. The day had been long and hard for her, and all she wanted to do was sleep. A small sigh escapes her lips as she looks around the dimly lit room. Her eyes falling on the half-eaten sandwich she’d made for dinner still on her dining table. Another annoyance she’d have to clean up in the morning.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG”

She elicits a somewhat loud groan of annoyance. Taking a pillow from her right side she hurtles it at the wall towards Will’s room. The pillow hits the wall with a light ‘baff’ and then slides down to the floor in a small heap of soft square fluff.

“Keep it down!” She yells in a soft, whispered tone- as to not wake the sleeping figure next to her, in which stirs from her brash movements executed earlier. In the corner of her eye, perching within a small nest made in one of the platforms of the stone, shifts the form of her life long companion, Meliki. She turns her head towards the bird whom had been startled awake from her outburst, now looking at her with a curious gaze.

“What upsets you?” The raven caws in a low pitch, as to not disturb the other sleeping denizens of the grove. In the blackness of the cave, the cawing might have sounded ominous to that of the untrained ear. However, having spent her life with the creatures of the wood, the tired druidess understood all of what her companion had said. A lithe hand raises, knowing well that the raven could see it’s outline in the dim room. A silent response it was, quieting any other questions the raven might have had.

The druidess lets out a small sigh of resignation. She knew full well her crow would continue to question her until it found his answer as it was not usual for the heavy sleeper to awaken during the night. Even with Will’s incessant snoring.

“I... am unsure.” She replies in a hushed tone. Her knees pull up towards her chest, her arms drape around them as she pulls herself into a position she used to know so well. Despite the loud snoring from next door, she knew in her heart that this had not been her cause of her awakened state. No. The answer lay within her dreams and memories. The crow seems to stare at her a moment, but seems to lay back into his roost, deciding his long time companion would figure out the mystery for herself.

The druidess now sat upright in her bed, lost in thought, Her mind awake and lively as she thinks back to the earlier events in the day. As her eyes set on the distant statue of her patron, Akadi, on the far left side of the wall of Nicolaas’s room, she began to recall.


It had all began whilst fixing a small turkey sandwich for none other than Sawyer Brook. Sawyer had posted a letter on the Grove’s door about needing that of a druid or rangers help. She had waited a few tenday before asking him, hoping perhaps a far more experience ranger or druid would lend a hand on his problem. Unfortunately, none came to his aide and so Kalika did what she always does to those she finds needing it. She offered her help.
The two had walked all the way from Wharftown to the Grove, a long trek, but Kalika had been used to it. More often than not, she made the journey to and fro at least four times a tenday. Kalika was not one to be a poor host and offered to make him a meal for the long walk, as she so hated using expensive portal lenses. Sawyer had taken a fondness to that of Druids and curiously prodded her with questions of the wood, druidic oaths, and her opinion of the Balance and views. Behind him was the board, ‘One Druids Prospective’. One she’d innately offered to him for his reading pleasure. She was fond of that particular board herself. For when she had first arrived the the island only a year or so ago, this board had been her solace, Her guidance. At the time of her arrival, Wicket, the drow shadow druid had been forcibly reigning over the Grove. It had been a horrible time, with much fighting. Many of the older druids were too busy with the ongoing war to care about newcomers or teaching new ones. That had not been a problem to the young druidess though. Her mother, a druid of Chauntea, had taught her well and this beloved board set in stone the ideals and beliefs she had always considered.
She thought that Sawyer might make something of it as well.

She regarded the lad, a cleric, who was now examining the board with interest as she cut up some slices of cucumbers to use in the sandwich. She wondered if this new cleric, interested in the teachings the Grove had to offer would become like another, younger, Nicolas- The wizard, and good friend of hers, that resided in the room next to her.
Before she could really think on it more, a speedy came running up out of practically no where, screaming that she was needed in Wharftown and that Merin, a fellow Waymen who seemed to loathe Kalika with great disdain, had been abducted. She promptly had finished preparing the sandwich and handed to Sawyer before the two raced towards Wharftown.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOG”
The druidess about jumped out of her skin, the loud snoring waking her from her little reminisce. A small frown creeps across her features as she rests her head on her knees. Her eyes seemed to burn slightly, the more she keeped them open. She hadn’t noticed the slight pain before, having been lost in thought. Now though, driven out of such memories, the stinging was vivid to her. Had more light shown in the cavernous room, one would see that they were slightly swollen, red and puffy. It was the effect that one got after shedding tears for a long while.

Kalika was not one to shed tears. In fact, she rarely ever did this. The druidess almost priding herself on the fact. She knew that many saw her as weak and insignificant. Because she came off as naive, cloudy headed, and fragile to those she met. Her kindness and willing to help did not aide with this image either.. For some reason many saw such features as small, and easily crushable. Someone who was like this could not afford to cry, because, in her mind at least, it would validate their opinions of her.

The druidess puffed her chest up a bit in the dim-light, knowing full well she was not the weakling many only saw her as.. She was brave, and bull-headed, as Toad often seemed to comment fondly. She did not back down to the horrid scum that inhabited Arelith. She smiled brightly in the face of the disgusting evil beings she faced, showing them only her compassion and concern... Even if it made her look foolish, she did not care.

But today had been different. She hadn’t been able to take the turmoil within herself anymore, the fighting, or the battles. She grew tired and weary of the neverending conflict with the Banites. It was not that her zeal and hatred for them wavered, it was more the problems that came with battling them that was beginning to take a toll on her. It was not lost to her that her companion, slumbering only a few feet away, disapproved of her need for revenge against the faction. Nor that there was an ever aching pain in her inner being that told her this was wrong

Yes... This was what was bothering her. She closed her eyes, thinking back once more to earlier in the day:

“Have ya’naut rel’rized wat ya’ve done!?” came the agonized scream of a black clothed hin. The hin shouted angrily, drawing away from the red haired waymen. She grimaced in reply, looking highly troubled herself.
“Thar gonna kill ya now! Ya mucked it up!” The hin shouted furiously in a heat of anger.
“Evray thang I’d done fa ya, gone!”
Though it be only her memory, the hins line-for-line words lost to her... these seemed just as real and haunting. The tone of his voice had shaken her existence. She had not realised what she had done. No, not until that moment in the dark mists of the shadovar tradepost. Just hours before, she had helped Alicia call others to aide in Merin’s rescue from the Banite temple. Bryce Kessler, one of the leading members against the Banite’s horrid tyranny had unlocked the door and ran into the temple, swords ablazin. Kalika had only been there to assist in Merin’s rescue... she had not been ready for what had happened. They ran up to Memmorath, some Banite she hardly knew who had guarded the dead body of the small female, waymen hin. Upon seeing the sight, Bryce had struck the first blow against the Banites within in a heated blaze, burning through the temple like wildfire.... destroying all in his, and his allies, paths. Though she’d only aided in shielding, she had ultimately been partly responsible for some of the their demises. It would be something that would way on her very soul for the rest of her life.

The druid's eyes moved to the ground. The memory seemed to almost pause on the shape of the angered hin. The guilt and dread washed over her like thousands of waves against a rock, eroding her... breaking her down.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOG.... SSSSSSNOooooOOg”


She glances towards the wall to Will’s room again, rolling her eyes as her concentration was briefly broken once more. Though it was not long before the nagging guilt seemed to fill her again. She knew that druids were supposed to act with neutrality in all things. And she most certainly knew that involving herself in this battle of good and evil... ultimately labeled her as taking a side. It weighed on her, as many things had this day.
The druidess heaved a heavy sigh once more, dismissing the thoughts that had been accumulating. She knew that she would soon need to return to being what she was, a druidess. The war would change her if she allowed herself to continue. She only wished she continue her work with the Waymen... and still remain her neutrality at the same time.

The lithe form of Kalika slowly drifted back down into the mound of pillows beneath her, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind seemed to wonder to a new place this time, this time her thoughts resting on Eztli, another worry in her life. Since the odd maztican’s arrival, she had seemed to worm her way into Kalika’s kindred heart. The druidess considered Eztli to be a close friend and yet, even the atrocities of this world were starting to reach the young and lively Witch-like druid. Eztli was, indeed a Maztican, the enemies of Amnians... or so she was told. A... strange group of people, she seemed to be more of a witch doctor- but she very much displayed the qualities that every druidess bares..
In the many tendays that Eztli had spent with her, Kalika had grown quite fond of her. Even jotting her down to memory within her journal that she kept. Oddly enough, she didn’t really do much writing unless it was something she really wished to remember when she was older in age. Most of the journal filled with findings in spells, wise tales or lessons she’d learned amongst her travels of Toril- before she’d landed on the island of Arelith. She smiled as she remembered watching the Maztican performing the odd ritual she had before. She had called it.. plummafeathering? Mmmg... she couldn’t remember the correct term. The end result had been a hollowed out tooth, embedded with an enchantment that would allow it to suck in the negative energies from around a piece of land. A tool to fight against necromancers, or the ilk they brought to the lands. Master Amadeo had been in the room, explaining the ritual to her in lower tones, how he knew of this was beyond her, but it was still interesting....

“Iz Kno ssstory of two wolvesss?” The snake totem asked, her accent thick as she spoke to Toad and Kalika, the three of them relaxing and eating dinner within Kali’s home. The druidess didn’t seem to pay attention to Toad’s answer, but as the Matizan woman continued, she

“iszz good tale. Inssssidez each of uzz isss two wolves. Alwaysss fightings.” The maztican draws out, her demeanor serious as she tells the tale, recounting the story.

“One wolf iss black, reprezzent deprezzion, sadnessss, anger, evil, hate.” She pauses a moment as she looks around at her two listeners. Kalika seemed to be locked in on the snake totem, enjoying greatly the tale she told. The druidess was fascinated with Eztli’s stories, the maztican being a very good story teller.

“Other wolf is good, pure, love, kindnesssss, aaall thessssse thingss.. Two wolvesss alwayss ight wizths each othersss. Never ending battles iz it. Sssome people feed bad wolff, ssssome feed good wolf.”..

Kalika was pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of the form next to her josling around a bit, she’d almost feared she’d woken the dozing form. She let out a soft sigh, thinking of the conversation that had erupted between Eztli and Master Amadeo when he’d showed up.. Apparently she’d been seeing Huemcoatl, a male Maztican who- as she heard- had been rumored to have... kidnaped helmites and others like them with a pirate named Joron.. and then sacrificed them to his god, Zeltec. Though it had been revealed that he didn’t actually worship the Heart-Eating dark god of the Maztican culture. Not similar to Eztli, who worshiped Mother Maztica, - at least she thought that was the name- the enemy of Zeltec, this.. Huemcoatl had apparently been using the ignorance of the island to shape Zeltec into a new god under the old gods name... or something along those lines. Needless to say, Eztli seemed.. smitten with him. The druidess feared that her friend might fall into this man's manipulative trap... and she was not sure she would be able to pull the female Maztican out of it should the situation go for the worse.

“SSCHOOOOOOOOOG......SNCHOOOOOOG”

Kalika turned over onto her side in the pillows as another wave of Will’s loud snoring carried through the halls of the Grove.
“Gods damn it.” She groans loudly as she plugs her ears with a displeased expression covering her face once more. She would most certainly be making a trip to Bendir dale in the morning to pick some cotton for her ears. With the thought in mind, the druidess closed her eyes, falling back into her deep slumber.

[Swirling Stars]

Chapter 2 The Key Word.
Etched in the side of a nook, within the temple distract, sat the now, newly appointed, church of Bane. With the treaties no longer in effect, the Banites could openly preach their tyrannic ways and beguiling pleas before each and every citizen of the, somewhat fair and slightly corrupt, city of Cordor. Somewhat fair and slightly corrupt being the key phrase here for the young druid as she stared at the door to this new church. Shiny and polished, the Banites had taken great care to spruce up the once Helmite church. To the druids knowledge, the church itself actually hadn’t been used for preaching or teaching in quite a while. She let out a small sigh, at least the beautiful white building was actually being used... she just wished it only was being used by a less evil organization.
At that moment, the flame within her seemed to erupt in the anguish and agony, the pain and anger, the group had instilled in her. Her black wolf reared it’s ugly head within her tormented soul as her pearly blue eyes narrowed on the quiet cathedral’s wooden door.

“What in the hells am I doing here?” she thought to herself emotionally. She had to keep herself from rearing back in disgust. It was an ongoing battle within herself to not spit at the door, or summon an ice storm to destroy the place. Despite these urges, she knew she would not. To do that would make her just like any other druid Nicolaas told tales of. Tales of druids kidnapping children and wiping out villages in the name of nature itself. She would never be like that. The day she did, she would walk off a cliff.
Today, the druidess had been helping her close and cherished friend, Eztli Tentu, with preparations for the upcoming Autumn harvest festival. They had spent the day collecting ‘flags’ from the hills of Guldorand and wood for the festivities and had decided to make their way towards Cordor so that they could store the ‘flags’ in a place that no one would find them until it was time for the festival’s scavenger hunt- and then eventual replacement of them back in Guldorand’s borders.
After arriving in the city, however, Eztli had announced her wishes to listen in on a particular sermon that the Banites were having. Kalika knew that her friend was no Banite. In fact, she suspected that Eztli either hated the banites as much as herself, or saw that their darkness was overstepping too much on the island. It was no secret that the Banites had been encroaching, and their darkness was tipping the Balance. The Balance in this case being the forces of light and of dark, good and evil. It was her suspicion that Eztli did not plan to actually listen, but to more ‘crash’ the sermon.
Kalika frowned slightly as some of the spell components for plumaweaving, strung around her neck, snug small parts of her bare skin. She was not in her usual attire this day, in fact, she had fashioned an outfit exactly the same as her closest friend just earlier that morning. At the time, it was more out of fun as the two were so similar that they had even remarked that a sisterly bond had grown between them. She even had sculpted her helm, magically, to look similar to that of Eztli’s war mask. The two looked like practical twins, aside from her skin being much lighter and her different colored tattoos of vines and foliage. Topping off the look, Eztli had given her, her own set of spell component necklace, promising to teach the older druid how to plumaweave.

Now this look was her disguise, her mask, to view the sermon with her forest sister. She even assumed her old accent that she had grown out of, the one that she had when she first came to the island.
“Iss ready, Sister?” Eztli’s smooth, accented, Maztican voice rang from her far right. Snapping out of her thoughts, she regarded her sister. Eztli was within her usual Maztican attire, unafraid to show her true self in front of the Banites within the church. Kalika wondered if it was just the younger witch’s bold personality, or inexperience that kept her from concealing herself as the older druidess did. Regardless of the reason, she found it very refreshing to be alongside her.
Kalika nodded in reply, gesturing her staff towards the door frame.
“She is ready Ssister, let us go.” She replied, her own accent sounding slightly Cormyrian. Though her accent had faded due to her continuous ongoings with the inhabitants of Arelith, it surfaced when she attempted to speak in other ways that she was not yet used to.

The two entered the church with a loud creaking of the door, quietly the older ‘twin’ shut the door, attempting to minimize the intrusion. The proceedings were still happening, though it seemed that the Banite priest was starting to come to a close. Kalika regarded the priest through her war-mask. She knew exactly who it was. A man by the name of Pelagius. She had spent a drunken evening before with Daijin, Toad, Minerva, Vistigor Torkill, and some others playing ‘two lies, one truth’ in the Nomad only a month or so before. She shook the memory of that day from surfacing, choosing to focus on what was happening. At her left side was that of Laura Sinclair, long-time standing inhabitant of Arelith, and current Cordor guard. Laura shot the two druids a dirty look of disdain, something that confused Kalika to no end. She was not aware that Laura sympathized with the dark Banites. However, she was not sure that she was more upset at the abrupt, slightly rude, intrusion, or if she actually was annoyed for some other reason. The druidess did not know this woman well, so she decided to shrug it off.
To her right, also standing as guard, as some newly arrived half-orc Banite, one named ‘Cloudkiller’.... or something like that. She didn’t like that one in particular, he reminded her way to much of the obviously evil monk, Grendel Bloodwater.
There was little in attendance, Sawyer Brook, a woman who seemed to have an administrative air to her, Isabeau Sulkwing, and in the corner another banite robed priest. Pelagius stood at an altar in the far back, preaching his word. He paused only for a moment to watch the two druids enter with disdain, and then continued on. It was slightly obvious to Kalika that Pelagius was trying to show off to the high ‘interceptor’, Isabeau. Most likely trying to get a promotion, she assumed.
Eztli shook her from her thoughts once again, pulling her towards the corner. Both druids sat their bodies on the ground, now listening to the priest’s words.
“This is why we of the Faith seek Tyranny. To remove such cancers upon mortal kind as nihilists, anarchists. Murderers. Thieves.” Pelagius swept his hands over the small crowd theatrically, attempting to draw attention from the odd druids back to his sermon, “Because for as long as such folk as them are allowed to walk without Fear, then mortal kind shall never rise to the heights it was meant for.”
Isabeau, the high priestess of Bane, seemed to nod approvingly with Pelagius words, finding favor with in them. Kalika had nothing but a look of disgust behind her mask. She wondered just how many she could strike fear into with the small stone hidden in her pocket... Likely not many, she concluded. But it would be funny to try. Perhaps the biggest insult to a Banite is making them ower under the hand of someone other than their God?

Kalika leaned over to her sister, whispering a little loudly, though not enough to let anyone but Laura next to them hear, “She thinks they do not know what Tyrant mean. Tyrant mean ‘evil ruler’. Cruel one. Where she comes from, tyrants bad. Very very bad.” She whispered. Eztli lowered her voice in kind, thoughtfully replying with softened tones, “Tyrant not always mean bad or cruel. Tyrant mean one who work with supreme rule, sstern. Can be a tyrant, and be good. Depend on how do.”

The older twin pursed her lips, nodding slightly. Though, in her experience, a tyrant had always been either an insult to a leader, or a cruel one. She added onto her thought, theorizing,
“Still think it mean bad in this case. It like he not even try to cover it up.”

“Do think all thing needed is balansse. Thiss do be example of an extreme. Control do be needed, but alsso leniensee.” Eztli whispered back, causing Kalika to nod in agreement.

“Yes, must agree. Balance be only thing needed. Too much darkness bad, very bad. Like two wolves inside, yes yes?” She added, knowing full well Laura could hear them. As long as she could, she would keep up her little disguise.

The priest caught Kali’s attention as he bowed his head to the crows, one of his hands moving to clutch that of his pentagonal holy symbol. His voice boomed with the next words, drawing all attention, “Only through the Dark Lord, can such be achieved. - I thank you all for coming. I will now take a while to answer any questions that any have of our faith or otherwise.”

Kalika’s lips practically curled with mischievous intent. Oh she was going to have fun with this. Just as Eztli and her had whilst collecting flags earlier in the mountains.

Pelagius straightened with resignation, his hand resting behind him in a militant stance as hands began to raise. Isabeau stayed purposely, judging the lad with every morsel of her being. This was likely a test for Pelagius, she thought. Eztli voiced her disdain for it being over already to Kali briefly. Her words fell on deaf ears as the older druidess had her hand raised, proceeding to bombard the priest until he flat out started to ignore the two druids.

The druidess seemed to surface, pulling out of her memories. She was not all too sure why she had thought of it- the incident with the sermon had only been a tenday or so ago. She inhaled deeply as she sat within her cave, her home. Upon the heap of pillows that make up her nest, she meditated. Her legs crossed in a lotus position, she now stared at her trunk from across the way. The chest had been left open. Earlier, she had scrounged around in it, looking for a brew she had made to help with pain for patients. Unfortunately, for her, it was not to use on anyone seeking healing or treatment. She had needed it for herself.
Her abdomen throbbed angrily at the druidess, fixating her with a permanent, annoyed, scowl on her normally smiling face. Her hand gently traced along the bandages around her waist, her blue eyes staring down at it. Her left arm was pulled into a sling, the bone in her forearm fractured. The raven totem could not actually recall receiving the injuries herself. She had tried long and hard... but her efforts were futile. Apparently, she had a brush with death.

The earliest thing she remembered was traveling with Dana and Piers to the Harpy caves on the coast of Brog. It had gone well, this she knew as she sometimes went there on her own to slay the white dragon and the harpy queen. Somehow, she remembered being overwhelmed. She had turned her back from Piers for one moment and then.... nothing. Her next memory was waking up to Elaine Cepheus and Salindra standing over her. To her right had laid the body of Mordred, having apparently assumed the disguise of ‘Alex’, a known Banite. It had been all very disorienting, but when they escorted this Alex back to the Wharftown jail, she understood what had happened. Apparently, Alex had taken her from behind whilst she had been hunting. She was not completely, one hundred percent sure that this was what had happened, but it made sense. Why else would Alex have been carrying her dead corpse around? The druidess shuddered slightly, the thought of what might have happened had Piers not gotten Elaine or Salindra bothered her. She would have to be a lot more careful now.
Leaning back into her nest of pillows, she snuggled up the to shadowy ball that slumbered there, attempting to fall into a deep sleep herself. She found it hard, her injuries screaming at her to stop moving at all. Staring at the ball of shadows, an old memory surfaced within her mind, causing a small smile to display across her face.

“Tha’ tag is Toad” exclaimed the short little ‘human’ child before her. The druidess tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. No no no... that was stubble on his chin. How can a child have stubble? Mm.. but he smelled so bad, as if his mother never taught him to clean himself properly. Maybe he never went into the woods to bathe? Was he just short?
This didn’t seem to stop her from offering the same thing she did to everyone, her kindness.

“She thinks that is lovely name. Toad’s are cute creatures. Very fitting.” she complimented the little ‘human.’ The comment caused the child... erm no.. man, clad in a Wharftown Waymen’s uniform to pause with shock. He stood quite for a few minutes, and stared.

“I... Uh... wat?” The little man had stuttered, his face turning red in a blush. Why did he blush? She hadn’t tried to compliment him, or make him flirt. She was only being truthful.- Well, she supposed she could point out the grease in his hair, the awful smell, and the dirt... but she didn’t want to hurt the little man’s feelings... Besides, it was probably best she did not anger any city dwellers. She was a druid after all. The two just did not mix. The silence lasted longer than she had expected, so she decided to repeat herself,

“She said that she thinks Toad is a pretty name. He should be proud of it. Good name.” she repeated to him, only causing more shock and blushing. His actions seemed rather odd to her, why was this little human acting like that? Why were his feet so big? Do all little human feet have such big feet?

Kalika giggled at her memory, she had been so ignorant in those days. Thinking all bipedal creatures to be humans of some kind. She felt so silly now, knowing that the little man had not been a human at all, but a hin. It wasn’t months til after that meeting that it was explained to her by an elf, one whom she can not remember.

The memory blurs a little, centering in on her thoughts at the time of the meeting. She couldn’t remember what Toads bashful, stuttered reply was. She remembered the conversation to have been light and friendly... Though it was cut short as Marcus Demain, the appointed commander at the time had walked in with another man- Varos or something like that. The other man had started to talk to Toad and Marcus had needed him for something. They all set off, leaving the young druidess all alone in the mercantile building. She smiled wildly, running a hand through her untamed, wild red hair.
‘Humans are so strange.’ she had thought to herself before moving off to sell trinkets and jewels. She would not see the little human again for many, many months.

At that moment in time, Toad had been serving as a Waymen. Though he terminated that just a few tendays after they’d met. Kalika had been newly arrived to the island back then, only being able to cast up to the fourth circle of magic. Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, the hin had moved her to join the waymen. Her curiosity of the city dwellers and the odd types of ‘humans’ had driven her to the odd, rash decision. Now, she believed, that it had been the best decision she’d ever made. Before joining, she had, had only one close friend, Tygen. And now, even with Tygen’s murder by the Banites, she had many. She could read and write, and her speech had improved drastically.
Life inside a city was not all so bad, she understood now why her mother was drawn to them. Perhaps she should still continue working for them.. Even though she didn’t wish to keep fighting a war, she still loved her job. Perhaps putting up with Merin’s incessant taunts and bullying would be worth it. She could only hope as she fell into a light slumber, her exhaustion finally getting to her.

[Swirling Stars]

Ambience
A hand runs along the surface of a stained alter, tracing along the various knit-knacks and items dotting the alter until it rests on the small ceremonial dagger lying on it. The dagger itself is made of bone, long and thick. It sits there, lonely, placed precisely by the wagon’s maztican owner. It’s hilt is a grooved ashwood handle, all tied together with a leathery cord. Bright blue eyes trace the design carefully, cherishing it before the figure's gaze moved to a bowl, set beside some candles. The bowl gleemed in the candle light, made entirely of quartz crystal, giving off an earthly glow to the alter. Her hand moves from the dagger to the bowl, tracing along it’s various grooves and edges for what seemed to be a long amount of time. Slowly, the owner's hand droops back to her side. The figure within the wagon stands there silently, the only sounds to be heard were the that of the normalities of the rosewind troupes. The squawks from the caged hook horror that seemed to emit an obnoxious tweet every few minutes or so, the sounds of trade.. children’s laughter. A light drizzle beats on top of the roof, an ominous soft pitter patter beating against it. A mournful tune to the woman’s grieving. The figure stood there, a small, sad smile returning to her face as her thoughts clouded her mind. Her memory almost haunting her..

The air seemed stagnant..almost foreboding. Though the aura of the shadow plane always seemed to be a bit off to the druidess, she noticed there was a significant difference in them today. It was almost as if the shadows were cynically excited, happy even. Something that she took as less than a good sign. She walked slowly down the streets of shadow cordor. Though the place was normally quiet, this..stillness seemed wrong. unnatural even. It was as if they realm was happy about something disastrous that she did not know of. This unnerved her to no end. She was well aware that Toads... allies in the dark disliked her greatly. Even his own shadow always seem to glare at her with the utmost of hatred. She wasn’t even sure herself how she felt about the shadows. Though she was an experienced druid, she was no where near as powerful or knowing as an archdruid might be, and therefore, she was not even sure if the shadows were demonic, necromantic, or even both in nature.

One thing she did know though was that from the moment she stepped into the realm, she had received the feeling that something was very wrong. This only caused her to speed up her pace as she explored, peeking down different nooks and crannys as she walked along.
Eztli had never showed up back at the grove. Three tendays ago, the younger Maztican druidess had made her a promise... but never showed up. Kalika had been out, searching for days. It did not leave her notice that Toad hadn’t shown his face around her in the same amount of time. It was suspicious. Odd. So here she was, in her companions realm- looking for his sorry arse. Sometimes it really did annoy her how he cowered when it came to confronting her or talking to her about certain subjects. She let out a small frustrated sigh, her eyes scanning the darkened alleyways carefully, almost fearful she might run into one of the shadowy-demons Toad at told her about. After rounding yet another street in the large, dark city, she decided she had, had enough and started back towards the Temple of Mask. Secretly, the druidess had hoped he’d just been sleeping in a dark alleyway somewhere. She hated going inside the temple. It reminded her of how dark Toad’s doing really were. And that was most certainly something she was not proud of.
Tymora seemed to favor her for just a small brief moment as her hand rested on the doors to the foreboding temple. Footsteps clanked against the stone streets, in the direction of the docks. Upon them drawing closer, she paused and turned, her cloak billowing slightly at the sharp turn.
Just her luck, she recognised the figure of the small dirty hin, behind him was Zaidia, a devil pacter. She fought back the urge to grimace and glare at Zaidia, she had a horrible feeling the woman was somehow tainting or poisoning the shadow king. However, she did not wish to seem foolish and thus forced a polite smile at the two.

“There you are...” She remarked as she placed her hands on her hips, looking at the hin cheerfully. She refused to allow the shadowy realm to affect her always cheerful demeanor, there was no reason to feel down. That was until Toad looked at her with weary eyes. He looked.... like he was going to cry.

A chill ran down her spine, a rush of ice filled her normally hot blooded veins as she looked upon his expression. Suddenly she tensed up a little, thankfully her evergreen cloak hide her small amount of shock. In all her one and a half year of knowing the little hin, she had never seen him cry but once. The fact that he seemed like he was almost about to ushered in a wave of worry and fear in the young druidess. She was not used to seeing her strong companion so close to breaking. He was often her stronghold in times of loss or need, and it unnerved her even more to see him with that expression on his face. She pursed her lips softly, eyebrows furrowing as she stared. The hin didn’t seem to comment on it, but she knew that he had silently gotten the question her body language was expressing.
“what’s wrong?” was the only question flashing through her mind. The hin shook his head, his eyes filled with a creepy, void black color. It wasn’t even until then that she noticed his shadow behind him. The shadow was oddly quiet, but she could feel it was filled with a cynical satisfaction, instilling a deep fear in her.
Toad shook his head softly,
“Hey hon.. ya mind if I’a finish up my wark?” he questioned calmly, gesturing towards the temple. Zaidia offered a quick ‘greetings’ to her, likely not wishing to converse with a druidess. Kali didn’t blame her, if she ever had a conversation with that pacter, it would likely be a few scornful words and perhaps a fight if it came to it. She politely nodded to the pacter, silently wishing to scream at her and her ‘poisonous’ ways. It was almost as bad as a worshiper of Talona in her own mind.

“Yes.. That’s fine.” She replied softly, offering a sweet smile to the hin, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, I’ll be inside.” Not even before she finished, Zaidia started to walk inside, ignoring the druids further words. The druidess nodded to the hin and walked inside after the devil pacter, moving to the doors of the temple. She watched as Zaidia turned a sharp turn to the left towards the Maskite alter, causing Kali to wonder if this devil worshipper had decided to go to a lesser evil and perhaps become one of Toad’s family.
She threw the thought away immediately from her mind, the thought caused her to want to vomit all over the place. She felt sickened by the woman's presence already, she didn’t need those kinds of thoughts in her mind. The druidess shook her head as she walked towards the sliding doors to the right of the temples message board, fishing the key from her hip. She didn’t even look back to see if Toad had followed the devil pacter, she knew he would anyway. Nor did she check to see if anyone was watching her, she didn’t really care. Too many other troubling thoughts plagued her and she couldn’t be bothered to think about those things right now.

The key clicked open the Maskite temple doors, causing her to pull herself from her worried thoughts. She pried the doors open and quickly stepped inside, the doors closing behind her. She paused a moment and glanced at the key, wondering if it was even known that she had one to anyone in Toad’s family. She wondered even more who they were, or how they felt about some random druidess walking about their domain. The thought caused her to giggle softly as she walked into the shadowy door.

The druidess didn’t wait too long. Or at least she didn’t think she did. A new painting had appeared in the temples halls, this one of an owl with three eyes.- A curious thing to her. She wasn’t actually sure if it was new or not, but she had never noticed it until now, and she usually did observe the artifacts that the Maskarren family had stolen from the island.- Mostly because they were all somewhat interesting.

“Hey hon.. We need ta talk..” The druidess turned at the sound of Toad’s voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the figure of Ann Thrule, the ugly banite she was, crossing the floor and towards the sewer entrance of the temple, Zaidia in tow. No doubt whispering and planning their conniving horrible... plans... The druid’s attention turned back to Toad, his words finally clicking with her.

.. Was he going to leave her? She wondered worriedly, the hin had talked about making sacrifices the other two tendays... he’d been avoiding her in her mind... But why would he do that? She knew he was sometimes a coward. She knew it very well. And she was not about to let some stupid Banites or war... or anything else come between her and her companion. She would rather kiss an angry red ancient dragon before she let that happen.

The druid crossed her arms firmly, staring at the hin with a bullheaded expression. The hin had asked her repeatedly to take seat.

“I will sit down if you promise this is not about us.” She remarked firmly, having enough of his coaxing. His slightly watery eyes widened, hands flying up.
“No no no! Nothin’ like at! Is different.” he relied quickly, frustrated. Hesitantly, the druidess took a seat, thousands of thoughts running through her mind. Why would he be crying? Toad may be a coward at times, but he did have strength. He had dignity, pride. He never showed his weakness to others.

The hin sighed softly, taking a seat next to her. With an obnoxious loud creaking, he pulled the black steel chair closer to her and took her hands in a soft, comforting gesture. Only a moment passed before the words rang out from his mouth.She softly squeezed his back, her thumbs rubbing small circles along his smaller hands.

“Eztli’s dead.”

For the third time in the young druids life.. she froze. Her body turned to ice, numb and cold. She stared shocked at the hin, who had tears running down the sides of his normally adorable little cheeks. Her grip significantly laxed from his slowly. Her mouth fell askew and the wind caught up in her throat.

“I...I.. No..” the only words that she could muster out of her tightened windpipes. She should have known. So many damning thoughts raced around, her body shook slightly with grief, agony. The hin in front of her began speaking, but his words were lost to her. He was explaining what happened... but.. all there was was silence to the druid. For a few moments her world seemed to disappear... How could this happen?.. Again? How could she let this happen again?

‘No. Please. No....NO.’ She screamed in her head. She screamed at the world, at herself. The only other light in her life... was once again snuffed out by this forsaken isle. She almost cursed Akadi for leading her here to this place... almost.

....
“Tygen?... Tygen? Where are you?” The druidess trudged through Minmir, calling for the ranger wildly, the gnoll caves behind her. But she received no answer. As she rounded a tree, a small crack resounded in her ears. Looking down, she realised she had stepped on a flute, slightly bloodied and now broken. It looked.. like Tygen’s flute. The one he used on occasion...
The druidess froze as she stared at it. She knew whose blood was on the Flute. But she did not want to face the reality of it as her eyes trailed towards the trail line of blood that lead to a nearby pond. She swallowed hard.
...

The memories flashed through her mind, burning her with the realization of the situation.


Warmth returned to the druid, blood flowed to her cheeks as her eyes started to pour hot, angry, pained tears of agony. She wanted nothing more to scream and tear things apart. Her hands shot to the Maztican necklaces around her neck. She looked down to the ground, moving her other hand to cover her face. Water leaked from the sides of her hands, falling onto the stone floor silently. The hin started his attempts to comfort the hysteric druid, running his hand through her firey red, wild hair gently. Normally his small gestures of care would touch her heart warmly.. but this time it didn’t even occur to her what he was doing. She didn’t care about anything much at all at the moment. Her world seemed to almost crumble. It was as if a small shell around her had been cracked and she was flowing out, undone.

Cold hearted, stone words slipped out of her mouth, talking over Toad’s story of finding Ezlit’s mutilated corpse at Huemcoatl’s temple. Toad paused his description of her head and heartless form upon the fake-Zaltec priest’s sun dial and stared.

“Who?”

Toad opened his mouth, and paused. Her watery eyes narrowed furiously. The pause only fueled her anger and despair. Was he really going to keep this from her? She knew he liked to keep his stupid secrets. She had always, and always will not care for secrets or gossip. But by the Gods this was her best friend. She did not care about the bullshite, she needed to know. How could he possibly keep this from her too?

“Who. The. Feck. Did. It?” she pronounced her words clearly, pointedly. But they did not flow together, almost mechanically sputtering as if she were having trouble getting them out. She didn’t look up from the ground as she tightened her grip on the necklaces, shaking.

“I... I don’ no. But Hon, I promise, I’m gonna find out...” He started to ramble, but his words faded to her. She relaxed only slightly. So he didn’t know... yet. At least she didn’t have a reason to turn her anger on the hin. These thoughts quickly went away as he talked about Eztli again, reminding her of her closest friend’s murder.

A cold feeling flushed through her body again.. but this time it was different. She was not frozen with pain, rather she was numb, like ice.

She.... snapped. Her eyes widened, loathing tears continuing to fall to the floor. In the distance she heard the devil pacter and Ann Thrule muttering to themselves. It all seemed to be drowned out, her normally keen ears deafened by her emotional break.

The druidess normally cheerful aura faded. And something...dark filled up within her. It seeped into her body, filling her with an uncontrollable urge for blood. She knew the feeling. The need to kill. The need for revenge... justice.
She had felt it once before... on that cold day..When she found Tygen’s broken flute. The feeling corrupted her, gave her an intense urge to run out the shadowy doors and wipe every single evil entity she had ever encountered off the face of Toril. Biting her lip harshly, she attempts to plunge the feeling down, pushing them back into whatever cold, dark place they’d surfaced from within herself. Looked down at her hands, calloused from years of work, laboring on the lands, tending to the plants and wildlife. It only reminded her of the fallen youngling. She clenched her fist tightly and then released. Slowly her body fell forward, her torso coming parallel to her thighs as she sat in the chair. Her calloused hand cradled her face as she wept tears of sorrow. What more could she do?

“I don’ know yet Hon.. but I swar, I’ll find em.” Toad’s words echoed in her mind. The druidess didn’t think much of it. For now, all she could do was grieve.

She absently listened to the hin ramble on about the scene in despair. Vaguely, she felt the hin trying to console her, his tiny hand running through her thick, wild red hair. It did little for her heavy heart.
He’d come across her body upon Huemcoatl’s sundial. Her heart and head ripped off, her body mutilated. The sundial alter... trashed. He had apparently went straight to Master Amadeo. blaming him for getting Eztli involved in whatever she was involved in... The druidess sat back up in the chair, looking around the temple with great disdain. She was tired of it all. What if she had never been apart of this? Of the war? Might it had saved her best friend? Surely, she could have done something to make Huemcoatl stay away. He and Toad, and the stupid banites had to be the reason she was dead...She couldn’t take staying in the dark place any longer. She needed air.

She stood up from her seat abruptly, the hins words lost to her memory, “I want to leave. I want to go home.”

“I see why she enjoyed it here...” Kalika thought to herself as she examined the workstation before her. The flashback bringing a sad expression to her face. She stood in the middle of Eztli’s home, a lovely small wagon in the Rosewind troupe, all alone. It was no Grove room, that was for sure. But she could see how the younger druidess would have enjoyed living here as she looked around, taking in the scenery of the lived-in home. The wagon was homely and lived in, a place to relax and work. She closed her eyes as a smaller memory surfaced from her mind,

“I hope you enjoy your new home Sister.” Kalika grinned wildly as she handed Eztli a sack of gold that was almost the side of her head. The Maztican witch in front of her returned the expression with an excited smile of her own, almost bouncing towards the wagon. Kalika withdrew and placed her hands in her black pants pockets, looking on through her own Maztican like mask. The two had just gotten done slightly ‘crashing’ a small Banite sermon that had been held in Cordor. The two had asked so many direct questions that Pelagius, the priest who had led the sermon, ended up blatantly ignoring them as to not answer them. It had brought Kalika much amusement, though she wondered if Eztli had actually dragged her there for a reason other than just causing a little ‘fun’. After their excursion they had gone to Rosewind to hide some flags to be used for the Autumn Harvest festival, but instead, they found one of the wagons up for sale. Eztli had expressed interest in the place, the grove not having an open room to buy at the moment. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the funds, using most of that to make things for the harvest festival.
Of course, how could she not help her sister out? Kalika was doing just fine in terms of gold, the shop she’d bought from Elaine was prospering quite well, what was fifteen thousand gold to her?...It was not as if the druid really needed many material possessions. In fact, she only kept the shop to raise gold for things like the open-shackles fund or helping new druids out with equipment and gold. So naturally, the druidess offered to buy the wagon for Eztli, and give her the gold she needed for it. It’s not like she hadn’t helped in that way before. In the past, she had helped Buster Roberts and his family out, lending them ten or twenty thousand to buy their own house in Cordor’s farmlands.
The raven totem pulled back her mask and moved to walk inside the wagon after the Maztican witch, her barefeet offering small pats on the troupe’s dirt path. She stepped inside the wagon after the witch and set the Banite flags down.
“Sssk don't worry. Return them when Harvest festival done.” Eztli remarked dismissively. Kalika shook her head as a low, humored rumble escaped from her lips.
She looked around the barren wagon and smiled, “This is a nice place indeed..”

Small droplets ran along the underside of the druid's eyes as she leaned forward onto the workstation. Her hands moved to the necklaces around her neck, holding onto them tightly as memories flipped through her mind like a small picture book,

“Sssk..Iss good... but iss missing something!” Eztli exclaimed, the two druids standing in the northern farmlands of Cordor. Kalika, stood in front of her, wearing an outfit that looked almost exactly like Eztli’s own garments. The difference being that hers was made of different cloth, and dyed the colors that Kali wore most of the time- Evergreen green and shadowy black. She favored the coloration as it allowed her to blend in with the dark evergreen of the Arelith forest as well as the blackness of night. The druid had even taken the liberty to fashion a war mask similar to the Mazticans, styling it similar to the other druids. Even with the obvious differences, she looked like a whiter skinned version of Eztli.
Kalika planted her staff on the dirt road and stared at Eztli curiously, “What is it missing?.. I worked for hours on it.” she lamented in reply, her face falling to look at the outfit.
Eztli laughed and moved her hands up to the necklaces and trinkets around her own dark-skinned neck. Gently, she lifted the trinkets up and stepped closer to the red-haired druid.
“Iss gift. Sssk do keep it, please.” the younger druidess remarked as she placed the necklaces on Kalika, tying them around her neck. She stared at the necklace on her adopted sisters neck and then jumped,
“Let’s go yes? Not want to miss, do be already late.” she remarked as she turned towards the Cordor gates, knowing full well the Banite sermon they were going to was almost over. Kalika stared down at the gift in wonderment. A touched smile spread along her cheeks and for that moment... the world seemed to move slowly. Her mouth was slightly askew as she stared at the pieces, cherishing it. She touched the piece gently...

She shut her eyes tightly once more, ushering the memory away from her mind. She couldn’t stop the memories from invading her mourning mind. It felt as if it was all clouded, like a raging storm of emotions and memories that flooded her head almost every waking moment. Taking her hands off the necklace, she reached for the ceremonial dagger on the altar, tracing the ashwood hilt gently.
“Oh Eztli..How could I let this happen to you? I was supposed to protect you.” She whispers softly and sets the dagger back down, turning to examine the wagon around her, filled with most of her Sister’s belongings. She wipes her eyes softly, tired of the weeping and mourning. Her eyes burned like acid, likely red and puffy. She turns towards the wagons door, looking over her shoulder at her Sister’s belongings.
“I’ll bring you back, I promise.” She mumbles to herself as she pulls out the keys to the wagon. Staring at it she turns and closes the door behind her, softly pushing the key inside the lock and turning it, locking the contents inside.

[Swirling Stars]

Chapter 4 Revival

Bright blue eyes narrowed as she stitched the needle and thread through the dark skin beneath her fingers. The druidess carried a slightly disgusted grimace along her face as she focused her concentration on her work with each stitch. The skin pushed and pulled limply by the small, thin needle in her hand, the dead skin not giving up much resilience. The smell almost made the druidess want to vomit, but she kept the bile within her down, knowing that the time was drawing near. This was not the place to get sick.
Around her the dryads of the grove stood silently, dancing and swaying to a silent beat of ancient times. The druidess herself was unsure if they had any objections to what she was about to do, they had not made any sounds for or against it. They seemed caught in their own worlds, worshipping that of the soul crystal that stood proudly in the middle of the Dryad circle. Even from where she was standing, the druidess could feel the powerful natural magic emanating from the crystal. In front of Kalika was that of the bloodied, and broken, sun dial alter that Huemacoatl had fashioned for himself and his God. The scene of her most cherished friends murder.
Her eyes moved back to her work, the sundial was hard enough to look at. The blood was that of Eztli's own, her body had been impaled, her hands and feet nailed to the alter with spikes. Kalika couldn't stand to look at it for a long period of time. Amadeo had moved the altar to the grove upon her request, the sundial placed in front of the Soul Crystal. Perhaps she was crazy, corrupt even to use the soul crystal in the way she intended. If she was 'truly' honest with herself, she probably would not do this. Leave the dead...dead. But admittedly, Kalika was selfish. For the most part she had to be, many did in the wilds, to survive. She cared more deeply for that of her friend than she did for her own life. She was selfishly going to do this, she knew this and accepted it; she was ready for the consequences. To perhaps be hated by the soul she sought to protect.
Her expression hardened as she finished stitch the dead flesh together. Eztli's head now reattached to the broken body. The druidess sighed softly, this would only be the easy part, she mused to herself quietly. Behind her, people started to file into the groves warming and comforting embrace. She glanced over her shoulder, Amadeo was in the background speaking something about getting Elaine for the heart.
Ann Thrule, the Duchess, had been the one to procure the head mysteriously- claiming to have saved it from a boat headed to Maztica. Somehow, the druidess did not believe this in the slightest, most likely the woman had been covering up for Pelagius. Whatever, that did not matter anymore. All that mattered was that they had her head. Ann was standing there in the grove, likely uttering a few hushed words to Toad in the corner. Lymus was there as well, silently standing vigil to what was about to take place. Fenix, Amadeo filed in, along with Filtel, the drow monk she'd come to know as a kind and considerate individual. Lastly Elaine appeared within the grove jar in hand. Whoever else was there, the druidess could be bothered to take notice or remember. Kalika was in her own world, it seemed as if all around her was numbed out, the world... silent. She blacked out everything she could, keeping her focus on the task at hand. Silently, she took the jar with the magical heart in hand, moving towards the alter. With her free hand, she pulled down the Maztican styled mask onto her face, sliding it with ease. The druidess did not wear her normal wear, this tenday she wore that of replicas of Eztli's own garb. Imitations of her culture and people.
Atop of the sundial alter, laid Eztli's body, a gaping hole in her chest cavity. Her hands and feet had already been treated and regenerate via the druid’s magic. Before hand, she had prepared the circle for the ritual, one that her mother had spoken to her about ages ago. She silently thanked the woman in her head, glad that she knew of it. Sweet smelling incenses filled the air, having placed six around the circle. Upon the altar she had various Maztican artefacts, taken from Eztli's workbench. Feathers, rocks, bowls of precious oils, and carved bone dotted around Eztli's body and the alter.
"Does it need something special?" She asks quickly to Elaine as she examined the heart in the jar, the mayor only groaned in reply.
"It needs to be heated, surely you know magic that can do such a thing?" The remarked questioningly. Briefly, the druid wondered what kind of question that was. A druid was capable of in fact producing sources of heat to keep themselves warm so that they do not have to waste wood or use excessive wood, an innate power almost. Every druid was capable of it.
"What temperature?" she asked casually, though she had a pretty good guess.
"I don't know! Whatever temperature humans are?" The mayor replied sarcastically. This caused the druid to roll her eyes beneath her mask. She was fond of the mayor, certainly, but sometimes her attitude annoyed her just as much as Merin's bad one did. The druidess didn't reply, only inclining her head as she made her way towards the body. All other conversation behind her seemed to fade as she prepared herself, though it was likely due more to her own waning concentration from the chatter than the crowd actually stopping it.

She carefully unscrewed the jar, tossing the top to the side and gingerly reached her hand into the glass chamber. At this moment, she focused her druidic magic to her hand, using it in the same way she always had when she needed warmth in cold season. Her hand glowed slightly, a little red in color as it was brought to the appropriate temperature. Grasping the heart, she started to pull it out, pushing the warmth into the relatively cold object. She tossed the jar to the forested ground, finally arriving back at the sundial alter. The heart glowed gently as it warmed. As soon as the druid felt a pulse, she moved quickly- for she was unsure how much time she had exactly before the heart was not able to be used.She placed the heart within the girls body, using the needle and thread from before to ‘frankenstein’ the various major arteries. She knew this wasnt very effective, but she would bind them all correctly anyway she she started to heal the body. As soon as she was satisfied, the druid drew back, sewing the tissues of her torn chest to the best of her ability.
There.. it was done. It was time to begin. Her eyes narrowed in vision, blotting out the world around her mentally. The various conversations lost to her now. She had prepared her spells before hand, knowing full well she needed to do this quickly and efficiently. She did not have time to study anymore now.
She cracked her knuckles and placed her hands in front of her on either side of the corpse before, readying the magic that tingled at her fingertips. The magic started to swirl from the various locations around her. Energy, life, flowed from the grass, the trees... even the earth beneath her feet. Moving her hands in a bending like motion, she started to sway her body, almost like a dance. In reality, the motion was extremely similar to how the dryads danced and praised the soul crystal, however this dance was with more emotion and purpose. As her body moved, the magic moved with her, bending it to her will in a practiced manner. Casting her first healing spell, she focused the magic over the body, concentrating the healing properties upon the the gaping hole and sewn neck of the cadaver. Though dim, the corpse glowed softly around the affected areas, the magic doing it’s job as it sealed the wounds and flesh of the mortally wounded thing. The druid began to hum softly to herself, helping her to resonate with the ethereal energies she worked with. Soon, her work would be completed, the heart and chest having regenerated and closed properly via the life energies applied to them. The druid breathed an air of relief as she watched the wound around the bodies next close up, the stitches having faded from view entirely.
Kalika’s hands moved up and over her body, her legs shifting slightly apart as she swirled the magic around, bringing it back to rest within the life around her once more. She paused, taking the moment of stillness to break and catch her breath. She sensed that from behind herm the crowd had grown larger, most making small comments as they watched the show. The druidess frowns deeply at the thought of this event being ‘entertainment’. Briefly, she allowed her mind to wander, as if to allow her some sense of relaxation in the stressful situation, and wondered as to how many there actually came to support her or Eztli. How many of them came because they were.. bored? Or did Eztli’s circle of friends far outreach what she had originally thought?

Subliminally, she physically shook off the thoughts, attempting to regain her focus. She needed to do the ritual soon or else the heart would cool and it would not work. Fleetingly, she heard someone ask another if it was over? This caused the druid to grimace shortly. Dismissing it as either ignorance or lack of attention.

She stared at the crystal, and then at the broken body before her. Inside herself, her instincts screamed at her, screamed that this was wrong. Her hands shakily came up once more.

Three figures stood, hand in hand, under a lone apple tree on top of a breezy hill. Beneath then, lay the small village of Kirinwood, located within the country of Cormyr. Though small, only having around 1,200 residents, the village was most notably known for the druid circle, the Talkers to the Trees, that fiercely protected the small wood around the village. The village was winding down for the day, as the sun had started her descent down towards the earth to mark the end of the day. The normally bustling farmers market had quieted as most of the merchants and farmers alike had gone home. The quietness of the time offered the three figures time to reflect and speak with each other. Off to the other side of the hill, nestled closely to the village, was the vast amounts of apple orchards that had resided there, growing apples each season for both sale and food for the village's inhabitants. In the distance, furthermost from the site in which the three family members stood was that of the only ‘picturesque’ spot in the village, The Falling Tower, floating magically in the light of the ending day.

“Ma Mère? Will I ever see her again?”

The smallest of the three figures, a small girl dressed in a simple green dress, held her two parent’s hand tightly, her questioning gaze eyeing the taller beings on either side of her. The short breeze picked up a little, causing her wildly red hair to billow in the wind behind her. The woman on her right, her mother, took ahold of the holy symbol hanging around her neck with her free hand. The symbol gleamed in the last of the sunlight, a picture of a rose upon a wheat wreath resided on the pendant. She closed her eyes and uttered a small, saddened sigh. The man holding the child’s other arm looked down softly at the two of them, his gaze filled with pain and love. The two adults shared a look between each other as the mother leaned down to the young girl’s level.

“Kailee..I need you to listen to me very carefully.” The woman spoke softly, waiting for the slightly teary eyed child to nod enthusiastically in response. Gently, she moved her hand from her Chauntea symbol to the child's hair, pulling it behind her ears. The child, protested in response, but stopped as she saw her mother's scornful, serious gaze.

“It is important that you understand the importance of life.. and that of death. The great Cycle.” She started, swallowing a little as she spoke, “When a person flies away from this world... they return to the earth, and become apart of it- apart of nature.”
The druid eyed the young child thoughtfully as she gestured to the ground, placing a hand on it.
“They become all that is around us, their bodies. And their souls go to... a happier place.” she idles on, attempting to simplify the difficult subject to the child, whom couldn’t have been older than six or seven. The child looks over to the small stone shrine at the foot of the apple tree above them, her eyes wide with wonder and bewilderment. The mother places a hand on her offspring’s cheek gingerly,
“All of these things are good, and natural. For all things must live and then die and return to the cycle of life. This is balance, something that people like you and I strive to protect... But unfortunately, when people go away back into the ground...they can’t keep being people. They must leave.. forever. Someday.. you may see her again. But only after you have completed your own cycle of life my little bird.” The druidess speaks in a soft voice, her heart melting as the child’s slightly bewildered smile fades with each word.
“It is our jobs to move on with the cycle of life, and carry on the memory of those that have returned to it. We must not look back, but only cherish and love the fond memories they brought us.” at this the mother’s eyes brim with a small sheen of water as she attempts to soldier through the explanation.

“But.. but what if you don’t want them to go? Can’t you bring them back like that one time-?” The child’s hopeful questions are cut off by a finger being rested on her lips.
“Kailee Dubois, you must never do such a thing out of selfishness... for if it was their time to go, bringing them back would go against such things... It is not your place to toy with life and death, only to protect it.” The mother scolds, wiping away any thoughts the young girl might have been forming in her head.

At her words the child nods, sadly looking down. She turns to look at the grave, full tears falling down the innocent childs face. The wind seemed to pick up again, billowing her rosey hair in her face again. The young girl tightened her grip on her parents hands as she looked at the grave. Her father, moved closer, releasing her hand and wrapping his arm around his wife and child. Huddled together, the three stared at the named on the small shrine-like grave. Neatly imprinted into the stone was the name: ‘Klara Dubois’.

The memory flashed through her head as if loud alarms had been sounded inside of her. She pushed it away as fast as she could, it was too late to think about this now. She had already been standing there awkwardly for a minute or so as she zoned out. This was the time to act, not relish in memories practically forgotten. The druid had made her decision, and she was going to go through with it. Her hands began to move fluidly as she started to focus the magics around her. Her mouth began to chant almost silently words that she had memorized ages ago. Back and forth her body swayed as she drew forth, summoning the natural magic in the earth and forest to aide her in her work. She focused solely on the soul crystal, her motions precise and calculated. Each sway, or flick of the wrist counted in the ritual, the dance needing to be done right. The words did not flow naturally from her lips, the dialect still somewhat hard for her to pronounce correctly. She hoped that this small misconception would not cause the whole thing to fail... From what she knew, the chant was a song almost. A spell or enchantment of some kind that was meant to draw upon a soul that had not yet departed, or was not meant to depart, and lead it back to its owner’s body. The ritual itself needed the body to be in tact, recently deceased only, and an item enchanted by the deceased or perhaps a life long personal item would be needed to lure the soul back. The chanting along with the various artefacts and sweet incense used to ward off spirits that were unwanted. If she was honest with herself, the druidess herself was likely putting her own life in danger. She had only seen it performed once, and was not able to see what happened to the performer at the end. It was said that the procedure would take a massive drain on the performer and might weaken them for days to even tendays afterwards. It was, however, a risk she was willing to take. Eztli was in this mess because of her.

As she chanted, she started to raise her voice, her ministrations and movements slowly drawing more and more magic, now coming directly through the crystal. The crystal acted as a conduit for the ritual, the anchoring point for eztli’s spirit. It acted much like a soul gem, but amplified in both power and magnitude. She could feel the crystal working as magic started to pour from the large gem. Upon her chest, mounted, was a that of a maztican luck charm, a product of plumaweaving. In fact, it was the only thing she knew of that Eztli had enchanted in close proximity, a gift she had given her out of sisterly love. The charm was that of a bone fang, carved, and decorated with some type of benign enchantment on it. This was the tool she was using to draw her sister’s soul back to her, the familiar thing that would call to her. Beads of sweat poured down the druids face as the ritual started to come close to it’s climax. She could feel the exhaustion and fatigue already starting to affect her, though she did not allow this to dissuade her work, powering through it. Her body and her limbs ached painfully, her legs even shaking a little as they fought to keep the druid upright. She gritted her teeth, feeling the soul close. Ushering a small prayer to her goddess in her head, the druidess pulled the soul from the crystal, Eztli’s form floated only for a moment, the magic swirling viciously around them. The druid’s eyes widen as the time arrived.
Her hands flew straight up in the air, causing the spirit to drift upwards slightly. At this moment in time, the druid thought of nothing else but finishing the ritual, nothing else mattered, not even her own life. Her head flew back, looking skyward, her Maztican-like mask falling off to the ground, knocked off by the winds the magic created. She ceased her screaming chants and slammed her hands down onto the altar in front of the body before her. As her arms moved, the magic moved with her, slamming down back into Eztli’s body. The impact of the soul being pushed back in caused her body’s limbs to shutter and bounce a little, as if being slightly electrocuted before limply falling back to the sun dial’s surface.

The soul and magic absorbed into the body with ease, however the sputterings of the limbs stopped and all became quiet, the magic cutoff as the ritual had ended. Immediately, the druidess collapsed onto one knee, sliding down the side of the sundial, her face turned toward it. All was silent, not a word was uttered in the grove for a good few minutes. The only sounds that of Kalika’s labored breathing. The druid’s heart sank as nothing happened, her face twisting to one of anguish and agony. Embarrassed, she leaned her face onto the cool metal of the sundial in front of her. She barely noticed toads hand on her shoulder, his voice distantly asking if she was alright... It all sounded muffled, as if she were underwater. She had a hard time breathing, the air suddenly grown very thin. How could she have failed? What did she do-
Suddenly, Eztli sat straight up from the altar, her eyes full of life as she looked around the grove in extreme confusion. She screamed as she looked at the crowd, surprised and confused as to where she was. The young witch immediately grabbed for her own mask that she wore so often, only to find empty air on the top of her head. It only incited further panic in the young druid. Her screams of confusion caused Kalika to smile, the commotion lifting her spirits. She hadn’t failed... She had succeeded. The druid allowed tears of joy sprout from her eyes, her face still planted against the altar. She was still exhausted, tired, and out of breath. But she considered all of these things just prices that she needed to pay for Eztli’s revival.
Though now her screams of horror seemed to echo in Kalika’s head, causing her to weakly look up, muttering softly to the young witch, “Shh.. it’s okay Sister. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you anymore..” she tried to get out, her words barely above a whisper, for it was all she had the strength to muster, She tried to coo to her, to calm her down, but her words were fleeting and soft. She hadn’t even noticed Filtel by her side, attempting to calm the druidess with is words. It only caused her to shriek in more terror. Her screams fueled the druid’s motivation. Bullheadedly, and against Toad’s pleas, she grabbed a hold of one of the spikes on the sundial alter, feebily and slowly pulling herself up towards it. Her body faced the young druidess, who was sitting on the end of the alter, body turned towards the crowd. Amadeo gestured to Kalika’s rendition of her mask,
“Kalika. The Mask.” He remarked shortly, trying to figure out how to calm the young witch. Her limbs screeched with protest as the druid leaned over and picked up the war mask from the ground, having forgotten about it. She weakly hands it to Eztli, who in turn graciously accepts the mask, putting it on and over her face. The action seemed to calm her ever so slightly as she focused her atttention on Toad, who had decided to focus more on the newly revived druid than the older one, weakly leaning against the altar.

“Ez,Look at me.. Look at me... Its jus’ you, and me, and Kali” he coaxed calmly, trying to get her to focus on him, “Ya remember us? ya friends yeah? Its just us okay?” he continued, focusing solely on her. The young druid nodded repeatedly as she started, attempting to get her bearings. The crowd had grown thick, even three kobolds showing up, for some reason, to watch. The witch muttered something to Toad about there being too many people, prompting Toad to start helping her off the Altar. Now fully standing, with the help of the dial, Kali went to put an arm around Eztli, attempting to help her towards the grove. Though in her own weakened state, she failed miserably. In fact, she almost stumbled multiple times, effectively putting most of the weight on Toad’s poor shoulders. Kalika could feel her strength slowly returning to her, whether out of necessity or perhaps her mind tricking her, she was unsure. Somehow she found the strength to make it into the Grove, away from the prying eyes of the onlookers with Eztli, Toad, and Fenix; whose presence she realised as soon as he started helping them inside.

An hour later, Kalika came out from her room, having enough strength to limp out of her room, Fenix in tow with her cooking pot. As soon as she has gotten back however, Eztli was curled up behind the meeting room stone table, in tears. Fenix dropped the pot and went over to her to console her as the druidess started to prepare a small meal tiredly. Her eyes moved over to the trio sitting there and then to Amadeo and Samantha Wolfheart sitting on the other side of the room. Eztli’s sobs started getting louder and louder as the druidess stirred the cooking meal, causing her to grimace and shake her head. Toad and Fenix were never the best at comforting people.. that was for sure. The druidess sighed, and like a mother coming to check on her crying child, she came to Eztli’s call. She neared, crouched, and then sat on the ground beside the sobbing girl, her hand comfortingly being placed on the girl’s shoulder. Upon noticing her return, the young witch practically leaped at her, wrapping her arms around her sister tightly. She started to sob into the druids arms, her hand on her sister’s chest as she cried in fear. Kali wrapped her arms tightly around the Maztican in her arms, slightly unsure as to why the young girl was sobbing in fear. Softly she whispered to her, “Ezli? What’s wrong Sister? Why are you frightened?”

“M-make the bad people go away. Pleassse. Made bad, bad bad people go away.. no no no no no...” She repeated over and over again, “Make the funny man go away, the ssscarey woman go away.” As she said these things, the Maztican gestured towards Amadeo, identifying him as the ‘funny man’ and then to Samantha as the ‘scarey woman’.

Kalika’s heart dropped, her eyes widening as she whispered and cooed to Eztli, attempting to reassure her they weren't bad people.. that they weren't going to hurt her. But even her attempts could not sway the young girl’s mind. Finally, the druidess gave in, whispering once more, “It’s alright Eztli, I will make them go away. I promise, they are never going to harm you, I am here to protect you. Okay?” She reassured the young witch, whose sobs finally started to die down.

As the druidess ushered Amadeo out of the cave after a few hushed words, a deep feeling of dread filled within her. The image of her mother’s face looking at her scornfully, her chauntea symbol loosely dangling below her neck, disappointed flashed through her mind, like a ghost haunting an old house. She could sense, no feel, that something was off. Something was amiss. It was not just the thoughts of her mother disapproving of what she had done. Her gaze set on Eztli’s form, devouring the food she had cooked for her. It was from that moment on that she knew something was seriously wrong with the young Maztican and she was almost eighty percent sure that it was her fault.

[Swirling Stars]

Chapter 5 Involvement

“Tell me, what do you think is wrong with the world, the island?” Daijin’s soothing, chiming voice asked the druid as they walked up the snowy path of the Spires. In front of them, Master Amadeo walked silently in front of them, on the look out for any enemies that they would surely encounter on their way to the top. The druidess leaned back her head in a small laugh, finding irony and humor in the question as the three walked along.
“Where do I begin? There is so much, that I couldn’t possibly know where to begin. There is so much corruption in this world, on this island..” the druidess started. Pulling her cloak around her closer, she seemed to think on Daijin’s question seriously, posing her thoughts and organizing them in a careful manner.

“How did you even get involved with this anyway?”

Three people stood within a small room, located inside the Maskite temple that was hidden within Cordor’s sewers. Kalika stared at the person who had just asked her the very question, the man’s hand gesturing around gracefully within the chamber. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the ex-archmage’s question. Though it annoyed her, the question was quite valid. What was she doing here? Hanging around the leader of the Maskite group, the spider that plucked the strings of Cordor. The answer was simple, in her mind, but she mused that to an outsider it would seem odd... sketchy even. Toad, having stood off to the side, albeit a tinsy bit awkwardly, watched with a stoic mannerism. She wondered for a moment why he thought it had been a good idea to have this... this selfish, insane necromancer in the same room as her? Last time she checked, she was pretty damn sure he knew she was a druid.

She pursed her lips, banishing the thoughts away. She shouldn’t really blame him, she had wanted to come along to spend time with him. The druid only wished this ‘client’ didn’t have to be a necromancer. She tensed and crossed her arms, sighing softly.

“The answer is simple really. He stole my heart.” she replied with her usual, sappy answer. Her lips curled into a smirk, knowing the heart-felt comment would likely bother this... vile elf before her. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, focusing on Toad once more.

“Feel free to use these things for your ah... projects.” Toad remarked, clearly a little annoyed at the druid’s.... attitude. It only fueled Kali’s own feelings of disgust for the necromancer. How could someone like him earn Toad’s respect? Toad was not evil. Sure he was rough around the edges, but she seriously did not think he was-

“What is it with you druids anyway? Why do you hate undead so much?” Manobi’s words cut her out of her thoughts briefly. She looked Manobi over a moment and placed her hands within her pockets, attempting to keep herself calm and collected.

“Because Manobi, I am a protector of the life. The balance is not just nature or forests, it is all that encompases living things. Undead are monstrosities. They only take, and take, and take and do not give back to the cycle of life. They have no purpose other than to continuously destroy and feed, destroying everything in their wake. They do not die and return to the dust, nor are they hunted by predators. They exist out side of life, they are opposite of it.” she takes a small breath and then continues with her explanation, “ And because they do not give back to the cycle of life, they become a threat to life itself. Druids protect this balance, the cycle of life. So therefore, we must wipe out any undead or necromancer we come across who threatens this balance.”

Manobi seemed to look slightly surprised as he rubbed his sharp chin, “Interesting!” was his only remark as the three started to walk out of the small room. A small feeling of pride and satisfaction flowed through the druid as she walked back, barely paying attention to Manobi as he ‘congratulated’ her on being the only druid to apparently explain why they hated undead so ruthlessly and that she’d gained his respect. She silently rolled her eyes. Was this man real? Only an hour after knowing him, he was asking Toad if he’d ever seen someone eat a damn child... Gloating and bragging about how he loved to view that terrible scene..., and now he thinks that she was just going to like him because she’d impressed him somehow? Like hell she would. He disgusted her in the deepest pits of her soul.

The worst part about it was that everyone else seemed.... fine with his attitude and actions.

Had the world gone to shite while she was sleeping?

He spoke of horrifying things right inside the tower itself, and the only repercussions of such talk was one archmage mentioning he shouldn’t speak like that. Was she really the only one who had a problem with burning and butchering children? The only one who looked upon an undead with disgust? Or perhaps didn’t condone the violence or horror of some of the things on this island?



The snow crunched beneath their feet with each step, though noticeably, Daijin seemed to walk with a heavier step than the masterly agile monk, and the nimble druidess. The lovely female mage seemed to be regarding the druid through her hood, her voice sounding slightly serious. The question and tone of her voice intrigued Kalika’s natural curiosity. She was not used to the woman next to her being so... serious and straightforward. She was used to her quirky jokes that the two usually spent tossing back and forth in conversation. Daijin rested on her staff, walking along next to her through the cold. The mage, interestingly, was more silent than her usual, bubbly self this trip. Perhaps it was the biting cold, or the oddness of just the three of them traveling to the top of the mountain?

“The most prevalent would be that of Sencliff I would surmise. Sure, the Banites are still a threat. But there are plans in place, and the internal turmoil... it is apparent they won't be for much longer.” The druid started to explain, her rant only beginning. There are so many things that bothered her about this island, that it almost overwhelmed the druid in her thoughts and opinions. She felt that her own morals, were being questioned and tested at each turn her days took her. The druid continued her explanation, noting the various things she witnessed and heard of. From the necromantic horrids of Sencliff, to the threat of the newest house of the underdark rising to attack the surface. She noted her worries of whether or not they could be stopped, if people even cared enough anymore to stand up against them. To protect those of innocent hearts.

Throughout the trip so far, Amadeo didn’t seem to wish to comment much, preferring to be the silent sigil that he usually was. As the druid spoke of her experiences, she took note of his attire and fighting style, silently drawing in some of the way her moved. How someone could be that... old and still move as if they were in their young twenties was beyond her. She realised that people like her, monks and druids lived well beyond the years of other normal humans did. Perhaps even twice the lifespan of one who did not delve into such arts and lifestyles. However, she had read books that were centuries old, that had him inside them.
She had long since come to the conclusion that the man was half-elven. Half-elves showed the physical traits of their human parents, and this would explain his large build. The elven side would relate to his monk way of life, as most elves tended to sway towards a more natural life-style. Monks were not that far off from druids, in her opinion. They were both usually isolationists, except around others similar to them, and they believed in Ki. As Amadeo had explained it to her before in the few lessons they had, Ki was like the balance to druids. It was the very life essence around them. It was a wonder to her, why anyone would think he was an ‘automaton’ or a liche when the answer was... rather obvious. Even now though, she had slight doubts. He hadn’t made any point to dress differently for the cold weather, and just wore his normal silk clothing and helm. Perhaps monks were not as affected by the weather like druids as well? No... that was not it. This was... unearthly.. and yet, this monk felt natural. He was not undead, this much the druid knew. She would have picked up on such by now, as she had been trained to do so by the druids back in Kirinwood.

Perhaps, he was from another plane? Like Toad was from Sigil?...But, if that was true.. Which? There were only so many planes in existence, that she knew of at least. His eyes bore that of blue, his soul showing straight threw them. Obviously, he was not of any of the hells or the abyss. He was too tall and built in stature to be a gnome or an elf, and he was most certainly not a pixie. Even if this was true, and he was from another plane, that would mean he would be from one of the more holier planes of existence. And if that was true, why the hells would he be here?..... The druid shook herself out of her thoughts. What rubbish! Amadeo was most certainly a half-elf. It just made sense.... Did it? Those books and accounts were far older than what most half-elves lived, as far as she knew. Perhaps monks lived longer just as druids did than others of their kind? He did keep his body in top shape. The druid had no doubt that his he were to lift his shirt, a handsome pair of-

She made a face at the thought of her mentor and friend without a shirt. That was rather adolescent of her.... She was hanging out around Fenix far too much.

A day or so later the three of them reached the peak, just hours before sunrise. Resting for an hour or so, the three of them made a fire and went about their somewhat usual morning routine. Curiously, Amadeo decided to not eat. Kalika assumed he was just fasting though, it didn’t seem to out of the norm for a monk to go without food. The trek had been somewhat easy. Though Kalika suspected that was due to Daijin’s powerful air elemental summon and Amadeo’s prowess on the battlefield. Had she attempted such a trek herself, she would have surely been beaten down and killed.
About thirty minutes after their meal, Daijin began to speak. Though her voice held not the usual casual tone to it, it was serious and somewhat formal. She began to ask Kalika questions, like the ones she’d asked on the three-day hike up to the mountain.

The questions were odd, philosophical.. They were about her morals... what she thought was wrong from right. What did this mean? Was it an intervention for her ties with Toad? It all seemed very confusing out of context. Did they believe she hard turned...evil?

“Daijin, why do you ask me these things? Do you believe that I have fallen into the darkness?” she asked, slightly interrupting Daijin, though concern littered her voice. Normally she would have apologised, but her worries seemed to override her sense of manners.

The elven mage shook her head, “No, I do not. That is not the reason I brought you here.. In fact, I have been here before, in your place.” Her reassurance only seemed to add more confusion to the mystery and haze that surrounded the trip itself. Daijin had first contacted her to get some drinks in Greyhammer, and then suddenly, they were heading to the peak of the tallest mountain on the isle...

“We brought you here because I wanted you to see all of which the light touches, the sunrise. To show you how we are in compared to our world.” the elven woman said solemnly as she swayed a hand out across the expanse of the whole island, all of which could be seen. Myon seemed to float serenely within the Arelith forest, the Dreaming tree soared high in the expanse.. ships could be seen coming and going from Wharftown’s port, and in the distance, the top of Cordor’s castle could be seen.

“I’ve known Amadeo a long time” she started, gesturing towards the monk in a fluid manner. In turn, his helm bowed slightly, agreeing with the statement. Her eyes turned back to the red-haired woman standing beside her on the mountain top, in the middle of their camp. The fire from their morning breakfast still crackling with warm embers.

“ At one time.. I was a much prouder elf. Imagined myself a masterful diplomat and all that rubbish. An Archmage.” she lamented, continuing an explanation of the elf she once was. She paused to look down at the fien silks she bore, somewhat dirtied and wet from the snow, slush, and ice.
“I thought I had power, influence, and I was the best suited to use it.”
“And when given the chance by Nelehein, instead of protecting my own nest, to do actual good... I did not. “ she looked up from her clothing, her expression half-way unviewable due to the hood. It was obvious in her voice that these thoughts held a deeper, greater pain than the mage liked to admit. Kalika had to restrain herself from offering a comforting hand or hug, deciding this as not the right time to do so, letting her finish.
“I ... made excuses.” the words held a great weight in her tone of voice, making the healer note them to memory.

The druid looked at her a moment, waiting for a pause before she could question, “Excuses?”
The elven mage nodded grimly, “I told him war was not the answer, the Banites were best contained in Wharftown. I said it’s better for the isle this way. Politically stable.” Daijin paused for a moment to look out along the mountains, taking in the scene of the sun rising along the horizon. Letting out a breathy exhale, she looked back to the druid, “I never saw Nelehein again.... But in making such a terrible mistake, I brought myself here.” She gestures towards the vast landscape, the sun's light barely starting to show.
“Standing here, looking out over the whole isle...”

“I am small here.”

“.. We all are. Very small.” She added as a last thought to her comment. The druid looked out upon the expanse once more, silently lamenting on the comment. She often thought this very thing when she soared through the skies in her totem form. Up in the air, she was just a small being compared to the massive world beneath her wings. Often the druidess appreciated this virtue... She liked to keep herself humbled. Without humility, other aspects of a person degrade with time until they are weak... vulnerable. Perhaps one of the many reasons the Banites were going to be losing the war.

“But look at how large the isle is in comparison.... What do you think matters? Us? Or all of them?” The druid did not need time to answer the simple question, instinctively she answered almost as soon as it was asked.
“All of them.” She spoke without hesitation. She felt.. at ease in that moment, a peace washing over her soul as the three of them stood there on the top of the mountain, the temple doors silently standing behind them.

“You spoke of balance, of wishing to see the world made balanced... Well.. there is a tyranny of good.. as well as wickedness.... And we both agreed. Sometimes, all it takes is one person to stand up for something to make a difference.”

A tyranny of good? Why would she use such a word?... How could tyranny be a good thing at all? The druid decided to brush the questions off to the side, thinking she was simply just over thinking her comment. It was likely she just couldn’t come up with a better word for what she meant. Master Amadeo’s voice seemed to catch her out of her thoughts. He was speaking something about making a choice, an important decision.

‘Why were they asking so many questions? Shouldn’t they be doing something more... productive than this?’
As these questions arose in her head, something seemed to don on her as she listened to Daijin and Amadeo speak about the balance between good and evil... Her bright blue eyes widen as the three of them watched the sun peek up over the island for the coastline. The sun’s warm rays washed over her body, like it had most mornings. A calmness overtook her being, elation filling in the depths of her soul as the warm rays cloaked her tanned skin with it’s comforting light.
Why would they consider her for this? Sure she always tried to do what was right, what her heart told her to do.. The druid looked between the two people beside her.. two peole she had come to call friends... mentors. It all seemed surreal to her as thoughts and questions roamed her mind, screaming to escape.
Amadeo seemed to end his thoughts, having told her about a story on Mina and some man named Ossian. How he had come to slay poor Mina for ‘betraying’ them, and then tried to clean it up. The stories actual significance was almost lost to the druid, though she couldn’t help but feel sorrow for this ‘Mina’. She had fallen for the wrong man, and in the end perished at the hands of someone who used justice to murder someone who had only made a bad mistake.

“If you are truly interested in something like this, then you will meet me at the west gate in the northern outskirts of Cordor.” The monk remarked and started down the mountain at his usual fast pace, his silken suit of blue and white disappearing into the snow. The druid watched him for a moment as he walked down the cold slope of ice and snow, even in the snow, his steps light and articulate. The wind picked up a bit as the clouds started to drop more of the flakes upon the mountain's peak, the air gradually becoming a bit thinner. Kalika’s breath seemed to be held in her throat, her expression shocked. The weight of the situation finally seemed to fall upon her shoulders as Daijin started off after the monk, quietly. The sun continued to roll higher as they walked down, Daijin only chatting about different topics. Her words were somewhat lost to the other woman traveling behind her, whom spent the trip mostly contemplating what had just transpired.
The ‘hellball’ in the sky seemed to shine brighter this day than it had in a long time for the druid. She could feel the wintery earth beneath her feet alive with energy, magic. The stoic black and evergreen pines, looming over them seemed to greet her as traveled. Even the hostile beings that lived along their root seemed to let up, only two or three attacking them the whole way. Though Kalika had a sneaky suspicion this had been Amadeo’s doing as he had disappeared far beyond their line of sight into the chilled forest.
Hours later, the druid found herself at the westgate in Cordor, not a second thought to her mind.

[Swirling Stars]

Chapter 6 Morals


The damp stench of decay and sewage filled the druids senses, much to her dismay, as she walked through the tunnels of Cordor’s sewage system. On either side of her, Amadeo and Daijin led her along, silent in their trek. Her eyes dotted two and fro, recording the way they had come to this section. Oddly enough, Kalika recognized the area, as she’d come this way often to get to Toad’s ‘Dive Bar’ to find him. The druid frowned as her hand instinctively went to the small black key, tucked safely in the confines of her pant’s pocket. Absently, she wondered why they hadn’t just taken the portals from the arcane tower to the shadow plane. That way would have been much, much faster. Though admittedly, Toad would probably have a screaming fit if he knew she was willing to let Amadeo and Daijin in so the three of them could just abuse a ‘short cut’. Though, the thought was rather mute when she thought on it. Toad literally had nothing to hide inside the temple. All of his secrets and information of trade was spread through word of mouth. He hadn’t been leaving any ‘paper trail’ for months now. She’d never admit it, but her curiosity had driven her to look on the Maskite’s planning board in one of the rooms. The last entry had been over two years prior.
She was ripped from her thoughts as the three of them stopped at the section just before the temple, causing the druid to be slightly confused. However, she was left a bit shocked as Amadeo turned and opened the gate to a hidden room inside one of the sewage tunnels. As the door slide away, she could, even from here, smell the scent of the arboretum inside, calling her to it. She wandered inside first, at a fast pace towards the plants. She didn’t seem to mind until she tripped up a hidden trap beneath her feet, releasing a poisonous gas into the air. It made the druid give pause to her path as the clouds dissipated slowly. Luckily for her, her kind were immune to the effects of most toxins and disease after long years of being exposed to such. Daijin sputtered and coughed behind her, eliciting her apologetic response. Quickly, fishing an antidote from her satchel, she offered it to the mage who took it with a simple thank you.

The three of them stopped outside the door to the inner chamber of the hideout only a moment later. Amadeo’s words seemed to fill her with cheer as he started to recite the words that many of her brethren before her had once recited. In turn, she repeated the words to him, unyielding in any doubting thoughts. The whole process only took a few minutes, and then, she was one of them. Elation filled in her heart at the end of the mini-ceremony. The druid was excited, she could not deny this. Her blue eyes glanced around the arboretum, knowing she was going to be spending a lot of time there.

----

Kalika’s stomach growled hungrily from beneath the book that sat in her lap. Ignoring the hunger building within, she turns the page of the journal she was reading. Her hands gripped around the rothe-leather the journal had been crafted out of, her eyes intently staring at the pages. She grabs the end of her cloak, using it to wipe her slightly watery eyes as she reads the account in the book.
She was currently sitting within one of the adjacent rooms in the upper section of the base. It had been only a few hours after she had been inducted and she was already pouring through the library like a child in a candy shop, eagerly consuming the information from every book. Various volumes of different journals, diaries, accounts, memoirs, and informational textbooks surrounded her as she sat on the wooden floor. Her right leg outstretched to the side, her left curled close to her body in a triangular shape, a comfortable position. The book sitting across her left leg as she reads. She brushes some of her hair out of her face, her hair mostly pulled back in a blue ribbon, only fragments fell down into her face.
She gingerly closed the rothe-leather journal as she read the last of the words, the words of the author touching her heart. It was the diary of a slave named ‘Martin’ who had gotten caught up under chains whilst in the dark. It entailed his personal feelings on many things, though she suspected the journal was only kept due to the information about the notorious assassin, Salindra. Apparently Martin had known Salindra in the earliest days of her being on Arelith and what she was like. A look into her personal life, what she was like before she had been an assassin. It was truly intriguing. She leaned over, tucking the book into the pile of books she had completed or skimmed over since she started reading.
Her stomach growled loudly again, causing her to start round up the unread books, placing them on the shelves of the library. It was a shame that the world would not have access to this place. There was so much knowledge to be gained. She had learned so much already about many people, hopefully the knowledge will help her in the coming months ahead.

-----

The druid huffed and wiped a few droplets of sweat from her brow as she placed a box of cutlery and dishes down on the wooden floor of her new home. Various furniture, cushions, and other items that she’d carried herself to the new place laid around the spacious room. Indeed, the druid had sold her old, lovely abode in the grove, hesitantly at that, and bought the room above the shanty.
She had planned on grabbing Elaine’s old home, but that had fallen through on the day it went up for sale. Sawyer had beaten her to it, apparently, despite her vocal want of it. It was no matter, this apartment was still bigger than her old cave in the grove and it would do nicely until the time came that she would be able to buy one of the larger houses in Wharftown. She would simply just wait them out, until a new one went up on market. The grove’s caves were nice for the druid, but it was becoming too crowded for her. Though she often enjoyed the trek through the Arelith forest, the Grove was just too far from Wharftown, and her job, to really live there any longer. It was just not practical. Besides. She had her apothecary and the edge of the forest was but a few minutes walk from Wharftown. It’s not as if she was taking herself out of her element.
Unfolding the flaps of the wooden enclosure she’d set down, she pulls out a few dishes to inspect them and make sure no harm had come to them on the way to town. The sound of footsteps behind her alerted her attention as she allowed herself to gently sit on the ground. As she looks over at the door, a tall, burly man with messy brown hair walked into the room, carrying tons of things. She recognised him to be Ambroz Lyons, whom graciously offered to help her move since she no longer really had anyone to help her with such a move. She had cut her ties with Toad, and her close friends were either too busy, missing, or gone to help. He had various pieces tied to him, or lugged behind him in a massive show of strength. She was unsure that even shape-shifted she could carry so much herself. She offered him an appreciative smile as he started to unload her things onto the cherry hardwood floor carefully.
“Thanks for the help Terrance. I really appreciate it, Truly.” She remarked as she got up and started to put away the plain clay dishes she kept into the rack that came with the room. In the corner of her eye she saw Ambroz pass into the main room, placing the various pieces of furniture in an aesthetic way.
“Don’t worry about it, anything you need Kailee.” she glanced over her shoulder a moment, pausing at the use of her true name. She hadn’t really become used to him using it. The druid, regretfully, had blurted it out whilst unloading her problems and troubles unto Ambroz, who had in this time of sorrow, become a true friend to her. Her eyes fell to the pendant around his neck, the one holding his soul and heart, and then down to the ground, listening to him put things away.
A week or so prior she had asked Toad to cut his ties with Sencliff.. with the banites... with all of the dark souls and blackening, vile things he associated himself with... for her. To move with her to Wharftown and start a new... better life. She had thought that if he loved her, he would join her. They would throw their histories to the wind and start fresh as a couple... She was wrong. Or at least she thought.

She had interpreted his words as refusing to do this with her. He had rather keep his job with Sencliff then start a life with her. So she had broken up with him, unwillingly at that. She was going to run for mayor as per Daijin’s request..and with what she did now...She could no longer make excuses for his deeds... nor deny knowing anything about it. With her new found source of insight.. she knew all of what he was up to. She couldn’t condone it. She still loved the man dearly, despite having broken it off first. The druid grimaced, her emotional pains flooding through her body like a thousand bricks laid upon her back.

“Kailee? Are you alright?” Ambroz’s voice snapped her out of her reflection. She hurriedly wiped the tears that threatened to break through with her hand, keeping her back to the man. She was not one to cry so easily and she would most certainly not be changing that this day. The druid inhaled sharply and nodded, “Y-yes.. I’m fine. I am.. just remembering Toad is all. I w-wished he could have been here... With me.”

He did not answer as she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. Large strong arms wrapped around her body in a comforting hug, a friendly one. She turned in his arms a little, a chill running through her body at his touch. Due to his condition, that Elaine had so...graciously anointed him with, his body was unnaturally cold, like a corpse. Which was not far from the truth. With his soul and heart trapped, the necklace acted as a sort of portable phylactery. He was, essentially, a liche. The hug felt plain... wrong. She suspected this was because she had been raised to exterminate any undead she came across, as they were threats to the balance. In fact, the only reason she was not actively hunting Ambroz was because he did not wish to be what he was.. Nor was he just destroying everything in his path as all undead do. She released the man quickly before returning to unpacking her things.