I don’t often miss my old frame at this point - not being a dwarf had quite a few advantages, such as other dwarves not assuming you wanted to talk to them. My wispy humanish feet’s ache, though - that definitely was starting to get to me.
I’ve definitely dealt with worse than a little fall from a mountain and a few hours jog without feeling this fatigued - but while the sword in my gut seems to be gone, the several days straight of fighting hadn’t, and I didn’t have my usual quarterstaff by my side to give my feet some measure of mercy as a walking stick.
Needed to carve something, I was pretty sure. Doesn’t seem like any black locust was in this area, but a Cedar staff’d do for now. As the Mountains parted to give way to forest though, fate seemed to have other plans for me.
Beneath the plants and grass, standing amidst an old dirt road, stood a squirrel, chittering angrily. Staring at me, I immediately checked my pockets, wondering if he’d sniffed out the acorns I occasionally used as spell components.
The squirrel’s head shook in a way I’m sure would have been endearing to the average human girl with their head in the clouds, but I knew was just the squirrel’s hormones pushing up to 11 and requiring a release. Horny little bastard, this one.
The patch of ginger fluff ran up and tugged on my boot, twice, then started running, and that’s about all I needed to know what was going on.
“Oh, Silvanus, what now?” I muttered under my breath, as I ran on already-tired legs to follow the beastie. Through the undergrowth and brambles and thickets that are just fine for a ruddy squirrel, but left a bunch of cuts and scrapes on what was now my only outfit.
Eventually, as I moved through the thick canopy, light started to leave us, as the trees grew denser and denser, and there was only the chittering squirrel ahead to guide me amidst the leaves.
Eventually, we made out way to the clearing. The squirrel ran forward, into the yellow daylight, and towards the treasure he’d been so intent on guiding me to.
Made of black locust, three scrapes on one end that I recognized from my tussle with a guard captain, another scrape from the orc I encountered way back in Faerun, and a blotchy black stain - one that had persisted since my first encounter with the thing that corrupted Wilfred. The stain of the Knife.
I had not used this weapon for a few months now - I’d gotten quite a nice enchantment on a new quarterstaff, and kept it as a spare. Now, it seemed the gods themselves had placed it on a nice stump in a clear glade, ready to rejoin me in battle.
And made it incredibly ceremonious and poetic for what was ultimately just a big ol’ stick. Instead of just handing it to me.
“Aright, aright.” I say with a groan, going to grasp the quarterstaff, only for the squirrel to jump between it and me, chittering atop the stump with a puffed up tail.
Didn’t have speak with animals in me at the moment, but with how it kept motioning to the acorn pouch, it wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted.
“Are you kidding-fine! Take it!” I Grumbled, pulling a tree-seed out and hucking it to him so I could get this rodent out of my face as fast as possible.
The squirrel grabbed the nut, but it’s chittering didn’t stop, as it motioned again to my pack.
“Wha-you can’t have all of them!” I blurt.
The chittering in response was both angrier and more insistent. This greedy little bastard wanted every acorn I had. I had acorns I’d saved across planehops. He might be literally eating extra bio-diversity this place didn’t even have.
Unfortunately, grabbing and shaking a squirrel till he gives up is a long and exhausting affair, and I probably could find more acorns, so I hucked the other two acorns to the greedy criminal, and the squirrel’s beady little eyes lit up as it ran off the stump in a hurry.
Without any further aplomb, I picked up the staff, allowing my druidic energies to peel through the weapon. It was almost like a light-switch, as a smile came to my face unbidden. Nature’s energies finally flowed in balance within me, as a relaxing wind spread through my body, and I could feel my magic flowing once again, muted and weakened but far more present..
I’d never asked to be a druid, but being a conduit for Nature’s wrath and warmth had a certain feeling, a certain strength. It wasn’t like the strength warlocks or wizards talked about - for it was a form of connection, and I was always aware that I was just another part of Nature, a part of a whole, not something above it all. It was more like the strength of one’s hands, something that just filled you with this innate knowledge of being something… more.
The feeling almost blinded me to the shadows moving within the trees, the wrongness that had entered the glade.
Tentacles whipped out, seeking for all my nice exposed parts, and I leaped back with a trained instinct that acted before thought could enter my mind.
“Not happening.” I responded, as I let my anger over this senseless pursuit mask my fear long enough to grip my weapon.
This was why I’d been summoned here, I was certain, and as I gripped my quarterstaff to strike back with a vicious strike, my brain was already putting together the pieces. This thing was part of some greater imbalance. A greater imbalance that might eat the world.
I fucked up, put my own world in imbalance. I’d been decisive where I shouldn’t have been, cautious where I needed to act, and ended up causing my world to be flooded with creatures just like this!
The Quarterstaff glowed a faint yellow as I swung, but the beast leaped above me, and quite a bit of courage left me as I pulled my weapon back just in time to get bowled over like a fish; The Freakish tiger-thing’s jaws lunged for my throat as I was left lying on my back, but I got my quarterstaff between it’s face and my neck just quick enough. The magical power of the shillelagh cant was enough to prevent it’s dagger-like fangs from breaking the staff in two, but it still bore down on me with all it’s strength, and my arm muscles were not nearly as durable - panic filled me for a second as I felt my arms ready to break.
But, a reminder filled me. A reminder I was no warrior or athlete - I was a druid. Giving a glare, I let the power within me reach out, crying out to the spores of the land. A moldy blight grew across this corrupted tiger-thing like a swarm of black bees, eating into the beast’s body, and it gave a yowl as it’s tentacles snapped ineffectually at the growth, only opening themselves to the decay of nature.
I took the opportunity to push, using the quarterstaff to leverage him off my body and rolling away. The tentacles followed, snapping at my body, but more spores formed an unnatural barrier, pushing it away from my body with the sacrifice of their own, single-celled lives.
All to save their host. me.
The beast Turned to face me, ready to jump, but I was ready this time - I slammed the tip of the staff into the creature’s face hard enough to knock out a few teeth, leave it tottering, before raising the weapon above my head and swinging it hard down onto it’s skull for a quick death.
The creature gave one howl, before falling, the dark energies around it seeming to pool into the grass beneath, as though trying to escape.
I focused my power with a glare. let it be cleansed.
Nature heard my plea, my call, and the energy was violently rejected, the grass itself bending to form a united wall, leaving the black ink to have no choice but to evaporate into the air itself.
I stood there with a smile on my face for a few seconds - before the adrenaline left me, that is - and then I gave a hard wheeze.
I knew now why I was here. Why someone of my circle needed to be here. Something had blighted this particular world - or set of worlds, didn’t know how the cosmology was here. The place had rotted, but not in the natural sense.
The cycle had been interrupted by something rotten, something vile, something that resisted decay and encouraged entropy. What better place for a druid like me?
The answer was anywhere. Anywhere less dangerous or horrible. I’d done enough. Or… well, that was my answer at least. Silvanus clearly didn’t agree.
I pulled up my hood with a mournful sigh. “...I need a drink.”
