Zion: Light of the New Moon Part 2 Ch 2.5, Doen
Zion - Light of the New Moon, Part 2 Chapter 2.5
Doen A Very Wrong Turn
Combat has begun, and it appears that the +9 bonus the Doenians received will come in handy after all. The group will also be exercising their option to decrease the danger of the encounter. Assuming the party is victorious they have some nice bonuses coming: ++ Favor, and + Treasure.
Hefflys: a Two syllable word that helps with Three kinds of pain... but only For awhile. Five times a day I used to take Six grams. For Seven days I'd had none. I don't know why, but I've always had a fascination in numbers, and that inclination only grows when I've been without Hefflys. One week is my limit, and after that point the symptoms start to manifest in most unpleasant ways.
Samuel knew my secret... by that point most of our group did... but he was the one watching those symptoms of withdrawal start to take me over, eating me from the inside and showing as the tell-tale signs that those in-the-know can see as obviously as you or I could tell the time of day by looking toward the sky. First comes the shakes... then the racing heartbeat... and then a strong, STRONG fear of what is to come next.
You see, Hefflys isn't an addiction such as pipe weed or alcohol or food... it isn't a matter of having a great longing for it; a Hefflys addiction is about a great longing to avoid the pain that you feel throughout your entire body when it's been too long since your last dose. Anyone who uses Hefflys for too long in great doses finds that every inch of their being falls into terrible agony... a unique form of torture that even I find myself at a loss to describe. It is pain... pure, unadulterated pain.
Samuel told me once that the Pregnant Moon aspect of Tah'aveen had a strange sense of balance, and that anything done in excess comes with a price. He also said that any burden she places upon someone also provides a hidden boon. If that's true, then he believed my curse might be a way to help me better empathize with the pain of others. Until the morning of the Sylvan attack I hadn't believed it, but when I heard Taggart scream, a breath-quickening, blood-curdling, howl of soul-wrenching agony I knew at that moment that I was able to understand.
I was trying to hide my shakes when it happened, sitting next to Samuel atop my carriage. The sound in and of itself identified trouble right away, but it was Jasper's cry of "Sylavan!" that drove the point home. My lover abandoned our transportation immediately, leaping over the side to charge back toward Brother Zachary's wagon. I pulled the carriage to a halt and quickly dismounted, turning back to see what we faced... and it was not good.
In the Time of Beauty, before the onset of the Elven Curse it was not unusual to see entire sections of the forests dance. If you watched, from dawn until dusk the trees would gather together, swaying and twirling among their unmoving brethren, smoothing the ground with each movement and spreading life and greenery with their every touch. These Woodland Waltzes created the glades most take for granted in this age. Sadly, the Sylvans of times long passed are not the Sylvans we know of today. What were once beings of joy and elation have become skeletal remnants of thorny, leafless trees, rife with ire and a desire only to cause agony and death. That is what we faced.
Although Jasper only called out an alarm of one Sylvan I saw, in fact, three. It's a little known fact for those unfamiliar with the stories, but Sylvans gather in groups called Groves; you never encounter just one. Though the tales differ, one might expect to find no less than three. Thank the Goddess, three was the number we faced. Two were still emerging from the forest around us while one worked to make its way back in, a bloody, entangled Taggart caught within its thorny grasp. That Sylvan is known as a Striker.
Sylvan Groves, you see, consist of more than one 'breed' of Sylvan. Just as with trees, Sylvans are made up of many subtypes. The one that sought to pull Taggart from us was tall, lean, and flexible. Its branches hung like thorn-covered whips, dripping little beads of smokey-gray fluid... a toxin that causes weakness in its victims, making it nearly impossible for them to escape its grasp. Thankfully, Jasper was able to help in that department. The rat rose his voice to Tah'aveen and his prayers were answered as the Sickle Moon's power manifested, rotting away the many branches immobilizing Taggart.
By the time the dog had fallen to the ground I had caught up with Samuel and we both ran to him as Jasper and Zeke moved forward with their swords. The Sylvan Striker lashed angrily and I watched as the bark on its surface contorted and rippled, revealing an almost humanoid form, a beautiful woman, her 'face' wreathed in an expression of pure rage. Her 'arms' raised high above her head, mingling with the canopy of the tree, flexed and pulled, bringing a whole section of thorny, whip-like branches down toward those defending Taggart... but the attack never came.
The figure's expression suddenly turned into one of complete surprise as a powerful dark-gray light suffused the Sylvan. As Zachary's screaming plea to Tah'aveen was heard the tree spontaneously turned to dust. Truly, Tah'aveen's wrath is a powerful thing. One Sylvan was destroyed, two still remained, and three of our party were still too close to them to be safe. Fortunately, we still had Tah'aveen on our side.
Samuel held his iron fist threateningly toward the remaining Sylvans as he laid his paw on Taggart's shoulder, helping him up, "Tah'aveen loves you, boy... she won't let your wounds last." and, with that, the dog's injuries faded away as if the were smoke from a snuffed fire. Taggart nodded resolutely to him, and drew his sword. I stepped up behind the battle line trying to figure out which of the remaining two Sylvans were the greater threat.
The left one was broad and thick, like an oak, but blackened, twisted, and covered in nettle... it was a Sylvan Thornbearer... a warrior among the Sylvans, which meant that it was my target. Pulling my flute from its loop on my belt I brought the instrument to my muzzle. The tune was a simple one, one of the first I learned from the wandering minstrels of the Highmarsh Vale. The music was little more than a conduit for my magic, but it was incredibly effective. In the span of two breaths, the Thornbearer was covered in biting, gnawing, chewing insects. A single moment later, as golden dust filled the air, I realized that I misinterpreted which Sylvan was more dangerous.
The third and final Sylvan was short and thin. It was slight, not unlike an apple tree during the winter, and it lacked the jagged nettle of the Thornbearer; the only thing adorning its barren branches were small black polyps... which had since opened up into dark-purple flowers with red veins running through the petals. The center of each flower glowed with glimmering pollen, which was suddenly carried toward us on the wind as it floated across the group. Apparently I wasn't the only one who realized the danger, "CHARMER!" Zeke shouted. Indeed, the third Sylvan we faced was by far the most dangerous breed, a Sylvan Charmer.
Although most members of our party had doubtlessly never faced a Sylvan, most were quick enough to follow Zeke's lead. Faces were covered by cloth or, in Taggart's case, the crook of his elbow. The dust hung in the air for only a matter of seconds and, at first, it appeared as though we'd survived the insidious powder unscathed... but that's when Jasper, eyes glowing the same color as the middle of the Sylvan's flowers, swung his blade at Zeke.
Despite the surprise of being attacked by an ally, Zeke was not unprepared. Spinning to face the hissing rat, the fox brought his own weapon around in a wide arc, held vertically to carefully intercept Jasper's strike. Zeke followed through with the parry, knocking the rat's weapon far to the side before swinging with his off-paw balled into a fist. The attack struck Jasper squarely in the head. The rat stumbled, sneezing powerfully as he did; the glow left his eyes.
"You alright?" Zeke asked quickly.
"Fine." Jasper nodded, "Thanks for the bitch-slap." and the two waded back into combat.
Brother Zachary launched himself off of the top of his carriage, the Hundred-Fold-Blade glimmering with gray energy as he swung it in a strong, over-head chop. Despite the enchanted nature of the blade, however, the poor rabbit was no great swordsman, and the Thornbearer easily moved its branches out of the way. Seeing my opportunity, I jumped forward, swinging the flute I held.
As with most of my instruments, the flute was made for more than just music, and the concealed thin-blade hidden within snapped out, turning the instrument into a short sword. I have speed to my credit but, like our priest, my place in this world is not that of a warrior, and I did little more than distract it. The Sylvan's attention was on me, which was fortunate because it had been about to attack Zachary, and he was certainly not as adroit as I; with a backhand spring I was quickly out of the way of its sweeping branches.
Unfortunately, it had many branches to spare and, despite my intervention, the priest was knocked back, the side of his body scourged by the Thornbearer's attack. Brother Zachary landed in a heap, blood pooling around him as it flowed freely from his many wounds. Taggart shouted a battle cry and charged the nettle-covered Sylvan, sinking his sword into its trunk. The figure within the tree shifted as red sap pooled out away from the blade, and the Sylvan's 'foot' emerged from the trunk, connecting with Taggart's muzzle and sending him stumbling away.
Haldyn issued a roar and, dodging a branch swung desperately at him, pushed his blade deep into the distracted Thornbearer's trunk. The tree went rigid from the attack, his sword dug directly into the humanoid figure represented in the bark. The visage, both beautiful and horrible, glared ruefully down at the lion and it raised an arm, controlling one of the many branches overhead, and made to bring it down on him-- but its head was smashed a moment later by Samuel's hammer-hand. The tree immediately turned gray, and stopped moving, rooted forevermore in place.
The Sylvan Charmer, in the meantime, had emerged from the thicket and was bearing down on the group, charging forward like a speeding carriage, obviously intent on overrunning our party... but its momentum was halted as a boulder careened off of the raised highway, narrowly missing, "I'll use you for kindling!" Dillan shouted. Although the merchant's attack wasn't effective, his distraction certainly was... much to his regret, the Sylvan Charmer retaliated by lifting a large rock with its branches and hurled it right at him. Dillan managed to dodge to the side at the last moment, but the projectile still grazed his shoulder, hurtling him back in a complete three hundred sixty degree spin and sending him to the ground.
I moved to Zachary's side but Taggart was already there. Despite his own wounds, the dog was looking after our priest first. I heard the whispers of a prayer on his lips; Taggart was attempting to ease Brother Zachary's pain. Although the injuries were extensive, the rabbit was still conscious, paws covering the most prominent gashes as blood seeped through them. Despite his need for care, I couldn't devote my attention to him... not with the Sylvan Charmer still bearing down on us.
Standing, I held my palm out toward our attacker and spoke one of the few elementalist chants I knew... and the summoned ball of fire had its desired effect; the Sylvan recoiled from the flame. Sadly, I am no great magus, and, though it left an obvious blackened mark on the Charmer's bark, it dealt no real damage. Its wooden face sneering from within its bark, the Sylvan's flowers opened anew, and another blast of pollen came our way. Thank the goddess, we were all ready that time, and it had no success in charming any of our number.
Zeke and Jasper quickly pressed the advantage, each striking the Sylvan Charmer and drawing lines of red against its trunk. I dove past them toward it, my flute sword leading the way but, as you may recall, I began this story by talking about Hefflys, and the many horrible things it does. For seven days I'd missed my Six grams Five times daily. Four limbs cramping up for Three seconds led To One eventuality: I was struck by a branch and sent sailing through the air. The Goddess is merciful in her humor, however, as the impact of the ground drowned out the temporary pain and relieved the cramps.
Less humorous, however, was the fact that Mr Flynn landed next to me, having had no more luck on the attack than I. Unlike myself, he wasn't easily able to recover from the blow. The ferret lay on his stomach, face down in the dirt. He was still breathing, but I could tell he wasn't going to stand at that point any time soon. I quickly stood and turned back to the fight, which was not going well.
The Charmer struck Jasper, knocking him away from its truck. Although Jasper was not within attacking range of the Sylvan it didn't stop him. Transferring one of his blades to his tail, the rat pointed his now free paw at the trunk and spoke a prayer to Tah'aveen. Flickering light announced that his prayer to the Sickle Moon was answered and the Sylvan writhed in agony as its life force was taken from it, healing the Wild Lander in return.
While the Charmer was distracted Taggart swooped in, striking at what he thought was its back; unfortunately, Sylvans don't have blind sides. Focused more on attack than defense, the poor dog was similarly pushed back by the powerful blow. Rust came at it from the other angle, forcing it to move another section of branches to keep him at bay, and that's when Haldyn pressed the advantage, digging his blade into the side of the trunk.
From my position I could hear Zachary mumble. The young priest managed to speak a prayer to Tah'aveen and a cooling, comforting white glow took hold of our party; our wounds were tended by the Moon Goddess' love, closing as surely as if they'd never been. "In her grace!" I shouted a battle cry, the proof that she was with us apparent to everyone. The close combatants continued to swing away at the Sylvan, but to little effect. When I saw its blooms begin to open again, I knew something would have to be done.
I ran forward, speaking the words of power as I dropped my flute. Both of my paws cupped together as I fought to retain control of the rapidly growing embers forming in my palms. When I was almost within sword range of the tree I finally pushed my arms forward and released a spray of cinders; at that exact moment the Sylvan Charmer released its dust... which spontaneously ignited. Four thousand tiny embers after three attempts at it charming us led to two things: one burning Sylvan and zero of us charmed. Unfortunately, it also managed to attack once, hitting me with two limbs, and knocking me back three yards.
Taggart jumped forward to attack but was forced back by the fire quickly spreading across the Sylvan's branches. Haldyn, likewise had to move away as a burning limb collapsed onto the ground. Samuel, damn his mindless heroism, stayed near its trunk, delivering a powerful strike and sending splinters flying from the force of the blow. Our assault didn't end there: Jasper continued his prayer and pulled more life from the burning tree and I heard Zachary's prayers change from the healing power of the Full Moon to the painful ravages of the New Moon, and the Sylvan's limbs creaked and cracked in agony.
By the time Samuel had presented his holy symbol and ordered the Sylvan away in the name of Tah'Aveen, it was only too willing to retreat. Our party stood our ground until we knew that it wouldn't return. Three Sylvans, two of them destroyed, and one retreated. We were victorious... in a manner of speaking. Our party of seven had six injured. Five of us were still able to function but four of our number were hurt badly. Three of us were exhausted and two of us were incapacitated. One of us, unfortunately, was obsessing with numbers-- a sure sign that the Hefflys withdrawal was getting worse.
* * * * * *
Welcome to Chapter 2.5 for Doen, the last post of this chapter.
Combat is joined and it's one heck of a nasty combat. Due to an injury sustained by Zachary in this combat I made a command decision to have it narrated from a different point of view... and I think Narissa did a pretty darn decent job of it. Your opinions?
Oh... and keep an eye out for an upcoming Journal because there are LOTs of votes to be made. In the meantime, let's settle for this one:
1) The group will enact a Sickle Moon ritual to divide injuries out among the group. 2) The group will make-due with as much Full Moon healing as they can manage. 3) The group will exhaust itself by doubling up on Full and Sickle Moon prayer.
Since Narissa was so kind to narrate for us I took the liberty of giving her the Heartwood Poultice, the treasure awarded to the group this chapter. The Heartwood Poultice is capable of providing 1 point of Lethal Wound healing between chapters and is expended. If anyone would rather the item be given to someone please speak up!
Remember: you have until midnight on January 5th to have this vote in, and be on the look out for others via a future post!