Shadowsplinter Grove (The Chiming Spring)

The evening ritual had been completed and the druids of Greensplinter Grove slowly made their way back to the lodge that sat at the centre of the forest. Orbs filled with bioluminescent moss that hung from the branches of trees were the only light sources, glowing like stars in the forest, a mirror to the black night sky.

Alai Fhaehana, archdruid of the grove, stood by the great tree at the centre of the forest, enjoying the cool night air. The breeze caught her bright red hair, sending it fluttering, the only movement in her body. Her bare feet felt every vibration in the dirt below her. Small insects burrowing, roots shifting and growing and beneath everything. The Machine.

To the east she felt the faintest shifting of the wind, as a flock of birds took flight, startled by something moving below the canopy of the deep forest. She turned her head and looked in the direction. What had set them off she wondered.

It was undoubtedly just a small predator like a lorin or perhaps one of the magical denizens of the forest like a pointy hatted grug, trying to grab a bird for its pot. She turned and walked across the lawn towards the lodge and her bed.

Walking past the ritual circle, Alai’s eye caught a glint on the metallic surface of one of the constructs that towered over her. The circle was part of the Machine and beneath centuries of accumulated moss, vines and exposed roots, it was still bright clean metal, like the flat of a master crafted sword or a new mirror.

Suddenly, a truly foul stench filled her nostrils. Alai stopped in her track and gagged, steadying herself against the metallic monolith. She had never smelled anything like it before in her life. It was like rot, which Alai did not mind, rot being an essential part of nature, but there was something unnatural about it. Like it was altered or tempered with something that should not be.

Unable to move due to the rotting stench, Alai fell to her knees, hand clasped over her mouth to try and stop herself from vomiting. She saw movement to her side and turned her head to see something black sliding towards her through the grass. It was moving at great speed and seemed to be leaving an expanding trail of blackness behind it like some kind of foul slug.

To her horror Alai saw that it was not something moving towards her. It was the grass. It twisted and blackened as some kind of rot set in, withering each green blade until it became nothing but mush.

“Stop this.” Alai placed her palm flat on the ground and felt for the power that seeped off the Machine. She drew it into her hand and up her arm, filling her body with it. She let it loose with waves around her, protecting a small circle of grass from becoming nothing but blackened slime. She could hold it back indefinitely, but eventually she would have to move and when she did those plants left behind would wither and die.

A scream in the direction of the lodge made Alai’s mind up for her. She dropped her barrier and ran towards the lodge, her bare feet sinking into the rotting mess that had once been grass and soil.

She grimaced and pushed forward slipping a little but managing to keep her footing. As she approached the lodge she saw the first body.

It was one of the young recent additions to the circle. He was lying on his side, perfectly still as the muck around him seemed to rise and cover him. Alai rushed to his side and tried to clear the foul mix of rotting material off of him, but it grew thicker and thicker, until she could not find any trace of him.

“By the Machine!” Alai gasped as she soon noticed more bodies littered over the grounds in front of the lodge. “W-what could have done this?”

“I did.”

Alai turned around sharply to be confronted by the sight of an aeln man. The first thing she noticed was his skin, it was a sickly pale colour, grey like a corpse’s. Over his face a number of Deneril runes were tattooed. Alai recognised only one of them, the rune for ‘ruin.’ that covered his left eye. He was a large man, dressed in a simple black robe, but over his shoulders he wore the shaggy pelt of a beast.

“I have been looking for you, druidess.” The man’s voice was cold and almost monotone.

“How dare you come to our grove! How dare you sully it with your rotten magic!!”

“I apologise, druidess. I would not have come if this was not of the utmost importance.” The man said, taking a step towards the cien druid. “I am Brojun. And I need the power of this grove and you, to right an ancient wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Alai snarled.

A hand grabbed Alai’s from behind and bodily lifted her off the ground.

“Wha-? Get off me!?” Alai hung in the newcomer’s grasp like a doll in a child’s grasp. This being was far taller than even the muscular Brojun. Alai looked up into her assailant and was shocked to find that she was being held by a bear headed ursaren, and not just any ursaren, a female one.

“What do you want me to do with her, Brojun?”

“Bring her to the ritual circle, Gerkalka. The time has come for this place to be dedicated to our fallen master.”

Alai thrashed in the arms of the ursaren but was unable to break free. She was dragged unceremoniously away from the lodge where should hear the sound of screaming and sickening wet noises. Brojun led the ursaren to the ritual circle, Alai fighting the whole way to no avail.