RP:Forest Whisperer

From HollowWiki

Summary: Lionel returns to the Southern Sage alongside his allies Esche, Stroud, and the twenty-first Frostmawian troop deployment. His goal: round two against the forest dryad 'Chisel' and a high hope to save her from the creature of nocturnal wrath she has become. Yet interference from a hooded man spells disaster -- for Lionel, for the twenty-first, and perhaps even for Chisel herself...


Kelay: Southern Sage Forest

Lionel | A temporary encampment is mid-construction here at the outskirts of Kelay's verdant northern forest; a detachment of Frostmawian soldiers, twelve strong, scurries about to the tune of the setting sun in high hopes of finishing before winter's early night falls. So far from the realm's towns and cities, light is hard to come by, especially now. Of late, the month has been unusually chilly, and darkness has fallen even earlier than is the norm. There are no extensive theories as to why. The soldiers are well-dressed for the occasion but the cold still seeps through to their bones. Every one of them, whether brutish dwarf or lithe elf, feels this freeze deeply, and suffers for it. Soon, the tents will be pitched and the fire can commence. Soon... but not soon enough. Lionel, commander of the armed forces, steps into shadow -- he'll find more wood, if luck be on his side. Images in his head of a chance encounter here two months past flood wickedly and play tricks on those shadows. He'd vowed to find a way to cure someone out here, someone who had no control over the actions she had taken. Someone who by all rights he could have -- should have? -- killed. Someone he was supposed to have reported to the queen and taken 'corrective measures' toward. Lionel never reported the incident. Lionel chose to find that cure, if there is a cure to be found for the dryad in question. Yet... that was before the fateful evening far to the north of here. That was before his battalion was ambushed, his recruits slain, by an enemy still unknown. Some nefarious force that could strike even now. Failure after failure. In the old days, Lionel, too young though he was, fought his foes to the death in gruesome one-on-one matches far more frequently than full-scale battles commenced. That was the way of things before the dark times. Before the Second Immortal War. Everything changed thereafter. And thereafter, Lionel O'Connor's victories have finally been flanked by numerous defeats. For Chisel's cause, had he been defeated? As the Catalian espies suitable wood for the chopping, he wonders if he'll ever see her again. He wonders if he has well and truly failed her, and anyone she has killed in his inability to fight her anew.


Chisel | Insanity? Perhaps. If one knew of the dangers of going to this forest, why would one return? Additional men would not sway the beast not to approach, a serious misallocation of precious military resource if one would ask. A waste to endanger the lives of so many for one. One that might be too violent to be saved. As winter breeze continues to breeze through the forest, the subtle shift of leaves as the cold air breathes through, The forest watching over the camp, curious. As the creatures hide upon the bushes, waiting for their prey. Chisel was atleast a kilometer away from the camp, The darkness has take her already but she is too busy walking aimlessly in circles, However her children has already spotted the camp, it would only be a matter of moments till she becomes aware of the trespassers and the cold night will be spilled once again with warm blood.


Lionel | The tents are constructed. The men and women of the twenty-first troop deployment set about toward supper. One of them, an elf mage called Esche, carries with him a certain batch of tomes and saplings. This Esche carries with him a hidden mission, an agenda Lionel commanded that none else will know. When the children arrive, he will be ready. To the rest of them, there is a single standing order, but they dare not speak it now. Yet in supper they remain fully armed, and their gaze is set toward the treeline horizon. Lionel approaches an old twining oak, drops the gathered wood, crosses his legs and waits. His eyes close and his sword remains sheathed. His thoughts trail to recent events, personal and political alike.


Chisel | A taunt? An illusion perhaps. Maybe. As darkness continue to envelop the sky, laughter began to mix into the cold breeze, a tell tale sign that the dolls have finally found them. Birds in the distance began to fly away as if something disturbed their sleep. Closer.. Closer... The laughter of the little ones tries to lure in the soldiers into the darkness, subtle enough to entice someone's curiosity. On other direction cries could be heard or a call for help. But noone can deny that scent of death lingering from the very air. The taste of blood from the fallen. It may or may not be from unlucky wanderers who went into the forest that night, or perhaps some unfortunate deer or elk. Chisel was making her way into the camp, slowly walking with her bloodied ax trailing behind her.


Lionel | Before even Lionel himself, it is Esche who is the first to notice the unseasonable changes in the atmosphere. "Now," he breathes, several seconds prior to anyone else's alarm. "Are you certain?" the man who asks is a mountain made flesh. To his friends, he is Stroud. To his enemies, he is Stroud the Unbreakable. His is a fine sort of platemail, interwoven nigh on countless times, and it just so happens that he, too, carries an ax. It is stained not only red but the green of hobgoblin and the black of demonic ichor. His beard is, in a word, magnificent. Here is a man of ample worth on the field of battle. And yet for all his intimidating looks, he'd be caught unawares without Esche. "I would not have said it if I were not entirely sure," the elf counters, brow risen in quiet scorn. Stroud's sigh is more akin to a bellow, and he raises one grand arm to inform the rest of the twenty-first troop deployment just as the birds swoop by and the sky turns to sickly shadow. All of them assemble in a protective circle around Esche, and all of them move to the farthest edge of the encampment, wayward of the approaching children and wayward of the increasing ebony in the atmosphere. Lanterns are lit in a single stalwart motion and each free hand gives way to a blade drawn and readied. Esche, in the center of all that manic preparation, is as calm as the stillest pond. He holds forth his sack of saplings, each of them strung to a chain like some kind of key. And what of Lionel? What folly has the Catalian started now? A fire, that's what. He's already up, and he's already swinging that cursed sword, that Hellfire. And boy, oh boy, is he making a hell of a mess.


Chisel | It wasn't working. The children whimpers as clearly the prey wasn't taking the bait. This is bad, they thought they could atleast thin out the numbers before Mom finds them. If the dolls were able to lure them away, somewhere the dryad won't find them, they'll live longer. They might get poisoned, paralyzed, or trapped but nonetheless alive. Having this many people in one place is never a good sign. The little ones never lured prey because they wanted people to die, they lured them to protect them from Chisel. Silence soon follow in afterwards when the children began to move away and the forest began to sway... there was no wind and yet the plants continues to move. A bad omen. As if the forest itself is begging the camp to leave. Cries of wild animals began to erupt in their surroundings, yelping in fear, running away as the dryad finally comes into view. The sound of wood snapping is alot more audible now. Her body, like before was hanging a few meters off the ground because of the large spider like body behind her, vines continues to snap and reconnect to her, combined with sickening sight of blood and chunks of flesh from an unfortunate creature, dripping from her.


Lionel continues his rampage. Though it pains him to do so, he swings at old oak trees with reckless abandon. Hell's flames erupt all in a 270-degree radius from the point of impact and that radius expands to engulf a sizable swath of forest. The forest isn't only coming alive with darkness. It's dying with Lionel O'Connor. For all his attacks, though, and for all the trees caught within the crossfire, it's still only a percentage point in the grand sweeping foliage of this region -- but he prays it will be enough. Either Chisel will double back or she won't. Either she'll move to confront the source of the inferno or she will torment the encampment she has approached. Esche, Stroud, and the rest of the twenty-first all stand silent. Some are shaking, some are still as wood. "Crying...?" Esche mouths the question, hearing the whimpers and lofting a brow. No one answers.


Chisel stood before the camp, temporary lights have been erected and yet somehow a number of them was snuffed out as a cool breeze came forth. Briefly allowing the soldiers to see their enemy. Body and dress covered in blood, lifeless form floating mid air with the large spider body attached to its back, yet her head was craned in an impossible angle watching the group. Bloodshot red eyes seems to pierce even through the thickest of armor. It takes a step forward as soon as the light fades, leaving a mere silhouette of the horror hiding in the darkness. Her eyes glows as she watched them. But stops. She was mere few feet before the group when she felt the forest crying for help, her head begins to rotate to inhumane angles as she tries to look toward the direction of the cause. It was a fire. Soon enough, with the help of the vines, her whole body began to turn around, making her way toward Lionel. At first it was slow steps but soon the creature was in full sprint, tearing through the smaller plant life just to get the man to stop burning her forest.


Lionel | Things continue as planned. Those eyes, terrifying and bold, don't go unnoticed. Several in the group cannot contain sturdy countenance at the form of Chisel, nor do they avoid quaking with abject fear when she fades from the fading light. Esche and Stroud stand proud. This will not faze them. This cannot faze them. For Esche, it is something far greater than his nimble elven form would suggest. For Stroud, it is shear stubbornness. And when the creature doubles back, they press forward. Fewer lights, now, but spares are afforded in packs. New lights replace those lost. Will the darkness consume them all? If that is the way of it, how will the twenty-first respond? For now, they march. It is a steady march and it soon becomes a jog. It is by no means capable of matching Chisel in speed, nor is meant to try, but it is enough. They follow her as she follows him. Lionel can sense it in the air even as Halycanos within his sword does the same. Eerie incarnadine pulses streak like blazes across the blade and the fire across its framework blinks out of existence, leaving only those myriad flames which still spread in three directions from his point of origin. She's coming. "No!" He screams. It's desperate and pleading. "Please, don't come any closer! Please, leave me be! Leave me!" His voice wails in pitch as he plants the sword tip first directly into the warmed earth. Like a maniac he leaps to its hilt and stands upon it, then like an acrobat he launches higher and higher and higher still as a protective aura of fire bursts from that sword and sends him nearly to the canopy of a closeby ancient elm. "No! Please, no!" He screams it over and over. Hellfire is driven from the ground alongside him and he catches it with reckless skill; he lands on a far-up sturdy branch and keeps the newly-summoned flame cloak around him as best he can manage. The blade is held outright with both hands defensively. Lionel risks everything on a devil's gambit now.


Chisel | The heat was unbearable. Screaming angrily as the forest spirit finally found herself near the source of the flames. She extends her hands toward the direction of the screaming trees. Inaudible to most but the dryad can hear them clearly. She controls nearby trees to provide support, vines from neighboring trees began wrapping themselves around the wounded trees, the thick sap from the vines tries its best to extinguish the flames and work as a bandage upon the wounded trees. As the vines get damaged, its sap coats upon the wounds and more vines appear from the forest. The older trees began shedding leaves and branches purposely to save themselves from the flames. As the fire began to whittle, the dryad turned her head toward the culprit and began screaming. Her voice echoed through the forest, calling forth her children. In mere seconds the little ones appeared, hidden in the darkness of the forest with red, angered eyes glaring upon their target. Most would not see the dolls but an occasional flame would show the grotesque forms that hangs around them. Chisel took a step forward, just a step before all of a sudden her spider legs bursted forward, a sudden spike on her speed only to appear before Lionel with a spider claw raised high and at the same time the dryad's normal arms are as well raised, holding on her bloodied ax as she looked upon the swordsman with anger in her eyes.


Lionel | As the forest cools and soothes to its best ability, Lionel can sense the children in their distant shrouded space. He has no present recourse against them. Chisel races through night like a bat from hell but stops before him with two weapons at the ready. With mammal instinct, the man's eyes are drawn first to that grizzly claw. At times like these -- an unfortunate thing to call recurrence -- the Catalian makes light of an ugly situation. "I was in the area and I figured I'd stop by," his commentary, although there's a hint of fear in his voice. Against men, that hint would never be detected. Against abomination, it's a hard thing to hide. Nimbly, he lets his left foot free from its perch upon the branch, and in what appears to be a graceful fall, he descends to the ground below. In that fall, Lionel lifts Hellfire overhead to guard but then laboriously slashes into the dryad's network of legs with a horizontal cut. His sword's billowing blue-hot flame in the cutting, and when he lands, he's near-instant in a full-blown backstep. Further streaks of fire carry him at unsavory speeds to the right of the creature, to her east, in an effort to keep her from chasing him further south. The twenty-first is to their north and gaining. Esche senses his commander's new position and snaps his fingers to guide the team toward him. With luck, they'll come upon a chasing Chisel.


Chisel | The man has fought the creature before, he knows about her weakness. It is her speed, or the lack of it and straight away he went for the spider legs. As she had her claw and ax raised, she swung at him but missed as he jumped down the tree. The vines began reeling to allow her body to get lower up to the ground and catch up to him. Normally she would try to mimic the man's voice but it is clear that the man has angered the forest spirit. As soon as she lands, the man swung his blade onto her spider legs, easily slicing through them. The heat and force of the blade easily allowed it to go through the armoured wood. It the blade hit her body itself, then her defenses would've held up better but her spider form is simply an add-on, attachment which she creates from the forest whenever she hunts. The spider tilted right away and landed violently against the floor. The creature attempts to regain its balance only to fall back down, scrambling to stand up. It was clear she had to abandon it. The sickening sound of sap and wood breaking as the spider body detaches itself from her marionette form. She stood on her own legs as she watched the man run further. The trees were too busy dealing with the fire and healing themselves, she had to walk for a few feet before the neighboring trees, those uneffected by fire and too far to help even began providing vines for her, reeling her, giving the man quite a head start as he keeps the distance between them and allowing the others to catch up. Chisel is however far more interested with Lionel, she even sent her children to track him, watch him and from time to time, attack with either poisonous thorns or trap him with vines but nonetheless keeping him within Chisel's sight.


Lionel himself slows down -- if only in relative terms; Lionel is a constant blaze of speed -- in order to better assess the trajectories of these many thorns and their associated vines. The children are relentless, and they're pattern of movement makes it clear to the Catalian he's being herded like a sheep. It's all he can do to cease momentum's wanton spiral and duck behind thick foliage for the heartbeat he needs in order to gauge his next move. Meanwhile, the twenty-first has Chisel within their sights. Esche, much to the chagrin of Stroud and the rest of the legion, nimbly steps outside his protective circle with several vials held high. A peculiar white aura envelops these vials, its magics seductive and tempting. Even to a creature like Chisel, it may serve to allure. Within each vial is a sampling of a tree ancient and renowned. Xalious' tree, bark of the Underdark, a gnome-worshipped elm in the center of Gualon's desert. Some are not even of this land; a peddler in the Demon Archipelago offered a root of the Agn'hdio'blo'bakh for a reasonable enough fee. Each of these vials bursts open in tandem and each of these woods goes ripping through the bright night en route to a touch upon Chisel's twisted form. If they land, they'll only brush her body so the elf can determine any potentialities from further contact; if they don't, they'll attempt to evade her swipes -- should she swipe -- as if they have wills of their own. Esche himself is concentrating deeply to make this happen. Lionel returns to the dance, charging toward Chisel as his fires flare back up again to take the children's attacks when possible. His sword is held defensively, however -- a move to block whatever she might plot. Yet neither Lionel nor Esche nor Stroud nor even Chisel and her children have expected the arrival of a third force to this scene of death. In the distance, a cloaked man approaches. All in black and his footsteps make no sound, he keeps his hood tightly tucked to conceal identity and walks through Lionel's inferno without impress. He moves toward Chisel, a bottle in his hand. There is a fire in that bottle almost like a sun itself...


Chisel was too distracted by the man when the group finally reached her. He was trying to dodge her children, allowing the marionette to keep up with him. She extends her hand and soon enough neighboring trees began shooting out vines, allowing her more control to where the attacks are coming from. Pulling her closer to him till finally he is within range of her ax, swinging onto him violently only to struck his sword and dodging the rest. She screams angrily as she continued to pursue the man, giving the group a lot of opportunity to attack her. The vials opened and the saplings began to probe the Marionette, at first it took a while to even catch up to the creature as it was busy chasing down Lionel but when the vines connected, Chisel began to slow down. Curiosity? Perhaps as the dryad felt the saplings were probing her, trying to know from where she come from. Maybe the man should've done this during the morning as the creature's curiosity only held up for so long and she began roaring again and her corrupted self attempts to grow onto the vines, trying to reach its way back into the saplings. The forest itself began to sway as it was clear that the group is attacking the forest spirit. The children suddenly flew past Lionel and began attacking his soldiers. Chisel on the other hand could not move as the probes were still scouring into her system and her own corruption is still crawling into the vines, trying to reach Esche and his vials. Out of nowhere, a hooded man appeared before her, the dryad even took a step back in surprise, unsure how this person was able to come so close to her. On his hand is a jar of light. Glowing brightly, confused at first of what is going on but her roars of anger was soon replaced by agony, as if this being is forcing her to change state.


Lionel | The twenty-first takes stock of the lunging children and they all hack in unison -- one, two, but not three -- for the third strike is wildly divergent, there to keep their foes confused as best they can manage. Esche swallows hard and steps back into shadow, but his staff brightens an already-blinding arena to blast a wave of holy magics there to pierce anything the white tendrils will take. Stroud barks a command in another language and the soldiers scatter to appear disorganized, only to double back in a leap and guard one-another like a phalanx. All the carnage isn't enough to save them all; one unfortunate woman is pelted at the neck and falls. Her wounded body is dragged into the phalanx and kept beside Esche at the center of a circle of courage and defense. Lionel clenches his jaw and dives into shrubbery, then dives back out from another location even as the forest comes alive in its bid to out him. But he's shocked by the hooded man and his jar, and he shouts at once: "Intruder, 120 degrees from target!" All eyes snap to the man with his hood, who strafes like a revenant sharply out of sight. Lionel gives quick chase, kicking up another trail of flame behind his feet and jumping toward the unknown factor's last known location... but there's nothing. Yet the impossibly heat-trapped jar remains, clinging now to Chisel's transformative form like a bee to honey as it compels some freakish power. Whatever effect any or all of Esche's saplings may have may become secondary to the hooded man's plot to awaken potential in the dryad...


Chisel | The dolls were mere toys with plants in them, even how hard people would swing at them, their damage would either be minimal or too easy to repair. Attacking the group as much as they can only to be disappointed as soon as the squad set up a shielded perimeter. Vines and thorns continues to pelt the hardened armor of most as the small ones try to find an opening. The Dryad however was confused. Bound in place because of the saplings and her corrupted vines reverts back onto her as soon as Esche casted his holy spells. At first the vines resisted but with the man's jar they simply slid back into her for self preservation. Trembling as the curse seems to try its best to hold its ground, instead of causing her to transform, leeching onto the solar energy instead and fueling her body with it. It was simply unnatural, the transition between the light and dark was far too quick for the dryad to adjust, forcing her adapt to it. Screaming in pain and agony as it was clear that these people are harming the forest spirit further. The forest began to move on in its own, without any wind the leaves swayed and began attacking everyone on their own accord. Vines and branches began swinging and striking at anything. They are no longer welcome. Chisel attempts to move but the saplings are simply pinning her down, it maybe confusing how mere seeds could hold down a forest spirit but those saplings are from great trees, something far more ancient than the spirit herself still the curse resisted and fueled its own using the jar causing the dryad to overgrown. Instead of vines sprouting out of her back, branches began to grow out violently, her feet reaching onto the earth as if rooting itself. If this continues, her body would consume the jar and turn her into a corrupted tree, infinitely energized with the jar and soon enough the forest itself would fall under her power.


Lionel | Stroud and his companions hold firm on their phalanx with Esche safely centered. Lionel had warned them damage to the dolls might be minimal but this is almost a farce. Thankfully, their part of the mission is complete. The phalanx moves as one, wayward, in retreat, even as the dolls continue their rampage. Occasionally, a doll -will- find an opening, and it's all the squadron can do to push that target out rapidly. Thorns bring blood where armor fails. The twenty-first is slowly, but surely, becoming a wounded fighting force. With their present course and speed, they should be out of the forest soon, and as Chisel's peculiar struggle loudens its intensity, that speed spikes upward with greater haste. Then, the forest rebels. With its attacks coming from every direction, Stroud clears his throat whilst swinging his weapon wildly in defense. "Break formation! Keep Esche safe; full evasion!" Grunts and groans from his subordinates; everyone snaps to their best running pace, but one soldier is not so lucky. Ivy's tendrils jut through his throat, killing him cleanly. A nearby ally grabs him instinctively, realizes he's gone, and drops him, screaming. Esche, despite being escorted, flails his staff around and blasts fire from it to help keep the enveloping wrath at bay. Lionel bolts now in his unnatural haste from wherever he'd hoped to find the hooded man and back to the 'safety' of the group. He keeps Hellfire busy, forward slash and back slash and side slash and onward, slicing through angry trees and hoping hot steel's momentum will at least shove dolls from their prey. "What the frak happened?" Stroud cries out upon spotting Lionel beside them. "I don't know!" Lionel swallows hard mid-swing and glances back at the insanity overtaking the dryad. "Can you shoot from this range?" Stroud blinks incredulously, hopping over a vine even as it almost overtakes him. He kicks it and then punches one just before it would have injured a nearby troop. "Oh, sure, you know me. I love escaping evil forests while hunting deer with my trusty longbow." Lionel grimaces and fixes him with a short but effective stare. Stroud guffaws, yanks his bow from his back, twists around and knows what to do. Notching an arrow, he aims through the chaos with sturdy grip and arched shoulders. He looses the arrow, sending it roaring through fiery forest. Its target: the jar. Neither Stroud nor Lionel, nor even Esche, knows what will happen if the arrow connects and shatters the jar just now, but the twenty-first -- minus one -- kicks up dirt and successfully exits the forest.


Chisel | The forest spirit angrily roars in pain as corruption tries its best to contain her. By force the dryad tries to move, uprooting herself as she attempts to walk. The forced evolution was causing so much pain to her, sap was dripping from her back where the branches are growing out, dripping into the ground and creating new flora only to create more vines to hold her down. Screaming as her body began to lock up, the vines within her were turning into branches and bark began to grow above her treated wood. The jar was a glowing against her chest as the branches held onto it, keeping it pressed against her form. The forest continues its rampage as the dryad remains in pain. Soon enough her wails was replaced with cries of pain. Genuine cries of pain. Chisel reaches for her face and tears away the bark covering it, displaying the weak, wounded woman within. Lionel knows that sunlight would cause her to transform at some point but the transition of darkness to light at the moment was simply too quick which caused such reaction. Corruption attempted its best to maintain its hold but the woman within is trying to escape. Half of her face was roaring angrily as it attempts to outgrow the dryad once again, Taking a step forward as Chisel extends her hand, nearby trees began coiling their vines toward it, trying to pull her out of the corrupting tree. It was a moment of her freedom from the curse until an arrow struck her straight in the chest, missing the jar and the light from her eyes dims away.


No one slows down from a full-fledged sprint until a considerable distance is cleared from the maelstrom of madness within the forest. Once the trees and their raging are well behind them, Stroud calls to stop; the wounded soldier from earlier simply cannot bear to keep up. She collapses; immediately, Esche is upon her, healing magics at the ready. As the elf operates, Lionel pulls the slack up from his jaw and turns to the rest of them. "I couldn't get a look." He gasps for air before he continues. "The jackarse with the bee jar. He just disappeared. Through a portal or via illusion, I couldn't say, but he was gone." Esche looks up as his hand fills with a warm soothing glow. "A sun in the bottle," he notes, and all eyes are now on him. "Not literal, thankfully, or I daresay Lithrydel would not survive it." He allows himself a curious smirk. "Whatever the case, I would wager that our hooded fellow had hoped to further empower the dryad. He chose this moment for some reason; somehow, he knew of our approach -- and our plan." It's unsettling. Lionel sighs and replies. "I'm noticing a distinct lack of explosion back there. Either the creature's dead or the bad guy won." Everyone stares into the burning forest.


Chisel | The spread of corruption stopped. Understandable as it is part of Chisel all the same, As the arrow struck, the dryad came to a full stop. As if life suddenly vanished from it. The forest at first continued their relentless attacks but eventually calmed down, as if they forgot why they were angry in the first place. The dolls hangs upon tree branches lifelessly as the forest suddenly came into a halt. Silence. The strength upon Chisel's extended arm was lost but the vines from the trees kept their hold onto her form, still trying to pull her out. A few tugs later, her arm snaps and gets dislocated from its socket, flying across the forest and landing nearby the group as it got slingshotted away from her. Moss and tree sap leaks from the gaping hole that was once her arm and into the floor. Minutes later the sap partially solidifies into a goo like tendril, flailing around as the horrifying limb began slashing its way mindlessly eventually freeing the dryad from her spot. Cries of pain and agony soon filled the forest air, but it was moving away, heading east as if trying to get out of the forest. It was both the marionette and the woman at the same time, leaving claw marks at any tree in her path as clearly someone doesn't want the other one to leave.


Lionel | Sun's first light peaks past the horizon. Night sky is flecked with fuchsia and it's growing bluer by the minute. Dawn. The arm collapses nearby as Esche finishes his healing spell; all jump back and grip weapons uncomfortably. Then, the dryad's wails. Her suffering is palpable and her voice is fading fast. Wayward, perhaps outside the forest itself. Lionel side-eyes the arm as Esche brings his staff above it with a spell to dissolve target matter. If successful, the limb will be as ashes.


Chisel | The arrow may have actually saved her. She was in too much pain that even such simple arrow knocked her out. Lionel knows how resilient she is, clearly this phase simply was too much for her. The dryad soon finds herself walking aimlessly outside the forest boundary, plant life still clings on her form, holding the jar close. However the flora had been growing around it so much that it began to lose its glow, so much vegetation has grown around it allowing the dryad to regain control. She stood infront of a stream as sunlight started to reach her. But her energy soon fails her. Falling into the stream, to be washed away.


Lionel and the rest of the twenty-first don't yet learn what has become of the dryad. The mission is a failure -- if only for lack of follow-up. The appearance and obfuscations of the hooded man shelved any fleeting hopes of a successful reversion process; weeks of planning and nebulous results. A man is dead. The dryad has departed the forest. None of this could have been foreseen. Staring at the stacks of paperwork later that evening, from the warm but claustrophobic confines of his Knight-Commander's office, Lionel feels a chill run down his spine. He turns, stands, and stares out into the darkening skyline through a porthole by his bed. Whatever comes next, it's on him, and it's unpredictable.