Cora Returns

A year and a half. 

It may sound like a long time to some, but it's not. Not really. At least not for me, for whom time is essentially meaningless. What is an hour? A day? A week? A month?  

In comparison to the endless stretch of eternity, these things are merely mortal constructions and concepts created to fulfill their need to quantify the space of time that they exist in. Grains of sand in an endless sea of desert. 

.oOo..oOo..oOo.

We were defending a wall. A city under siege. There was a cacophany of chaos and sound, and then an impact. I found myself falling. The glimpse of Tobias' horrified face as I crashed into the rushing river below, one of the last things I recall seeing. I hit the water with enough force that I blacked out... 

Things were dark and cold, and it seemed only to be the blink of an eye. 

When I finally awoke, I found myself laying upon a bier of raised rock and moss. The echoes of a sonorous chanting still resonated in my ears and my bones. A muted, green-tinged shaft of sunlight shone through a small gap, and I slowly sat up and started taking measure of myself and my surroundings. 

I still had my beautifully carved maple and dragonbone bow, and my sword. These laid out beside me carefully, but in pristine condition and within easy reach. My armor was damaged, but still basically functional, and I wore the sheer gauzy green robes that I was fond of, somehow undamaged, like a shroud. I still had a pack, laying against the base of the stones, and it contained the druidic etched scroll tube, though it had obviously been water damaged. It also still contained the small bag of various gemstones that I had collected during previous travels. No food, but a full water skin, a small bottle of olive oil, a small jar of honey, and a bottle of the wine I had come to favor the most were set near the pack as well. 

I moved slowly at first, and discovered that, while stiff and sore from laying on stone for ...however long it has been, I was otherwise uninjured and unmarred. I put myself through a series of gentle stretches and movements to get blood properly flowing again, and then sat down and said a long prayer of thanks.

After a span of time in deep meditation, I looked and saw that the sunlight was coming through what appeared to be a bricked up doorway. I gathered what belongings I still had, worked to pull away the stones, and stepped out into... 

Green. 

So much green. 

I was on a small island, surrounded by murky brown waters. Everything here breathed with verdant, vibrant life and I could feel the ebb and flow of energies swirling around me like a gentle breeze. I looked back at the doorway I just walked through and realized that it was a cairn. I gently restacked the stones and started looking around for pathways that might lead out of the area. 

As I explored I discovered that the area I found myself in was nothing BUT small islands and islets, everything teeming with flora and fauna. I took some time and try to adjust my spells and the magic I pull from to be better suited to the area. It was almost cloying, and I found myself wanting to be away from the damp and the wet and the weight of it. 

A space of time (weeks maybe?) passed, but I eventually found an area where the water moved faster and seemed a bit clearer. I followed this out to a river, and guessed that this was how I got into the marshlands. Having nowhere else to begin, I moved upstream toward where I set about doing what I do best. Tracking. 

It took several more days of steady travel before I reached any signs of population. As much as I dislike going into towns and cities, I looked down at my broken armor and scant supplies, and realized that if I wanted to continue on, this time I would have to. I found a decent looking inn close to the edge of the area to use as a base and began some true reconaissance for the rest of my traveling companions. 

It was here that I learned of the time frame that I was actually missing, and was able to glean through rumors and various tales that the group I sought had understandably moved on, but could not gather enough information to tell me which direction to go next. This town did have a reputable armor shop, thankfully, so I was able to get a new set of fine black leather armor made for me. Supple and strong, it fit me well without encumberance, and I praised the maker on his craft. I was able to replace the torn pouches and bags as well, finding task of reprovisioning in a city to be just as frustrating as I remember it being. 

Once I had gathered what small belongings I had, I set off in search of notable places of power with the thought that the group might be drawn there considering some of the things I remember them having to do. Plus, how difficult should it be to locate a ship that sails on land? 

More difficult than I guessed it would be. 

I traveled again for a span of nameless time, listening to rumors and tales to guide my way. Eventually I came across an old grove in an even older enchanted forest, and remembered that it was once called Druidhome. I stopped here for a while to rest and revel in the peace of the green. Being surrounded by verdant life helps me to keep my memories firmly in the present. It's so easy for me to just let it all disappear into the background when I am on my own. 

While I was resting at Druidhome, I took the time to try to remember what tasks the group had been given before I got separated from them. My hope was that some memory might spark a sense of direction or a recollection of a place where we had been headed. 

I reflected on the wars currently raging, spurred on by the Spider queen and her drow minions, which were the primary focus for the group as a whole. The Spider queen cares not about anything except her endless goal to take over this plane of existence. She almost succeeded 2000 years ago, a memory that has grown dim with age. She was ultimately supplanted by the rise of the human gods and their devotional service to them rather than to the fear that she cultivated and relished in. Replaced and driven under ground to be banished to the dark. It fueled her anger and resentment even further when the elves of the surface worked in direct opposition to her own children, and she continued to lose power in both the Inner and Outer planes. 

This gave rise to a name that rang out like a bell. Trisonora. 

A half breed being from both the divine and material planes. Not wholly of one or the other, but belonging to neither as well. They have the desire to steal a realm for themselves, and the current chaos of the ongoing Dark War leaves the grounds ripe for theft. Their goal is not only the theft of a realm, but the linking of Outer, Inner, and Prime Material worlds. This makes them an immediate threat.

I focused my attentions on these rumors specifically and learned that there is a large city somewhere in the mountains on this continent where humans do not go. I was able to gather enough information to tell me that I should head towards an old mage tower to the north east. 

I did find the tower, crumbling and abandoned, with no sign of any recent traveler near by. There was a large road, however, and so I followed that road through the winter and on into summer. Eventually I did see the city I guessed was Barth off in the distance, about two or three days journey away. Deciding to continue that direction the next morning, I foraged for a bit and then made a small camp for the night. A stranger approaced and asked if they could share my fire, and I welcomed them with the offer of a shared meal. During the conversations shared, the stranger told me of an odd meeting he had only two mountain ridges over from where we were, with a group of "those human types, plus two elves, all on a ship with wheels!"

So I turned my head toward the road behind me, and set off the next morning in search of the group I knew to be the traveling companions I searched for. The human natives of the area are kind, if extremely skittish and wary of me. They think I am some sort of spirit-made-flesh, and tend to be almost reverential when I come to them for trade or for news of the area. The land here never goes green, and is constantly wreathed in snow and ice, but they are a hearty folk and I enjoy spending time with them when we encounter one another. 

Recently, they have been speaking to me about a "dark one" off the road to the south, towards the cities. They say that he can be trusted, only in that what he says tends to be true. But they warn that he also talks with bones, which is something that one shouldn't do. They call him "Nanaquin" which I learned means only "not of the ice, not of the people."

It makes me wonder what they call me. 

Regardless though, this Nanaquin seems to be exactly the sort of person that the group I seek would try to find. So maybe I could speak with them to find out how close I am to finally locating the adventurers. 

I found my way to a house that matched the description that I was given, but there was something that put me ill at ease about it. It was well after nightfall, so I moved cautiously, keeping to the edge of the path, but staying in the shelter and cover of the trees and doing my best to stay silent and stay hidden until I could discover more. There was a clearing with a raging bonfire in the center, but the fire was .. there was a wrongness about it. The flames were not natural colors, and there was a figure moving in slow circles around it, voicing a deep low chanting sound that seemed oddly familiar. That same resonance I felt in my bones when I first woke up in the marshlands. 

It put me on edge and made me instinctively check my weapons and surroudings, which is when I heard something crashing along the road with enough noise that it could wake the dead. After a few more moments, I could hear a number of different voices that seemed to be arguing about who would go up the road and who would stay behind with the supplies. 

I had to smile to myself when I recognized Tobais' voice among them, realizing that I had indeed finally found the group I sought. I smiled too, at the familiarness of it all, to think that this was what they thought of as being stealthy and I moved more into the cover of the trees so that I could make my way closer to them. It was nice to know that some things didn't change. They kept arguing about what their next steps should be, when two of them pointed out that they thought that they noticed something else in the woods as well. Realizing that they meant me, and not wanting to risk being attacked, I stepped out of the shadows silently and told them that they really needed to work on being more quiet. 

The look of awed amazement and the immediate bombardment of questions that I got was almost enough to make me laugh aloud. Oh, how I have missed this ecclectic group of adventurers. 

I noticed there were a couple of new faces in the sea of familiar ones, but realized that the reunion would need to wait at least a little while longer. I told them quietly that I would answer their questions soon enough, but the person ahead of them demanded our immediate attention. I told them what I knew of him, and suggested a cautious approach.

So, as a group, we approached the chanting man to see him talking with a figure shrouded in the flames who spoke of wars and the goddess walking again. The figure was large, towering over 8 feet, and continued to tell Nanaquin about the "emmisary of the Dark One" that he was supposed to meet and deliver a message to. After the conversation completed, the figure vanished, and some of the party members strode into the clearing as bold as brass.

Nanaquin glared at them and accused them of coming to set his house on fire again. There's a story there that I am sure I will hear about later. They somehow bluffed their way past that part of the conversation and lead him to believe that THEY were the emmissaries that he had been instructed to find and that they would be the ones that delivered the message to where it needed to go. 

I am not sure how exactly they got him to believe it, but believe it he did. He handed over a scroll case that was clearly carved from the femur bone of a human. He told us of a rest stop where we would meet our contact, and that further instructions would follow there. 

The scroll tube was accepted, and we moved away back down the road to regroup and figure out next steps. 

.oOo..oOo..oOo.

Author's Note: 

5 years of real time have passed since the last update here. In that time frame, massive life changes happened to turn my world upside down. But I'm back to gaming again, and have been able to rejoin the previous gaming crew with an old familiar character. It's good to be back. ~ NKH

Who am I?

I am conflicted.

Adrift and lost and questioning everything I've ever known.

Even my god and goddess don't speak to me. If they are even a god and goddess. Elves don't have deities, as it were, but we do honor those that came before.

Perhaps that is yet another mistake that I have made. Have I put faith in the wrong things, and elevated where I should have only honored?

My faith is broken, and I don't know what to believe anymore.

How painfully ironic that they call me the Mistress of Memory, when time itself has caused me to forget the core of what makes me who I am.

Have I also forgotten what it means to truly be an elf?
Is it even possible for me to re-learn?

I am immortal. I am gifted with long-sight, and I am one of the undying.

and yet..

and yet.

.oOo..oOo..oOo..oOo.

We managed to survive the city. As distasteful as I find that place, those people, I know I must go back eventually. There is work there that needs to be done, and the tree remains. This current crisis of faith I am experiencing began there. Something tells me that it will end there, for better or worse, as well.

The rest of the party managed somehow to break into the Inner Circle of the city. Lan came in as her water-faring seal form, chasing some sort of fey creature appearing as a small humanoid. This caused a distraction enough for Shalev, Fife, Ishmael and the rest to enter unmolested.

Ishmael caused further distraction by shouting out to the armed guards that the city's gardens were on fire.
Appropriately then, most of the citizens left at that point to go protect their property.

They saw Tobias bristled and ready for war, and they heard my scream when I discovered the unknown immortal was still alive.

Shalev, Lan, and Ishmael climbed down the pit to the bottom to see what was revealed, and to act as guard against anything that might come up. I began removing the unknown immortal, as gently as I could, from the entangling roots of the tree.

While I was working at removing him from the wall, the little humanoid fey - Lan called him a leprechaun-  stood there looking between the unknown immortal and myself, saying that he was deciding on what shiny thing that he was promised to take. He took the crown from the unknown immortal's head, and vanished.

As soon as he did, the glow from my own pendant dissipated. With Tobias and Fife's help, I was able to pull the wounded immortal up out of the pit. Once he was safely on the ground, I began focusing on doing what I could to heal him. My faith doesn't work here. But I have potions, thanks to Shalev's forethought and gift for preparedness.

So I used them. It took so many.
So many.
Each scream he uttered was a wound to my heart. I continued talking to him, soothing him, and feeding the healing potions to him until, at last, he was whole. He slept then, deeply unconscious, and my goal became to get him out of the city safely. I noticed that once he was removed from the tree, the energy from the tree began to diminish.

While I was concentrating on this task, the rest of the party was acting as guard, and Shalev discovered that the lady of the city was not registering as being real to him, when he tried to sense her alignment. She continued to stare venomously at me specifically - as she had the moment I walked into the Inner ring of the city - but took no action.

This makes some sense to me, and possibly confirms my fear that these people are under some form of direct influence or corruption. Potentially they have been from the beginning. I think she is the key to that influence.

But they will have to wait.

We managed to make it out of town unmolested and unharmed, and I insisted that we travel a good bit away. I have every intention of returning here to save the tree, if at all possible. These people have said that they wish to be separate. So separate they shall be. May they get exactly what they desire.

As it was the Spring Equinox, I did attempt to do the springtime rituals, as appropriate; but to no avail. I have no contact, no connection, nothing. There's nothing.

Rituals done, we agreed to travel onward, toward the Library (DragonSpire) as originally planned.
I continued to monitor the progress of the unknown elf, but he remained unconscious and unresponsive. Alive and warm, but unresponsive.

The roads we traveled took us across a giant plain, which according to the description given to me by the vintner from Qualton, is where the humans gather once a year. There were several obvious campsites, and firepits scattered across the plain, but there were no humans, or any other beings here at the time we travelled through. On the other side, was a very old forest, though only a forest. No sentience here that could be sensed. I noticed that there was an odd pattern, where every third tree was completely withered.

As we continued to travel, we crossed under the mountain range, and then up over a massive river. We came to another ancient forest. There was a wooden latticework of vines that formed a gate of sorts, and the words DruidHome formed in the living vines above the entrance.

We entered the gates and came to a ring of standing stones in the center. There was a beam of green energy that shone from the center of the standing stones up to a floating island above the forest.
We stopped here, as it was close to the Solstice, and this seemed like a safe place to be.

Safe place it was, as we made camp, and were able to rest the night without event or encounter. We woke the next morning to the sound of metal being worked. We went over to investigate, and found that the unknown immortal was awake, and working on repairing one of Tobias' weapons which had been damaged in breaking the gates to the city open. He had no anvil, no hammers, he simply held the mace and worked with his bare hands.

Ishmael was instantly and avidly curious about his ability, and even more so when He asked for Ishmael to sing for the water, as he learned from the old dwarf back in Grolsh.

While he was working with the weapons, Shalev approached him and requested that a weapon be crafted out of the strange bronze metal that he's been carrying with him.

The elf agreed, and crafted a beautifully formed scimitar out of the material, much to Shalev's delight. It still needs a hilt before it can be adequately wielded, but the weapon itself is strong and true.

He is a Maker.
One of the first of us.

He said that time itself is what's blocking my memory. That I have forgotten how to *sing* and had become "too much a part" of this world.  He had no answers for me. I thought perhaps that we were kin.. that he was family. In a way he is. Am I one of them as well? Have I forgotten, and therefore become separate?

But it has awakened that pain of longing inside me that I thought I had gotten over long ago. The desire to know what happened. To know why I can't remember. To understand what exactly it is that I have forgotten.

It's not the same.

I asked what happened and why. He said that he was sustaining the tree, not the other way around. and that he did so because he knew that he would long-outlive those that were doing it to him.

I..

What have I done?

In choosing to rescue him, have I condemned the tree?
Have I become so short-sighted?

I looked at him, with tears in my eyes, and said that I felt lost.

He smiled and told me precisely where I was located.

In the middle of the standing stones of DruidHome, on the southern continent.
North of the Great Valley
East of the ancient crypts of the Imperial Order
West of the great desert
South of the tower of the last of the students of the last of the Fyrewerians

Which isn't at all what I meant.

The information, as valuable as it was, did not help soothe the ache in my heart, or ease my uncertainty. It did nothing to give me hope.

I still have so many questions.

He began to draw on the stones at that point, opening a gate to ...elsewhere. Kellyn looked on with keen interest, as the symbols he was etching into the stone were Fyrewerian symbols for "here" and "there"

The gate opened, showing the brilliant shine of the North Star, and a ship sailed through enough for him to board.

It was then that I felt a memory release. A thread loosening in the tight knot of blocked (or forgotten) remembrance in my mind. The two first trees, created as beacons. One of these was taken up and made into the North Star, to act as a constant point for navigation.

The trees now shine in memory of those first two, as a taste of the starlight, and to remember and remind us where they.. and we.. are from.

He then looked at each of the party, and smiled, saying to each of us to continue on. And he left, the shining gate closing behind him.

After he left, I sat down and performed a ritual for summer, not expecting it to work. It didn't, but I did feel some small spark of rightness there about what was done.

and then I cried. I sat down in the center of that blue stone circle, and I let the tears fall down my face in a way that I haven't done in millenia.

I cried for what I have forgotten.
I cry for the hint of who I was.
I cried for that lost taste of starlight.
I cry for all that I know I still must do, and the overwhelming feeling of being lost.

For there is still much to do, and I will - as I have apparently always done - remain here.

Wrong.

Everything is wrong here.
So very wrong.

I can’t think straight. I can barely breathe. The horror and anger and anguish are like knives in my heart.

These …. people.. I can’t call them elves right now. They’ve renounced all that it means to BE an elf. I PRAY that these people have been under some kind of sway. That they didn’t realize exactly what it is they had done.

But I am not hopeful. I can’t focus on that right now. I can’t allow my horror and anger to overshadow me. I am thankful that Tobias is here by my side. He’s the only thing keeping me grounded at the moment. I wonder if this is how Shalev felt.. upon hearing news of his father’s murder?

I found out why my druidic powers have no hold here. The terrible reason why.

The only thing that remains now is him. THEM. The tree. I must do what I can to save them both.

But I am rambling. Let me try to make sense of my thoughts.

.oOo..oOo.

Still in the city of Tir na’Friar, we had about a month before the Great Court was to happen. The party and I used that time to continue helping Matron with her lands, to practice and hone skills, and to discover what I could about what to expect with the Great Ritual.

She seemed uncomfortable at my asking, and was noticeably tight-lipped about this “ritual” and what it entailed. It made me uneasy, and wary. The more I talked to her, the stronger the sense of “something isn’t right here” showed through.

Determined to see what the ritual was for myself, I commissioned a dress suitable for such an occasion. The seamstress I commissioned made me a beautiful gown out of ocean blue raw silk, with silver trim. She asked what the motif should be, and I requested arboreal, which caused her to pause and look at me in an odd way. She then murmured something about how the Great Court hadn’t been “properly scandalized” in a long time, and then informed me that it would be ready in a week.
Four days later the summons arrived for Matron, and the invite arrived for Tobias and I, stating that the court would convene in three days’ time. The rest of the party was not to attend, as they were not elves.

Matron grew more tense, and more quiet, as the time for the ritual grew closer; and I began to urgently get the sense that I would not like what I was about to witness.

I was right.

We were escorted up to the inner circle of the city, and I knew. I knew as soon as I stepped foot inside that scorched circle of earth. I knew in a heartbeat why my connection to the Sacred was lost here. I knew in an eyeblink what I had begun to suspect, but couldn’t dare believe that any elf would do. But I was so very wrong. The moment I saw it, I began praying. Not knowing if my god and goddess could hear me or not. Not knowing if they cared. But I prayed. I prayed for help. For something.. for anything..

In the center of the blackened ring of earth and ash, grew a young sylvan tree. No more than a sapling, and a yearling at that. Vibrant and healthy and alive.

The royal family began the ritual by stating that this was, and had been, a yearly tradition. Was “who they were” and “who they would be”. They denounced everything about the old ways. Renounced all that they are. Claimed that the right to be free led them to this. That the wish to work with metals of the earth like… like dwarves or gnomes, was more important to them than their connection to the Wellspring. That their safety and ability to blend in and remain “quiet” was more important to them than being a part of nature and balance.

To my growing horror, they loudly proclaimed that, in an act of complete revolt, they entombed their ruler – an immortal, one of my kind, that I have never heard of – in the earth below, so that he could continue to watch the desecration of the tree year after year.

The tree has old roots. Over 500 years. It will not die. Not like this. But it will burn.

Then they burned it.

They burned a living thing. A Sylvan tree. Alive.
Each of the families threw a torch on the growing pyre, and watched without compassion as it burned to the ground. It was all I could do not to start screaming then.

Even Matron, although she glanced at me with sorrow in her eyes, and tossed her torch far to the side, so it would not land among the conflagration. I noticed. I refused. I dropped the torch I was given at my feet, although looking back, a stronger message would have been to put it out entirely.

I spoke in quiet tones to Matron as the citizens of the city began bringing their grievances to the leading family. Like HUMANS. Everything here is so WRONG.

I implored her.. WHY. Why do this? Why participate in something she knew in her heart was wrong. She said that she had become accustomed to the safety of knowing they wouldn’t be attacked, because the energy doesn’t resonate here.

NOT AN EXCUSE. This tree deserves LIFE, NOT DESTRUCTION. Doing nothing is still an action, and it’s still WRONG. She knows it.

I was blazing angry, and verging on actual tears.
Tobias, growing increasingly alarmed, and increasingly horrified by what he saw, put himself at my back, and began trying to calm me down.

I looked at Matron.

HELP ME. Is all I said.

and she agreed. Lord and Lady bless her, she did. She made it appear as if I had put some kind of control over her, and she walked to the center of the fire ring, and then cast a spell of wind. The wind gathered and gathered, much like the winds before a sandstorm from home, but with more deliberate intent. The torches all went out one by one, and the bonfire in the center was twisted up in the vortex and extinguished. The sparks and embers floated off into the air, and over the city, but I paid them no heed.

Once the fire was out, she collapsed as if unconscious, and was immediately protected by two of the other families. I’m glad to know that she is – for the moment at least – unharmed and safe.
I ran over to the center, where the burned root of the sapling was exposed, and I grabbed it hoping to feel some spark of life.

What I felt was hatred. Burning, writhing hatred coming from an eight eyed enemy. “Lloth” I breathed with dread, and Tobias heard me.

My immediate thought was that whatever was down there.. whatever they had buried, was not elf. Was something far.. far worse. and that the tree itself had been corrupted.

The head family demanded why the ritual was interrupted, threatening to see “just how immortal I really was”, causing Tobias to bristle noticeably… and I confronted them. What have you done?! I shouted. Why do you do this!? You’ve denied everything it is to be an elf, in exchange for what?! You’ve corrupted the wellspring, and you desecrate something sacred just because you CAN?! Spring time rituals are supposed to be about renewal. About a restatement of life, and health and vitality.
Instead you made it a celebration of everything opposite. You wonder at the lack of children here. You whisper about the feel of decay. You’re blind and you’ve condemned this entire city by cutting yourselves off from all that you ARE. From all that you COULD BE.

They remained unmoved, and threatened to throw me down there with whatever it was they entombed.

Tobias, at that point, began thinking out loud, because he sensed that the tree itself was still holy, and NOT corrupted. He spoke about Lloth, and the drow, and how there was SOMETHING down there that was unholy, and completely so.

He somehow managed to get them to open the tomb, revealing the immortal ruler they had imprisoned, and much to everyone else’s surprise, an underground road leading just beneath the city.

How far does Lloth’s influence reach? How much has she corrupted these people.

What I saw.. dear Lord and Lady, how COULD THEY.

An immortal, undoubtedly, and one I should know.. although I don’t know why.
Chained to a wall.
With the roots of the tree itself growing THROUGH his emaciated body.

Dear gods, that means he not only witnessed. HE FELT. HE FELT IT BURN. EVERY TIME.

I can’t.. I can barely..

HOW COULD THEY.

WHO DID THIS?

I all but screamed out wordlessly. Knowing Tobias would protect me, I climbed down into the tomb to confirm what I knew already, with an unspeakable terror.

He was still alive.

As I grew near to his withered form, it became easier to see for some reason. Then I glanced down to find my necklace.. the pendant that I’ve worn for so long.. was … glowing.

and the crown that he wore on his head was glowing. They matched. The symbols match.

He is ..

there’s something wrong with my memory. There’s a block that I can sense now. Deliberately placed within my mind, that means that I can not remember. I do not know who he is, or who I am in relation. He could be my father. My brother. My son?

As I grew nearer to him, I reached out to touch him gently, and his eyes opened. They stared blindly, and he began screaming. Or.. trying to scream with what remained of his throat.

I did scream then. Long and loud and full of wordless horror, and ran to his side.

So many questions.

So many unanswered questions.

and such… revulsion. That my own kind could do this to someone else.

and potentially MY family. I thought them all dead. Maybe that memory is a fabrication itself.

I can’t know.. I won’t know..

and I can’t think.