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hi:)
Lol!
Liberated and refounded. Impressive. ;)
We appreciate the sentiment Oak :) Glad to see you back
After a long rest and many journeys away from this sacred grove of battle, Diviciacus strode back to this place where he had made his name. The burned shelves, scattered tables, torn flags, all of if would need effort but could be rebuilt.
In his image this time. With himself at the helm guiding this Mystical body.
"For the Overseer." He let slip underneath his breath.
Sacred bread and Publica Druida
Slowly, the Dark Druid leveraged a bookcase back against the wall and began to pick up the tomes and scrolls underneath. Their battle to hold this new conquest had not been kind to the literature here. Some parchments had a few remaining sigils left on the edge of a sooty landscape, but everything else was destroyed. A new beginning truly and utterly. Not that Diviciacus couldn't work with that. It had been his goal when he seized the council and its domain.
"To start anew then..." He pulled a journal out of a dusty pack and cracked it open.
The First Journal of the Dark Druid
Today I have begun reconstructing the main hall and meeting chamber for the Council. Although I undertake this venture alone at the moment, I am confident the missives I have sent will bring other magi here to take their seat in this place of power. I have begun to feel and document some of the innate natural powers in this area and how we could draw from them. There are a few draws on them already that when I have other Council Members with me, we should investigate...and cease their use of our resource.
In the meantime, I will continue honing my carpentry skill and laying some basic charms and securities.
He closed the journal and looked around him, taking in the architecture and the work that laid ahead. Daunting surely, but nothing was outside of his grasp. He'd proven that already.
"ciúin, diongbháilte, crógacht."
Quiet, steadfast, bravery. These are the words Acythe recites to themself to keep their senses sharp as they travel. It's not that they harbored fear in their heart, or that they were nervous at all. No, quietly repeating this mantra gave them extra strength to continue.
Acythe was an expert in feeling the magic from the environment, taking in the soft whisperings of the flora as they merely existed in this space. They were able to even manipulate it to an extent, finding their way out of any forest just by communicating with the trees. They could find beneficial plants for various ailments and increase their potency a hundredfold. They could even become a plant entirely by manipulating their own life energy to imitate that of any plant necessary.
They heard a whispering in the forest, guiding them to this location. It was an ancient place in need of reconstruction in order to be a place once more. The whisperings told them that there were already a couple people in the area with the same goal. They were certainly eager to help the cause.
That is why they followed the whisperings, clutching their scythe in their hands as they tiptoed through the forest.
The workers had arrived, with beasts of burden and tools of restoration. Under the Dark Druid's direction they had begun their work, setting about on restoration of the Great Hall, and some secondary buildings for the folks who would begin to arrive. The Council would need farmers, couriers, horses, a cook or two surely, a blacksmith, a merchant to procure ritual components...
Diviciacus kept penning down the different types of retainers and hanger ons the Council would need to sustain itself and its operations. Eventually the Council would be a veritable town with what he envisioned. But for now, this small contingent of laborers from his realm would suffice. He rolled up the scroll, and tucked it away into his robes before stepping out of the Hall and towards the wood's edge. He felt a presence, a power, not unfamiliar to him.
With a furrowed brow he looked out along the paths until his eyes met what they were looking for. A smile cracked across the Druid's face. "Acythe, it has been too long. I hadn't anticipated your return after our conquest..."
"Your senses remain sharp." Acythe set down their scythe and removed the hood from their head, allowing their long brown hair to cascade down their back. Their emerald eyes met the dark druid's own eyes with confidence.
"The oaks guided me to you. They joyfully told me of your intentions."
The initial conquest was still fresh in their mind. There, Acythe drew their crossbow once more as they did when they were still known by Thia. Acythe's familiarity with the crossbow never left throughout the hundred years since she took up traveling. Young Thia emerged from her slumber during this battle as the crossbow fired round after round. But no longer was she the young, reckless elf with the crossbow from one hundred years ago. Acythe was older and wiser, fully in tune with the forests they love to walk around. The Mystical Grove was proof of just how far Acythe had come from those days, long ago.
"How have you fared, dear friend? How may I be of assistance?"
A smile across his face, Diviciacus turned back to the grove and began to walk them through. "There is plenty of work to be done here. The laborers and laymen are beginning various constructions and projects. Feel free to take over where you would like, your input is welcome anywhere." As they walked, his staff pressed softly into the grass, pressing it and leaving a small mark. Yet behind the pair, their steps could not be seen, as nature simply recovered where they were.
"I shall be in the Great Hall, tying those old ends back together. Once I have it put back enough for us to draw up a few rudimentary rituals and divine a few objectives, I will reach out to the magical users of our Council. In the meantime, make yourself a residence and champion whatever project you might want." Finally, the dark druid stopped in front of the Hall where eventually the Council would gather and be restored under his guidance.
Looking back to his friend before entering, he simply nodded with a smile and retired for the night.
Once Diviciacus retired for the night, Acythe put their hood back over their head and tiptoed away.
There will be a need for food, herbs, and flowers. Perhaps I shall run an apothecary. But for now I must figure out where to rest.
Acythe would wander about, admiring all the laborers who were working on the various projects tirelessly. The trees beckoned them to wander deeper and further, until they were practically on the edge of the forest once again. There they found a massive, gnarled tree which towered over the other trees in the forest. However, its few remaining leaves seemed to be decaying and the bark seemed fragile and dull.
"Luna, Luna come here. Allow me to see you clearly." Acythe called into the forest. They peered deep into the dark trees and branches, stretching their left arm out. After a few seconds of holding the pose, an owl emerged from the forest, landing on the elf's outstretched arm with a friendly chirp.
"Hello, my Luna. I have found our new home. It is weak and dying. I can hear it calling out for help. I shall help it. I request your help too, little one."
The owl seemed to stare at the tree for a solid minute, taking in its impressive size and weary disposition. With a flap of its wings and a light jump, Luna was airborne. The owl circled around the tree a few times before nestling on a sturdier branch.
Acythe nodded, laying a gentle hand on the trunk. Before they could even think of giving a bit of their own life to the tree, there needed to be a thorough check of the area, which was what Acythe was assessing via the trunk. The soil seemed fine enough, there was plenty of moisture. The issue was merely damage during the battle.
I will help you, my friend. All I ask is for shelter in return.
Thus began the meditation. With closed eyes, Acythe would focus on the energy within them. It was warm and tendril-like, yet appearing as a garden of life within Acythe's mind. Slowly, they became aware of the tree's energy, which was frail and slowly wilting. The energy within Acythe's garden began reaching for the tree, wrapping its tendrils around the tree's energy and revitalizing it. Acythe's internal garden shrunk accordingly, only stopping when the garden showed the slightest sign of wilt
I hope that helped.
When Acythe opened their eyes once more, there was already a visible difference in the state of the tree. It was more lively, a bit sturdier. The elf, however, felt tired and frail. They laid down against the trunk of the tree, staring up into the nearly-bare branches.
"Luna, please take care of any who should approach. I must rest."
Without even waiting for a response, Acythe was asleep.
The morning sun illuminated the forest’s edge delicately, giving everything a soft golden glow. A slight wind blew through the leaves of the trees, whistling a gentle tune to the world. The air was crisp as it had not been warmed by the sun yet, but it was not chilly enough to freeze the bones of living creatures.
Acythe stood up, reaching their hands above their body as far as they would go, then let them fall to the sides slowly. Then they reached down, picking up their scythe. As they rose again they would pause, squinting into the distance. They could just barely see the rise of new constructions and the outer walls of the chamber from their position.
Away from the bustle of this grove. Perfect.
Acythe would slowly make their way from the tree to a small clearing near the center of the grove, then walk the plot. It was just large enough, the thought, to host a small shop and the usual assortment of healing and ritual plants. Acythe had always made the habit of saving seeds as much as possible, as one could never know what plants they might need at a moments’s notice. It would not take much energy at all to get the garden set up. What would end up taking up more time is constructing the shop.
They would need plenty of lumber to start, as well as a glass worker to provide sufficient glass for the project. Perhaps a mason would be able to help provide stony pathways outside the shop.
I may at least begin with my garden… Acythe kneeled to the ground and began tending to the soil.
The realm was littered with old holdouts and towers of the doddering old fools who had lived here previous, as well as the burnt out husks of the villages they had ruled. The realm was conquered once again, an occurrence apparently frequent enough that they hardly even bothered cleaning up afterward anymore. As Thanelly walked down the old roads on her way to this newly-called-for Council, she reflected on the path which had brought this place to ruin in the first place, since 'paths' were so close to the forefront of her thoughts at the moment. A council, not unlike the one being formed now, in precisely the same building as she was currently traveling to, harnessing precisely the powers that were once again coming under the interests of the ambitious wizards and druids of the world. She gazed to the side of the road; Old abandoned gibbets, tattered banners, bloody flags, all spoke to the ambitions of the people who had come here before her. Some of the banners were newer than the others, speaking to the more recent conquest of the realm.
"Perhaps this one will last." she said to herself under her breath wryly as she came by the rotted wood and frayed rope of the most recently encountered gallows. The unfortunate man or woman who had been hanging there long since rotted to bones and fallen from the noose, forgotten. There was a beauty to that oblivion, whatever pain this person had felt in life was long since unknown by any living soul, just as their name and appearance were. She stopped and picked up their skull, effortlessly calling upon their long asleep soul to pay a visit.
Quickly, the soul answered. It sleepily inhabited the skull it had once considered an integral part of its being and inquired about the reason it had been woken up. It didn't use language to do this, spirits forgot such ephemeral things as language quite fast once they were no longer necessary, instead it simply imparted on Thanelly a quizzical impression. Thanelly answered in kind; Not to ask about this spirit's past or anything so foolish, it was unlikely that they even remembered such detail intensive things.
No, Thanelly was hopelessly lost and just needed some directions. Of the few things that were carried on into death, Thanelly had long since noted that in her experience, a general lay of the land any given spirit had inhabited in life stuck around for much longer than most other things. Perhaps because of some innate connection with the land and perhaps because such things subconsciously repeated day-in, day-out in a living spirit's mind. Perhaps it was just because they had been asked directions so damn much in life that giving them became second nature, Thanelly hadn't looked into it much.
Once she got what she needed she thanked the spirit and placed their skull back where she'd found it. Spirits who'd lost their lives in such a way were rarely concerned with resting places, especially when they'd died so long in the past. Besides, sometimes the most comfortable resting place was simply the most familiar.
She continued on, seeking out the tower of an old friend to refurbish, and a new set of doddering old fools to try and get a read on, though she doubted this group would be much different from the last.
One morning after a fine shower of rain the night previous, the Dark Druid roused and examined his Council's Hall. Several efforts had begun to see fruition. A few new book cases, the door frame restored, a staff rack to the side with a few lengths of wood of various types. But something else was amiss, a new magic line had entered the Council's realm and tied itself to their grove. Diviciacus pulled some salt from his pouch and griffin's talon. A quick sigil later and he wandered out of the hall and along some foot paths before spying a dilapidated tower with new tendrils of life...well un-life a bit more accurately.
Reaching even further into his bag this time, Diviciacus pulled out a quill and parchment.
To whomever has taken residence in this tower,
Welcome to The Mystical Council. We look forward to your cooperation in consolidating the powers of the realm into our collective control. I see you have breathed new life and undeath into the tower here, and you are more than welcome to it. Spend your time renovating and tinkering to your satisfaction. This is our domain and we shall use it as we please.
I would ask that when you do make your way into the Grove and Great Hall, that you leave your undead creatures at the tower. We do have mortal minions who are aiding in restoration here and some plan to take residence. A slower introduction to these darker magics and their creatures may be more appropriate so as to not slow our progress or spook some of our retainers.
I will call upon the Council for a mission when our strength and progress is significant enough. Until then, call upon me if you require any aid.
The Dark Druid,
Diviciacus
He placed the letter at the foot of the tower and made his way back to the main grove, where he toured over to where Acythe had taken residence, their signature scythe regularly doing work.
With a smile he continued past, observing the new improvements to their corner, a garden beginning to take shape. He could almost see the Apothecary now, but that was still a ways off. As he turned once more back to the Hall, he stopped to observe an oxen with a wound in the frog of its hoof. Gently, the druid took a few minutes, extracting the nail that had found its way there, and with a compress of herbs and a small expenditure of magics, was hale and whole again. With the healed animal behind him, Diviciacus spent the rest of his day puttering around the various projects surrounding his new Council, and seeing where he was needed most.
Yet within the Hall, on the central table where the Druid had laid his maps of the surrounding areas, documenting different ley lines and wells of mana, a light began to flicker...
Acythe and Thanelly
The apothecary is coming along nicely.
Acythe watched over the garden. Over the last several days, Acythe had been pouring their life into the garden. All sorts of herbs, like yarrow, parsley, sage, and much more, all surrounding a small shack with a large sign on the top. “Thiapocary” is what Acythe chose to call it. A nice nod to their grandmother, and to the purpose of the shop. If anyone needed any natural herb of the earth, Acythe would do their best to carry it.
That being said, there were plenty of missing seeds that were greatly useful in rituals. But, there would be time for adventure later, once the garden was no longer so heavily reliant upon Acythe’s keen defense and magic fount to survive.
My stalwart, soon you will be all the defense this area needs.
For now, Acythe would meditate in the garden, accelerating the growth of the garden magically.
Diviciacus and Thanelly
"Feeeeeh, Dark Magicks, what do these people know of Dark Magicks?" she said as she busied herself with directing her little cohort of helpers; Several skeletons whose spirits had been obliging enough to reinhabit their former vessel with Thanelly's help were busy doing chores all around her, industrious as if they were being paid to do it. Many considered necromancy to be difficult, but it's only particularly difficult if you don't think to ask before you shove a soul back into a corpse or manifest it semi-physically. Thanelly had a theory that the reason undead had such a bad image among the mundane and the magically inclined alike was that most practitioners of Necromancy weren't the sort to whom asking nicely came naturally.
"You don't seem particularly dark to me." She said as an animated skeleton with half a lower arm missing passed by. The skeleton grinned over at her with wide eyes -an expression that all skeletons share- and gave a little shrug before continuing with its work moving old decrepit books into a chest. The tower was still in pretty good shape for what it had been through, but without any help the housekeeping alone would have kept her busy for a week, "I'm going to need to start educating people around here about proper, respectable necromancy it seems."
She summoned a quill and walked over to a desk, a piece of paper floating over casually to rest in front of her before she began to pen a reply:
I have received and read your letter, and I greatly appreciate your welcome. I look forward to working with those of you who have already arrived, as well as any future residents that may come seeking to make their mark on this place. I will comply with your request for now, but I will most assuredly be seeking to assuage the concerns and fears of the peasantry in regard to the presence of my helpers in this realm. I'm sure that once they are introduced to the terrible banality of what I do and educated as to how the spirits behave when treated with respect, they will be fleeing from me from boredom rather than fear.
I shall make my way to the grove at once. Please pay proper respects to the messenger.
Thannely
With that she closed her eyes and reached out to the domain where spirits resided full time, more or less; It was somewhat more difficult when one didn't have a physical vessel for them to inhabit, but with enough patience it wasn't impractical by any means to enlist the help of a roaming individual or two to make them manifest and do an errand or two. She did just that, and imparted just enough power into her newest helper that it could effect the physical world as a stiff breeze might, "Send this to Diviciacus in the Grove please." she told it, giving it appropriate directions before tossing the letter out the window and watching it drift along with the wind to its destination.
And with that, she started preparing herself for a long walk.
"Thia, come on. Do you want to track down the beast that hurt you or do you want to be a snivelling child the rest of your life?" The horned individual had her arms crossed, standing over the young elf with disdain in her eyes. "I would have expected better from an elf.
"Sorry, Lyra." The young elf stood up once again, holding the training scythe in her shakey hands. Lyra would nod, lunging once again for Thia with her fake daggers, doing her best to make contact with the elf's armor. Though the elf was agile, Lyra's flurry was unavoidable. Once again the elf would be knocked to the ground, and the cycle would repeat.
"This isn't working." Lyra rolled her eyes, walking away. "If I were you I'd try to see if I could get adopted by a farmer."
In the fog, an ominous howl shook Thia's bones to the core, coupled with the faint sounds and smells of a wildfire. Thia's heart raced as she grabbed her father's scythe, scrambling to get back on her feet.
The hell hounds were faster, and soon they were over Thia's tiny frame, drooling lava on the ground beneath their feet.
Thia tried to crawl away, but the hell hound bit her leg, flinging her up in the air. The sting of the cauterized bite wound overwhelmed Thia's mind. It burned her legs to a nonfunctional crisp, travelling through her bloodstream. Within seconds, her entire body is ablaze, and in that moment...
Acythe jumped, ready to attack the first thing they see for a split second. Their breathing is ragged and their heart is beating frantically in their chest, the phantom burning still present down to the very core of her being. The feeling fades after a few seconds as Acythe attempts to control their breathing.
After a few minutes, their breathing is normal once again. Acythe lowers their scythe once more as they survey the area.
They were inside the apothecary still. The cauldron in the fireplace hadn't quite boiled yet, but steam was flowing throughout the room.
It took Acythe a second to process what just happened and how long they were out for. The forget-me-nots had been mixed into the cauldron instead of nettle, which mixed with the chamomile and rue, and created the reaction that knocked Acythe out. The memories that had surfaced were deep repressed memories that now burned on the forefront of her mind, maintained there by the vapor in the shop.
Thiapocary is going to be closed until further notice.
Thia would extinguish the fire then leave the apothecary, being sure to make it clear that the apothecary was NOT the place to be at this moment. If the "DANGER: CLOSED" sign wasn't enough, the thorns surrounding the building should suffice.
"When it is safe, remember that chamomile, rue, and forget-me-not can trap people in nightmares by the vapors alone." Acythe talked to themself while jotting the note down in their notebook. "Make sure that you keep the forget-me-not and the lavendar apart from each other."
Acythe would walk away to finish clearing their head of the vapors while admiring the developments of the little town.
Around the Grove, work continued as Diviciacus paced. The scrolls upon the Great Hall's table had shadows dancing upon them. Wavering at first, but growing stronger, a light rose and danced across the surface. The Dark Druid's eyes widened and he muttered under his breath...
"Assemble the Council.
Is this where we roleplay?
With maniacal laughter, Acythe throws some mint into a bubbling cauldron. Their stock from the surrounding environment was overwhelming, their more exotic herbs coming along a bit slower but still nicely. They were still missing a few key ingredients, though those herbs were even more rare and nearly impossible to come across.
"I sense a great journey. The trees are telling me of this journey... I must make sure I have plenty of potion vials. For healing... and..."
Acythe puts their ear against a potted snake plant with a smile.
"... and potions for firebreathing! Thanks Yanny!!!"
As Acythe stirred their pot, a spurt of magic energy seems to erupt around them, forming into vines that seem eager to wrap themselves around Acythe. The elf wagged their finger at the vines, which seemed to abate them a bit. They sniffed their potion once more, added a bit more ground chili, stirred the cauldron, scooped it into 10 different vials which they set up on a garter around their upper thigh, then practically jumped into the vines.
In the Great Hall a magical energy bubbled from the floor, materializing into vines, which unfurled to reveal the hooded elf who held their scythe against their body.
"Are there more targets to hunt down? The flora speaks of adventure to be had. I even ensured to prepare plenty of firebreathing potions!"
Gembul scanned his surroundings, as best he was able. His somewhat lacking verticality afforded him little advantage over the foliage surrounding the game trail he had been following since morning. He huffed in frustration and pressed on through the dense wilderness.
He glanced at the sun creeping toward the horizon.
“Well, Cassie, I’m starting to think I’ll be winning that bet…”
The largest pocket on his mud-spattered robe twitched slightly and uttered a faint, indignant squeak.
“Aye, the day’s not done yet…” he grumbled.
A disheveling half mile later, he felt a slight shift in the air, and he paused once more, before pressing abruptly through the nearby shrubs and grasses, nearly colliding with a mossy boulder enshrouded in the dense brush. He paced around the stone before drawing a small obsidian knife from his belt and using it to scrape a flake of lichen from it, which he sniffed, before replacing the blade at his waist and pressing his right ear against the mass of granite. He uttered a low hum while gently rapping his knuckles against the boulder. After a moment’s pause, he seemingly received the response he sought and suddenly set off at a brisk jog toward the north. A quarter mile away, his eyes set upon the spring the earth had spoken of, little more than a trickle of water bubbling from a small cleft in a stone escarpment.
He approached the spring, closed his eyes, and listened closely. It was clear now, very much so. He heard the earth whisper the names, he smelled the blood and ash which had fed the soil of his destination, and he could sense the gentle flow of energy deep within the land itself. It was so clear that if he didn’t know better…
His eyes widened and he clambered to the top of the hill, overlooking a grove of trees interspersed with clearings and dotted with occasional stone buildings.
“Well, I guess you win. We were going the right way.”
He withdrew a handful of dry, brown pellets from a pocket and presented it to his largest pocket. A mole emerged from it, received its prize, and promptly withdrew back into the soil-filled pocket.
With dusk at hand, Gembul shaped a small hollow into the hillside, the earth flowing at his command like water. When satisfied and sufficiently tired from the effort, he covered the entrance with brush and settled in for the night, resolving to meet this “Diviciacus” and the other new masters of this land the following morning.
And yet he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was meant to have arrived some days sooner…
With sleep deprived eyes, Diviciacus looked up at his friend with a smile. "We'll need your alchemy, Acythe. I've had some news from our scouts that I'd like to go investigate. I think it could be a Chi-" He cut himself off as a whisper came along the wind. A new arrival..., the Woods told him. Steadily, he pulled himself from the table and made his way to the door. "I'll be back!" the druid shot back to Acythe.
Diviciacus furrowed his brow as his steps led along a non-path of his Woods. Shrubbery, underbrush, and roots, scrambled to the side as he made his way. Some druids had a kinder approach, but not the Dark Druid. Nature responded not because of some loving relationship, but out of fear and respect. He carved his forward before eventually setting his eyes on the Dwarf known as Gembul from a ways off and his new hill home. "I call to thee newcomer! My name is Diviciacus and we shall harness this land together! Follow my trail back to our Great Hall and take a seat at our Council! We have a Chimera to hunt!"
Having said his piece, Diviciacus turned and started making his way back to his seat at the table, bidding plants and animals to spread the news to the other Councilers. There was a hunt to begin.
This is one of our roleplays, yes! Souls is also running a Superhero campaign on our discord right now called Stewards but I think that is full up currently.
To everyone else, if you can make a post every day or two as we set out on our hunt, now's the time to post! Come meet me at the great hall as you've been beckoned and we shall disembark shortly. If you can't, feel free to continue roleplaying within the Grove. Is there some intrigue between your minions? One of the locals caught your eye? An experiment gone wrong in your lab that you have to contain? Have fun with the free form while the rest of us set out!
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