Yolan Eldest of Decay was using a stone knife to carve patterns into a cylindrical piece of bone. He had been waiting anxiously for the Braenu’s return. Spirits of her type were not easy to coax but she had been following his part of the Circle for decades. It was in fact a point of pride for them that one of the Ancients would find them worthy of such loyalty.
Recently circumstances had allowed them to show their gratitude, the power of Wyrdings, like the one he now curved, had surged and they were able to channel more into her form, helping her grow both physically and in her role in the Great Cycle. She was half again as tall as the tallest human among them and her touch could wither flesh and.
A commotion disturbed Yolan’s thoughts. She was back. He stood carefully, his long life had left him as a deeply hunched over old man and moving was not as easy as it once was. He shuffled to the other side of the large stitched-hide yurt that they had been using as shared accommodation, having been in the area for a week they had managed to find some of their old stores and some new material, crafting it had taken precious time but some comfort they could afford. He fastened his roughly cut black robe, some of the bone and leather clasps were about to give way, and pulled up the hood, hiding some of the many markings on his bald head in the process. He took a few seconds to straighten his grey beard, which was becoming less grey with each passing winter, and he grabbed his staff. It was a heavy thing, twisted hard, the bark had been scrapped off, replaced with black markings on the wood, they told the story of the Circle during his time as Eldest. It had become too big and unwieldy to aid his walking much, but it was a tradition that the Eldest three generations ago had started when Yolan himself had barely been born and he did not have the heart to let it go. He exited the yurt.
The members of the Circle had all heard the commotion it seemed, and had dropped whatever they had been working on. Seven people, a good fourth of the total members of the Circle left in the world, had gathered near the entrance of the shaded gulch they had been staying in, the Braenu was among them but Yolan could see that she was not well.
A big part of her shoulder was charred and it seemed that the flames had climbed up her neck and burnt part of her crown. Yolan let his rage at this pass, to lash out was natural, to try one’s hardest to survive should always be expected. These people, flawed and disrespectful though they were, were only acting out their part in the cycle. His role was not to judge or educate them. His role was to cull them.
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Yolan had quickly dispersed the younger members of the Circle. They were all outraged at the Braenu’s injuries, she was after all a of Decay, a symbol of their way and their power. But they could not let their emotions cloud their judgement, especially now. A few minutes later him and the two Elders, Sefra and Drei, guided the Braenu deeper in the gulch near a waterfall that hid one of their old stores. The Braenu couldn’t fit in the yurt and she would not be comfortable there if she could, so they sat at some wet boulders, smoothed over the centuries by the river during the winter when it flooded, and they waited as the spirit made herself comfortable.
In the shade of the cliffs, on the shore of the river formed by the waterfall, she changed. Her body seemingly made of many rotting roots and branches entangled and shaped into a vaguely humanoid shape started to unravel. Wood separated, stretched, bent, and was woven once again. Dark green, brown, and black leaves grew from a hundred limbs that were now thin and bent towards the ground. The Braenu’s new branches gently swayed in the wind as they seemed to reach down, towards the flowing water. She had taken on the form of a small willow, she was shorter than before though still much taller than a human could be. She looked better, most of the burnt parts hidden within her, although Yolan could see that some of her trunk and branches were still blackened and charred. Her face, completely smooth other than two dark eyes,was situated lower on her trunk, looking towards the Elders. The Braenu much like other spirits of the land were not entirely constrained by the rules of the physical, their form was malleable, and usually unpredictable, but Yolan did know from experience that a static form like a tree was easier for them especially when injured.
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When the transformation completed Yolan gave the Braenu a respectful nod. He was of nature, he didn’t bow before it but the Braenu was much older than he was and she deserved his reverence.
“Honoured Braenu, please tell us of your battle with our hunters, the Circle will of course help you with your regrowth, but first we must know if we are still in danger.” She could repair the damage on her own but Wyrdings could help that process along.
Two of them are decaying. Three fled, one of them injured. I hurt one more. A lot. He did this to me. He is powerful. I will not be able to continue for many days.
She of course did not speak with words, not really, instead the elders could feel her meaning in the slightly shifting wind, the shadows of her long limbs, and the smells of decay, water, and moss that commingled around them. When she spoke of the one that injured her, a small glowing insect, an Everlight separated from its swarm, flew between them, made a wide loop and flew away.
“Thank you, Honoured Spirit.” said Elder Sefra, a middle aged woman, with bone white hair, who wore a skirt, and shawl stitched together from different hides, leaving her midriff and many of her tattoos exposed. “This is bad news Eldest, the ambush was our best chance to end them quickly and cleanly, even assuming we can defeat the rest without the help of the Honoured Braenu, some of them may flee, we can’t let the Sollics know that we are in Aberimm.”
“They are separated right now, maybe we can track them and contain this.” Elder Drei’s voice sounded like a stone scraping on stone, the incredibly tall elder had dark hair streaked with grey and red in equal measure and tied up into a knot, he wore robe similar to Yolan’s own but instead of a staff he held a spear. It was composed of a long straight piece of wood that had on one end partially grown over a long piece of sharpened obsidian, the haft and the glassy rock had flowing curved patterns scratched into them. His most striking feature however was the wide and jagged scar that ran across his throat, a remnant of the injury that had permanently changed his voice.
“What if more than one of them can use their instantaneous Wyrdings? We have to approach this with a lot of care, Drei, we can track them until the Ancient can help us again.” Sefra was not usually one for the cautious approach, that role usually fell to Yolan himself, but the stakes were now higher than ever.
Drei shook his head “We can’t take that long, it would be fine if we knew for a fact that they would flee separately, but it is far more likely that they will find each other and heal, then we’d have to face them at full strength and they will be looking for the Ancient Braenu. An ambush is not likely to work again.”
Yolan thought on this. “If this is really a turning point, we can afford to lose one or even two of us. What is most important is that they not know that Aberimm is special in any way, but a place they happened to cornered us into. If we can safely pick some off before they find each other then no reason not to do that. If not then we observe. If they stay here wanting to hunt us for their greed despite their losses then there will be opportunities especially if we can delay until Honoured Braenu can aid us. If they flee, as I suspect they will, then we follow them.We hunt and hurry them all the way to Tel’Morén, then we stop and retreat, as we would if we were hunting them out of vengeance or opportunity, and we lay false trails as we leave. We will have to convince anyone that would try and follow that we retreated towards the Mysten woods, Sandlet, or Pharos. This will cost us a lot of time and perhaps blood if we get drawn into combat but these things are unimportant now. The Great Cycle rarely brings us an opportunity like this anymore, we have to do everything and anything to not let this one go.”
May their flesh sicken and rot. May their bones become dust on the wind. The Braenu made her thoughts clear.