——— –– –– -- - -
??? POV
A few days before…
In the great forest, a cloaked tall man wearing baggy robes and fitting gear, with a greatbow slung over his shoulder, was rapidly traveling along the canopy, hopping from one branch to another with agility. He wore a serious expression as he scoured the land, searching…
Taking a brief stop after a long time of scouting… *tch* “That damned witch…”
The person leans over, sighing. “This is a lost cause. After so much time without anyone finding a trace, she must be long gone.“ He starts to recall the strange disaster…
10 days ago, during twilight hours, there was a commotion that awoke the entire village, people shouting and running everywhere, trying to warn people of the danger.
By the time I was awake… It was already too late.
A thick smog permeated our home, burying everything in a blue haze, rushing past and inside homes, climbing trees, completely engulfing the village… it seemed to have a mind of its own, hunting people left and right and engulfing them.
Everyone who was eaten by the fog began coughing, losing their balance, and falling unconscious soon after… The few that managed to endure the effects of the strange smoke… Saw her.
A figure clad in a gilded tattered cloak, mystical wisps wrapping around her curves, and strings of glyphs circling their bindings. She was carrying an oversized staff that cast an imposing magenta light upon us.
She had not uttered any words except for a small, playful laugh that echoed through our ears, as she glanced down at us with a sadistic smile.
And then, everyone turned victim to the slumber spell that befell us.
…
The next day, as we began to recover and wake up… everything seemed fine. No people were harmed, nothing was destroyed and our houses were intact, there wasn’t anything that had been stolen, or so it seemed…
From the oldest elder down to the last child, as we recollected ourselves and tried to understand what had happened, a noticeable lack of vigor ailed us. People were sluggish, many complained to be hungry, some began to suffer from headaches, and others wouldn’t even wake up. All alarming signs that something was afoot, we treated the ill and took care of those in a coma.
Only after 3 days did they finally start to wake up.
After an emergency meeting between all the representatives and the chief. We could only surmise that we had our vitality robbed from us for unknown purposes, it was assumed to be for some sort of malicious ritual, but the best we could do was speculation.
And… for the life of us we just could not comprehend why she had decided to… *ahem* “Soil”, the pants of some of the young and adult men along with the assault.
It was… an embarrassing thing.
The curious gazes as we washed our clothes only worsened the peculiar happening. The elders seemed to have an idea about the nature of the perpetrator… but remained silent.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Enough idling. I should head back to inform the Chief.”
——— –– –– -- - -
In the ebb and flow of traversing the wild gardens, a sudden mess of red colors catches the ranger’s attention. He stops to investigate.
Descending from the treetops, astonished. “What in the name of gods?…”
A sprawling mess of guttered corpses and bones appears before him, encircled by totems of putrid flesh and a fence of rib cages. Close to the edge of the stale water lay three protruding piles of reeking odor.
One was a pile of half-chewed small creatures, taking a closer look the man identified them to be Parlyvonen Swamp Frogs, one of the most dreadful creatures he knows, merely touching it can render you immobile from the poisons on its skin. He shudders at the thought of whatever thing handled such numbers so nonchalantly and keeps a generous distance away from that pile.
The other pile, the smallest of the tree, appeared to be a mass of decomposing dirt from afar, upon closer inspection he noticed that the entire thing was composed of fish scales and skin.
The last, gargantuan pile, was made out of scraps and bones, apparently being the waste that was not used in the strange constructs around.
The ranger steps back, taking in the whole landscape. “Could this… no. These are too crude to be the work of that witch.” He studies the unknown glyphs drawn around everywhere, in the ground, the trees, the rocks… They are something that he never encountered before. Judging that nothing has happened so far he supposed that either this place is the result of a failed blood magic ritual or something… else, which he finds far more scarier.
Stolen novel; please report.
Just in case, he notes down the different glyphs he can find, the elders are wise, they should know something. And regarding that witch, any lead is better than nothing, even if these aren’t related.
Noting the clear strokes from the way they were written… with fingers? They are all uneven too. Not one similar rune was written with precision… are these even runes?
Questioning if these are simply scribbles rather than some sort of ritual, it's a commonly known fact that runes must be very precise and with standardized characters, each with its own meaning and function. This… is far away from that. More akin to a message–
The man stops in his tracks.
What if these aren’t shoddy attempts at inscription, but simply, another language? A sign, from someone outside the village, outside the forest... He looks to the side. From someone that clearly doesn’t know what they are doing, judging by the horrible improvised tools around and the dilapidated shed made out of sticks and leaves.
And then… he notices.
Pictures that anyone could recognize. Drawings that every household with a modicum of normalcy knows, hidden deeper within the alcove.
Images of houses, people, furniture, animals, tools, food, clothes… depictions of a family… of… home. Drawn by small, delicate hands. all made with a surprising level of detail and skill, defined appearances and names outlining the faces of people and places. Ruling out the hypothesis of it being from some sort of intelligent goblin mutant or other monster.
Connecting the dots… Turning around and looking. At the small details, the crude organization, the possibility of his hunch being true… He holds his forehead with trepidation.
Crouching down to closely inspect the ground, the man finds small, faint humanoid footprints, leading deeper into the forest, faint arrowhead symbols being carved occasionally in the trees.
“Oh no… Oh no…” He says, with a tremulous voice.
He ponders what in the world could have happened... A kidnapping? A lost child? But from where? Ours is the only village around for days of walking in this area of the forest…
“I must hurry.”
No matter. The strange circumstances may be led with and questioned later. If these signs are to be believed, there is a child lost within. And this dangerous forest is no place for children to roam about.
And so, the hunter promptly begins tracking where the supposed lost child went as the prospect that he is the lifeline of a kid loomed over him.
——— –– –– -- - -
I have been following the little one’s trail for some time now… and, it can be said that I have become considerably more certain that the child does not know what it is doing.
Traveling by foot on the ground, where all the poisonous things and predators are, instead of the canopy; Foraging poisonous plants and eating inedible, sour fruits; Frustrating attempts to craft items I cannot even begin to recognize; The most inefficient way to climb a tree I have ever witnessed, rows of bone sticking out of perfectly climbable tree… I wonder how they are still alive.
Unfortunately… It seems the child is heading directly towards one of the Titanbark trees, the one in which a giant HiveReaper’s nest resides nonetheless… Dear gods, that is one of the most dangerous and lethal places in the forest! *sigh* This kid only keeps giving me more and more trouble… He begins to double his pace–
“rrrwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAGH!!!”
A distant, high-pitched roar echoes throughout the forest… A scream?
The rangers’ eyes widened. “Is that?!– *grunt*” He starts sprinting as fast as possible. A faint sheen covers him as he starts to reinforce his limbs with magic to reach maximum velocity. Becoming a blur, rapidly jumping from tree to tree, branch to branch. Hoping it is not too late…
…
*clash* ”AAAAAA–” *rip* ”–AAAAAAA!!!” *thump* ”HNRHAA!” *screech*
”F≈≈*** **≈≈**≈!!!” *tear* ”EI!” *crack* ...
I hear the sounds of battle amidst angry shouting. The child is here! Why is it fighting them!? The spiders are too numerous and always travel in groups.
“*huff* *huff* *huff*” A silence permeates the area as the battle ceases. The sounds of small, laborious gasps are the only thing left. There is still time. Hurry!
Quickly descending onto the ground and breaking through the overgrowth of plants, cutting them left and right as he carves the way forward.
The ranger finally meets… her.
The child is standing still, a stick and a disembodied talon in her hands. atop a mountain of HiveReapers… the sheer number is overwhelming. Cold sweat runs down his back, hesitating for a moment as he takes in the scene. Did… did she do this?
She loses her balance, taking unsteady steps and falling down as he observes from afar. *THUD*
Waking me out of my stupor. “Oi!– hold on!!”
He dashes over to her side, admonishing himself for my hesitation. Getting closer and crouching over her body, inspecting her condition. Dear gods, how was she still standing?! Looking her up and down, seeing numerous gashes, bruises, cuts, and holes in her body, thick blood seeping out and covering everything… Is she… SHE’S NAKED?!
He quickly averted his gaze to preserve her dignity… Argh, This is inevitable, I must treat her. Immediately. The man promptly carries the child to a safer location carefully. The cracking sound of carapaces as he walks over the mass of corpses… they settle down inside a crevice amongst the root of the trees, small rays of light illuminating the area.
While doing the best of his abilities to suture and bandage the wounds, cleaning and stabilizing her condition, He couldn’t help but further examine her… exotic, features. Long ears, like an elf; Streaked black horns; A long, dark tail with a dark red sheen; Dark green hair, almost black; A tuft of misplaced hair on top of her head… curiously, he reaches out to inspect it. It is soft. It is… an ear? Turning the appendage over I notice cartilage under it.
There are many different races outside the boundaries of the great forest. Tales from the elders and returning travelers returning to the village describe them in detail. But…
“Who are you? Little one?” He says, caressing her head… wait.
He takes a closer look at her face, wiping the grime and dirt more thoroughly. Discovering a small, pretty face.
A face that resembles the bloodlines of his village… A little too much.
Observing, the ranger sees within her traces of the people he lives with, traces of his aunts, of the elders, his far-off cousins, traces of… himself. What?... How?... Why?... After the incident, every single person was accounted for and unharmed… No one in the village has such traits as her… unless… Furrowing his brows, he thinks. Recalls.
No… It can’t be…
Terrible realization dawns upon him.
Was this the reason why that despicable fiend assaulted and robbed us as we slept?! What sort of unholy things has that witch done!? Dear gods, this is madness… Only that witch’s twisted mind could comprehend the reason for ruining another’s life, taking them away from their family, only to abandon it. He angrily clutches his hands and strikes the ground, gazing down at her with sadness.
This poor child... Left to die and rot, alone.
The man could not fathom the witch’s goals, nor the reason why the child resembled his family so much. He ponders. Is this kid’s appearance here because of a kidnapping from somewhere else? Forced to endure transformations induced in her body, resulting in this appearance? The consequences of an unknown spell or ritual? He did not know, only time and careful investigation could tell.
Regardless, no child in this world deserves what this little one had to endure.
And, as unfortunate and strange as her origins may be… I shall abide by my vows as a ranger and the way of my–
He looks down at her. His gaze filled with pity. A worried, forlorn expression on his face. The child had nowhere to go, he assumed. So, then and there, he decided.
…our home.
We do not abandon family.
——— –– –– -- - -