When Harold awoke he was feeling great, fully comfortable in fact. This was in stark contrast to the two companions he’d shared his night with.
Algernon was lying facedown on the ground, neck only moving from side to side for some reason; it seemed he was trying to catch Harold's eye once he heard the [Druid] stirring. “What did you give me, you bastard ape, I can’t bloody move!” He chirped.
Huh? What's his problem. Oh, right. Harold remembered, the owl had been in sore shape even before his long, rabid night of dancing. Funny, the [Druids] never mentioned that part. Maybe I zoned out by that point?
He looked back at Algernon who was still struggling to get up. It seemed his elevated mental state had allowed the bird to ignore the calls of distress from his already strained body. Now all the pain of that effort–which increased as he was doing every movement perfectly during his bout of focused dancing, ignoring any and all feeling of fatigue–all of it was finally coming home to roost… Hah. The [Druid] laid a trap. “What, you danced all night, don’t tell me you were not enjoying yourself. You were so into it–I’m gonna try ‘em for sure, it looked fun–they called them tipper-shrooms, did I mention?”
The owl only glared at that. He knew what came next if he kept up his complaints. “Oh, I take I can just keep the rest of the shrooms to myself then, since they're not your cuppa–”
Yada yada.
Algernon was still on the fence regarding this new, foul-tasting substance. It was unnatural, is what it was. For now he could not even move, so it was definitely leaning towards never touching the damned things again; in which case the [Druid] could spout off any threat he wanted, and blithely keep the poison to himself… Although, Algernon could all too readily recall his first experience with the magic honey. It had been similar at first, in that it was not that gratifying, nor even nearly the full experience until he came back into it for a 2nd go, fully prepared… This could potentially be the same, he certainly knew better what to expect now.
Roldy was still chuckling and soon walked across the camp site to give the little guy a boost with his [Regenerating Boon]. He charged him for a few solid minutes, after which the owl could start to move about again, albeit still stiffly–he still seemed to consider the experience a win in the end–and so was soon back to bantering with his Human dealer, and getting infected by the [Druid]’s good cheer against his will.
Their second companion Nicklas, on the other hand–who had actually woken up a few minutes before the [Druid] stirred–was still lying facedown, anxiously reconsidering his choices made last night. Which first made him question what kind of magic that owl was capable of. Didn't he mentioned something about mind affinity treasures to that thing last night? Which led him to considering how to explain all this to his cousin, who would now get stuck having to carry the burden of covering the flexible Aspirant-role on his own. He's gonna be pissed, worse than when I pissed in his bed without waking him. Which left Nicklas staring into space, seemingly lost.
As Harold was busy taking care of the owl, Nicklas tried getting up, only to collapse to his hind again; which was when he started rocking back and forth while softly whispering: “What the hell even is a nutcracker…?”
Only then did Harold notice him. Uhm. So, evidently something happened there too. Did he get into the shrooms while my back was turned? No. Thinking back, he’d definitely kept the funkies in his pocket all night. Eh, he must have entered a trance. The guy should be ready to talk about it in an hour or so if he needed healing–or a minute–depending on the severity of his aches. Best to leave it alone for now, in any case.
The rest of the camp including Hyde and the other cousin, should have been here to share breakfast–that they were not meant the three of them must have overslept. Looking around, some of the camp still remained but it seemed strangely emptied, but it wasn't a matter of them having been abandoned to recover on their own. The breakfast kettle was still hanging by the fire, and their three tents had not been taken down yet either, despite how they'd slept around the fire. When Harold looked around some more, he finally spotted their draft animals already lined up over by the road, ready to be packed with the last of their stuff.
When Roldy went and found their [Guild Master] was when he learned how the others had all spent their morning.
“There’s a goddamn ant infestation, and they’re huge too. The one saving grace is how they mostly seem busy fighting each other. They're just doing it all over us. The ones not protected by a horde of aggressive wasps anyway. Do you recognise the MO, at all?”
Livia was glaring at him, but that was nothing new and rather expected with the sun approaching noon. In fact she should probably cut back, lest the [Druid] build up a true immunity, but then he was not the actual source of her annoyance for once. “Yeah, your owl has been messing with the local Hives, and apparently brought them right next to the one good campsite. And he’s supposed to be clever?”
That was some pretty messed up news. Why would he do that, here? Sigh. The [Druid] gave her his best smile. “Oh, come now, how was I to know? It looked like a good site. And you know he's closer to Oscar than me these days. I mostly translate, but yeah. Our relationship is purely transactional," Livia did not looked like she was buying it one bit, so Harold did what he did best: kept talking. "He’s just a little buddy, really. And obviously he was probably bored to bits waiting around for us. Can you really blame him? And have we been getting bothered by any birds? Don’t forget how far from home he is, he's doing an alright job I'd say, and we’re moving on now anyway. No harm done, right?”
She tried to resist, but then glared again. The only reason the three of them who had slept by the fire were left unbothered to sleep through the morning when the ants had woken, of was because Roldy’s passive defenses, in the form of the superior insect... Unfortunately they had not been nearly as protective of the rest of the expedition’s tents, and Roldy had proven immune to waking to sound.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Whatever. Are you all up? We’re about to get moving,”
Right, right. Harold looked back to his downed partners-in-crime. “Give us five minutes. Is it still far to Sandall? You said we will get there tomorrow?”
“... Yeah, yesterday.” Harold looked at her uncomprehending. “Dude, we’ll get there today. Are you alright?”
Harold’s face turned goofy, and rather than answer he just waved an all clear and skipped back to the original camp. He was still feeling reinvigorated from being around all this nature affinity. He was simply engrossed in thought.
While Algernon had struggled coming to any insights during his trip, being far too busy following some inspired rhythm, Harold had only been observing for most of that time. Mostly pausing to provide the occasional drink and a top up of some regeneration when their drummer pushed it too far. After that he'd watched; and a while later even the [Druid] had started feeling like he could follow the pattern being spun in front of his eyes.
It was not even just the dance and the drums, but the glade as a whole. The leaves had started swaying, and the bird chirps had first gone quiet but then slowly entered back into the mix. The wind had stopped blowing, or rather seemed to be blowing around their little area somehow, and the flame had begun dancing in line with the tune.
It reminded Harold of his ride with the Prince of the forest. The magic beast had somehow tapped into the synchronicity to be found between forest meadows located miles apart, and used it for a Spell to affect his own position.
The young [Druid] realised slowly over the course of the night how this was in fact some method of achieving such a synchronicity. If Harold had a similar movement Spell, and he remained here while getting someone in a different location to play and dance the same way there; he had no doubt it would result in the Spell being able to activate and bring him across space at a fraction of the normal cost. This was valuable insight into magic that the [Druid] had long craved more exposure to, and all from the mere shenanigans of an intoxicated owl. I really should start to support him a bit more wholeheartedly in these trips of his, I'm pretty sure that's the lesson… Hah.
They packed up quickly, despite how Nicklas was barely able to lift his arms, and then the whole expedition got going at their usual pace soon after, finally whole again with their scout in the skies.
Livia was nice like that, there would be no pushing to compensate for the time they had missed. They already travelled at the optimal speed for longer distances–pushing faster would simply lead to having to go slower tomorrow–as everyone got drained from the ordeal, when it was followed by yet more travel instead of rest. If they planned to stop for long in Sandall, that’s when it might have been worth it to push ahead, but Livia had already made it clear: They would only be topping up on provisions, getting hold of the local rumours, maybe get some local seeds to plant or something, and that was it. They had considered hiring a local hunter to scout for them, but there was no telling who was trustworthy. Even if Humans rarely killed eachother, they still liked stealing. Only the full [Guild] members would be learning the full scope of the project their were building out there.
Sandall was the last true bastion of Humanity in this north-central part of Doc Forrest. There were mountainous regions bordering the shorelines to the west, but despite mining towns dotting the region it had no larger settlements outside of the coastal states, unless you came closer to Dormata.
Further north were the temporary settlements that all tried to make use of natural treasure troves popping up, and who relied on quick and easy fixes to most issues that came from being neighbours to the Cloven realms. The rumour was that it took quite some adjusting to.
So, Sandall was used to supplying settlers and expeditions–but it was not a place to go for quality craftsmanship or unaffiliated recruits. The most valuable goods were all sent south to be sold at auction, and the [Guilds] who attracted the most trustworthy recruits were largely absent.
Out here was a different sort of frontier. One that was historically safe from major war, and mere days away from the Human capital, but where you still struggled with all the competition that came along with living in a region suffused in more magic, and often stronger affinities among the fauna. Livia thought of it as a PvE zone, where the focus was avoiding predators and toxic plants rather than raids or passing Ogre 'Merchants'.
Mankind had far worse competitors than each other out here, yet people still took advantage of eachother. The benefits to getting rich enough to retire were just too tempting, in many cases–even if the most successful groups had at least some core of trust, it was usually from childhood relationships, which made it all but impossible for strangers to break in. The majority who still came here were desperate to get rich quick; with only the real native locals having a more long term approach to the frontier life.
Harold was ready to get competitive. He’d already grown to be a level 11 [Chaos Druid] in the past month, and he knew it was time to conquer a new land filled with new friends and rabid beasts alike.
But most of all, as far as Harold was concerned, it was time to find a fitting place to plant their kauri. Somewhere hidden.