Gladil

Drow. Although hate for the elf’s darker skinned cousins had been ingrained into Gladil from a young age, he found himself able to act civilly towards the two he’d run into in Annahmia. He knew, from years of listening to his parents and elders as well as extensive lessons as a child, that the drow were a dark aberration of his people, and therefore could not be trusted.

At least, that is what the little voice in the back of his head screamed whenever he saw either of the sisters walking around this little town. In the last one hundred years since his forced pilgrimage, as he’d taken to calling it, he’d had a lot of time to reflect on the teachings of the elders and the word of the so-called ‘high-elves’. He knew now that the majority of his people who still lived in Lýswood, or as the humans called it The Elven Forest, were brainwashed by the elders. They were taught hate and arrogance, rather than peace and love.

Gladil was once a scout for the elvish army, renowned for his ability to sense changes in ambient mana that usually indicated cloaking spells or large-scale magic attacks charging. He’d spent seventy years in the army, following the words of his elders and commanders to secure peace for the elvish people from the humans. The things he’d done in the word of his god, or rather his former god, kept him awake many nights.

After a particularly bad battle in which the elves slaughtered many women and children under the guise that they were hiding weapons and soldiers, Gladil finally worked up the courage to desert. He’d long since questioned the word of the high-elves who claimed to speak for Aslsa, a nature goddess who was the impromptu goddess of elvenkind and mother of Lýswood.

He fled home, the image of a young human girl’s face seared into the back of his eyelids, peppered with elven arrows and half burnt to a crisp, ready to demand answers from the high elves who he’d never even met. How could any Goddess demand that they attack a defenseless border village? Literally defenseless. There was not a single soldier stationed in the small farming community that his troop had been ordered to wipe out, but that did not stop the commanders from ordering an execution of every human anyways.

He was found sneaking into the inner-sanctum, where the high elves dwelled, and forced to flee once more before confronting their high priest. As he approached that sacred ground where the common wood elves were forbidden, however, he felt the thrumming energy of an enchanted wood more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He felt his Goddess’ presence within those woods, confined to their inner-sanctum, and knew that Aslsa must have plotted with the high elves in their war on the humans. So, he fled before being captured a hundred years ago and started his pilgrimage.

It all brought him back to here, on the edge of the newly found and yet to be named forest south of Annahmia. He’d joined the ranger’s guild in hope of finding another colony of elves someday or another nature god for his people to follow. Really, he just wanted a chance to redeem himself for all the evil he did in the name of the high elves. Then one day he’d found a chance for salvation, and he would start by redeeming the soul of the wayward elf with him. Unfortunately, he had failed Echil, leaving him behind and allowing him to die to his greed.

As he stood here waiting for the sunrise over his promised land, Gladil could almost swear he still felt Echil there with him. He could feel the lust, the ever present and almost tangible leering that he always felt when he was around the young thief. In particular, Gladil’s attention was focused on one of the willow trees off to the right of the path. For an indeterminate amount of time the elf found his attention fastened to the tree and would almost swear he could see the low hanging branches of the droopy tree slowly reaching closer to him.

Then, as the sun rose, Gladil was finally freed from the grasp that the willow had on his mind. Deep within the forest he could feel an energy building up, one that felt very much like the presence he felt a hundred years back in him homeland. The presence of a tangible power, the influence of a god. Once again, he was transfixed, and gazed into the forest. As he was rooted to the spot, he felt the power crescendo and his chest felt tighter. This was all that he’d hoped for.

So, when finally, he felt the power that had been building up ease off, he took a deep breath and an even deeper step forward into the forest. One long step for elfkind, and one longer step toward his destiny.

The forest had changed entirely since last Gladil had been there. Already he could feel a nagging sensation in the back of his head trying to confine him to the beaten path, unlike last time when he and Echil had just run through the brush to the center of the forest. After he spared a quick glance into the treeline and saw the excessive scrub and movement, he figured it was probably for the best anyways.

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When he’d first made his report to the ranger’s guild about what he found here, most of them either wrote off his claim of an enchanted forest or ignored it entirely after the word dungeon had been mentioned. Gladil would love to see the look on their faces if they traveled the same path he now did and saw the massive oaks that towered over him, oaks that had not been there even two months ago.

The path Gladil followed twisted and turned a bit and as he followed it he observed a plethora of flowers, bushes, and even herbs that did not naturally occur in the wild plains. Deep into the woods he even thought he might have spotted corn at a distance, but that would be too ridiculous, so he put that out of mind. It was not too long until he emerged from the thicket into the first glade.

It was a fairly large area that was mostly clear of trees, save two tropical looking trees that were usually found much farther south and a small grouping of fruit trees. If he had to guess he would say they were teak trees, but somehow five times larger around than they usually were. He took a brief break to snack on some wild carrots that were growing in the clearing, he’d not eaten breakfast before going on his walk. While he was sitting there he even saw one of the small dog-sized hedgehogs he’d been told about.

The little creature was shuffling about the boundaries of the clearing, foraging for bugs from the looks of it. After a particularly crunchy bite of the carrot, the hedgehog looked up and noticed Gladil, inspiring it to promptly turn around and amble back off into the thick brush where it rapidly became harder to spot.

Needing little else in the terms of motivation, the elf finished off his quick snack before finding the next trail and following it. He spent more than a couple hours following the trail deeper, from clearing to clearing trying to find the hill with the sacred tree. This wasn’t his plan for the morning but after feeling that powerful nature energy at dawn, he felt motivated to investigate it. From time to time the elf would look off into the brush, where the forest did not want him to travel, just to observe changes as he got deeper. There was colorful ivy he had never seen before, thick brambles on bushes he did not recognize, and even a boar that probably weighed upwards of 400 kilograms. After being huffed at by that monster of a pig Gladil stopped being as nosey and picked his step up a little bit.

A few hours later he finally exited into what he was told was the final clearing. The large hill looked much the same, but the tree was different. Scratch that, trees. Around the hill were four blue-tinted metallic-looking trees. He went up to investigate one of them and found the ground scattered with greenish blue walnuts. These must be what the locals were referring to as coppernuts. A smile crossed the renegade elf’s face, the forest was commiserating Echil through an act of nature. There was no greater honor for a dead elf.

Finally he ascended the hill to observe the new tree that stood there. It was not the powerful feeling ash tree from the last time he was here, but yet another metallic tree, this one tinted silver. To Glafil, it made perfect sense for the nature god or goddess to move their vessel deeper into their domain for protection, and he was thankful that they left this obviously holy connected tree here for prayers. The tree seemed to be a fruit tree, judging by its thinner trunk, and was literally ingrained with processed looking silver rather than the ore like the copper trees were.

Unsure how to proceed, Gladil decided to just meditate like he had the first time he entered this clearing not so long ago. He spent a few hours with his eyes closed, trying to tune himself in with nature, underneath the bough of the holy tree. When finally he opened his eyes again the sun was nearly over head. Speaking of overhead, there was something else above him now too. Two somethings.

First was a flower that had begun growing into a fruit, a fruit that glimmered in the sunlight and promised eternal happiness. Above that, on the branch, was a strange looking hedgehog with quills around its eyes and longer legs than its kin.

“Hello there, denizen of the forest. Are you a messenger for the spirit who lives here?” It never hurt to be respectful in a forest, you did not know what power the creatures there wielded. Rather than a verbal reply, which was unexpected but still a little disappointing to the elf, the hedgehog tilted his head to the left as if considering his worlds. It then pointed to the right.

“I don’t understand. There is nothing over there but more trees.” Almost as he finished speaking he heard a light creaking and his eyes snapped back to the treeline from the hedgehog. Before his eyes a new path was opening, showing him the way deeper into the forest. Deeper than any had traversed so far.

Gladil approached the new path that had opened in the trees slowly, savoring the moment. He knew there was something special about this forest, that it wasn’t just an explosive growth from ambient dungeon mana below it like others had suggested it. He was going to finally have the chance to prove it to everyone as well. The god or goddess who made this forest their home had chosen him as a speaker, and he was going to do the job well.

As he finally got to the path, the wind picked up. Gladil took a second to realize that the breeze shouldn't be this strong, so close to the tree line, and that the breeze was seemingly coming from the trees themselves. After that brief second, he started to doubt his approach and considered backing off, then he heard it.

A gentle whispering on the wind, so silent it may have been his own imagination. An ethereal voice, with a message just for him.

‘The first trial.’