Days passed, one after the other, each feeling busier than the last, for there was a lot to be done, even with all the helping hands that the kobolds provided. The exact number of them Chance found hard to count, for they were rarely still enough at any given moment to do so, but there were forty of them at least, and all of them needed a place to stay, to sleep, not to mention needing to be fed. Even with the fish that the pool provided, with Shags hunting out in the forest and foraging for fruit and nuts, herbs and vegetables, it was not sustainable for the long term, especially when winter arrived.
And so Chance found himself busy, more than he had ever been in his life. There was supervision to be done, helping out where needed, not to mention tasks that only he could undertake. His decision to head off, out into the wider world, kept being delayed further and further.
The kobolds did their best, but they were impulsive, flighty creatures at the best of times, despite their enthusiasm, and they were ever coming and going, leaving jobs half done, exploring and seeking and having fun. It took all of Yrip’s efforts, and Snarl’s as well, to keep them on track. The large gnoll had more or less taken over the running of the camp, and the kobolds' antics were the bane of his existence.
Chance himself tried not to take too active a role in that regard. He had told the leaders of the kobolds that he was not going to be their master, and so he didn’t want to act like one, leaving it instead to Yrip and the increasingly frazzled Snarl.
Lumber was brought in from the forest, requiring whole teams of kobolds to drag when Chance himself or Snarl was not available, and a sizeable pile of it grew up for use as building material. With it, Chance began to build simple log cabins. Some were inside the cave, among the trees and bushes nearby to the cave, while others were in the cleared space outside of it, near the entrance, to be used for housing and storage. He was the only one with any real crafting skill, and all of that he had inherited from Craghand, so it fell to him to largely build them by himself, with limited help. It had been a strange feeling at the start, as he himself had no understanding of what he was doing, but the knowledge was there in him and guided him forward.
That was not all that he found himself doing either. Garden plots had to be established around the camp, with beds marked out and dug up before planting could commence. They established leek and onion, radish, turnips, herbs and various other plants in it that they had foraged from the forest. The elderly kobold, Anyar, largely took over the running and care of the gardens.
Despite his insistence that he was nothing more than a shaman, Anyar seemed to become more and more like a druid, with Chance’s help and assistance. Limited as it was. It was just one more thing to do, as the days rolled on, into weeks.
The garden flourished, and while Chance had little to do with it, he did at least encourage its growth through the use of the Rejuvenate Land power that was bound to his staff, hastening the growth of the plants. And when he wasn’t using the power on that, he was out elsewhere using it, to help the forest regrow where they were taking lumber from, or the scarred patches left behind by the dragon’s fall and the continuing care for the hills that had been left bare and dead by the undead presence.
At the end of each day, he simply ate and fell asleep in his new cabin. He hadn’t even had a chance to furnish it, and he simply lay on his bedding on the floor. It was exhausting, working from dawn to dusk without break each day, with little time to even think.
But progress was being made, and the small camp they had established grew and flourished, to the point where at last he felt it was sufficient enough for him to leave, to head out. It had taken numerous weeks to reach that point, and the seasons had turned, heading into autumn. The leaves of the trees were beginning to reflect that, gradually shedding their coats of green for the bright coloured ones of reds and golds and more.
Before he could leave, though, there was one more thing that he had to do, something that had been nagging away at his thoughts for a while, and it had to do with the focal point of Azval Stalvaq, the source of druidic power in the region. He had cleared the minions of the dragon in the region, as required, making it safe and secure, and had established himself there, but the last part, or restoring the focal point, had eluded him. He didn’t even know what it was, let alone how to fix it.
Settling down in his cabin, as far from the noise and chaos as he could get, Chance began to focus his thoughts inwards, reaching in towards the core that was Craghand that resided there.
Yer still here, laddie, the dwarf observed. Thought ye wanted ta get out there into tha world.
It will happen. Eventually, Chance responded. There has been a lot to get done first.
He heard a snort coming from the dwarf. Think ye that tha kobolds will appreciate yer efforts? It be a worthy goal, but kobolds be kobolds. They will forget soon enough and wander off again.
You don’t have enough faith in them, Chance said. That was not what I wished to speak of, though. You know more of the druidic arts than I do, having been trained for it. I am simply learning as I go. I want to know of the focal point that is here and that needs to be restored, and I had hoped that you could tell me what you know of it.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Is tha all ye wanted to know? Tis part of a druid’s basic training, but as ye say, ye never went through it. There are places in the deep wilds of tha world, where tha forces of nature be at their most powerful. Druids draw their power from tha primal parts of tha world, and tha focal points boost even tha power to greater heights.
And what does such a point look like? Chance inquired.
Well, it could be any number of things, ye ken? Natural in form, but prominent.
Like a large pool of water?
Aye, it could very well be so.
Chance nodded, opened his eyes and stood up. Gathering up his staff, the Heartsong of Azval Stalvaq, he headed back out of the cabin and into the chaos of the kobolds. Snarl was trying to prepare a meal, with the help of a couple of the kobolds, but their aid seemed almost more detrimental than helpful, and Snarl was barking and snapping at them in an effort to get them to co-operate.
With a faint smile, Chance left him at it and headed for the shore of the pool of water that bubbled up in the heart of the cave, pushing his way through the bushes and ferns that clustered around it. He had always known that there was something unusual about it, ever since the first taste of it he had taken that had sent a jolt of energy through him, not to mention the near never-ending supply of fish that came from it. Had the focal point been staring at him the whole time and he hadn’t realised it? If not, then he wasn’t alone in that, for the dragon had evidently not realised it either; that, or he had been unable to unlock its secrets.
He reached the edge of the water, nearby to a number of cabins that some of the kobolds shared. A couple of them were busy sweeping around the cabins, a task that Snarl had been very adamant about being done every day, and while the gnoll was normally a cheerful type, he could be rather intimidating when he set his mind to it.
Chance took the staff in both hands and set the end of it down in the water. Voraak Vara. He whispered the words and unleashed the power that was contained within the staff, channelling it towards the pool. As before, energy flowed forth from the staff, yet this time it had a different aspect to it, as it didn’t ripple out across the land, to renew it, but instead settled upon the surface of the pool itself.
The waters bubbled in response, and then from the pool came a clear ringing sound, like that of a delicate gong. The waters began to glow, a vibrant, almost luminescent, blue. Strands of energy rose from the pool, twisting up around the staff that Chance held and then about him, embracing him.
The peculiar surge that he had experienced when drinking the water of the pool came to him again, though magnified tenfold this time. His whole body was on edge, tinging from it, almost shaking as he coursed through his blood.
Focal Point Attunement: Azval Stalvaq
You have renewed and restored the focal point of Azval Stalvaq, and attuned yourself to it. Its power is now yours, flowing through the earth to aid you and strengthen you for as long as you abide by the codes of the Druidic Conclave.
Bonus: +1 to All Stats
Bonus Power: Storm Call
Bonus Power: Shapeshifting, Basic.
He almost had to laugh at the way he had stumbled around since arriving, doing things the slow and hard way. It seemed obvious now that he was meant to have found the staff almost at the start, and then to use it to attune to the focal point, before starting to work on the camps. But then, doing things the wrong and hard way was very much the story of his life.
“Yrip, Shags, Snarl!” he called out, body still on a high from the feeling of the focal point’s energy infusing him.
The three made their way over to him, catching the sense of urgency in his voice.
“Is there something wrong?” Yrip asked, a concerned look on his face.
“Not at all,” Chance grinned. “The exact opposite in fact. We are done here.”
“Done?” Snarl asked.
“As in finished. All is ready, the loose ends tied up. We have prepared as best as we can for the Iyari to make a home here, taught them what they need. But it is time for us to move on, to venture forth. The world out there calls to us and I am going to head out there to shake it up.”
Snarl cackle-laughed. “About time. I was starting to go crazy trying to keep order around here. I need a break. I just hope that they don’t make too much of a mess while we are away.”
Chance laughed. “I am sure they will take good care of the place. So, are you with me on this?”
Where you go, I go, Shags responded.
“And the same for me,” Yrip added. “There are many more Iyari out there who need our help.”
Chance smiled at that. “I am not sure that we have room for all of them here. In the meantime, we need to prepare, to say our farewells, for tomorrow I mean to start our journey. And the demon had best be on its guard, for I am coming after it.”
Name: Chance Craghand
Race: Dwarf
Class: Druid (Aspirant rank)
Age: 47
Body: 3. Mind: 3 (+1). Soul: 4 (+1). Reaction: 1. Presence: 3. Perception: 1.
Affinities: Craft, Earth, Nature
Power Source: Primal
Powers: Stone Shot, Iron Skin, Nature’s Breeze, Grasping Roots, Earthsong of Azval Stalvaq, Firestarting, Mindspeech, Animal Companion, Stonesense, The Blessing of Qasari, Storm Call, Shapeshifting (Basic).
Milestones: 1
Achievements: 0