Starting Date and Time: Vermillio 3rd, 300DM
Starting Location: Lessa Grove (Chartric Forest between Greenfall and Silent Rise)
CS URLs: Crann Aonair and GM.
It started with a smell. The vaulting Chartric Forest simmered under the warmth of the summer sun, the leaves glossy and shiny as they reflected the light, the golden beams full of lazily-floating motes that spiraled down to the forest floor to illuminate patches of green grass. Birds sang happily, their organic sound high and bright against a backdrop of skittering leaves where squirrels gamboled and deer picked their careful way through the hazy shadows. The woods teemed with life.
But then there was the smell. A smell like death on the wind. Death was a normal part of the forest, older and weaker animals or trees sinking down to the leaves at their end. But this smell did not go away. In fact, as days turned into weeks, it seemed to worsen, accompanying the wind from the west. Animals and birds grew more timid and fearful than usual, moving through the woods towards the east the way they might flee the encroachment of a village.
And it got worse. As the stink soured even further, the straggling beasts seemed to be infected with some sort of plague. Shrunken and dull, more vicious than usual, blinking glassily in the sunlight and wandering drunkenly, their bodies covered in oozing sores.
Jimmory approached the grove with a worried look on his horned brow, his goatlike tail wiggling nervously behind his furry legs. The faun peeked around a tree, watching for any sign of the dryad who watched over these parts.
"Crann? Are you here?" Of course part of her always was, the big oak tree reaching towards the sky. Jimmory stroked his goatee and eyed the old shrine, glad that he hadn't run into any humans trekking here to worship or meditate near it.
Starting Location: Lessa Grove (Chartric Forest between Greenfall and Silent Rise)
CS URLs: Crann Aonair and GM.
It started with a smell. The vaulting Chartric Forest simmered under the warmth of the summer sun, the leaves glossy and shiny as they reflected the light, the golden beams full of lazily-floating motes that spiraled down to the forest floor to illuminate patches of green grass. Birds sang happily, their organic sound high and bright against a backdrop of skittering leaves where squirrels gamboled and deer picked their careful way through the hazy shadows. The woods teemed with life.
But then there was the smell. A smell like death on the wind. Death was a normal part of the forest, older and weaker animals or trees sinking down to the leaves at their end. But this smell did not go away. In fact, as days turned into weeks, it seemed to worsen, accompanying the wind from the west. Animals and birds grew more timid and fearful than usual, moving through the woods towards the east the way they might flee the encroachment of a village.
And it got worse. As the stink soured even further, the straggling beasts seemed to be infected with some sort of plague. Shrunken and dull, more vicious than usual, blinking glassily in the sunlight and wandering drunkenly, their bodies covered in oozing sores.
Jimmory approached the grove with a worried look on his horned brow, his goatlike tail wiggling nervously behind his furry legs. The faun peeked around a tree, watching for any sign of the dryad who watched over these parts.
"Crann? Are you here?" Of course part of her always was, the big oak tree reaching towards the sky. Jimmory stroked his goatee and eyed the old shrine, glad that he hadn't run into any humans trekking here to worship or meditate near it.