Wildlands Unleashed

Rain fell gently on a canopy of needles and leaves. They dripped their wetness onto the ground. Water mixed with soil and bled a burst of scents into the air. Vibrant and urgent enough to summon me from slumber. The moon stretched between the clouds overhead to see the commotion below. It's light passed over my brow. This old forest had been steady for ages. What brought it such unease now?

Voices echoed in the forest. Shouts and cries. Perhaps the forest did not wake me but something on the horizon. Branches cracked and feet pounded. The voices were not a dream. There they were, on the next ridge. Shadows at this distance, dancing between trees, bushes, and stone.

Two slim figures raced along the stones ahead of a third. The third turned as arrows sunk into his shield. He was larger than many of the stones. Stories swirled in my imagination. A protector that drove his charges forward, away from danger.

The others each carried something. Were they thieves? One had a bag. It bounced unevenly, filled with mix-matched shapes that clanged in the dark. Underground passageways cut through the terrain here. Buried hallways, roads, and squares from something that came before made the ground more like a sponge than the thick stone it should be. Treasure hidden below could draw many into its embrace. Many had, in fact, been traveling into the forest lately.

Of the three the last figure spoke no words and his shape was wrong. A friend once shared a story, in troubleshooting laid the fountain of creativity. Perhaps it's not one but two. The third figure - a man carried an animal on his back. Was the animal hurt?

Past stories could not that satisfy curiousity. Old joints twisted and cracked, their mobility returned with tremendous will. Bone and muscle pumped and stepped forward. Eyes strained for a closer look. Tell me forest, is it hurt?

When it did speak, the forest filled with whispers and patterns. The leaves rustling into whispers, a change in the water bouncing down a stream, or a small vibration in the ground. It spoke to all the same and only revealed itself with patience. Tonight it broke it's rules.

"Save my children," echoed in my mind as clearly as the voices on the ridge.

Behind the three figures a swarm of shadows chirped and whooped. The thunk of arrows into trees became louder than the rain. And hurt. I felt them and staggered back to my tree. The forest stood in the way of many arrows.

Lavani in armor by Hal Foster

The bark under my hand groaned and shifted. The untrained eye does not see the pores that expand and contract on the trees. Tiny movements that start a wave. We needed a deep breath to send a message.

I could not reach the children but roots touch roots and stretch across the forest floor. One breath followed another, messages flowed like the wetness into the ground. The forest exhaled. Mists gathered under the leaves filling the valleys and overflowed across the ridge. Roots stretched ever so slightly.

The swarm of chirps and whoops tumbled and turned. The path to their quarry became obscured. The excitement of the chase fell into worry. Calls for help replaced the whoops of pursuit.

Lightning flashed overhead followed by a rolling thunder as the forest flexed.

A rhythmic clapping continued behind my tree as the thunder faded. A small man, covered in a black, thick, ichor-smelling robe applauded. Beside him wolves growled. Each held a viscious wound and should not have been standing. Their eyes fixed on me and it was clear they were not quite dead or alive.

"What a dramatic performance, my dear. And while I may lose my quarry temporarily, it seems I have stumbled upon something far greater." The necromancer finished his speech with a flick of the wrist, sending the wolves foward.