The nights that led to Trystan’s return to the Forest of Larun were fitful for the young wayfarer. He had failed to find the Willow Druid on the previous venture through the suffocating, ancient woodlands that seemed to defy the expansion of the industrializing efforts of the Sokaran kingdom. On the day they skirted the edge of the forest, the skilled archer froze in his tracks. At first, the priestess hadn’t noticed anything amiss as she strode on ahead. Hector, however, was all too aware of the shift in Trystan’s composure. The rogue paused, turned, tilted his head, and leaned to the side before calling out, “Ysolt, is Trystan alright?” The other man’s face was as pale as a ghost as his brilliant green eyes gazed on in silent terror.
The woman stopped in her steps and peered over her shoulder to assess what Hector meant. Her dark lips frowned as she returned to her companions. “Must be Forest of Larun,” she answered as she approached. “Difficult to navigate.” That statement made the blond rogue gulp before he tentatively reached out to grip Trystan’s shoulder. “We can stop here for the day,” he suggested with a weak smile, his voice squeaking in a failed attempt to console the more rugged male. “No,” Ysolt insisted. She intruded on Trystan’s personal space by placing the palms of her hands against the sides of his face and redirecting his gaze to meet her intense teal eyes. “You better than earlier,” she stated directly to the wayfarer, her voice stern and supportive. “You do find Willow Druid.”
“Willow Druid?” Hector raised a brow as he questioned what Ysolt meant by that. The priestess tapped the oak staff Trystan had been using all throughout their travels. “Oak Staff from Oak Druid. Deliver to Willow Druid. Then return,” she explained concisely, which gradually pulled the wayfarer out of his innermost thoughts. Closing his eyes, he gently shook his head before nodding in agreement with the dark woman standing before him. “The druids of the Isle of Druids asked me to complete this task,” he elaborated further. “They helped me after I arrived shipwrecked. I owe it to them to find the Willow Druid and return with whatever she gives me for the Oak Staff.”
The short rogue listened and lowered his gaze as he considered what that meant. “Then what? Will you return to the druids and settle there?” Hector asked, unsure as to what that meant for him and the priestess. Ysolt, however, just laughed loudly at the notion. “Trystan blessed! Destined for greatness, not settle,” she interjected before the taller man had a chance to answer. “We still need to rescue that thunder god, too,” Trystan pointed out, patting his pack where the climbing gear they purchased was stored. “Rescue what?!” Hector was a little shocked to learn about that specific quest. Ysolt decided to fill him in on that job while they followed after the wayfarer. Trystan needed to complete this quest, or else he’d forever feel as though he failed the Oak Druid and his kin.
SCOUTING DIFFICULTY – 12
Trystan’s Scouting Score: 9 + 5 + 1 = 15 – PASSED!
The sun began to set when the trio arrived on the edge of a beautiful glade. Birds sang out to welcome the coming night as deer, rabbits, and other critters seemed undisturbed by the sudden appearance of the human travelers. Ysolt crouched to the ground and ran her fingers through the tall grass. “Sacred grove,” she warned her companions, and suggested they skirt along the edge for now. Even in the dimming light, it was not hard to tell that there was a willow tree of a primal essence growing strong in the center of the glade. As they walked along the edge and rounded the tree, Trystan noticed a shift in the bark of its trunk, though he wasn’t sure if the light, the swaying leaves and branches, or some magic was playing tricks on him. He was forced to ask, “Do either of you see a door?”
Three sets of eyes narrowed momentarily before Ysolt and Hector agreed. “Maybe your Willow Druid lives in there,” the rogue suggested. “Wait here,” Trystan insisted, gripping the oak staff firmly as he made his way to the tree to confirm their suspicions. The priestess bit her lower lip, fearing that he might not be spiritually worthy. Being blessed did not make one holy or immune to sanctity wards!
SANCTITY DIFFICULTY – 9
The sun began to set when the trio arrived on the edge of a beautiful glade. Birds sang out to welcome the coming night as deer, rabbits, and other critters seemed undisturbed by the sudden appearance of the human travelers. Ysolt crouched to the ground and ran her fingers through the tall grass. “Sacred grove,” she warned her companions, and suggested they skirt along the edge for now. Even in the dimming light, it was not hard to tell that there was a willow tree of a primal essence growing strong in the center of the glade. As they walked along the edge and rounded the tree, Trystan noticed a shift in the bark of its trunk, though he wasn’t sure if the light, the swaying leaves and branches, or some magic was playing tricks on him. He was forced to ask, “Do either of you see a door?”
Three sets of eyes narrowed momentarily before Ysolt and Hector agreed. “Maybe your Willow Druid lives in there,” the rogue suggested. “Wait here,” Trystan insisted, gripping the oak staff firmly as he made his way to the tree to confirm their suspicions. The priestess bit her lower lip, fearing that he might not be spiritually worthy. Being blessed did not make one holy or immune to sanctity wards!
SANCTITY DIFFICULTY – 9
Trystan’s Sanctity Score: 3 + 5 + 6 = 14 – PASSED!
The priestess felt the air pulsate around them as Trystan passed through the veil of willow leaves and branches, and subsequently through the sanctity ward. Her heart skipped a beat, and she collapsed to the ground as her knees buckled with weakness. Looking back and forth between the wayfarer and Ysolt, Hector immediately grew concerned over her dramatic fall. He crouched down next to her and asked, “Are you alright?” Concern painted his discolored face as he wondered if he should call for Trystan to come back. Panting with relief, the woman with the vibrant teal eyes looked up to the man beside her. Raising her arm, she tucked her hand into his cowl and tenderly cupped his cheek. “All well. Trystan blessed,” she croaked, her eyes welling with tears as her overwhelming concern was washed away by the protective spell that encased the glade. “But you’re crying,” Hector said, confused by the way Ysolt was acting.
Within the encompassing curtain of the willow tree, the world around the wayfarer transformed into an enchanted scene of fireflies dancing whimsically through the air, cicadas singing, and numerous animals nesting beneath the sacred tree's shelter. There was indeed a door set within the massive trunk, which Trystan knocked on three times. Moments later, the door opened with a low groan as a tenderly old woman with silver-white hair billowing about her small frame, wearing layers of worn fabric tied together with an apron, stepped out. “Tis a bit late for visitors,” she commented as her voice cracked with age and overuse. “Who might this handsome fellow before me be, and what are you doing here at this hour?” She grew just a little cheeky once she finished sizing up the wayfarer.
His freckles faded as his cheeks deepened in an unexpected blush. “Uh,” what did she just call him? Handsome? Why did she call him handsome? The young man blinked for a moment, trying to remember why he was there before he finally realized he still needed to answer her! “M-my name is Trystan,” he stammered. “The Oak Druid and his kin took care of me at the City of Trees.” He then held the oak staff out to her to examine. “He requested that I deliver this to you, the Willow Druid,” he said, without confirming that she was indeed the druid he was looking for.
Her silver eyebrows rose as she looked from him to the staff, then back up to him. The elderly woman then smiled kindly. “Of course, you have not failed him,” the Willow Druid said reassuringly. “How about you come in? I’ll fix you a bowl of stew, and you can rest your weary bones for the night,” she offered, opening the door further as her eyes scanned the carvings on the oaken wood, murmuring the word ‘Interesting’ as she did so. “I’m not traveling alone,” he responded, unsure if he could accept her offer. Raising her eyes to meet his once more, she leaned her head to the side to gaze past him. Through the veil of leaves, she saw the priestess of Maka weeping with relief while the rogue looked increasingly worried over the woman’s sanity.
“Come, come,” the Willow Druid chirped as she hobbled out from her doorstep and used the staff to open the willow tree’s curtain. Trystan followed after her as she had bid, and watched as she waved to the pair at the edge of the grove. “Come! Come! Eat and rest! You shall be safe,” she called out to Hector and Ysolt. The priestess looked completely stunned as she felt a momentary ripple in the sanctity magic. The Willow Druid was inviting them and promised that the ward would not harm them. “Quickly!” Ysolt said, using her staff and Hector’s offered arm as support while she regained her footing.
The Willow Druid offered the trio a hearty beet-and-root stew, along with some toasted black bread drizzled with butter and honey. Dessert included candied nuts and fruits. They talked about their travels, which made the old woman giggle with delight. “Adventuring! Such a delight for younger folk such as yourselves,” she cooed affectionately, pinching Trystan’s cheek unexpectedly, which caused the priestess to snort at the way he blushed.
They each slept in separate rooms within the spacious willow tree. The beds were comfortable, the blankets warm, and the sense of peace in the quiet evening lulled them to sleep. Nightmares did not plague them, and they felt more refreshed than the last time either one of them slept at an inn. After making sure their rations were not lacking, the Willow Druid handed a willow staff and a pouch of 50 shards to Trystan. “Please return to the City of Trees for me and give this to the Oak Druid. He will certainly reward you for a job well done,” she said warmly and pinched his cheek once more. The party thanked her for her generous hospitality, and with the aid of Trystan’s gold compass, they headed south and eventually found their way out of the Larun Forest.
The priestess felt the air pulsate around them as Trystan passed through the veil of willow leaves and branches, and subsequently through the sanctity ward. Her heart skipped a beat, and she collapsed to the ground as her knees buckled with weakness. Looking back and forth between the wayfarer and Ysolt, Hector immediately grew concerned over her dramatic fall. He crouched down next to her and asked, “Are you alright?” Concern painted his discolored face as he wondered if he should call for Trystan to come back. Panting with relief, the woman with the vibrant teal eyes looked up to the man beside her. Raising her arm, she tucked her hand into his cowl and tenderly cupped his cheek. “All well. Trystan blessed,” she croaked, her eyes welling with tears as her overwhelming concern was washed away by the protective spell that encased the glade. “But you’re crying,” Hector said, confused by the way Ysolt was acting.
Within the encompassing curtain of the willow tree, the world around the wayfarer transformed into an enchanted scene of fireflies dancing whimsically through the air, cicadas singing, and numerous animals nesting beneath the sacred tree's shelter. There was indeed a door set within the massive trunk, which Trystan knocked on three times. Moments later, the door opened with a low groan as a tenderly old woman with silver-white hair billowing about her small frame, wearing layers of worn fabric tied together with an apron, stepped out. “Tis a bit late for visitors,” she commented as her voice cracked with age and overuse. “Who might this handsome fellow before me be, and what are you doing here at this hour?” She grew just a little cheeky once she finished sizing up the wayfarer.
His freckles faded as his cheeks deepened in an unexpected blush. “Uh,” what did she just call him? Handsome? Why did she call him handsome? The young man blinked for a moment, trying to remember why he was there before he finally realized he still needed to answer her! “M-my name is Trystan,” he stammered. “The Oak Druid and his kin took care of me at the City of Trees.” He then held the oak staff out to her to examine. “He requested that I deliver this to you, the Willow Druid,” he said, without confirming that she was indeed the druid he was looking for.
Her silver eyebrows rose as she looked from him to the staff, then back up to him. The elderly woman then smiled kindly. “Of course, you have not failed him,” the Willow Druid said reassuringly. “How about you come in? I’ll fix you a bowl of stew, and you can rest your weary bones for the night,” she offered, opening the door further as her eyes scanned the carvings on the oaken wood, murmuring the word ‘Interesting’ as she did so. “I’m not traveling alone,” he responded, unsure if he could accept her offer. Raising her eyes to meet his once more, she leaned her head to the side to gaze past him. Through the veil of leaves, she saw the priestess of Maka weeping with relief while the rogue looked increasingly worried over the woman’s sanity.
“Come, come,” the Willow Druid chirped as she hobbled out from her doorstep and used the staff to open the willow tree’s curtain. Trystan followed after her as she had bid, and watched as she waved to the pair at the edge of the grove. “Come! Come! Eat and rest! You shall be safe,” she called out to Hector and Ysolt. The priestess looked completely stunned as she felt a momentary ripple in the sanctity magic. The Willow Druid was inviting them and promised that the ward would not harm them. “Quickly!” Ysolt said, using her staff and Hector’s offered arm as support while she regained her footing.
The Willow Druid offered the trio a hearty beet-and-root stew, along with some toasted black bread drizzled with butter and honey. Dessert included candied nuts and fruits. They talked about their travels, which made the old woman giggle with delight. “Adventuring! Such a delight for younger folk such as yourselves,” she cooed affectionately, pinching Trystan’s cheek unexpectedly, which caused the priestess to snort at the way he blushed.
They each slept in separate rooms within the spacious willow tree. The beds were comfortable, the blankets warm, and the sense of peace in the quiet evening lulled them to sleep. Nightmares did not plague them, and they felt more refreshed than the last time either one of them slept at an inn. After making sure their rations were not lacking, the Willow Druid handed a willow staff and a pouch of 50 shards to Trystan. “Please return to the City of Trees for me and give this to the Oak Druid. He will certainly reward you for a job well done,” she said warmly and pinched his cheek once more. The party thanked her for her generous hospitality, and with the aid of Trystan’s gold compass, they headed south and eventually found their way out of the Larun Forest.
Name: Trystan Afon
Profession: Wayfarer
God: -none-
Rank: 1
Defense: 9
Charisma: 2
Combat: 5
Magic: 2
Sanctity: 3
Scouting: 9
Thievery: 4
Stamina: Max – 9/Current - 9
Money: 207 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Sword, Chainmail ( Defense +3 ), Bow/Quiver of Arrows, Map, Willow Staff, Gold Compass ( Scouting +2 ), Magic Chest, 6 Smoulder Fish,
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast
Blessings: -none-
Profession: Wayfarer
God: -none-
Rank: 1
Defense: 9
Charisma: 2
Combat: 5
Magic: 2
Sanctity: 3
Scouting: 9
Thievery: 4
Stamina: Max – 9/Current - 9
Money: 207 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Sword, Chainmail ( Defense +3 ), Bow/Quiver of Arrows, Map, Willow Staff, Gold Compass ( Scouting +2 ), Magic Chest, 6 Smoulder Fish,
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast
Blessings: -none-
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