The time spent with the druids of the isle was not wasted. Trystan helped prepare for the coming winter while learning and improving his scouting skills under their guidance. The trees of the island forest shifted from deep, lush greens to a fiery array of golds and reds, transitioning into autumn with the natural grace of routine change. The wayfarer was grateful for the time he spent under the druids’ guidance and care, but knew deep down that he could not stay much longer. He made a promise to the dark priestess, who insisted he was blessed, and to the mage and warrior who watched him leave the mainland. They trusted he would assist them in whatever endeavors that they couldn’t successfully accomplish in his absence. He wouldn't make them wait much longer.
During his time on the island, Trystan came to know the residents of the Trading Post. He was still a bit wary of the imposing mayor, but the priestess of Lucana, the goddess of wilderness, formed a strong bond with the druids of the City of the Trees. She often mediated between the Trading Post and the City of the Trees. Mostly to ensure that the mayor did not get too greedy with his lumber endeavors.
During this visit into town, he passed through to the wooded grove that made up Lacuna's shrine. The priestess, dressed in silken robes with a wreath of oak leaves adorning her head, turned from the low altar she had been tending to and smiled broadly at the ranger. “Trystan,” her voice practically sang as she reached out to greet the man who had quickly become a friend during his brief stay. He took her hand and gently squeezed it before letting go as she beckoned him to sit with her in the shade of the trees. “I have a favor to ask of you,” she said, her smile softening humbly. “What can I do for you?” Trystan asked without hesitation.
“There is a ritual I need to perform, but I am missing a key component,” the priestess explained discreetly, as there were many mysteries of the goddess that Lacuna did not wish to share with those who were not devoted to her. “Something from the mainland?” Trystan assumed aloud, and her smile brightened as she nodded. His astuteness was to be admired. “The tusk of a were-boar,” she said, though the bewilderment on the young wayfarer's face made her blush. “Yes, they do exist. They can be found in the Forest of the Forsaken, not far from the northern border between Sokara and Golnir,” she said, though she could not show him on a map.
“Any were-beast is dangerous,” Trystan protested. “And I have heard terrible rumors about that specific forest.” The priestess of Lacuna nodded, understanding his trepidation. “But you won’t be alone. You’re heading back to meet with your companions. They will surely join you and help you overcome those dangers,” she insisted, her smile both warm and encouraging, before promising to reward him. “I’ll see what we can do,” he said reluctantly, dreading what might happen if he failed in retrieving the boar’s tusk.
From the Trading Post, he headed up the hill to the Gates of the World. No wolf was around, and he learned that whatever beast had startled him into rushing through the gates earlier had not been any trouble to the village below. Trystan found the gate to Marlock City and took time to marvel at the runic carvings. Taking a deep breath and thankful he wouldn’t need to set sail again, he stepped through the stone archway.
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