Myrken Wood at Large: Dark Elves and Councilors

[Rattrap]

Ariel O'Cynen returned home, unfulfilled, but happy to have at least said her piece. She crossed town - alone, in the dark, unarmed, and yet...unafraid. Of course, the Drow were terrible adversaries. Terrible enemies. They have yet to the be the worst, though; hell. Myrken Wood's not even a stranger to Drow attacks, not even to the one Audmathus.

Never before, though, had Myrken Wood's Government been so...broken at such a time, though. This caused Ariel fear. With her father, she had felt safe. Joseph O'Cynen was a man of great courage and undeniably simple and solid logic. He was...

...there was the dreadful word. Was. Ariel's steps quickened in the darkness as tears began streaming across her face. She wept all the way to the O'Cynen Estate - the large building sitting in the middle of vast fields. God-bless her father, it wasn't a huge, empty building; the Estate enjoyed the company of many families, all of whom lived and worked on the farms surrounding. This close, giving community that Joseph had instilled in the farmers of Myrken Wood was his legacy. And it made Ariel cry all the more.

****

Janis Williams sat at a dusty desk in the Library of Mudd, with only a flickering lantern distilling the darkness all around her. And it was a thick darkness, too; a large, dusty bookshelf loomed behind her with its vast writings, expending beyond the weak reach of the fickle flame. Beyond, there was darkness and quiet in the library. A loneliness that Ariel O'Cynen would have abhored, but Janis was a different breed.

On the table were a number of books. Some contained illiustrations, others cryptic writing. One was in the Elven script, which Janis was fervently picking up - she had gleaned much of the book's knowledge from key words and context. Fortunately, the book pertained to Drow more than the arts of the other books - for Drow, Janis only needed general information and history. Know they enemy.

For the Arcane Arts, she needed to be exact. Which is why she had spent all evening looking over the same few books. They were books with the...darker sort of arts in them. The kind so enjoyed by the Drow. The most interesting book detailed shadowdancing - that ever aggrivating ability to step into the shadows and reappear somewhere else entirely. The good news for Janis is that it was just magic - and Drow were just Elves, with a subterraneon feel. Their abilities could be learned. Therefore, their abilities could be used against them.

Fire against fire, as it's said.

****

"What's wrong, Ariel?"

The kindly brown eyes that watched Ariel from under a time-wrinkled brow held worry. The old man they belonged to - Marcus Baker, the oldest individual living in the residence even when Joseph was alive - sat down on the chair beside the tearful woman, taking up her hands in his own soft, wrinkled ones. Marcus had been a friend of Joseph's since before Ariel could remember. Before she was born, likely.

She sniffled in response. The tears had ceased to come, but there was still a moist gleam on her cheeks. "I'm...scared, Marcus."

Ariel's hazel eyes were glued to the floor, missing the light surprise on the old, white-featured man's face. He chuckled in that disarming...warming way old men could. "Ariel O'Cynen afriad? You aren't afraid of much. What's bothering you now?"

Ariel shook her head. "I don't know if we'll make it this time. Straka's gone...the Captain's gone. Kerrak seems to have good intentions, but..." Another sniffle. "We've never been so vulnerable. So in...disarray. Without...him..."

Ariel slumped against the kindly old man, continuing her bleak watch of nothing. The old man - well into his seventies, which was greatly impressive for a Myrken Wood native - was not nearly so bleak. "We all miss your father, Ariel. But you shouldn't worry; don't you remember? Joseph planned for this."

The woman's sadly lost expression turned to one of curiosity. "Planned for what?" Her head rose to look Marcus in the eyes.

Marcus looked a little surprised. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you. As you know, Joseph always had our community in mind...come on, I'll tell you all about it."

Ariel nodded and the two rose from their seats, heading toward the stairway that led to most of the bedrooms.

[Rattrap]

Janis Williams had been caught in the open when the bugs came. Not unawares - the woman had watched with still curiosity when the cloud became visible, heading toward her area. Her pace had slowed to a stop and in the few moments she watched, Janis decided the swarm definitely wasn't good. When were they?

There were others that had come to the same conclusion, and were running wherever they could. Janis looked around for some place to go, but lacking anything quick and convenient, she went to her spellbook to frantically flip through pages, even while she was being bumped and run into. It took a man twice her size to finally dislodge the book, knocking it aways. Janis looked worriedly at the approaching cloud of bugs and ran to retrieve the book.

Fortune had the Straka Corporal's back, it seemed - the book lifted to the page she sought, which brought only very slight excitement. She murmered the words without hesitation, and performed the accompanying gestures. It only took a moment - and after, there was a fierce and sudden wind around her.

A little girl hit the wall of wind, stopped suddenly by the gust. She was surprised, of course - but her surprise quickly gave way to terror at her inability to escape the insects closing behind her. With nothing else to do, she pressed against the wind wall - only to be pulled through by the guardwoman.

The bugs ran into the wall and were shot upwards with the wind, some killed by the sudden change in vector, others twisted, others simply redirected. Janis held the crying child for a time and wondered what the hell was going on this time.


* * *

Cecil Ritter had not been in Myrken Wood to experience the first time these bugs or this plague, but he had heard much of it. This didn't clue him to the nature of the insect swarms, though; that came from some other source entirely. As did the aura that surrounded him, invisible to the standard five senses and yet...a presence nonetheless, that the insects avoided entirely, steering their course away from the holy man - much less drastically than those who encountered the guardwoman's magics.

He saw, then, the effects of the insect's bite with a widening surprise. But he did not idle long; the Paladin ran toward the insects that seemed to clear out of his way, seeking victims. Cecil would do what he could for them, and see to it there was a place for them besides the streets, taking them into nearby buildings and working quickly to seal up any obvious holes. It would have been preferrible to take them to the Edificium, though that poor building doesn't have the capacity it would need for this many victims.

Unfortunately, Cecil didn't have time to go let the staff know himself that victims were elsewhere, though he'd make attempts to send able others at every opportunity.

The Drow were put on hold.

* * *

The Dark Wizard was perhaps one of the select few who was not surprised by the presence of the plague-ridden insects. He was, again, perhaps one of even the fewer still who were worried; they flocked to him as they did to any other moving entity, biting and stinging. But it didn't matter, and the bugs would quickly lose interest in him. The blood that ran in his veins had soured long, long ago. Pestilence was already a part of his skin and flesh.

He stood atop one of Myrken Wood's taller structures, black staff supporting his thin, crimson-wrapped frame. The tight-fitting robes moved only slightly to the breeze, natural or bug-created; his red-eyed gaze certainly didn't waiver for their presence. No, those were set on seeking the horizon for their source - for the one or many responsible for Archimedes, for the one who Neimad knew nothing of - Madison. Those inhuman eyes saw much more than their living likeness, but even he could not see all.

There was thunder.

[Rattrap]

It all started with the bugs.

People were beginning to talk. Not just about the plague, or the end of the world, or the end of Myrken Wood - but of a remarkable developement. Of a man who walked down the street and sent the insects away by his very presence. A Holy Man, they were calling him. A man who dragged the sick from the streets into the relative safety of nearby buildings, with no heed to the dangers of the plague.

Some believed him to be an angel - those that were saved from the plague by the very touch of hand were highly among those, spreading their gratitude and misguided rumors in their new elation of life. Those who were more worldly-knowledgeable, or those that saw the great numbers of people the man could not heal were closer to the truth - that the Holy Man was just a man with a gift. Perhaps more: maybe an emissary from the Gods.

The Holy Man was also known as a Paladin, in his gray armor. He walked the streets without fear of the darkness, and some say he even glows with holy light at night. Cecil Ritter, some have said his name is - Cecil Ritter of the Zorlin Paladins. Nobody knew what the Zorlin was, but they did not linger long on the small detail.

Of course, not all revered the man - there were those who thought dark, pessimistic thoughts, who almost didn't want to believe Myrken Wood could be saved. This man is no angel, they'd say; he's just part of the plot, trying to earn the people's trust to deliver the final coup de grace. These individuals were few on the subject of Cecil Ritter, however. None could deny the near-dead leaving buildings in fine health in the wake of the Holy Man. Most wanted to believe the Paladin was sent from the Gods to finally end the suffering of Myrken Wood.

And so, they would.

[BrokenDreamer]

Most would believe such a fairytale, gobble it whole and eagerly: that such holy men were a beacon of hope. There was one with Myrken who has found a hatred of such men, though there was no true evil within her heart. A sadness and hurt that has taken a strong root and like a weed, grew till there was little room for anything else.

Not every story is given a happy ending and when one of such sorrow and lost is created at the hands of these so called servants of the Divine, they provide the drive for a second life given to make up for the first.

She was but another face within the crowd, one that would blend so perfectly. Ever watchful when his presense was made known. Eyes of cold steel blue.

There is a lesson to be learned. Vengeance is blind and maddening.

[Rattrap]

Ariel O'Cynen was a busy woman these days. She always had been, really; in the wake of her father's death, however, she had taken time from public eye to grieve, and spend time with her close friends at the O'Cynen Estate. That time had passed, replaced with the time for action. In a big way, Ariel was always in the shadow of old Joseph - and she was quite aware of it, but in the end...there were few better shadows to be in.

While many of the farmers had turned nocturnal, Ariel remained awake for the days - and probably too much of the nights anyway. But, she had things to do - people to see. The latter being the most important. Wrapped from head to toe, wearing a wide-brimmed, netted hat, the woman visited neighboring and even remote farms, and whoever she might know between. Her messages were clear, and logical - Myrken Wood really needs to be united right now. After, there will be elections - accountability and reputations can be restored. But right now, there was a more grave threat. Obviously.

There was also the matter of request, to which Ariel would hold her own end of the bargain - inventory, of sorts. Or at least an assessment of capabilities for the times ahead.

In her father's shadow, Ariel was bestowed instant respect - but that sort of respect is only temporary. A 'good-faith' gesture. Ariel made sure to keep, build upon, and earn her own.