"You DARE threaten me with pain, lets see if you FEEL SOME" she roars, charging foward and tearing into the nearest orb. Part of her wasn't entirely sure if she could damage whatever it was, but she could feel the bloodlust pounding through her, and now all she wanted to do was hurt.
Amara's new form is strong and fast. She steps forward and attacks the floating sphere nearest her with horn and claw. Amara's savages the thing, all of her attacks hitting the mossy ball.
Several of the red eyes are gouged out and the rips and tears ooze a green fluid, a mix of sap and blood. It still hovber however, not quite knocked out of the air.
From the side the wolf runs up, snapping.
The wolf's jaws lock on her arm, tearing at the flesh. The canine nearly knocks her over with it's spring, but Amara' manages to stay upright.
The other mossy ball picks up her weapon and heads back toward the pool.
The one Amara's injured lashes out with long, green tendrils.
Amra's new form is hard to hit however, and the clinging plant vines merely slide off of her, uselessly.
"COWARD, SUBJUGATING OTHERS AND LETTING THEM DO THE FIGHTING FOR YOU" Amara screams, ignoring the bite onto her body as the wounds heal almost immediately. While in full bloodlust, it was difficult not to lash out at the wolf, but tapped into her beast side Amara felt a certain kinship with the creature, and wanted to avoid hurting it if at all possible. It wasn't its fault after all that it had possibly been enslaved.
Amara attacks the orb in front of her again, driving her claws into the already open wounds. Seizing it, she wrests it from the air, and with a mighty roar, rips it in half. There is a spray of sticky green fluid that flies throughout the clearing and covers half of Amara's face.
At her side the wolf snaps again.
The snap misses all of the images of Amara dancing in front of him.
Over the pool, the orb drops her greatsword into the dark water. With a small splash it vanishes from sight.
The moose erupts from the water, one of the orb trailing after it with long tendrils. The animal looms over her, shoulder above her head. It charges her, lowering that massive crown of thorns toward her.
Still, either from the mind control it is suffering or some other instinct it is clumsy and Amara easily dodges it.
Ignoring the orb who had dropped the greatsword into the pool (but pissed at the loss of her sword), Amara leaps forward, hellbent on ripping each and every orb in sight into tiny strips. Shrugging asside the attacks by the wolf, Amara moves towards the Orb closer to the Moose, seeing the larger animal as the greater threat, as her wounds continue to heal.
Amara sidesteps the moose and attacks the floating orb with her new-grown weapons. She slashes a huge rent in the side of the creature, which wavers in midair before 'catching' itself. Both of the orbs close by seem to buzz with rage, red eyes flashing, but both allow their minionrs to attack.
The wolf moves first, snapping at Amara's figments.
It misses, just as the moose lowers it's head, trying to seek her with its antler.
It hits a mere figment, scattering the magical spell creating the image. But Amara remains unharmed.
Across the water, she spots the orb that took her sword moving away, into the murk of the trees.
"YOU BETTER FLEE, YOU KNOW I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN" Amara roars, frustrating that her target was splitting up and retreating. She couldn't chase it down, so she took her frustrations out on the orb within reach, slashing at it again.
Like a child opening a ripe orange, Amara sizes the orb closest to her and rips it open. More green slime splatters the grove, adding to the layers already adhered to her own body. The mossy tendril go limp, and the moose suddenly jerks away, sprinting for the trees beyond.
The last remaining orb attacks desperately with tendrils, hovering with obvious concern.
The lopping tendrils do little damage, but one seizes around her feet, grappling her tightly. As she is struggling, the still controlled wolf lunges in.
The teeth find her flesh, drawing blood forth, as she struggles with the last floating orb of moss.
Ignoring the wolf, Jasmine feels her wounds heal yet again, as she reaches out, lashing again at the final orb remaining, trying to tear her way free of the binding.
Entangled in the vines, Amara lashes out with her magical horns at the floating sphere. Despite the extra work she still catches it, slashing deep gashes not the mossy 'flesh'. Seeing grappling Amara is a death sentence it disengages and simply retreats as fast as possible, trying to follow the other mossy ball into the gloom. The wolf runs with it, still attached.
Amara growls, struggling to throw off her rage, as she tears into a nearby tree, getting the aggression and rage out of her system. Calling to her knees, she struggles to retain her cool minded determination, eventually succeeding.
Thinking clearly once more, Amara toys with the idea of chasing after the orbs, but she is unfamiliar with the forest, and its unlikely she would be able to find a away back. A little unsatisfied, she turns her attention to the deep waters of the pool, trying to see if she can regather her greatsword.
Slowly calming down, Amara approaches the small pond. It is ringed with large stones, long weathered by rain and ice. Still, peering at them she guesses they were perhaps carved or worked in some way. At the least, they are not entirely natural.
The water is dark, with the dell being very dim. All around her the dead trees seem to press in, making her skin crawl. Still, she focuses on her sword. Staring down into the black water she thinks she sees a distant gleam, of light on steel. Still, it would be a moderately difficult swim.
Considering her options, Amara decides to at least try to retrieve the weapon, jumping into the dark water, as she powers forward through the water, attempting to see if she could retrieve it.
Amara dives into the black water, hoping she can regain her expensive weapon.
The dark water is frigid, far far colder then it should be. It as if she jumped into the cold waters of the arctic north instead of a small pool in a warm forest.
Amara feels the tips of her fingers and toes go cold in the frigid water.
It is hard to see in the dark water but she can still see the glint of her sword below her.
Amara struggles to hold onto her air, the shock of cold water almost making her take an involuntary breath as she glances around the water, trying to locate and orientate herself in the dark water.
The dark space swelling around Amara is much larger then it should be. Obviously the pool above is just a smaller portal leading to a large underground lake. It is hard to see from the dim light trickling in from overhead but Amara can see the remains of stone walls, towers and houses, scattered as far as she can see. It seems to go on into a network of vast, water-filled tunnels.
As he eyes adjust, she can see her sword lying below, lying on top of a pile of rubbled stone.
The reliance for air was on the back of the skalds mind as she spots the sword, its presence encouraging her to dive straight down, but Amara hadn't gotten to where she was today without being cautious. The remains of houses were interesting, and something she planned to ponder, but for now, she glanced around, trying to spot anything that might be making the underwater lake, or the dark alcoves of the structures, home.
Amara doesn't see any movement or signs of habitation. The buildings look ruined and crumbling, and Amara has the feeling this was not built as an underwater city. But the water is dark and the area large, much of it out of her version. There could be whales down here for all she could see.
Hesitating a little, Amara finally dives a little deeper, heading towards the blade in the deep water. As she does so, she keeps her vision broad, hoping to spot anything moving out at her. She's fully prepared to discard the weapon if required, but on the other hand, it was a valuable bit of equipment for her, and she didn't want to just give up on it.
Amara pushes through the chilly water toward her goal. She keeps an eye out for any foe, either natural or unnatural, but sees nothing heading toward her through the water.
In a few moments she reaches the gravely bed her sword is lying on. It seems unharmed by the long fall and is balanced on loose scree.
Amara reaches out and tugs on the gravely bed her sword is resting on, pulling it free.
Amara reaches down to the sword, well aware of possible danger.
Almost as she expected as she reaches down, the ground below the sword shifts. Amara is not alone.
Then, without any more warning, the rocks explode upward as a vigorous shape erupts from the ground. It is a man...but he has pale skin pulled tight over its bones. His head hangs at an odd angle, seemingly unsupported by a broken neck. A rotted noose and several feet of rope hang from the misshapen neck and trail off behind it. Its eyes have no pupils.
Amara immediately drops the sword and swims away.
Amara grits her teeth at the lose of her sword, but she retreats.
As she flees, Amara spots the rope hanging from the mangled neck suddenly come to life and spring at her.
Amara feels the thick, knotted cord loops around one of her legs, acting as if it were a strangling snake. Her flight is paused as the rope fully entangles her.
Amara snaps the rope, and continues swimming away.
With a surge of strength that recalls her other form, Amara seizes the rope and snaps it with her bare hands. Then she kicks toward the surface, leaving the pale, unsettling undead behind her. As far as she can tell it does not chase her.
Soon she reaches the surface, breaking through the still water. The cool air feels warm to her chilled skin, and the mold filled air, fresh and clean.
She is safe, although swordless.
Irritated at the loss of her sword fulfilling someone else's problem, Amara heads back the way she had come.
She doesn't go far before she sees movement from behind a fallen log. For a second she fears she is being attacked but instantly recognizes it as the leshy who followed her here. He is still holding his spear in his tiny fist, his massive dark eyes pools of blackness.
He looks at Amara questioningly.
Amara squats downward in front of the leshy who had waited. She draws a crude stick figure of herself and points to herself, then a group of 4 orbs, to signal the creature she had attacked. Then, she crossed out two of the orbs and then points off into the distant forest. The communication was rudimentary at best, but hopefully the leshy would understand.
From the leshy's attention and his own hand motions, Amra guesses he was able to see much of the fight. There is clear admiration and awe in his face as she describes the battle. He also indicates her sunken sword and bows sorrowfully that it is still lost.
With his spear he points back at the pool and then back the way they came, offering her a choice.
Amara shakes her head, making a choking gesture and pointing at the water, indicating that she couldn't breath underwater and therefore retrieving the sword was almost impossible. Tilting her head towards the way they had come, she starts off in that direction.
Together, the leshy and Amara wend there way through the forest. This time the trip is in reverse and they leave the wet, fungus ridden section behind. Slowly they climb to slightly higher slopes and breath clean, resin-scented air. The redwoods towering overhead are comforting and proud again, instead of withered and aged.
In a short time Amara reaches the small leshy village is brought before the dying treant. The massive creature is still in exactly the same place, like a sentinel stone. He says nothing and the silence stretches...
Amara pauses, the silence becoming awkward, but she didn't want to appear rude. So she sits cross legged in front of the tree's sight line, therefore making her presence known, while pointedly waiting for a response...eventually.
The tree seems content to wait as well, and as Amara sits on the cold ground, she gets a taste of what it is like trying to out wait a tree.
Time slowly passes. The leshys around her stand is silence, as if they too are rooted to the ground, round dark eyes focused on her. All around her the forest seems dark and quiet, but peaceful. This is not the rotting death of the area around the pool but a place of slow growth and careful planning. It is a profound, deliberate place.
The wind rustling the highest branches.
The creak of ancient wood.
The tiny sound of falling needles.
Nothing happens.
Eventually, Amara stirs a little, stepping closer to the tree, waving slightly.
"Not that sitting here isn't pleasant, but I have thing to arrange, settlements to build, and so on and so forth. I was hoping our arrangement had been reached of course, and I wont proceed without your say so, but I would appreciate and answer before I die of old age sitting here in this clearing" she remarks.
The massive treant shifts slightly, bending the large head toward Amara, with the sound of a tree creaking in the wind. he doesn't seem bothered by Amara's brusqueness saying, 'My apologies. In my culture, the person who arrives last speaks first. Treants think for a long time. Waiting for me to notice you is a foolish idea."
Then, "So you succeeded then? You killed the darkness growing in the forest?"
Amara hesitates, deciding to be as honest as she can. "Technically, I didn't kill it. I don't know what it actually was, other than it would enslave other woodland creatures and tried doing the same to me. I killed 2(3?) of the orbs that made up the creature, but the rest fled deeper into the forest. Lacking knowledge of the area myself, or a guide, I didn't pursue as I couldn't track it further."
The large treant makes a disgruntled noise, like the discordant note on a huge organ. "This is not good. Whatever it is, will return most likely. My people are not yet safe." The huge figure shakes, making dead leaves cascade down on Amara's head.
"My people are still in danger! Outsider, you have failed in your quest to me and this village." There is a note of anger in the voice although Amara guesses it is more worry about his people then anger at Amara's actions.
"Is it also your culture to rudely insult those attempting to help?" Amara responds shortly, placing her hands on her hips. She didn't mind the treant being disappointed in the incomplete outcome, but disliked the blame placed squarely on her shoulders.
"Don't talk to me about failure Old One. You knew more about it than I. You had the time to reflect on its strengths, weaknesses, tactics, the luxury of time to make an acceptable plan. Doubtless, Old One, you would have considered the possibility of it retreating and you knew I lacked knowledge of the forest. Knowing I have no way to track it within the forest, and giving me no map or guide to follow it, you instead prefer to blame me instead of taking responsibility in your failure to predict a likely outcome. You disappoint me Old Guardian, your own people show greater respect than you, their guardian and protector!"
There is a moment of silence where the only sound is the wind high in the distant tree tops, hundreds of feet above. Amara feels a building emotion from the treant, like a storm hurrying across the plain.
"You insult me? You blame me for your failure to uphold your end of a bargain fairly struck?!" The entire tree moves as if to stand up, "How dare you..."
But the massive Shepherd of the Trees is unable to rise. Vast wooden legs crack and creak at the movement and the vast head sways wildly. For a moment Amara is worried he will fall like a felled oak, crushing the entire village. Then, the movement stops and the seated. dying figure grows still again.
"I cannot even stand..." the voice says, doleful now. The anger is gone now, and all that remains is a cold sadness. With a voice filled with depression, the treant says, 'I am sure you did your best. Go, consider your bargain to me fulfilled."
There are tears in the eyes of the leshys around her and she realizes this must be like watching a god sicken and die.