[Aqua-chan]

The old man who had introduced himself to Sytze as Blackoak had beckoned the young man to return with the druids to the sanctity of their grove. At first the wanderer was openly reluctant, but Blackoak said he would have to insist on it. Whether or not ‘insisting’ included doing physical harm wasn’t apparent, but since the elder had a seasoned group of warriors at his back Sytze felt compelled to comply.

The Athkatlian followed Blackoak and his close posse, unsure of what to suspect. They crossed rotting logs that served as bridges across gurgling swamps, and trudged through endless puddles of mud that soaked through even thick leather boots. Light-footed as he was, Sytze still sank into the earth with each step. His legs continuously protested the fight and demanded he stop, but even on the first time he faltered in the mud a young druid was alongside him, helping him regain his composure.

“Where, exactly, am I being ushered off to?” he finally asked, annoyance clear in his voice. He was tired, hungry, wet and dirty. His leggings from his knees down clung to his skin tightly, leaving him quite cold in the still night.

Blackoak turned back to face the man. Despite his old appearance there must have been some sort of youth in the elder; he hardly looked as though he’d broken a sweat. “You are to be questioned by our leader, the Arch Druid of this forest. She will determine if you are a threat, or if you are not and can help contribute to our cause.”

“I did not come here to be judged,” he sneered, “and I most certainly did not come here to be used in a dispute, the nature of which I don’t even know!”

“You came here because you feared what may have happened if you’d been uncooperative. You will meet with our headmaster, and if you have nothing to hide no harm will come to you. You may walk out of this grove with reward,” was the wise reply.

“How else could possibly I walk out of the grove, should your leader take a disliking to me?” Sytze asked, not really expecting an answer. He got one anyway.

“You may not walk out at all.”

They approached the stone structure that served as the entrance to the throne of the entire grove. Around the pillars and in the dirt were resting warriors, battle worn and weary. There were no blankets keeping them off the dirt, but from their heavy breathing it sounded to Sytze as though they didn’t desire such a luxury. They entered the hollowed out caves that made up the druids’ council house. Inside the cool cavern, which was lit only by the moon through an opening in the stone ceiling, were most of the warriors, some still hurt from the fighting. There was only a handful of them; perhaps thirty. For some reason they all wanted to see what Sytze was about to face: their leader. Blackoak had told the stranger they would be meeting with the arch druid, but for what reason Sytze didn’t know. Regardless, he hoped the grove leader would shed some information as to why such organized orcish legions were attacking Amn.

The ‘arch druid’ was actually a hellish looking woman seated on a stone throne. She lounged lazily, and it was obvious from her well-groomed hair and skin that she had never joined the other druids in the protection of her grove. As Blackoak and his new friend approached the center of the chamber to speak, Sytze couldn’t help but feel the woman’s green eyes just piercing into him.

“Arch Druid Faldorn, this is the stranger I sent the sentries to inform you of,” Blackoak stated. The other druids around the room fell quiet.

Under her breath she laughed, and started twirling a lock of her black hair around her narrow fingers. When her attention was wholly on Sytze she grinned: her unnaturally pointed teeth and ritualistic tattoos made her look like a fiend about to make a kill.

“Indeed, old man, but I think at least that much was obvious. What is unclear is this city-dweller’s intentions. So, then, our undaunted savior,” she began in an amused voice, “who are you to have trespassed into my forest? Are you in league with our enemy, perhaps?”

“No,” the graying Blackoak answered instead, thinking that maybe the sentries had not explained the situation to Faldorn correctly, “This stranger came to us in our time of need, felling the unnatural beasts attacking us and saving some of our own - entirely on his own account.”

“That means nothing,” Faldorn replied dismissively. Sytze shifted uneasily, aware of all the eyes on him at that moment. “So, stranger, you killed a few orcs. That does not make you our ally. Tell me, did Mayor Logan send you? Maybe to survey our numbers killed in the conflict?”

“I am aware of your past relations with the mayor of Trademeet,” Sytze began strongly. Of course, anyone who had been a local of Amn for any good length of time knew how many civilians of Trademeet had died when the Shadow Druids had taken over the grove eight years before. The two populations had been at constant unease every since. “But, no. I came here on my own accord. I wandered by and became curious to the cause of all the tension and distress in the forest.” The last part had been a personal touch added by the rogue, and Faldorn’s eyes narrowed when he commented on the poor state of the balance.

“Very brave of you to make such comments in my own lair,” she muttered in annoyance, leaning back into the throne. She wrapped her hands around the ends of the chair’s arms tightly; her claw-like nails clicked against the stone. “I would suppose that by taking out our foes and then going on your merry way will not satiate your hunger for knowledge about the situation, hmm?”

“I would like to know why your grove has been attacked.”

“Of course you would. City goers are nosy pests, but since it’s all you know I can’t hold that against you. Well, then, since you aren’t immediately hostile to me and since no harm can come to me in this place anyway, I will tell you what you wish to hear, and then you will leave.”

Sytze gave her an obviously false smile. “That is all I ask.”

She smirked back just as falsely as he. “The lands around this place were cleansed of the presence of the unnatural beasts years ago. After my coming to power we burned out the trolls, struck down the orcs, and called the storms against the gnolls. For many seasons it’s been pure here, and the only problem there was to be dealt with was the human city to the east.”

“At least it had been,” Blackoak interjected, “All was silent until a few moons ago when some of the younger druids began disappearing, sometimes turning up dead.”

“I sent some of my thralls to deal with the problem,” Faldorn took back the conversation; “My scout took a few fellows and tracked the source of these deaths south. A small group of orcs had decided to make their residence in my grove. They were quickly dispatched.”

“Apparently not,” Sytze muttered in an antagonizing manner.

“Not long after did a larger group openly attack the sanctity of my walls. They were felled, but days later more came, and then more. We finally managed to push them back to Tethyr, but they simply rallied more forces and returned. The process has continued on until this day, and you saw the results. They will regroup, rearm, and they will attack us again. I do not know their motivation,” she said simply.

“Have you made any efforts to try and find out?”

“I sent my best scout into the woods. She followed the orcs’ routes well past the elven forest, but failed to find who leads them or what they want. They all wear uniform armor, so they must be organized by some one or something with much useless gold to spare.”

The chamber was quiet despite all the people within. Sytze thought over the information, then ran his fingers through his brown hair. “Have you considered informing organizations like the Order of the Radiant Heart?” he asked, somewhat surprised he was the one suggesting law enforcement be brought into the matter, “If orcs are attacking Amn, they’ll want to know. They may even help defend your land.”

Faldorn replied stubbornly, “We do not need their help. My grove has been defiled enough with the steps of those unnatural beasts stomping about it, and I’ll not dirty this place farther by having you or those lumbering fools of the cities being ushered through.” If he hadn’t been paying attention, Sytze would have missed the despairing look on Blackoak’s face.

“So you’d prefer to let your wards all die facing the enemy’s growing forces than get help? What do you intend to do? Just sit here until you’re wiped out? That’s quite shortsighted of you,” the archer accused, and some of the druids about the room gave each other doubtful looks.

“You’re mistaken, trespasser,” she snarled, fanged teeth glinting with saliva in the dim light, “I lower myself by explaining this to you, but for your information, I am doing something other than ‘sitting here’. Amara!”