The Wilds

It has gone bad.  Deep in the jungle, where the air is heavy and humid, the jungle rebels of the Shining Blade have killed the brother of Justiciar Thommis, and they have kidnapped all the of the chosen and lead them to their deaths.   Justiciar Thommis is in the throws of grief at his lost brother and swears the death of all Shining Blade.  He commands me though, and my team, to chase them in to the jungle.  Chase them in to the Wilds they know much better than myself.  Though my skill is forever rising and I have yet to fail a mission, I can't help but think this isn't something to give to the new allies. A piece of me tells me this is a trap.  A piece feels honour bound to do what they ask.  I wish Rurik could command me, level my thoughts and fears and rationalize me.   He is not.  I must forget him. He will never be seen again.  In to the wilds I go. 

 Deep in to the forest we forge, and it is not far before we are seen by the Shining Blade.  They have the advantage of knowing the terrain.  We are trapped by entangling branches, and swarmed by scarabs, beasts that suck the life from you at every touch.

While we blindly stumble through the thick brush we stumble upon a centaur meeting.  They speak of some big name commanders meeting in the area, a party I think I will crash before we save the chosen.  The Blade have already seen us, the element of surprise is long lost.  After I get as much information from them as I deem necessary we slit their throats and I take my spoil.  A seed that seems to grow, and return to seed form.  Magical, it could be very useful to me in the correct places.  We run across massive fallen trees that serve as bridges, and trip through the moving roots in the jungle floor and from around a mountain side I spy the Shining Blade at a cliff.  He is surely lost himself, maybe we aren't as hopeless as I had though, but then I see him take a seed not unlike mine and drop it within a shining orb in the brush and from it emerges a mass of vines creating a bridge and off he goes. 

We dismember centaur after centaur until we turn off towards the meeting.  This could work in our advantage, for if the Shining Blade does not think we are following after all, they may slow.  We come to the meeting area.  Empowered statues of what looks like shining blue energies litter the area, and so do more centaurs.   In the back, we find two powerful elementalist centaurs, they must be those spoken of.  They definitely have the advantage of power, but we have the numbers, and the brain. 

Our jobs done, we continue on our path to the Shining Blade.  They have left us a trail with their vine bridge.  We come across fields of Trolls, their skins green from the jungle diets, and great spindly wind riders trying to invade our minds.  We finally catch sight of the Blade again, they run in to the river.    The moment my feet wade into the cool jungle waters I feel renewed.  The waters must be enchanted with mending powers.  We run anewed, darkness around us from the thick canopy above until we are surrounded with spiders.  One by one they come from the canopy tops and attack, and I get a bad feeling.  This is how they intend to dispose of the Chosen.  They will feed them to the spiders.

Sure enough, we are in a nest.  The chosen are all spun up and ready to be fed, and the Blade are keeping watch.  The spider slowly lowers itself and runs to its first victim, but the Shining Blade soldier attacks the spider instead.  Their leader, a woman in white, yells across at us to stop following them for now, if we had a heart we would help them save the Chosen... Save the chosen? We cut through the spiders, the Chosen are freed, but we are now surrounded the Blade.  The leader, the woman in white, is named Evennia, and she questions us.  Not harshly, but directly.  She says they were saving the chosen from the Mantle. The spiders, ofcourse, were a mistake.  The mantle kill the chosen every year, an offering to the Bloodstone.  What the Bloodstone is, I have no idea, but Evennia says we are free.  We are free to find our own answers, to head to the bloodstone, and then we will know what fools the Mantle have played us for.  Fools indeed my heart tells me.