Hazelclaw the OwlIn the bright glow of the full moon, Teuvdar unwraps a scimitar of silver. It shines as it reflects the radiant white light. The Druid smiles briefly, appreciating the craftsmanship, then remembers both what he had paid to get it and the source of the masterwork weapon. His smile disappears.
Shivers run down his spine as he thinks of the strange smithy. There was little doubt that he was a Returned, and the Druid could not help but wonder at the dark paths the man had seen and traveled. Seeing one who has returned from the shadows always causes a sense of unease. And yet, he had created the weapon exactly as Teuvdar requested: solid silver, unsharpened, with no inscriptions, and no binding on the hilt. These things the Druid must handle on his own, in the light of the next lunar phase, an ancient rite that all forest wardens observed. Once done, he would have a suitable weapon with which not only to defend himself, but also to harvest optimal spell components.
He sighs to himself, remembering again how much it had cost to purchase the blade. A few coppers were all that remained in his bag, not even enough to pay a town entry tariff. Fortunately Hammerhome had hailed them as heroes on return from their recent adventures, which opened many gates that had previously been closed. The giant hammer they had returned to the Dwarf city now sat safely guarded in Temple, a relic of the titan age that had been considered lost to antiquity. If not for the daring (and foolish) determination of Shadowfoot to tamper with things, the hammer would still be lost. Teuvdar was more convinced than ever that his friend would get them all killed sooner or later, yet could not deny their stock had gone up since their adventuring days began. Was that a Bard song he could hear from the city? Tales of redemption and glory to the sounds of a lute, no doubt.
Setting aside the blade, Teuvdar turns to his pack and withdraws piles of assorted junk. Collected on their many travels thus far, he's certain that he can make some use from these materials if given time to experiment. Herbs, berries, thorns, leaves, bone, claws and stone could all be combined to craft infusions, powerful focus items and even weapons, but he had much to learn. A trip home to High Oak was tempting, for he knew of Druids there who could teach him. But returning home so soon would be frowned upon, especially by Tenveren. He could imagine the glowering face of his older brother scowling upon his return after only a few weeks. No, there was no going home until he had uncovered his chosen path, whether by his choice or not.
Unfortunately, the dwarf lands had proven relatively devoid of other Druids, though ranger types were about. The mountains were overrun with dwarfs, armed with pickaxes and shovels, their hearts greedy for the spoils of the earth. These were the desires that had brought them face to face with the planar beast known as a Ravid, along with his animated mud men. For weeks, the mud men had plagued the iron fields stealing supplies and booting dwarves about, until the heroes (he liked the sound of that) had arrived to sort it out. The Ravid, though hardly charitable, really seemed to mean no harm. It simply wanted to return to it's plane of existence, it's home. And it had succeeded, almost taking all of them with it!
Monstrous and odd, the mud men nonetheless represented a sort of fascination for Teuvdar. The Ravid had animated them from the earth itself, held together with bits of wood and metal. What power the creature must have been capable of! He wished there had been time to learn more about the beast and from where it drew it's strength. Elder Druids of Teuvdar's land were said to have such abilities, capable of harnessing elementals to do their bidding. This was a power that he was eager to develop himself. All in due time.
But first, there were other duties to attend to, not the least of which was finding another animal companion. For such a small creature, Hazelclaw had fought valiantly, and come close to death on many occasions in their fights. Teuvdar could not ask it to take these risks again, particularly now when their party was considering much larger (and more dangerous) prey. No, Hazelclaw must go free and another more robust companion must be found. The owl had refused at first, but eventually accepted his order, along with his heartfelt thanks.
Against the moon, Teuvdar imagined he could see the faint outline of the bird. No doubt Hazelclaw had already spotted with his keen yellow eyes another fresh young Druid who needs a companion, and moved to descend upon them.
Shivers run down his spine as he thinks of the strange smithy. There was little doubt that he was a Returned, and the Druid could not help but wonder at the dark paths the man had seen and traveled. Seeing one who has returned from the shadows always causes a sense of unease. And yet, he had created the weapon exactly as Teuvdar requested: solid silver, unsharpened, with no inscriptions, and no binding on the hilt. These things the Druid must handle on his own, in the light of the next lunar phase, an ancient rite that all forest wardens observed. Once done, he would have a suitable weapon with which not only to defend himself, but also to harvest optimal spell components.
He sighs to himself, remembering again how much it had cost to purchase the blade. A few coppers were all that remained in his bag, not even enough to pay a town entry tariff. Fortunately Hammerhome had hailed them as heroes on return from their recent adventures, which opened many gates that had previously been closed. The giant hammer they had returned to the Dwarf city now sat safely guarded in Temple, a relic of the titan age that had been considered lost to antiquity. If not for the daring (and foolish) determination of Shadowfoot to tamper with things, the hammer would still be lost. Teuvdar was more convinced than ever that his friend would get them all killed sooner or later, yet could not deny their stock had gone up since their adventuring days began. Was that a Bard song he could hear from the city? Tales of redemption and glory to the sounds of a lute, no doubt.
Setting aside the blade, Teuvdar turns to his pack and withdraws piles of assorted junk. Collected on their many travels thus far, he's certain that he can make some use from these materials if given time to experiment. Herbs, berries, thorns, leaves, bone, claws and stone could all be combined to craft infusions, powerful focus items and even weapons, but he had much to learn. A trip home to High Oak was tempting, for he knew of Druids there who could teach him. But returning home so soon would be frowned upon, especially by Tenveren. He could imagine the glowering face of his older brother scowling upon his return after only a few weeks. No, there was no going home until he had uncovered his chosen path, whether by his choice or not.
Unfortunately, the dwarf lands had proven relatively devoid of other Druids, though ranger types were about. The mountains were overrun with dwarfs, armed with pickaxes and shovels, their hearts greedy for the spoils of the earth. These were the desires that had brought them face to face with the planar beast known as a Ravid, along with his animated mud men. For weeks, the mud men had plagued the iron fields stealing supplies and booting dwarves about, until the heroes (he liked the sound of that) had arrived to sort it out. The Ravid, though hardly charitable, really seemed to mean no harm. It simply wanted to return to it's plane of existence, it's home. And it had succeeded, almost taking all of them with it!
Monstrous and odd, the mud men nonetheless represented a sort of fascination for Teuvdar. The Ravid had animated them from the earth itself, held together with bits of wood and metal. What power the creature must have been capable of! He wished there had been time to learn more about the beast and from where it drew it's strength. Elder Druids of Teuvdar's land were said to have such abilities, capable of harnessing elementals to do their bidding. This was a power that he was eager to develop himself. All in due time.
But first, there were other duties to attend to, not the least of which was finding another animal companion. For such a small creature, Hazelclaw had fought valiantly, and come close to death on many occasions in their fights. Teuvdar could not ask it to take these risks again, particularly now when their party was considering much larger (and more dangerous) prey. No, Hazelclaw must go free and another more robust companion must be found. The owl had refused at first, but eventually accepted his order, along with his heartfelt thanks.
Against the moon, Teuvdar imagined he could see the faint outline of the bird. No doubt Hazelclaw had already spotted with his keen yellow eyes another fresh young Druid who needs a companion, and moved to descend upon them.
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