Logs snapped clean in half with massive cracks that shook the dense air in the Mhair Jungle, scaring bird and beast alike. A large, lumbering shape stalked through the darkening night where the partial moon was all but hidden behind its veil of clouds.

The beast’s gargantuan shoulders reached up into the branches from plants short and tall, and trees were swept aside if they stood in its path. Large footprints were left behind with no thought of being followed, for who would follow such a creature? All the animals in the woods were frightened to the point of death and all the humans had been taken care of respectively.

Bardin was an exception, he strayed not from the shadows, following the monster’s trail but keeping a fair distance behind. His bow was swept over one shoulder and a machete drawn to remove difficult undergrowth. There was little chance the beast would hear him over its own crashing and breaking, though if it did, he doubted it would pay much attention anyways.

Bardin’s sharp, feline nails easily grasped the sheer rock faces the beast leapt over and if it was given the sudden urge to glance back, his partially striped skin would help to blend in his body to the wet foliage around him. Bardin’s yellow flecked eyes provided ample night vision to find his way in the near darkness.
Suddenly the monster stopped, next to a crystal clear stream that flowed as slowly as the sap on one of the split trees. Where he touched, the monster’s arm fed a black ink-like substance into the river and turned the once drinkable liquid into a mire of poison and rancid smelling decay.

Bardin’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back and lifted the longbow from his shoulder. He began to creep away silently, drawing back the arrow as he did so. Finally, when he had gone as far as he dared, Bardin let loose the shaft and began to run in the opposite direction as fast as his legs would carry him. The arrow struck and he heard the beast grunt.

“So, I can hurt it.” He mumbled cheerfully.

He ran in one direction he knew well, to Pine Tree Grove.

Amberon and the six elder Treant listened from afar, the beast's movements could be heard from miles away. Silently they waited until the sounds stopped, then they heard the screams of the trees as they died from vile poison. Still they waited.

"It is fowl." One of the elders slowly spoke.
"Two others faced it in combat and failed." Another added.
Amberon as calmly as the others raised his hand to his chin in thought. "Perhaps we are unable to do this alone."
"Are you suggesting that we are weak?" One of the elders bellowed rather annoyed at the comment.
"No, I am suggesting that it is stronger." Amberon's expression remained calm.
"You are right. The beast is very strong, and can easily overpower us if we are not careful. Perhaps the small ones can aid us." The oldest and wisest of the elders said calming the others down.
Amberon nodded. "I will ask the lady Petreessia for aid in the matter."
The eldest nodded in agreement. "We place this matter in your hands Amberon. Use the wisdom we have grown to trust in you in this matter."

The others all agreed with the eldest and then all parted ways without so much as a word, Amberon making his way to the Grove of the Pine Tree hoping that Petreessia will have some answers and maybe even a solution to this dilemma.

There was light.

After so much darkness, that should have been a blessing, but this light was painful. Or perhaps the light was gentle and the pain was only in her head.

That's it, thought Lady Sir Meryl Ashe, war wizard of Cormyr. Just imagine yourself in a blissful paradise, and the gods will sweep you there.

Surprisingly, it worked--if being naked, soaked, and lying on a rock face in an abandoned grove in the godsforsaken Mhair Jungle counted as paradise. Meryl had rather been hoping for Elysium, actually, but at least she was alive.

Light filtered down softly through a wild roof of jungle canopy. Water trickled down her body and past her feet, as she was lying back against a boulder which comprised part of the base of a waterfall. Her thin shift was plastered to her taut, wiry body, leaving very little to the imagination as soaked as it was. Her hair stuck slickly to the rockface, and her buttocks and back ached.

How had she come here? Meryl wondered.

Then, as she tried to rub her brow and realized her wrist was still bound, she remembered.

Some time ago, lizardmen had stripped her of armor and sword and bound her--practically naked--spread-eagled to this boulder above a pool. Despite the indecency, she'd taken some relief that perhaps they found her physically repulsive and hadn't been tempted to take liberties with her vulnerable, naked frame, but when they'd started chanting and praying to some sort of deity, she revised her estimation to think that this ritual might have required a virgin sacrifice. (Not, of course, that she was anything like a virgin, but they wouldn't know that.)

Meryl might have suspected they meant to drown her, but the waterfall was a tranquil thing, really, and aside from mounting discomfort, she saw no danger in that.

Their Sacrificial Bone Knife of the Lingering Death, however, was a different story.

"Er, you don't want to cut out my heart with that," she had said--not that they'd been able to speak her language anyway.

After a brief consult, it seemed that--as a matter of fact--they rather did. The high priest had taken the knife, chanted a few guttural phrases over it, stepped toward her . . . and that's when things had gone a bit funny.

There'd been a loud clatter, some sort of shaking, and all the lizardfolk rose from their knees and started crying out at each other in what was obviously confusion and fear. Something big was coming, Meryl recognized, and it had spooked them.

"Best let me go," she had said, as calmly as she could, to the high priest of the lizards. "That's King Azoun and his armies come to save me. You'll--"

But she didn't finish the bluff, because the high priest reversed the Sacrifical Bone Knife of the Lingering Death and cracked her smartly across the temple, dashing her head into the stone.

Now, moments later, Lady Sir Meryl Ashe awoke again--no less naked or defenseless, considerably more damp, and quite alone--in the grove. And the thundering tremors were coming closer.

"Bugger," she said.

Aria pushed through the thick jungle growth, muttering a stream of curses at the owl who kept flying ahead out of her reach. Why had she listened to the feathery git and come here? It was altogether too hot and sticky, nothing like the soothing pine forests she was accustomed to. She kicked irritably at a huge, thick vine and jumped back when it hissed at her and slithered away. Olorin was highly amused at this, and his hooting chuckle did nothing in the slightest to help her mood.

She got tangled in a creeper vine and hacked at it with her longsword, but the blade got stuck. The willowy elf jammed the useless thing into her scabbard and unbuckled the scythe from her back, grinning deviously as she hacked the damned creeper to pieces. Ignoring the continued laughing from the owl, she pressed forward, hacking mercilessly as she went.

Funny, the brush seemed to be clearing a bit. She stopped and wiped the sweat off her brow, leaning on the scythe as she caught her breath. As she stood there, a great rumbling sound came from somewhere not too distant and the ground began shaking. Aria frowned at the great tangle of vines and partially collapsed trees above her - should the earthquake or whatever it was get any stronger, some of those trees would probably fall. She looked ahead and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a fairly clear grove with a waterfall and pool, and decided that it was probably safer than remaining where she was. A mournful hoot sounded from Olorin and he flew to her shoulder, looking nervous.

Aria continued on to the grove as the rumbling grew louder and stopped in shock when she saw what was lying in the pool. There was a nearly nude, bound woman half out of the water who at least appeared to be alive. Olorin gave a screech and flew to examine the woman, leaving Aria standing there rather stunned. She hadn't expected to come across anything resembling a person in this godforsaken place.

"Er . . . hello?" she asked tentatively, as the tremors grew more violent.

"Good gods."

Just when Meryl thought it couldn't get any worse--any more embarrassing or demeaning--that was when the snowy owl landed on her head. The claws tangled in her saturated raven hair and pulled at her scalp.

"You're not really a person, are you?" she murmured, eyes turned upward. "A druid, perhaps? With a knife to cut me free?"

The owl looked at her oddly.

"Lecherous archmage, mayhap?" she asked. "Divine incarnation?"

"Hoot!" the owl said pleasantly.

"Damn."

Then she saw someone across the clearing--an elf who was approaching her with a gesture of greeting. The elf was pale, with dark hair and vivid green eyes. There was a small scar across one eye, standing out against her pale, slightly sunburned skin.

"Oh. Gods--yes! Hail! Er, help me out of here, if you'd not mind. I'm--"

There was an earthshaking tremble. The creature--whatever it was, if indeed it was a creature--was nearly upon them.

"Perhaps haste might be in order."



(OOC: Vex, I hope I described Aria accurately. Let me know!)

Aria gaped at Olorin, letting her scythe slip from her fingers to clatter on the ground. What was he doing? That woman could be a mage, or angry warlock, or even, gods forbid, a bard. Though if she was a mage she probably would have been able to get herself out of the bindings . . . Aria shook her head and stumbled over to the woman, losing her footing on the shaking ground. She quickly knelt behind her and, after pulling the owl off and throwing him back toward the wood, quickly cut the thick ties on the woman's wrists.

As the woman winced and stood, Aria blushed and backed away a bit, looking at the ground while she fumbled in her pack for a spare tunic and leggings. Still not looking up, she thrust the clothing in the woman's general direction. Olorin came hopping over the ground to bite her shin reproachfully, and she kicked him aside. He dodged the kick and flew up to her shoulder, regarding the stranger with bright, inquisitive eyes.

The sound came yet again and Aria looked nervously over her shoulder at the trembling woods before glancing back at the woman.

"I'm called Aria Moonsdown, from the North" she said, "and I'm hoping you've got an idea of what's happening here. I'm at a complete and utter loss - was fair dragged here by this idiot." She gestured at the owl on her shoulder, then scooted over to retrieve her scythe. She brushed Olorin (who hooted irritably and snapped at her ear) off and swung the wicked looking blade over the same shoulder. "Unless you've got any objections, I suggest we get away from whatever is making the disturbance."



(OOC: Yup, except she's a few levels higher than that profile so the scar isn't quite as new)

Ambreon made his way through the jungle as quickly as he could. As he moved the trees swayed out of his path so he wouldn't loss his pase, the thundering noise of the creature was getting louder as he made his way to the Grove.
If I don't hurry, I might just run into that beast, he thought, so he tried to hasten his steps.

Before long he reached the river, and quickly examined it.
"Good we're still upstream of it. Golden Arc, fly down stream and tell me how far the beast is." Ambreon called out to his eagle companion.
Golden Arc glided away for a moment and Ambreon started to cross the river, the cool water was refreshing as he absorbed it.

A cry from Golden Arc made him turn towards the sky, the eagle came rushing down towards him. Making a suddent stop in mid air, she lowered to one of his large branches and sat upon his shoulder.
"What did you see?" he asked.
She peered into his eyes and tilted her head.
"The beast is about as far as we suspected, was there anything else?"
Golden Arc squaked twice and lifted her talon in the direction upstream.
"Two of them? Is the beast headed this way?"
She nodded to Ambreon and he shook his head.
"If they are not warned the creature will kill them." Ambreon walked out of the river and began upstream to find the travellers.

His approach was silent, few ever knew when Ambreon was sneaking up on them. He peered through the trees into the clearing where the waterfall was and saw the two women exchange a few words.
An Elf and a Human, perhaps they are companions?
The elven woman cut the ropes from the human and handed her some clothing. Ambreon never understood the need for clothes especially in the Mhair jungle where it was blistering hot most days, but this gift from the elf suggested they were friendly.

The thundering of dieing trees echoed through the jungle and Ambreon knew it was on the move again.

There was little time to explain things, so he quickly walking past the few trees that covered his approach. Ambreon towered over the two women who's attention was now clearly centered on him. "This place is dangerous. You must make haste little ones, the Beast is coming this way." He turned and the thundering noise of crashing trees was very close.

Meryl was glad of being freed and helped out of the waterfall, and even MORE glad of the fresh clothes Aria provided. Her own clothes had been ripped from her and her armor disappeared somewhere in the jungle--her sword, too! She'd have to find new steel at some point, but for now, just having something decent to cover up her soaked body was heaven. The clothes were warm, and she'd been starting to think she'd never be warm again. Bit tight across the chest--elves being more delicate than humans--but she managed.

"My thanks, good lady," she said. "I am Meryl Ashe, War Wizard of Cormyr, and--as you can see--far, far out of my element."

She perked her ears for the sound of the creature, but the crashing had stopped coming closer. Something had happened to distract the beast--whatever it was--and it afforded them a moment's peace.

"If you are from the North, I'm sure you have heard of our kingdom . . ." She flushed a bit. "And I dare hope you forgive us any ills we might have wrought upon you. 'Twas unintentional, I'm sure."

Aria didn't seem to foster a deep-seated hatred of the realm, so Meryl stood easy. Cormyr was suffering a bit, in this the Year of Rogue Dragons, and sometimes the best one could hope for was a neutral stance.

"I am on a royal task for my kingdom, but as I owe you my life, Lady Moonsdown, I'll fulfill my debt before I continue about it. I think--ah, yes." She pointed north. "In that direction lies a grove of pines, in which I believe meets a council of some sort. I heard voices as I was being . . . ahem . . . carried hither. I came to the jungle to search out a particular body of allies of Gothmoor, and I believe thither we might find them. And even if they are not, we stand a fair better chance with them than the two of us against that thing, whatever it is."

The creature roared obligingly. It was coming toward them again.

"I don't suppose you, em, saw a sword, by any chance, as you were coming up on me?" Meryl asked. "Black hilt, pearl in the pommel. No?"

Aria shrugged.

"Pity, that," Meryl said. "Well . . ."

Her eyes gleamed as she whispered a warmage spell. At least unbound and out of that pesky water that threatened to drown her every time she opened her mouth, she could be about her magic again.

"Fancy we'll have to make do by hand, then."

Fire started boiling from one hand.

That was, however, when the fifty foot talking tree stepped out of the brush toward the pool, and Meryl thought for sure she'd lost her mind--or was about to lose her life. She drew her hand back to throw her fireball at the treant, but Aria stayed her with a hand on her wrist.

Sure enough, the tree did not attack them, but gave some sort of warning. She barely understood its words--its voice was deep and rattling--but she understood its intent sure enough.

"All right then, tall friend--lead the way."

Bardin held his bow aloft, attempting to knock smaller branches out of his way with its enhanced reach. The larger limbs he ducked under or hopped over as silently as the deer he once hunted. His feet left little more than a passing mark and he chose his footing wisely, avoiding the spongy moss the Mhair Jungle was known for and instead stepping on the dryer sections or the wet leaves.

The Beast was not gaining on him, but neither was Bardin pulling ahead of it, and something in his gut told him the creature could run much longer than he. But, Bardin knew Pine Tree grove was close, and once there it was possible help or, at the very least a hiding place, could be found.

As he ran, Bardin twisted open the small leather bag tied around his neck and pried its ends apart. He slipped the heavy longbow into the bag of holding as well as his heavy knife. Once the items were securely in, he redid the knot and tucked it under his shirt.

A thick log lay across Bardin’s path directly ahead of him, covered with lichen and fungi. With a massive leap he landed on top of the enormous branch and when he leapt off again the ranger’s form seemed to twist and bend. As soon as his feet hit the ground Bardin was sprinting again, this time with renewed speed and agility.

His body was changed and altered with feline traits. His nails had turned into sharp claws and his eyesight had become a deeper piercing gaze with vertical pupils. Though he still resembled a man, the once barely noticeable stripes in his skin now resembled that of a tiger and his trimmed beard sprouted thicker whiskers than ever before.

With his added features came a physical change. The control over his body was more powerful and Bardin could manipulate his shape in ways once impossible in a human body. He moved more rapidly and agilely.

As the Beast following him fell slowly further behind, Bardin burst into the clearing that marked the Pine Tree Grove and stopped dead in his tracks at the almost laughable sight. A wizard stood with flame in her hand and her arm drawn back, ready to unleash an inferno upon the goodly treant on the opposing side of the grove. The wizard’s arm was being restrained by another woman but as he watched the trio began to talk.

When the three began to leave the grove Bardin cleared his throat loudly. “Hello?”

The druid, Meryl could handle. She knew plenty of druids back home in Cormyr, and though she served with none personally, she was familiar with their powers.

Even the treant was not so difficult--she'd seen stranger things in the forests and had met one of the creatures once before.

But the cat-man with the bow? That was strange, even for her.

"Please tell me you come in peace," Meryl said. "And that you're here to lead us away from whatever that *thing* is.

"All the introductions have passed once, and we've not the time to repeat them. Can you show us a way to safety?"