The duo returns to their previous trail, traveling back somewhere is much easier, especially now fully prepared with food and a shield from local artisans, at least Dazys took one. They don't make shields big enough for Balthazar, it would take a while, and time is a short supply.
The body still lies there. Untouched, unbothered, it sleeps. "Here it is." Dazys says with a casual, somewhat detached tone. "A nesting monster, they always return to their nests." He maintains the same professional voice.
"Geez man, the guy just died." Says Balthazar with a uncomfortable expression.
"Not actually, the blood is pretty well dried. Animals don't eat prey they didn't kill.. how many scavengers roam the region?"
"I am not too sure."
"Fair enough, time to cease our loitering and get to work." Taking out his spear and passing it through the floor to simulate a trap finding stick, the dragonborn follows the faint dry blood the demi-giant has a hard time seeing. "It takes some work, but you get there sometime, see how the brown mixes well with the red? It's all about color."
The trail has the marks of eagle like claws by the soil and branch, but larger, much larger. "Dire bird or gryffin, what you hoping for?" The inquisitor's attempt break a little humor during the tracking is not very effective, but does makes Balthazar smile a little. "Well, if there's a nest, there's two, so the difference of Bad is minimal."
The forest around them grows as more and more poisoned by the step, somehow the trees form almost a wall in through the region. All visibly sick and grown far too much for their soil to be capable of sustaining them. The birds around the area play tricks on each other, stealing the scarce prey on the area. Soon, the group reaches a visual of legend.
A cloister, overrun by long vines and animals filled with sickness. The building brandishes the marks of a now forgotten noble house and a fountain where water has ceased flowing. Inside the area, a great green hooved dear can be seen, it bows and licks other animals around itself, caring for their wounds with its spiritual magic. Ghostly and iridescent, the creature raises its head and well adorned horns quickly once the travelers enter its field of view. It looks angry.
"Mortals." It's voice sounds like mixing those of many who came across this place. "This is not your realm. You are not welcome in my lands. Turn back or face the consequences. This forest belongs to nature, and the natural. Nothing and nobody else."
"A beast of your lands has killed members of my herd, left their bodies to rot, wasted a good hunt. Isn't that too an act of humanity, to be wasteful and sadistic? Isn't it fair for me, a descendant, born, of the dragons, to seek vengeance? A primordial natural act."
"There are no wastes in nature. Vermin, bacteria, virus, and fungi. To eat and chip at the rot that spreads. Your vengeance is foolish, no beasts of my land fight unprovoked. Now cease your bothering, disgraceful spawn of the defiling dragons."
"Fine then. We'll remove ourselves, but if your beast leaves this area, they are done for." He lies through his teeth while moving away from the creature and Balthazar.
"What?! You giving up that easy?" Balthazar exclaims towards the dragonborn. "This deer-ass wants to screw with us! We gotta screw with him! We gotta do something!" He holds his mace with anger while the spirit gives away a grin and prepares for fight.
The dragonborn approaches the war hero and speaks. "Balthazar, please, this very unnecessary. He gave us a fair reasoning as to why we must leave, i am sure a path to solve that situation will show itself." In his eyes, Balthazar can see a plan. The forest spirit seems relatively impressed by the dragonborn's false honor.
"so what's the plan?" Balthazar questions once they return to the forest's entrance, already far from the spirit's cloister. "A trap? A poison? You are Colorist, i guess you must exorcist ritual over there?"
"No. That's not necessary."
"So what is the plan?"
"Balthazar, give me the lamp."
"What?"
"The oil lamp, i gave it to you earlier."
"Oh yeah, right." The demi-giant hands him the item. "But what you gonna do with it?"
While speaking, the dragonborn begins to carefully open the lamp oil container and spill it over his hands then the trees. "You see, I've learned a fair of alchemy on my training, i know the properties of oil and to best use it alongside the basic survival skills to make a fire out of a bunch of sticks. In the same way I've learned how to properly contain flames, i was taught what happens they go wrong." He grabs a stick from one of the sick, dry trees and starts rubbing it on the oiled trees.
Almost a third of the lamp has been splashed over the trees. "Wait, so you are going to-" Before Balthazar is even able to finish, the fire has already been started. The oil giving it spread beyond normal, making so the flames are capable of sustaining themselves long enough to fully cover the trees and those coming after then in a scorching march.
"Mate, i know the spirit looked strong but i don't think that was truly necessary." Balthazar speaks with concern though not judgment.
"It's better to avoid direct conflict with creatures you do not understand, this is one of the best ways to get rid of a guardian; destroy its ward." He stares, at the raging fires. He feels something stare back at him, with rage, and sits towards the fire, meditating upon it as it destroys all things in its path. From the flames, the deer raises once more, observing the dragonborn sitting just beyond his reach. Balthazar reaches for his weapons but the dragonborn stops him. "It's not here to fight."
"Smart. Dangerous."
The spirit disappears, peacefully dissipating as the flames suddenly cease. "What was that?" Balthazar questions.
"Look at the condition of these woods, for all their disease and dryness, they still have potential for recovery. If allowed to continue, the flames would fully consume the forest, taking out even the beasts that hold lair here. It was a choice, death or annihilation. It couldn't stop it normally, no good water sources for it or creatures of expertise, so it used the best miracle it could, sacrifice." He gets up from the floor and calls Balthazar back into the forest.
"What if it did have?"
"I am a smart gambler."
The ruins look dead now, its warmth was stolen by the flames at the border. The cloister feels desolate and hollow, overrun by vines, but vines without color or life, real life. The waters of the fountain are bright and still, the vestiges of the plants pollute it. Rubbing his hand by the fountain, a heraldry is uncovered. Gryphon and dragon fighting. Unfortunately, nobody knows the house's name. "Come on mate, the only good path is forwards." The dragonborn pushes forwards through the archway without looking back.
Their path is marked by great leafless trees that raise above their very heads, forming a oppressive net of branches and birds of vigil, and surround the well-trod path, the hooves and paws of beasts making a good trail for walking. Hares hop in and out of it to gaze at the adventurers with prepared eyes, the eyes of a judgment that cannot be inflicted. "Hm" Balthazar grunts to himself. "You sure that was right? I mean, the spirit wasn't cool, but we could go try a deal with him, or try finding a different path.."
"You were ready to crash his horns with a mace."
"There's honor in a mace, but none in what we did."
"If it makes you feel better, you don't need to be mentally involved with the act. Just being clear."
"Does watching someone do something you find wrong also makes you wrong?"
"I can't answer morality for you. It's a Oath."
"Now that's more honorable." The demi-giant speaks, focusing back towards the trail until they reach a clearing. A gorgeous clearing all too dissonant from the dark forest, where a ripe, loaded grape tree sits at the middle. The fruits are fat and bright, shining almost, too good almost, unnatural almost, for beauty to grow inside a grove of colorless. Balthazar goes to check with excitement but Dazys stops him in the middle of his hasty walk, hand placed by his chest.
"Look closer."
A grizzly, observing the armed men with the same eyes of the hares, sharp and wise. Its fur stained by blood and its torso parted with a great scar, one all too clean for bestial politics. Whatever it was, the bear is here now. "Follow my lead." Says traveler with a swift change of attitude, the inquisitor looks attentive towards the bear. He may be unarmed, but his posture indicates readiness. As the two men slowly step away, Dazys stands in front of the demi-giant, attempting to confuse the bear to make them seem larger than they are.
As they retreat, the bear approaches. Not them, but the bountiful tree. Eating from the many of the grapes with unexpected and unwanted carefulness, it may be here for a while. 'to the right' the dragonborn points with his finger, a alternate path forwards while the bear is distracted. Carefully, Dazys moves swiftly through the thick foliage and trees, moving his feet through the branches like maniacal dancer. Cautiously, he pushes forward with precision. Alert and aware, there's no world where anything can stop his silent pacing.
Behind him, Balthazar steps on a very dramatic twig.
Somewhat unexpected, the bear is already there. It towers over the Inquisitor with raging eyes before descending his claws towards his body, which the dragonborn rolls out of the path, only barely caught in the attack's path. Noticing the breach, Balthazar dashes forward to the bear, directly punching his face in a effort to stun it in place, to a unfortunate lack of effectiveness.
Taking his sword off of the sheath, Dazys strikes the legs of the bear, cutting one of its knees and leaving the creature limping, proceeded by second cut to its hinge legs, which the bear attempts to leverage by holding the sword below his paw, unfortunately this only helps the inquisitor cut the creature's tendons. "Break the legs!" He shouts to the demi-giant, who forgoes his mace for a brutal leg sweep that further pins the bear down.
Still unarmed, Balthazar jumps to hold the bear's head down, but as Dazys stands and penetrates its pelt deeply, the surge of pain allows to quickly throw Balthazar away and beating his head right onto a tree. The bear roars and rages as its posture shifts. With two legs damaged, it keeps going. With a major perforation on its internal organs, it keeps going. Blood on its eye and the birds that watched the fight retreat to the sky; nothing good comes from wounded bears.
Swiftly, from far away, Balthazar gets up and takes a rock to throw at the bear, roaring and moving to make it sure he is challenging it. That may not have been a great choice for himself, but Dazys sure is happy to be out of the crosshairs, as he places his sword besides his body and pierces the beast's stomach once again, this time from behind its left side, twisting the blade and lacerating it out of the bear's belly in a nauseating fall of entrails.
It is, at last, done.
Crouching down the slain beast, the traveler uses his magically sharp sword to cut off one of its paws. "Didn't know you were into trophy hunting." Says Balthazar coming back from the tree.
"I ain't, this is tribute. A proof of fight can get you gifts with the Crimson."
"Who's that?"
"A.. Color? How much you actually know about us, Colorists"
"You… your guys are into colors."
"…"
"What?"
"Nothing, let's walk and talk."
"Okay so. Above all, lies the many colored, the one who made the world art and beautiful, the almighty RAINBOW. Below it, manifest from it, are all the Colors, each a being in its own right, working by the higher will to protect and create Art. There are many internal philosophies to the Colorists."
"Oh like those Pilgrims you mentioned? You made sure to differentiate them."
"Yes, the Pilgrims are the oldest, from when we were nomads. Priests are city bound and take modernity and civilization as demonstration of Its Light."
"Do these also have divisions inside of them?"
"Obviously, it's what happens when you are faithful. Priests are constantly infighting between the beauty of utility and the bright luxury. Pilgrims can't decide if they are nature's guardian or ambassador or tamer. Not to count the many sects that praise the Red of war…" The Inquisitor's explanations finishes itself as they approach another area of interest. The winds that flow through the trees here shine in a bright light, dancing through the air in illusory mystique. The trees here are painted and marked, covered in runes and paints and dyes, vibrant colors that move with the wind itself, the coloring adding a myriad of hues to the spinning winds.
"See Balthazar, that's what we adore." The dragonborn feels his feet be pushed and pulled by the ground itself, as a strong smell of brimstone raises from the ground. "That's not normal, but it doesn't stop it from being beautiful." Approaching his hand to the ground, some of the particles jump out in a savage motion, as if trying to attack the inquisitor's hand for daring to try taking it. Even then, it's just dust. Dazys fills a few pouches with the flammable powder.
"Look at that." Balthazar observes the show around himself, impressed from beginning to, a not yet achieved, end. "How did that happen?" He asks, not Dazys, no, the question was towards the wind, the trees and lights, for himself to learn. He observes the trees, the paintings that glow and retell their tales to the wind. Look at them, he recites his thoughts without care.
Once upon a time, a Colorist entered this forest. Holding tight to his arms was his love, a fae, a small and frail creature torn apart by the corruption of machinery. And so he took her to the greatest lord of fae, he fought with tooth and nail, cracking each guard's armor until he reached the lord. Demanded, shouted, cried, the man wished for his love to remain, eternity with her, that was his desire. So the lord took wish, and bound the fae into the arts, and the man into the winds. In the end, they smiled.
"He really was a Colorist. It's the only appropriate fate. Still, if your reading rings true, this forest has more than one great spirit lying here." Looking at the wind's path, it's possible to see- a distortion. As if something was dancing through the air and messing with the light winds. Then a buzzing. A luckily far away buzzing for Dazy's ears, a unfortunately deafened sound to Balthazar. "Mosquitoes, a lot of them it seems. A dangerous amount of them."
"You think we should get going?"
"No, they are coming towards here, it's too.. intentional."
"You are saying the mosquitoes are hunting us?"
"I burned the trees and killed its guardian, they have motive."
"So what's your plan?"
"You won't like it." Picking up two stick from the savage sulfur-ridden floor, that seem to have fallen from the trees above, the dragonborn starts rubbing them together. The expression of shock from Balthazar's face could probably stop anyone else, but the traveler cannot allow that to stop, so he goes faster. "Go away." The inquisitor commands the demi-giant who probably didn't need to be told to do so.
With so he heats them faster;
then faster.
Fire! Fire at the forest!
Following the same direction of Balthazar, Dazys runs away, escaping the trickery and snagging of the floor, throwing the flaming sticks up in the high air, which fall just moments before he reaches a safety point, igniting the sulfur dust raised by him and causing a violent explosion. The blast sends the dragonborn flying forwards, dragging his face through the ground, as Balthazar watches the incoming swarm be completely subdued. "You are insane."
"I am…" The dragonborn gets up and watches the minimally damaged trees of story, and the now reforming winds of light. "very efficient." Coming back to the sulfuric ground, much of it has been cleared away, alongside many short and tall bushes by the sides of the designated area, revealing a pathway that once sat unseen as if waiting to have its cover..
blown.
