Drifting...

[MithrilBlade]

(( Warning: Includes very descriptive battle, not for faint-hearted ))

It was an ordinary day as Tredonael was sitting in the Exigo Trading Post and chatting with friends.
For the past weeks he had been traveling, even left the Valley of Sundren to explore the wilds and perform his druidic duties in the great wilds of the Northern Faerûn.
His shapeshifter's talents had grown dramatically and he was capable in taking terrifying shapes and forms to cause great havoc or act as a tool to achieve great good, depending of the manner of usage.
All this did not prepare him for the sudden and unexpected pain that rushed through his body and mind as something he had not been aware of stirred inside him.

The foul intruder of mind began to emerge from the depths of his conciousness and suddenly caused his entire arm to mutate violently, forming terrible clawed and oversized limb of a beast, causing him to lose his footing and collapse on his knees. His staff was sparking and freezing, being out of control as it didn't recognize its carrier as the master any longer and protested the grasp of the foreign arm.

Fighting with all his willpower against the dark source, Tredonael was able to fend off the immediate bloodlust, but as he opened his eyes and glanced to his friends, they seemed as foreign and threatening as they would to the eyes of wild animal encountering a shining knight in the forest.

Even a moment of studying the group started to stirr the beast within again, inviting him to turn into a massive giant or perhaps a mind flayer and feast on their hapless brains. As he proceeded to strike these thoughts with all his willpower, the battle was even harder than before and he was forced to resort to the last alternative: Running away like a rabbit.

Unlucky for him, there was someone that could match even his great giant steps, the monk Alcander, who decided to follow him and lead those that had stayed in the camp to the chaosridden shapeshifter.

They found Tredonael panting more calmly by the road leading to the Gates of Sunderer and decided to approach him.

At this point, Tredonael's mind was exhausted and spent and as the group approached him, he began to shift unwillingly, forming long sharp claws from the tips of his fingers, while his teeth grew long and sharp and he was able to snarl out only few words with great effort

"GO! Do not approach me!"

The group could not understand the battle that the druid was having inside and didn't listen to his request and instead proceeded forward, causing blinding fury to take over him. One of the companions, the dwarf Brid tried to soothe his fear by channeling a prayer on him, but as the effect was not supernatural of origins, but a battle of minds, Tredonael's mind was temporarily pushed aside as his shape grew into that of massive bear, sending terrible growl towards the group.

Luckily for the four, they were not the only one present and at the same moment two druids appeared from the wilderness and sent forth magics that started to sprout vines from beneath, gripping tightly around the limbs of the large animal.
The beast's sheer physical size and power was enough to rip the first of the vines effortlessly, but the druids kept conjuring more, eventually he was so tightly held that he couldn't move.

"Run you fools! He's out of control!" The druids yelled at the four, who stood in front of the mighty beast, but overconfident to the boundaries that the vines offered, they remained still until the small candle of Tredonael's conciousness was diminished and his mind became that of a dire bear.

He ripped himself free and rose to two feet to deliver terrible slashes of the claws towards Alcander, who only barely was able to block the swings from being fatal. The four rushed on Tredonael together like a pack of hunters trying to befell another with sheer numbers and sent shattering blows and stabs with their weapons, while Alcander was receiving the clawing.
The dire bear felt the shocking blow of Brunus' hammer and turned, engulfing the hammer and the dwarf's hand in shocking pain, forcing him lose conciousness.
He was saved by precise strike of Alcander to the large ribs of the bear that shattered through and pierced the animal's lungs, generating a drowning effect as the dying beast was trying to fend off the attackers, once more turning its face towards Alcander, the original challenger.
Rushing towards the monk with gaping maw, trying to rip the man apart, the beast felt a blow strike its throat, the monk having dodged the maw and shattered the bear's larynx, which prevented him from breathing permanently.
Collapsing heavily on the vine-covered ground the bear's eyes grew dull and darkness engulfed his vision, he had died.

The others witnessed as the large bear started to slowly diminish and reshape into humanoid form, turning back into the familiar Tredonael with the same injuries upon his battered features, not breathing and with glassed, dead eyes.

The druids walked to the fallen shapeshifter and carried him off, leaving the group to ponder what had just happened and with the skill of the wood dwellers, they vanished without a trace.

For long it was just cold darkness that Tredonael's spirit was able to see. The desolate land of dead, where the fallen awaited for their final judgement, seemed dark and foul. The concept of time existed no longer and he was only able to exist thinking the foul fate that had come upon him: He had attacked his friends and they had been forced to kill him in the act.
The time passed on in a way that he could not count, was it a minute, hour, a week? Suddenly he noticed a powerful vortex beneath his feet, pulling him forcefully inside and he could see the suffering souls moan and move towards him as he felt that he was being pulled down into Abyss for his sins as he once more blanked out...

...To gasp for air powerfully a split-second later, his eyes as blurry as his mind as he felt a force so familiar and soothing around him, he recognized it to be the Grove of Sundren.
He looked around to spot the two druids, Kaelan and Lillian, along with the Keeper of the Grove watching over him as he came to life.

"Keeper, he has awaken" said Kaelan, who was kneeling down by the barely alive shapeshifter.

"What must we do Keeper?" asked Lillian, who frowned, perhaps of fear or disgust towards the shapeshifter gone mad.

Tredonael coughed out some blood that had clotted in his lungs after his death and spoke the weak words "I...I'm sorry..."

"Hush now." was the reply of Lillian to the man, before he looked up to the wise Keeper.

The wise, ancient druid, who originally had granted him the wisdom to seek this path looked upon Tredonael and said "He must be isolated within the Viridale, away from civilization. It is there he must ultimately learn to master these forms, or... have them take control and become another animal in this forest." He turned away and said his final words of judgement:
"Take him to the forest and leave him. We will pray to Silvanus that the later does not come to pass"

The two druids did as commanded and carried the abandoned druid off to the wilds, away from people, where they left him, Kaelan offering a simple farewell "Silvanus protect."

"Let's go, Kaelan. We can not be of further assistance here." said Lillian and left the druid to his own mercy in the wilds.

This would be his final test, to either take the control over the Beast or lose himself to it and cease to exist as whole.

[MithrilBlade]

The mental struggle

Tredonael, if he, or them, could any longer be called as that, was sitting in the woods, having laid roots in the fertile soil of the Viridale.
He had been in the treant form for long, or so he at least thought that as the time passed on very differently while he was in this shape of a plant.
He could feel that despite the fact that he was there, so were many others. The forms he had used much had gained life of their own inside his head and rebelled against him when he had least expected.

The words of the Keeper were heavy in his mind and he understood that he would have to use all his willpower to surpress the others from taking over.
For this reason, the treant form offered the most peaceful solution as the ultimate plant did not concern itself with rash decisions and resembled what he found most like his foster father, Turlang the Treant.

He could feel his surrounds better than in any other form as the roots that extended far beyond his immediate location, would instantly recognize anyone moving on the forest floor and determine whether it was an animal or a visitor.
This way he was able to monitor the people who were passing by and look like a regular tree to those he did not wish to talk with.

The tremors of large stomps, produced most likely by heavy boots, could be felt from ahead. That combined with the clanking sound of armor immediately recognized the approaching individual as a dwarf, propably on his way to slay the goblinoids and gnolls of the woods.
The stirring of the unnaturally dressed dwarf instantly awakened the personalities of the different shapes inside his head.
"Release me! I will turn that thing into ash!" yelled the monstrous beholder
"If you will let me take over, I will relish eating its brains. Think of all the power!" said the mind flayer, in cold calculative manner, which was far harder to resist, but Tredonael's willpower was strong enough to brush it aside.
Many more tried to get the audition to speak within his head, but he silenced them with a powerful mental command of "ENOUGH!", making the voices fall silent once more.

The dwarf had passed on and he had resisted the call of the dangerours shapes, but as well as he knew his own mind, he could sense that the others were going to rebel again and each meeting would be a challenge.

For now, he was able to let the treant take its quiet slumber-like state once more as he knew that only by challenging his fears and darkest thoughts could he muster the iron-strong will to take over his mind once more.

[MithrilBlade]

The comfort of friends

It had been almost a week by then and Tredonael had began to tame the animal forms inside him, just like a ranger could to some extend tame a wolf pup to have as loyal companion.
He had not only gained more control, but also become closer with the Mother Earth as the lack of easy city life had forced him to hunt his food as animal, or stand as unmoving treant in the gentle forest of Viridale.

Still, every time he made a kill in animal form for his nourishment, he felt the dark call within his mind, suggesting and playing patiently with the unnatural and twisted mindsets of aberrations.

This was his sixth day in the woods as he was basking in the sun of the midday in the form of shambling mound as a pair of panthers walked in, sniffing at the pile of vegetation suspiciously.
Suddenly from amongst the rich moss, fungi and flowers an eye sprouted and opened before the animal, followed by another before the plant-creature rose on two tree-trunks of legs and the pair of thick branches separated, forming arms from the central mass.
"I thought it was you. Greetings" said the panther, who recognized this plant creature to the maddened shapeshifter Tredonael, who she was ordered to meet as she saught to walk the same path as the exiled one.
"It is you from the day of banishment. Greetings." said the plant with low, tremor-generating voice of the being.
They began to converse about the path of Shifter as the plant-shaped creature was tutoring the young female druid of its dangers as two more walked in, Alcander and Mithrilia in search for their friend.

The druidess, still in her panther shape, went quiet as the two forest-beings listened the conversation between the two newcomers for a moment, seeming to be unaware of whom were before them.
The shambling mound rooted its several branches and began to re-emerge and grow in size, as the moss and dead leaves were replaced by thick bark of constantly growing tree before the two.
The tree opened its eyes and glanced at the two, before speaking

"Why have you come to these woods Alcander and Mithrilia?"

"Mmm. Seems it knows us." the mercenary woman said, looking up to the face of the treant far above them, before answering "To the Glade. To inquire of the health of one known as Tredonael. Why do you know our names?"

"The glade is not where you would find this one. He stands before you, along with many others..." said the tree to her, in somewhat sad tone.

"Then I expect answers from you. Tell us of Tredonael's condition" she requested, Alcander remaining quiet and observing the large treant.

"Tredonael is struggling. All his efforts are spent surpressing the darker ones within. The division freed many ones who would've been better laying dormant~" The tree said before sighing deeply "~as you well know..."

"I do not know. Much words were restrained on from the druids in telling of his history. Perhaps you will grant us enlightenment instead. Why is he struggling? What darkness comes to consume him?" she asked.

"And what caused it?" said Alcander finally, beginning the conversation for his own part.

"He has the words of regret and apology towards you two for his failure. Control was lost and the beasts emerged. They struck secretively and suddenly. Only by remaining in the wilds can the safety of others guaranteed..." the treant explained, speaking in the tone of its own, even though some sympathy could flow through the forms to the treant's speech.

"I am sorry to hear that. What caused the emergence? Was there an effect in particular?" Alcander requested to know, not fully understanding what was the reason behind the outbreak of the druid's powers.

"When gaining new powers and shapes of creatures most immensive and dark of origins, they began to develop their own minds. One cannot understand what it is to be an illithid or beholder without becoming one themselves." explained the treant, more or less following the thoughts of Tredonael, who was still buried amongst the forms.

"A flirtation towards a dangerours unknown territory, as we speak. How is he faring? Is there an alternative option to make the struggle easier? If all fails, what happens?" commented Mithrilia.

"If the unity of minds will result in failure, Tredonael ceases to exist and the most dominant mind will take over the entire body, shiting permanently into a form that it most favours. There are some who are sided towards The First and some against him..."

"How and what will he need to convince or defeat those against him?" asked the sellsword in hopeful manner.

"In the battle for control, there are no factors but The First himself. He will need to enslave all the forms, rebuild his shattered mind and become one again."

"Deliver a message to him: He is not alone in the battle of inner struggle. Against a new nature he becomes. That it is not hope he seeks, but to overcome the obstacles as hope is only needed in despair. I am the living proof." replied Mithrilia with manner that held significant meaning behind it, reaching to the shattered mind of Tredonael, giving him willpower to go on.

"Your words ring the the truth miss Mithrilia. He promises to keep on fighting." said the tree-creature, with determiness in his voice, knowing that he would not have to face this battle alone any longer.

"Allow him to know that I expect to see him soon. If there is one man who can control this; it is him." added Alcander, who displayed his trust in the lonesome druid as well.

These words affected the treant enough to let the unity of minds, Tredonael himself emerge from the tree, shifting back into humanoid form that they so well knew. Once more Tredonael stood before the two.

"It is good to see you" said Alcander, who seemed to be equally relieved from the positive turn of events.

"Yes, it is I. My heart joys to see you all well...It has been so lonesome in this forest...The time loses its meaning and the only company are your own thoughts..."

"You are only alone when you believe you are. Will require object to remind self." Mithrilia said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small stone of glowing origins and started to walk towards the druid to give this gift to him.
As she approached, Tredonael's vision blurred again as the throbbing pain of nightmare-like sounds began to shout in his head, causing stream of blood tumble down his features, causing Mithrilia to drop the stone on the grass.
Holding his head, he struggled with all his might to keep the beasts in control as the others understood the message.

"Stand back everyone, we have to leave. The rest of the battles are his alone." Mithrilia instructed.

"I will not stress you for long then. As said, I look forward to seeing you again in the trade post." said Alcander before giving the struggling man one final look and heading off.

Before them Tredonael began to melt, falling in a puddle of unrecognizeable ooze, but what they did not know, he did it with a smile on his face, for the greatest of the battles: solitude, had been won.

[MithrilBlade]

The gloomy woods - Part 1

Tredonael was traveling the lands of Sundren after gaining his trust back to his friends. He imagined that the soothing wilds would bring the final control back to his mind, so he had been wandering to the most distant reaches of the valley, to places where had had not held any interest before.
Mostly by accident his wandering had brought him to the North-Eastern reaches of the mountain range as he saw the border of the great forest far ahead.

He had never before been in this massive, formerly rich and damp temperate forest, which by its sheer façade was a match to that of High Forest, his homeland.
The lure that he felt for this place was therefore great and as he went to the forest border and saw a small fortified encampment on a small rocky hill by the entrance of the forest, he first frowned, but as he went closer the truth was revealed to him.
All the buildings around the fort had been razed and burned down by something, leaving only blackened rubble and devastation in sight. There had been a recent battle in the place.

Tredonael shifted his shape and walked among the ruined homes in the form of a rat, ensuring that nobody would pay the small animal any attention and approach him in this dangerours state.
He then moved past the ruins, towards the actual border of trees and soon came to the final frontier of men, a small wall built by the few defenders who were exhausted and injured under the pressure of something, clearly from within the woods.

He moved on somewhat, to a field where a great battle had been held, according to the still smoking black holes in the ground, not more than an hour ago.
Many men were dead, but there were no signs of attackers in sight, but the inspection to the ground revealed that the opponents had been dragged away. As Tredonael inspected the fallen, he noticed that many held not only holes punctured by arrows and flesh cut open by swords, but also bite marks of what seemed to be made by at least two different set of teeth.

He noticed that one of the men was still weakly breathing, only so weakly that from distance he seemed quite lifeless among the actual dead.
The druid shifted back into humanoid form hastily, seeing that the unconcious soldier still held two arrows stuck to his side, buried so deep that if he had simply pulled them out, the man's lungs would've been filled with blood and he would've drowned.
Tredonael moved his hand to the chest of the man and uttered a prayer to Silvanus, causing magical moss grow to his dire wound and the semi-concious man grimanced, eyes still closed as the arrows began to move and finally yelping as they suddenly popped out of his chest.
The man opened his eyes to notice that the wound was gone, only the pulsing magical moss left in place, revitalizing his dying body with druidic powers of the Tredonael, whom was inspecting the injured man.

"T-thank you stranger. I was certain that I'd die before the evening...What is your name?"
"My name matters not good man, but tell me, what has fallen on this forest?"
The soldier winced at the question but spat some blood and replied "Orcs. The damned Bloodmaim beasts have taken over the woods and are attacking us at all given hours. They assaulted us only recently and killed many. We managed to also put down several, but the living dragged the corpses away for gods know what purpose..."
Tredonael sighed softly, knowing very well what orcs were capable in, if they were given enough room to grow strong. "Worry not about the orcs. Return to your family now, you have done your share of the battle. It is now my turn." he said, determination ringing from his voice as he helped the man on his feet to return back to the last outpost of Sundarian humans, receiving his final thanks before the man set off.

He decided that it was too dangerours to stay in humanoid form, so he shifted into an invisible pixie and flew on, past the men and deeper into the woods themselves; into the majestic beauty of the tree trunks that rose high in the skies like glorious pillars built by natural gods.
Yet at the base of the land, there was a different sight:
Rotting vegetation and fungi had taken over the place and countless fallen tree-trunks, propably fellen for firewood or space, filled the landscape. Unlike with the forest of this age in natural state, the undergrowth had gone wild as the void of canopy left by the fallen trees had given the space and light needed for the smaller plants to bloom.
This undergrowth did not only serve as unnatural state that mocked the age of the wood itself, but also offered the archers a place behind which to hide and the orcs knew this very well.

As he glanced to the waters, which must've sported huge ecosystems of fresh-water fish, were now empty and full of decaying, semi-skeletal remains of humanoids, killed by the orcs.
Only snakes and other beasts swam in the mass, preying upon the small scavenging animals that were quickly cleaning the corpses of flesh, making the place desolate indeed. As he touched the water with a fingertip, he could feel that diseases of many kind were filling the water, making it lethally dangerours to even sip the water, which was propably the reason why there was a great void of animals. The whole rich ecosystem was shattered by a single creature, a devastation that even human lands rarely could've been able to inflict.

He noticed a single rabbit, clearly not from the woods themselves, but which had ventured far into the woods in search of food, munching away the grass in the dark forest with no large animals to prey on it.
The rabbit, despite its minor size, was not safe however, and as the little animal hopped across the road, it triggered one of the trip-fires that had been set to the ground and unleashing a chain-reaction, which tilted a large boiling cauldron of fat to release its contents down on the spot, unleashing the outstandingly hot liquid over the animal.
The end was very quick, for the small animal was turned into pure liquid in matter of second, the heat simply dissolving all organic material.

Tredonael eyed this terrible trap with burning rage and as several orcs arrived to the place, drawn by the alarm of their triggered trap, they simply eyed the puddle, that was destroying all living things around the fall-zone effectively, and laughed at something they saw as dark irony of it all, before heading off.

Tredonael, who was invisible at the given moment, decided to follow the pair, flying quietly behind them to a small camp where the friend of the two, along with two large wolves were waiting.

(( To be continued ))

[MithrilBlade]

The resolution

Tredonael's flight lead him deeper into the woods until he arrived to a small campfire, on which the orcs were roasting a man-bred hunting dog as all things of value had been pillaged from the surrounding farms already.
Two large and foul wolves, similar or perhaps by blood related to worgs, stood by the hunters and awaited for the foul meal, among the remains of what seemed to be shattered human bones, feasted clean by apparently both the wolves and their masters equally.

The act of cannibalistic feast disgusted Tredonael and he decided to awaken the powers of his staff, which had shrunk to a small stabbing blade, more suitable for this form, causing it to fully pull out the elemental powers.

He flew straight and with determination, striking the first orc at the back of its neck, cleanly cutting the spinal column in two and instantly killing the beast, only allowing dying reflexes to be released from the dying corpse.
The wolves were able to smell the new attacker and ragingly assaulted the pixie, trying to attack what they could not see, snapping their jaws and their foul set of rotting teeth, carrying many diseases.
The pixie, despite its size, was not so easily distracted and the first hound that bit him, noticed the unearthly fey skin, which caused several teeth to fall off for biting the rocky-hard surface, before Tredonael delivered the killing blow through the eye of the beast, putting it out of its misery instantly.

By now, the remaining two hunters that had lead him to the camp, had gathered their bows and began to fire their arrows with frenzy towards the small invisible target, as their noses, like that of their canine assistants, was equally sensitive to smells.
Several arrows hit the ground and seemed to explode a small vial at the base of the arrowhead, causing sparks of magic burst free in a way he recognized a dispelling magic would do.
The second wolf was still in blood-frenzy and cared little for the fate of its fallen brethren, managed to bite the sensitive flapping wings of the pixie, furiously swinging its neck and the small and trapped enemy in its fangs, delivering shocks of pain to the pixie's back muscles.
Tredonael managed to slash an acidous cut at the tip of the wolf's nose, to force it to give a high-pitched yelp and release the pixie, who, despite the received injuries was far from done.

He gathered his fey-power and sent forth a ball of chaotic energies, which struck one of the archers, causing it to release a set of arrows at its wolf-companion, sinking three arrows to its loin, causing the canine beast to scamper off and abandon its masters.

The orcs, having not a target on sight and seeing one of their companions shoot the wolf of another hunter, began to violently quarrel with each others, first pushing and yelling at each others, but soon pulling out axes and other weapons they had to muster, letting the primitive power struggle based on physical power, that orcs so commonly practiced, take over their behavior.

What they did not notice was that the pixie was indeed gone, but Tredonael was not. He had shifted into towering frost giant and moved behind the quarreling three, lifting his massive axe above his shoulder and swung it forth in wide arc, cutting the targeted orc in half from its right shoulder to the underside of its left armpit, slashing the man-sized axe through the armor, ribs, muscle and insides of the beast like it was a smooth tomato and continuing the slash to cut both of the alive orcs to the chest height, but not fatally.
The pair of wounded orcs gathered their bows and began to fire at the attacker rapidly, causing the arrows to sink in the thick hide of the frost giant, certainly hurting as the muscles sink their sharp tips into his muscles and letting the magical bursts of dispel his flesh.
The second blow of Tredonael was no less agressive of its nature as he smashed the axe from above his head with great force and speed combined, causing the target orc lift its bow as meager protection on top of its head and try to jump out of the way. The blow went straight through the bow and sunk deep in the shoulder-plate of the orc, but got stuck in it, certainly making the arm useless as its bones were shattered of the sheer crushing power of the axe, but without killing the creature.

Tredonael realized that the multitude of arrows that had pierced his giant's hide, had also destroyed the natural enchantments, including his enchantment for physical might. The other orc screamed and began to retreat, still shooting its quickly thinning quiver of anything he could toss at the massive attacker.

The pain caused by the rain of arrows pulled out Tredonael giant-form's primal insticts as he felt that he was in bad condition himself, gripping the wounded orc before him from his neck and with crushing grip, let the fist clench around its throat as he pulled his axe free from the now very much dead orc before tossing it at the last archer like a smalll ragdoll.

The orc fell on its back from the weight of its fallen comrade and got its bow pinned down as the hulking giant approached and lifted its leg to let the orc give one final wail before the boot smashed its head and ending the creature's life quicker than any blade of a paladin would.

Wounded and tired of the sheer resistance that several unprepared ranger orcs had provided, Tredonael limped off from the no-man's land between the forest and the fort, near the steep cliff-side where he could not be easily found by either, his size shrinking, but his form bloating into the form of terrible moss-like skin covered troll.
In this form, the arrows that had sunk deep, were without any real threat popped out of the troll hide, wounds closing instantly, as he channeled some additional druidic rejuvenation on himself to speed up the recovery.

He had seen what the orcs had did to this ancient, noble wood and deep in his mind he had become determined to drive off each and every filthy spawn of Gruumsh from these woods.
This hatred was answered in his head by all, even the illithid and beholder mindsets cherished at the idea of bringing death and destruction at the orcs, along with the treants and animals who had a greater wrath for the beasts than they could ever have towards a dwarf, despite the unnatural skin of steel they often wore.

He had a goal and his mind was one with it.