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Reforged pt 10

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Harold awoke in the morning with Lucas still wrapped around him. Despite the Kobold's small size, he was incredibly flexible, and not one to surrender warmth easily; it took some work to extricate himself from his brother's grasp. The Gnoll was usually the first among the siblings to awaken, but he could hear the sounds from beyond his tent suggesting others were already awake. Just as he was almost freeing himself from his slumbering younger brother, Lucas finally awoke. The Kobold yawned as he stretched, providing Harold the freedom he required.

The Gnoll wrinkled his nose, turning away from Lucas when the scaled sorcerer yawned. "Whew, Lucas... your breath still smells like jizz."

The Kobold was not in the least bit self-conscious, continuing his stretch as he arched his back, tail sticking straight up-and-out with the motion. "Yeah? Well whose fault is that, Mr. 'Once in both ends'?"

Lucas, as usual, was nigh insatiable and they'd spent over an hour before bed spending what their Dad liked to call 'brotherly time' together. In truth, Harold always found the little Kobold quite accommodating, and he refused to relent until the Gnoll had emptied himself completely. Shrugging in response to the accusation, Harold only said "Well I don't recall you complaining at the time."

Their discussion surely would have continued if not for the sound of their Dad calling from near the fire pit. "If you two are up, Peter and I are getting breakfast started."

Harold took a few minutes to get properly dressed. Lucas, however, always seemed to have such ease sliding into his breeches and throwing on his tunic; the Gnoll was convinced it was due to his scales-- less to get caught on fur. The Kobold disappeared outside, quickly exclaimed "Snow? Oh curse me! I HATE snow!"

Harold finally made his way out of the tent a moment later. Peter was seated on a rock next to the fire pit and Lucas was perched in his lap, squirmed far back into the Minotaur's chest. Dad was seated on a old log opposite Peter and was stirring a pot of oats and boiling water. The Gnoll sniffed. "Porridge?"

There had been times in the past when the family had eaten porridge for breakfast, and Harold hated it. Frowning, he approached the campfire and plopped down beside his dad, who smiled reassuringly in his way. "Pottage."

It was only a marginal improvement; while pottage actually had some vegetables to disrupt the monotony of the grains, Harold favored meat. Sighing, he rummaged around in the backpack at his Dad's feet and began pulling out bowls. Never one to sit still, the Gnoll preferred to find something to occupy himself while the meal was being prepared so he settled for rubbing the plates and utensils with snow, scouring them clean of any remnants from their prior night's meal.

Usually the most perceptive of the brothers, Harold was surprised when Lucas pointed out something he himself hadn't noticed. "Where's Orvig?"

Dad reached into the knapsack Harold had been rummaging through and pulled out a piece of parchment. "He left a note... Orvig went back to the keep to try again."

Lucas' ear sails perked at that but Peter lowered his head, snorting. It was evident that the eldest brother was already aware of the departure, which made sense since he and Dad were up first. The Minotaur grunted a follow up comment. "He didn't want to endanger us."

The Human by the fire looked like he wanted to scowl but, as usual, managed to keep his emotions in check as he stated "That is his decision. We'll finish up breakfast and begin breaking down camp. He promised to be back once he's concluded his task.

Harold couldn't help himself. "IF he comes back." He got three sets of glares in return for the statement.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, which was a rarity for the Smith household. Peter, Dad, and Lucas were obviously caught up with thoughts about Orvig, but all Harold could consider was their next step. Once eating began, Dad surrendered the note and Harold saw the Orc's next plan for the group; between traveling to the Wizard's College or seeking out aid from Sir Wesker, Sir Orvig took choice number three, and elected to have Harold lead the way to his forest friends. The thought left the Gnoll a little ill-at-ease.

Aside from his family, the only other people with whom Harold had interacted for any great length of time were a set of friends he knew far north of Hearthbridge-- a ways east and a little south of Traven Keep. His first run-in with them almost resulted in his death due to the obvious racial misunderstanding but, over time, they had come to accept him and if there were any other place he felt safe aside from with his family, it was at the Brightwood Circle. The people there were Druids, and included among their number was the one who trained him in the ways of the woodsman.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a question from Lucas. The Gnoll realized right away that his younger brother was repeating it again. "Hey! Spot! How far?"

Harold blinked. "How far to what?"

Lucas hissed out in frustration. "To where we're going? Orvig said in his letter that's where we're going, right? How far away?"

The Gnoll cleared his throat, partially to give him a moment to consider the answer, but also to hide the embarrassment of being caught off in his own little world; that was usually reserved for the Kobold himself. "Ah... about a day. If we wait here much longer we'll have to plan on spending another night out."

As it turned out, Orvig did return, but the group did have longer to wait. Once breakfast was done, Dad had all three brothers break down the tents and get the campsite ready for departure. He took some time and used the last of the healing cream to tend to everyone's wounds, and, just as mid-day was starting to threaten to arrive, Harold caught sight of Orvig approaching from the direction of Traven Keep. Pointing, the Gnoll announced "Looks like he made it."

The Orc was moving at a decent pace despite pulling a small hand cart which, even at that distance, Harold could tell had a decent amount of gear loaded into it. Dad wasted no time in getting everyone together to head down to help; Lucas rode on Peter's shoulders to avoid having to pass through the snow. That was the official word, at least; Harold knew it was just because the little bugger couldn't keep up otherwise.

Orvig's haul was fairly significant; the Orc had managed to gather some important gear from the armory including armor for Dad and a collection of healing potions. The moment the family got within hailing range, Dad lit into him with the 'fatherly tone' of his. "Orvig... you should not have gone back."

Strangely, the Orc shied away, just the same as any of Harold's brothers, and for good reason: Arthur Smith had a REALLY good 'fatherly tone'. Despite being their Lord, Orvig was immediately apologetic. "I did not mean to give you cause for concern, Arthur, but I realized, if we were to keep each other safe then we needed to be well prepared. I have potions for healing and armor for you. I think it will fit well."

Dad was unmoved, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you went back to the ruins without us..."

Shrugging, Orvig replied "I did not want to put everyone at risk. Besides, I knew where everything was, and a smaller group was less likely to be noticed."

As if suddenly remembering who he was speaking to, Dad snapped out of his 'worried dad' routine and just nodded. "Well... you are back safely, which is the important thing."

Lucas hopped from Peter's shoulders onto the sled. "And with SWAG!"

Orvig spent a moment to divide the healing potions to everyone. "I got enough for one each... they are powerful curative elixirs, so save them for an emergency."

Dad inspected the armor the Orc had brought back. "This is magnificent... it looks like it's made for a nobleman."

"It was Sir Asler's second set."

Harold turned to regard Orvig, as did everyone else in the family. The Orc reached out to rest a hand on the breastplate. "Father always made it a point to have two sets so he would always have an unblemished appearance. The two of you have a similar build, so I presumed it would fit well enough."

Peter nodded. "If there are any changes needed, the four of us can make them... Father is an exceptional smith."

Dad ran his hands across one of the pauldrons reverently. "No... I couldn't change this armor... it would be inappropriate... profane, even."

Orvig reached out and rested a hand on the Human's forearm. "Arthur... my father held you in high esteem. Knowing that it is you helping me to avenge him, I an CERTAIN he would want you to have it."

Harold remembered that Dad taught them very young to always be appreciative of a gift; he wondered just how the smith would respond. In the end, he honored his own wisdom. "Then thank you, and thanks to the memory of him... Boys... come help your old man and see if we can get the latches closed."

The next fifteen minutes were spent figuring the best way to get Dad into the armor. As it turned out, once everything was in place, it not only fit well-- it fit as if the suit were made for him. Orvig smiled. "You see? Providence. I can imagine none other doing my father's armor the justice it deserves."

It was a strange morning, but a good morning. Harold hoped that the positive results would continue throughout their adventure. Once they were finally on the move, the Gnoll's thoughts began straying to the immediate future; he had grown up keeping two very important parts of his life separate but, in about a day's time, his family would meet his druidic friends. He hoped everything would turn out as well as the armor.

* * * * *

Those thoughts and more remained on his mind throughout their day of travel. Due to the cold weather and occasional snowfall, the group took turns passing Lucas around; the temperature was obviously not doing him any good. When evening approached and the group found a spot to camp, Dad got to work preparing a fire but the lack of dry wood meant that there was little good any amount of tinder could do to get one started. At that point, Lucas took matters into his own talons.

Several words of power later, and the little Kobold's exhale was accompanied by a little serpentine squeal, which quickly grow into the roar of a gout of fire which spewed forth from his open maw, immediately setting the damp wood alight, and very nearly burning it to ash in the process. From there, it was easy enough to add additional logs to get a suitable fire lit. In no time at all, Lucas was basking near the warmth.

Considering how close they'd drawn to the Circle's area of influence, Harold chose not to hunt. For dinner the group was left with traveling rations and the last of the grains Lucas had pilfered from Traven Keep's root cellar. All-in-all it wasn't the worst meal they'd ever had and, even if it was, the Gnoll had plenty on his mind to keep it occupied. Rather than call it a night, he ended up staying awake, offering to take watch... just in case.

He wished both his brothers a good night and gave his dad a warm embrace. In order to make the most of the sleeping arrangements, Orvig and Peter each got their own tent while Lucas, still suffering from the gods-forsaken cold of winter, paired up with Dad. There was a time that Harold would have been jealous, but first, Harold knew that nothing would happen between the two of them unless Dad allowed it and second, the Gnoll had too many other things on his mind to let it dwell in sibling-rivalry territory for too long.

It had been over a month since Harold had last visited the Brightwood Circle, but it wasn't the span of time that concerned him. He'd had an argument with Algus, arguably one of the kindest and most gentle of the Druids, and the Gnoll had very nearly struck him, but his regret was not the reason why he was so concerned about visiting. No, the people of the Brightwood Circle were his friends just as Harold's brothers and his Dad were his family. Despite loving both groups, his concerns were having those two separate parts of his life meet. Most of all, however, it was Liani.

Harold loved his Father; Harold loved his brothers. Although he didn't know if what he felt for Liani was love, but it was something much stronger than friendship. He sat on a rock looking out over the moonlit, snow-covered terrain, letting thoughts of the past, present, and future make a horrible mess in his mind as he considered what would happen once the Brightwood Circle had a chance to meet the Smith family, and when Harold introduced the Druids to his father and brothers. He wondered how he'd introduce Liani, and even mouthed one idea aloud. "Dad? Peter? Lucas? This is Liani Moonwhisper... she's my--"

He didn't really know how to even finish his practice introduction. What was she? His trainer? Yes, she had taught him the ways of the woodsman and how to handle himself in the forest. His companion? True, they were rarely apart when he visited. His almost-executioner? She HAD almost killed him the first time he stumbled into her. Lover? He felt his ears flush with warmth... along with another part of him.

Liani was a complicated woman-- a complicated half-elf. Much like Harold himself, she had faced ridicule and suspicion. Granted, her lack of humanity was limited to fifty percent of her being elven so compared to a full-on Gnoll the ridicule she experienced could never have compared, but her early childhood had been no degree easier than his cubhood. Like Harold, she had been raised by her father, a shepherd from a village far to the north of Hearthbridge. Liani had lost her father to a raid that slaughtered almost all of the peasants outside the town walls, and that raid had been conducted by Gnolls.

It was little wonder that she had wanted to kill him the first time they had met. Fortunately, the two were not alone, and two of the circle's Druids, Algus and Branson had stopped her from putting a dozen arrows into him before giving him the chance to speak; it might have helped that he'd called out in Common, rather than Gnollish. Despite the Druids vouching for him, Liani had hated him for almost a year after. She was the first to call him "Harold of Man", the nickname the Druids had chosen for him ever since.

Something had changed one day, however, some months back. It was the last time Harold had visited the Brightwood Circle and he arrived to all of the Druids busy in a ritual, leaving only Liani to tend to their visitor. By that point the two were comfortable with one another's presence that the prospect of being near the half-elven woman didn't scare him shitless, and so he resolved to make the best of their time together. Little did he know just how close they would become.

It had been a gradual realization on his part-- how close she drew every time they stopped to talk, the way her presence had become comfortable within his personal space. A light touch on his arm, a gentle smile at his comments and, before he knew it, without even fully realizing why, he risked his life by hazarding a kiss. She didn't turn away, and things escalated from there. Before he knew it, they were naked laying atop their combined cloaks and then, suddenly, she welcomed him into her, not only emotionally, but physically.

She had been a virgin, and he could smell the blood. It was his first time being with a woman and, despite the practice with his brothers, what he shared with Liani was something completely different. He realized during that time that she'd not only come to accept him as something other than a barbaric beast hell-bent on slaughter, but she'd grown fond of him... and he'd grown fond of her. By the time they reached climax her fingers were entwined in his and, even as he growled, arched his back, Liani shuddered within the throes of her quivering release, whispering softly to him in Elvish.

They continued to hold one another as they came down off their peaks and didn't separate for quite some time afterward. The Druids would soon require her aid and Harold knew that he would have to help his father with forge work and so he would not be able to stay long regardless. They exchanged few words apart from a brief and awkward farewell, leaving the Gnoll with no understanding of where they stood on any number of positions. It was the last time he'd seen her before Hearthbridge was sacked, and he still wondered just what they were to one another. He continued wondering that as the sun slowly rose above the horizon.

* * * * *

Although he'd never visited the Brightwood Circle in the winter, it was not hard for Harold to lead the group in the right direction. A trait of wilderness curated by a circle of Druids was that it had a tendency to invite those who were welcome as well as discourage those who were not, and the Gnoll definitely knew the way. The snow did little to inhibit their passage and, aside from Lucas' constant objections about the cold, the going was relatively easy. It was far simpler however as they arrived in the Brightwood itself.

The Archdruid of the circle, an odd creature known only as Sovereign had once explained to Harold that the Brightwood was a place of great natural power and, while the Gnoll didn't quite understand or appreciate the mushroom-man's meaning, stepping through what amounted to an invisible curtain separating mid-Winter weather from late-spring, he finally understood. In the matter of a single stride their surroundings went from bleak white to vibrant green. Although everyone had something to say it was Lucas who did so most emphatically. "Thank Farlanghn the snow's gone!"

Harold smirked, not about to reveal that he was just surprised. "Yeah... may as well take off your cloak or you'll get sweatier than Kord's n--"

Peter was very prompt. "DON'T BLASPHEME!"

The Gnoll grinned toward his older brother. "--neck."

The weather was definitely an improvement for traveling and it had an immediate positive impact on the group's morale. Harold started recognizing different landmarks and, once he saw the old oak where he was first ambushed by Liani his heartbeat began to quicken. Realizing that they were a scant two hundred yards from the Circle, he slowed. "We're close."

Lucas slowed more than everyone else, eventually coming to a stop. "I don't like this."

Harold turned back to regard his little brother. "Whadda ya mean? It's fine. We're safe here. We're going to go see friends."

Even as he spoke the words, the Gnoll realized that Lucas wasn't entirely wrong. A cold, errant breeze rose up out of nowhere, and a stronger gust of wind heralded a slight darkening to the sky. Harold couldn't put his finger on it, but something DID feel off... it was NOT the normal feel he got within the Brightwood. Lucas further elaborated. "I smell magic at work and I recognize the 'scent'. It feels like--"

The statement was interrupted by a loud boom as the sky erupted and a jagged bolt of lighting crashed down, scorching the earth right in the middle of the group. Everyone jumped back, and Harold was aghast when he recognized a loud voice challenging them. "Begone, interlopers. Leave the Brightwood or become one with the soil."

While such a greeting wouldn't have been beyond reason for some random wanderers approaching a Druidic circle, Harold hardly expected such an ultimatum, especially not from Branson Oakshadow, one of the most even-tempered and emotionally temperate men he knew. The Gnoll called out "Branson! It's me! Harold!"

Lucas took a step back, shielding his face as the wind began to whip up. "Doesn't seem like they're that friendly after all..."

Peter kept his voice low. "Could they have become tainted? We have seen demons walk the earth-- perhaps--"

His words were lost beneath the crashing and rumbling of water, earth, and wind as several loud explosions sent powerful vibrations through the ground. A section of trees fell over, immediately immolated a vaguely humanoid form arose within the fire; an enormous rock exploded as a being made completely of stone broke free; a vortex arose from a nearby pool of water, swirling up into a shape that looked like a head and two arms perched atop a torso. Atop an overlook a whirlwind arose, dust and debris swirling around within it as it too grew arms.

Lucas snorted. "If this is their way of being friendly I'd hate to see what they'd do if they thought we were enemies."

Harold shook his head. "No... this isn't right."

Arthur was quick to back him. "Perhaps they're in trouble? If they're Harold's friends then something must be wrong for them to react to us like this."

The Kobold reached his thin digits into the spell component pouch at his side. "Well... I'll try to be friendly, but if they bite first then all bets are off."

The Gnoll kept his paws away from his weapons. "No... just wait. They wouldn't harm us. I know it."

Orvig regarded Harold for several seconds, finally pulling his gauntleted hand away from the hilt of his sword. "I'll trust your judgment."

Harold was trying to figure out what was going on, but the constant questions from his party didn't make it any easier. Peter rested a large hand on the Gnoll's shoulder. "Harold... have we offended them in any way?"

The fire continued raging within the tree line as the being made of flames stared them down with malevolence. Harold reluctantly drew his bow, but didn't knock an arrow. "Something is wrong here. It doesn't feel right. Branson would never let a part of these Woodlands get burned."

Lucas huffed. "There's a LOT of things wrong here, H..."

Harold was ready to respond but the words were caught in his throat as he caught sight of Liani kneeling on a tree branch in the distance. She had her bow out, and knocked a stick into the string; it grew into a full length arrow, leaves forming the fletching as she spoke, calling them out in Elvish. He didn't know Elvish, but he knew a threat when he heard one.

He wasn't the only one; Orvig stepped up beside Peter and Arthur, reading his shield as he set himself for trouble. "They may be your friends but they have not shown themselves to be well disposed toward us."

A large bear emerged from the undergrowth, bellowing out a loud roar as it rose up onto its hind legs. Beside it, was a large timber wolf; Harold recognized it right away as one that never left Algus' side, and he saw that it was cowed, hunkered close to the ground with its tail between its legs. Something was definitely wrong.

Peter took up a defensive stance, drawing his shield and locking it against Orvig's to create a cohesive defense. "What should we do brother? Attack or flee?"

Every sound around Harold was suddenly drowned out by a voice that was not just a voice-- he could hear it far more within his head than his ears. The Gnoll recognized it right away; it was how Sovereign communicated. "Harold, He has control of the Circle. I cannot oppose them so I cannot oppose Him. You must flee this place."

The 'voice' was not heard by him alone, and the rest of his party turned toward him in confusion. He mumbled the name. "Sovereign..."

Peter gave him a light shake. "What say you, Brother? Are these your friends or no? Fight or flee, we are with you either way."

Lucas, beside Harold, pulled out the large book he'd taken from Traven Keep. In front of the Gnoll, Dad, Peter, and Orvig were all looking to him for direction. Far past them, the Gnoll saw Branson step out into view; the bearded man had his oak staff held toward the sky and was chanting; his eyes looked... blank. Although Harold knew little about magic, he could still feel the ebb and flow of the natural energies in the area, and quickly reached out with a free paw to pull Peter back a step; he was close enough to both Orvig and Dad that the three fell back as one, just as a large tree in front of them began to move.

The bear stepped forward again, letting out a rumbling growl and Harold watched in surprise as its entire body was covered in a thick layer of living bark. Beside him, Lucas noted "Look-- it's a 'tim-bear'."

Arthur reprimanded him immediately. "Not the time, Lucas."

From her perch, Liani aimed her bow; Harold locked eyes with her as she trained her bow on him, but held the shot. Like Branson, her gaze was devoid of any recognition-- any vibrant sense of understanding. He watched as the little living creepers wriggled and shifted around the arrow shaft, and yet she didn't fire. He murmured "They're possessed..."

Once again, Sovereign's voice 'spoke'. "He took control, as if they were puppets... but he cannot control me... except through them. I am sorry, Harold of Man... but if you do not leave, they will destroy you in His name."

Lucas hissed, stowing the book before reaching a talon into his pouch. "If 'He' is who I think he is, he's mistaken if he think's anyone's killing us."

Branson took another step forward, reaching a hand up toward the clouds; Harold took an involuntary step back as he watched the dark, swirling clouds overhead blacken; little rumblings heralded nothing good at bright flashes of light arced within the sky. Ahead and to the right, the figure of flame crackled and popped menacingly-- it was the first problem Harold wanted to address. He pointed at it, addressing his younger brother. "L... can you freeze that thing?"

The Kobold hissed dejectedly. "You know how much I hate the cold..."

Orvig let out a deep grunt, then proposed an approach. "Let us draw them out with ranged attacks."

Lucas huffed. "Well... whatever we do, first thing's first."

The Kobold shouted several words of power and pointed to the bear; a moment later the animal's bark armor fell apart. As several opposing eyes went toward Lucas, Arthur moved in front of them to provide cover. Harold moved likewise, knocking an arrow. "We need to stop whatever this is... they need help!"

No sooner had he spoken than the living humanoid whirlwind soared down from the ridge where it hovered and launched itself at the Gnoll. He set his stance as it threatened to blow him away, and it buffeted him powerfully with winds; the impacts felt like punches, but he weathered it for the sake of protecting his little brother. Harold recovered just in time to see the animated tree lumbering toward the group, but Orvig threw himself in front of it, blocking its advance and using his shield to deflect a powerful attack as it swung a branch at him.

Despite having been affected by Lucas' magic, the bear seemed none-the-less resolved to cause them harm... yet it stayed right where it was, growling. A few seconds later it was surrounded by vibrant green energy, which seeped into its body; the timid wolf beside it was likewise imbued, though it seemed no more eager to fight than it had before.

Peter stepped up to join Orvig, hacking at the moving tree with his sword, but to little effect. His comment was almost comically perceptive. "We need an AXE"

Sovereign spoke again, practically pleading. "He came, and did this to my friends. And now, he is pitting then against yours, Harold-of-Man. Whether you fight or not, He wins, and I am powerless to stop this. You must flee this place!"

Harold remembered how helpless he was to do anything about Lucas being stolen from their home. He recalled how Hearthbridge burned while the family did nothing. He wasn't able to sit by idly any longer. Shouting out, he contested the suggestion. "We're here to help, and we're not leaving!"

Even as he spoke, Harold caught sight of Liani's fingers twitch. His eyes locked onto hers again and, in that moment, the blankness within her gaze left and for just one split second he saw recognition. Her bow jerked aside at the last minute and an arrow whistled through the air a fur's-width from his ear. He knew he should have been fearful, or even reluctant, but, at that moment, he only felt resolve; Liani was still fighting to free herself of whatever control had taken hold, and he was not about to do anything less.