Ember's Tale 92: The Challenge

Chapter 92: The Challenge

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

All the druids of the grove were gathered around the henge, waiting in solemn silence for the challenge master. Once he arrived and invoked the ritual of the challenge, Cernd and Faldorn would fight. As Cernd had told Ember on their way to the grove, the contestants were to fight with nothing but their own abilities; to ensure that, they would use no armor and no weapons other than a crude staff, and all blessing spells and enchantments would be stripped from them as they entered the circle - in Faldorn's case, her link to the grove would be severed. "It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

The contestants were granted a single hour before the fight, to meditate and prepare. That hour was almost up.

A wizened old man, bent with age, hobbled slowly towards the henge. Long, sparse strands of white hair and beard, soaked through by the drizzling rain, hung limply around his face. He looks easily old enough to be Pauden's father, Ember mused, watching him with concern as he tottered past her. He reached the standing stones, stepped in between them, and stood up straight, gazing at the people outside the circle with piercing blue eyes that spoke of wisdom and clarity of mind, even when the rest of his body was failing him.

"I am the challenge master," the old man said in a clear voice that carried easily across the grove. "Do any here make claim to the challenge? Who is ready?"

"I, Cernd, make claim to the challenge," Cernd said, standing at the edge of the clearing, dressed in his simple robe and holding a plain staff.

"And I, Faldorn, accept!" Faldorn shouted from the opposite edge. She was equipped much as Cernd was.

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

As the contestants walked towards the henge, Faldorn turned her head to glare hatefully at Ember. As much as she wanted to return the glare, Ember forced herself to look calmly at the shadow druid.

"One can feel the warmth of her admiration, even from afar," Yoshimo remarked. "If our friend loses, our lives will be in danger."

"I know," Ember sighed. "If he loses, I'll challenge her. And if I lose... run."

"Minsc will not run from his witch!"

"We could never abandon you in such a fashion, my lady!"

"You won't be abandoning me," Ember said quietly, "and I'd rather have you alive than be avenged. So do as I say."

Cernd and Faldorn entered the circle from opposite sides - Faldorn stumbled for a moment as she stepped across the boundary - and stood facing each other, staves held ready for combat. The challenge master moved to the edge of the circle, and raised his hands. "The challenge starts," he intoned, and stepped out of the ring.

The two combatants circled each other warily, never taking their eyes off the other. Cernd moved with the practiced ease that came with years of training, but Faldorn had an almost feral grace; it was very hard to guess which one of them might have the upper hand. Every now and then, one of them halted for a moment to chant a quick cantrip, a simple spell designed to strengthen skin or toughen flesh; the protection the cantrips added was no match for a blade or a magical weapon, but in this fight, the slight edge they gave might be enough to turn the tide of battle.

Faldorn attacked first.

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet. As the grass rippled around Cernd's bare feet, struggling to wrap its stiff, jointed stems around his lower legs, Cernd began a chant of his own, redirecting the river of swaying grass towards Faldorn. The plants danced maniacally for a short while, trying to obey both of the conflicting spells, then settled down and shrank back to normal size.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Within the stone circle, Cernd struck at Faldorn, but she smoothly ducked out of the way and counterattacked, landing a solid blow on his hip. Seeming to suppress a wince, the older druid backed off, only to raise his staff and attack her a second time. She twisted sideways, neatly avoiding the blow, but this time, Cernd was ready for her; with a deft twist of his hands, he brought his staff up and sideways, catching her across the shoulder. She cried out in pain, and one of her hands lost its grip on her staff.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

"Had enough, weakling?" Faldorn shouted. Cernd groaned, and moved slightly, but did not stand up. Ember's heart sank. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he getting up? She couldn't have hit him that hard, could she?

"It will be a pleasure to wipe your scourge from the land!" With a harsh laugh, Faldorn began to invoke a summoning spell.

"Dread wolf," one of the druids near Ember grumbled. "Just like when she killed Gragus."

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

The shadow druid howled with disbelief and rage. Her spell forgotten, she raised her staff to try to ward off the werewolf that had been Cernd, but he - was it even still him? - snatched the staff from her hands, broke it in two, and fell upon her. The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

The crowd watched in perfect silence as the werewolf stepped away from the body and sank to his knees. A shudder passed through him, and his werewolf features melted away, turning him into a human once more. Naked aside from the mud that was splattered over most of his body, he kneeled on the wet grass, gazing steadily at the challenge master.

The old man stepped into the circle, and raised his hands. "All honor to the Great Druid!" he cried. "Nature has her champion!"

The grove erupted in cheers.

---

"You knew all along that you'd beat her," Ember said to Cernd that evening. Faldorn's remaining supporters had been rounded up, the rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and the festivities celebrating the change of leadership were finally winding down. Most of her companions were still sitting near the large bonfire, but Minsc had fallen asleep under the branches of a young sweetmaple, Boo nestled securely in one large palm. She and Cernd sat some distance away from the others, on the trunk of a fallen pine tree. Cernd had a new robe and a couple new feathers in his hair, and the Great Druid's staff, the Staff of Thunder and Lightning, was cradled in his lap.

"I was not certain," the new Great Druid replied, and passed her a wicker bowl full of wild strawberries. "Her lack of understanding of my nature gave me an upper hand, but I still needed the opportunity to change. I could not risk letting her attack me in the moment of weakness before the beast takes over."

"So that's why you waited so long?"

"Yes. I needed her to feel that I was no more a threat than the dormouse is to the weasel. Her summoning spell gave me the time I needed."

Ember nodded, and popped a couple of the berries into her mouth. They were small, pale, and slightly tart, but there was a pleasant sweetness to them. "Why didn't you tell us? About what you are, I mean."

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Not lifting her gaze from the berries in the bowl, she picked up another one and put it in her mouth. It seemed to be sourer than the others she'd eaten.

"What you did to Faldorn, to the grove... you should not have been able to do that," he murmured. "And I sense something about you, something that is not quite right. You are not what you seem, perhaps even less so than I am."

Memories of her reception in Trademeet came back to her. And that was just for being a druid. "What... what exactly is it you seem to sense?" she asked hesitantly, and looked around; thankfully, nobody was within earshot of them.

"As you know, all of natures' creatures live in some measure of harmony with her. In yours, there is some discord. The difference is slight, but it is there; you do not have quite as much in common with nature as her other creations."

"And if I were to tell you I am... different, what would your reaction be?"

"My duty tells me to be curious; other than that, I am at a loss. I do not believe you are a danger, but I do not know what you are capable of. I... I would know what you are. You can choose not to say, and I suppose it really doesn't matter, but it would ease my mind and further our trust."

"You are right," she finally said. "I shouldn't have been able to do that to her, and I am... I am not fully human." It hurt to say it out loud.

"What are you, then?"

"Have you heard of Alaundo's prophecies, about the children of Bhaal?"

The older druid looked at her. "Yes, I have," he said. "You are one of them?"

She nodded unhappily. "The thing you sense in me is Murder. When I attacked Faldorn, it siphoned life from the grove through her bond. I try to keep it under control, but sometimes... I can't."

"I see," Cernd said, and took a few berries from the bowl. He ate them slowly, one at a time. "You stopped the fight once it touched the grove."

"Yes."

"The tree drops the nut, but it has no say over how it flourishes. There is a difference between who your ...father wishes you to be, and who you are. I will only hold you responsible for the latter, and from what I have seen of you, I have no reason to bear you ill will."

"Thank you, Cernd," Ember said, relief flowing through her.

"No, thank you, for trusting me," he said with a smile. "Thank you, also, for helping me reach this place in one piece." He leaned over the side of the treetrunk they sat on, picked something up from the ground, and handed it to her. "I want you to have this."

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

"I understand, I think," she said. "And I'll try."

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

Chapter 92: The Challenge

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

Excellent way of showing how Faldorn has -quite literally- stained the land

As the contestants walked towards the henge, Faldorn turned her head to glare hatefully at Ember. As much as she wanted to return the glare, Ember forced herself to look calmly at the shadow druid.

Must take quite some effort all things considered

Cernd and Faldorn entered the circle from opposite sides - Faldorn stumbled for a moment as she stepped across the boundary - and stood facing each other, staves held ready for combat. The challenge master moved to the edge of the circle, and raised his hands. "The challenge starts," he intoned, and stepped out of the ring.

The two combatants circled each other warily, never taking their eyes off the other. Cernd moved with the practiced ease that came with years of training, but Faldorn had an almost feral grace; it was very hard to guess which one of them might have the upper hand. Every now and then, one of them halted for a moment to chant a quick cantrip, a simple spell designed to strengthen skin or toughen flesh; the protection the cantrips added was no match for a blade or a magical weapon, but in this fight, the slight edge they gave might be enough to turn the tide of battle.

A damn close run thing, as they say

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Aww, only Edwin could have destruction envy.

"Dread wolf," one of the druids near Ember grumbled. "Just like when she killed Gragus."

This line is great; both for Faldorn's murderous streak and arousing pathos for Cernd

"So that's why you waited so long?"

"Yes. I needed her to feel that I was no more a threat than the dormouse is to the weasel. Her summoning spell gave me the time I needed."

Quite a plan, and a nature metaphor that makes sense. I'm liking your Cernd

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Indeed

"You are right," she finally said. "I shouldn't have been able to do that to her, and I am... I am not fully human." It hurt to say it out loud.

Must be even harder for her than most. Druid and all.

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

Always was puzzled as to why Scimitars were allowed to Druids.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

Do i see Cernd becoming a mentor in the future?

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

Yay! No reason for them to be outcasts all night. Great chapter.

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

Much better than the LOLZ! Fighting Pit! They throw you into in the game. Much more appropriate in my mind.

"It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Good, Cernd. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Oh she probably does: lice.

"Minsc will not run from his witch!"

"We could never abandon you in such a fashion, my lady!"

We know who the gentlemen in the group are now. *Gives Edwin and Yoshimo the stink eye.*

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Oh yeah, spell, counterspell, spell counterspell, spell, spell, yet another counter spell.

Just the grandest.

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

This is what we call playing your trump card.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

Might be good advice, might not. Either way, it's the sort of advice Cernd would give, so props to you for that.

Excellent chapter. I anticipate further editions eagerly.
-Blue

As the contestants walked towards the henge, Faldorn turned her head to glare hatefully at Ember. As much as she wanted to return the glare, Ember forced herself to look calmly at the shadow druid.

Must take quite some effort all things considered

A bit, yes.

The two combatants circled each other warily, never taking their eyes off the other. Cernd moved with the practiced ease that came with years of training, but Faldorn had an almost feral grace; it was very hard to guess which one of them might have the upper hand. Every now and then, one of them halted for a moment to chant a quick cantrip, a simple spell designed to strengthen skin or toughen flesh; the protection the cantrips added was no match for a blade or a magical weapon, but in this fight, the slight edge they gave might be enough to turn the tide of battle.

A damn close run thing, as they say

Exactly.

I noticed that whenever Cernd got a chance to fight Faldorn, he usually got his rear end handed to him unless he changed.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Aww, only Edwin could have destruction envy.

Yeah, he's thinking fireballs right now.

"Dread wolf," one of the druids near Ember grumbled. "Just like when she killed Gragus."

This line is great; both for Faldorn's murderous streak and arousing pathos for Cernd

Also, it's all that needs to be said about her challenge to Gragus.

"So that's why you waited so long?"

"Yes. I needed her to feel that I was no more a threat than the dormouse is to the weasel. Her summoning spell gave me the time I needed."

Quite a plan, and a nature metaphor that makes sense. I'm liking your Cernd

My Cernd likes being liked

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Indeed

"You are right," she finally said. "I shouldn't have been able to do that to her, and I am... I am not fully human." It hurt to say it out loud.

Must be even harder for her than most. Druid and all.

Oh yes. But she does have the benefit of knowing, first hand, that her goddess knows what she is and didn't reject her for it.

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

Always was puzzled as to why Scimitars were allowed to Druids.

As far as I know, it's because some DnD designer got them mixed up with sickles.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

Do i see Cernd becoming a mentor in the future?

To be honest, I don't know. He won't be travelling with them, of course.

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

Yay! No reason for them to be outcasts all night. Great chapter.

Yeah, the good guys are running the grove now. Thanks!

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

Much better than the LOLZ! Fighting Pit! They throw you into in the game. Much more appropriate in my mind.

Especially since the pit is in a cave.

Along with the rest of the grove.

(Perhaps the grove was started by mineral druids? )

"It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Good, Cernd. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

Oh, he will. He Has Plans

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Oh she probably does: lice.

"Minsc will not run from his witch!"

"We could never abandon you in such a fashion, my lady!"

We know who the gentlemen in the group are now. *Gives Edwin and Yoshimo the stink eye.*

Yeah, well, Yoshimo has his own reasons. I think he understands her current position too well to protest.

I also think he wouldn't run.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Oh yeah, spell, counterspell, spell counterspell, spell, spell, yet another counter spell.

Just the grandest.

There's a reason I try to make my fights and duels short!

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

This is what we call playing your trump card.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

Might be good advice, might not. Either way, it's the sort of advice Cernd would give, so props to you for that.

I struggled quite a bit with this advice, so I am very glad it ended up sounding like Cernd and wasn't clearly good/clearly bad/clearly something she already does

Excellent chapter. I anticipate further editions eagerly.
-Blue

Thanks

A wizened old man, bent with age, hobbled slowly towards the henge. Long, sparse strands of white hair and beard, soaked through by the drizzling rain, hung limply around his face. He looks easily old enough to be Pauden's father, Ember mused, watching him with concern as he tottered past her. He reached the standing stones, stepped in between them, and stood up straight, gazing at the people outside the circle with piercing blue eyes that spoke of wisdom and clarity of mind, even when the rest of his body was failing him.

Don`t forget Ember, old men are always powerful in fantasy for some reason.

"I, Cernd, make claim to the challenge," Cernd said, standing at the edge of the clearing, dressed in his simple robe and holding a plain staff.

"And I, Faldorn, accept!" Faldorn shouted from the opposite edge. She was equipped much as Cernd was.

I really want to root for Faldorn... why wasn`t she a PC instead of Cernd?

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet. As the grass rippled around Cernd's bare feet, struggling to wrap its stiff, jointed stems around his lower legs, Cernd began a chant of his own, redirecting the river of swaying grass towards Faldorn. The plants danced maniacally for a short while, trying to obey both of the conflicting spells, then settled down and shrank back to normal size.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Heh... trust Edwin to put his foot in his mouth.

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

The shadow druid howled with disbelief and rage. Her spell forgotten, she raised her staff to try to ward off the werewolf that had been Cernd, but he - was it even still him? - snatched the staff from her hands, broke it in two, and fell upon her. The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

And down she goes. Nice scene overall.

She nodded unhappily. "The thing you sense in me is Murder. When I attacked Faldorn, it siphoned life from the grove through her bond. I try to keep it under control, but sometimes... I can't."

"I see," Cernd said, and took a few berries from the bowl. He ate them slowly, one at a time. "You stopped the fight once it touched the grove."

"Yes."

"The tree drops the nut, but it has no say over how it flourishes. There is a difference between who your ...father wishes you to be, and who you are. I will only hold you responsible for the latter, and from what I have seen of you, I have no reason to bear you ill will."

Well, he is sensible I`ll give him that.

All the druids of the grove were gathered around the henge, waiting in solemn silence for the challenge master. Once he arrived and invoked the ritual of the challenge, Cernd and Faldorn would fight. As Cernd had told Ember on their way to the grove, the contestants were to fight with nothing but their own abilities; to ensure that, they would use no armor and no weapons other than a crude staff, and all blessing spells and enchantments would be stripped from them as they entered the circle - in Faldorn's case, her link to the grove would be severed. "It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Oh yes, she would kill you if you were at her mercy. Question is… would you do the same?

"And I, Faldorn, accept!" Faldorn shouted from the opposite edge. She was equipped much as Cernd was.

Too bad she’s not clever enough to dispense with such stupid, risky old rituals. If her link with the grove is so powerful, why not just slaughter Ember and her party. The other druids would likely still obey her out of fear.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Absolutely, I do so agree! Unfortunately, for my Edwin, it’s getting hard to find opposition worthy of him, or stupid enough to even want to stand up to him.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

It seems that the Insane has defeated the Boring. I’ve no idea who I would to prefer to win, to be honest!

The old man stepped into the circle, and raised his hands. "All honor to the Great Druid!" he cried. "Nature has her champion!"

The grove erupted in cheers.

Well, they sure changed their allegiance quickly. Who wouldn’t want such loyal followers, huh?

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Werewolf is just such a cool character concept. I mean… it takes a special writing ‘talent’ to make a werewolf character boring and devoid of personality, doesn’t it? Shame on Bioware for that one… at least your Cernd seems more alive.

She nodded unhappily. "The thing you sense in me is Murder. When I attacked Faldorn, it siphoned life from the grove through her bond. I try to keep it under control, but sometimes... I can't."

Well, you seem to be doing a better job at it than most Bhaalspawn we’ve seen here, at least.

"The tree drops the nut, but it has no say over how it flourishes. There is a difference between who your ...father wishes you to be, and who you are. I will only hold you responsible for the latter, and from what I have seen of you, I have no reason to bear you ill will."

I guess that’s nice of him… even though I could have done without the metaphor.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

The problem is that it might be too dangerous to let that other dark side too close to try and understand it, as it might easily take you over.

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

They seem to get along very nicely… hmm, but… but we need inter-party conflict and bickering, do we not? I certainly hope so!

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock

/me is tempted to make a joke about Stonehenge and it being one of the useful wonders to build in Civilization IV, but... it would probably fall flat.

So I'm not going to make it.

"It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Maybe not, but in this case, this girl just needs to -die.-

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Yeah, well, he might have a point. Wouldn't put it past her to have a poisoned blade or something tucked away in there just in case the fight wasn't going her way.

"I know," Ember sighed. "If he loses, I'll challenge her. And if I lose... run."

Raven: "Yeah, because if Ember loses, too, we're hitting the place with a mass driver slug."

Harlequin: "And that'll flatten everything within a square kilometer. Everything."

The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

Awwww... but... but there should be blood and tearing and stuff... 'cause that would be cool and better than she deserves, anyway.

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

Ah, good. At least she's got a real weapon now. Staves are for wussies.

Falynn: "I use a quarterstaff."

Imoen: "Yeah, but yours is enchanted to blow up in an orgy of magical energy if you crack it in half. And it's got other goody powers, too."

Falynn: "Well. Right."

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

Woah. I'm seriously loving the Stonehenge-esque space here. Maybe it's just because I'm familiar with the landmark, but even so I can really picture the whole thing. And it seems so idyllic, when nobody's fighting inside it, I suspect.

The contestants were granted a single hour before the fight, to meditate and prepare. That hour was almost up.

Maybe it's just me being a Cernd fan, but I'd've loved to have had some indication of what both he and Faldorn did for that hour. Despite the fact it probably would have just been meditation.

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Teehee Edwin and Mazzy!

"One can feel the warmth of her admiration, even from afar," Yoshimo remarked. "If our friend loses, our lives will be in danger."

"I know," Ember sighed. "If he loses, I'll challenge her. And if I lose... run."

"Minsc will not run from his witch!"

"We could never abandon you in such a fashion, my lady!"

"You won't be abandoning me," Ember said quietly, "and I'd rather have you alive than be avenged. So do as I say."

She's clearly a leader here. In the story and in the grove. Which is ace. Oh, and the fact you have the speech without explanation and yet I know exactly who's speaking is awesome.

Cernd and Faldorn entered the circle from opposite sides - Faldorn stumbled for a moment as she stepped across the boundary - and stood facing each other, staves held ready for combat.

Yahah! No grove energy for you!

The two combatants circled each other warily, never taking their eyes off the other. Cernd moved with the practiced ease that came with years of training, but Faldorn had an almost feral grace; it was very hard to guess which one of them might have the upper hand. Every now and then, one of them halted for a moment to chant a quick cantrip, a simple spell designed to strengthen skin or toughen flesh; the protection the cantrips added was no match for a blade or a magical weapon, but in this fight, the slight edge they gave might be enough to turn the tide of battle.

Faldorn attacked first.

I love this posturing, wary dynamic between them. The fight's clearly on, even though it physically isn't, and that conflict of personality's no less fascinating.

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet.

"viciious grin, chanted motion"? Oh, that's poetry. Awesome.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

And I love the clarity of the staff-fighting here. I can really picture it, especially with all the characterization of their incidental movement earlier. And oh no! Get up, Cernd! C'mon!

The shadow druid howled with disbelief and rage. Her spell forgotten, she raised her staff to try to ward off the werewolf that had been Cernd, but he - was it even still him? - snatched the staff from her hands, broke it in two, and fell upon her. The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

Woah. I think you caught the primal power I associate with a werewolf completely. Although, given all the philosophical comparisons between Cernd and Faldorn, I can't help but be worried he himself has resorted to 'summoning' a wolf to do the killing.

"You knew all along that you'd beat her," Ember said to Cernd that evening. Faldorn's remaining supporters had been rounded up, the rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and the festivities celebrating the change of leadership were finally winding down. Most of her companions were still sitting near the large bonfire, but Minsc had fallen asleep under the branches of a young sweetmaple, Boo nestled securely in one large palm. She and Cernd sat some distance away from the others, on the trunk of a fallen pine tree. Cernd had a new robe and a couple new feathers in his hair, and the Great Druid's staff, the Staff of Thunder and Lightning, was cradled in his lap.

This is so picturesque, I just wanna be there too!

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Not lifting her gaze from the berries in the bowl, she picked up another one and put it in her mouth. It seemed to be sourer than the others she'd eaten.

I love the subtlety of this. I think it actually says more about their reactions to each other than saying it plainly could've.

"No, thank you, for trusting me," he said with a smile. "Thank you, also, for helping me reach this place in one piece." He leaned over the side of the treetrunk they sat on, picked something up from the ground, and handed it to her. "I want you to have this."

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

"I understand, I think," she said. "And I'll try."

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

I think you write Cernd extremely well. I do get a sense of the paternal-wisdom I kinda figured he had, but you alos invest him with a kind of practicality in sharing food, little natural things, and that's a really wonderful aspect to focus on, I think. It's almost a shame he won't be sticking around, I think.

Hmmm. Balance versus Harmony. See, Cernd's even making me think now. Awesomecore!

A wizened old man, bent with age, hobbled slowly towards the henge. Long, sparse strands of white hair and beard, soaked through by the drizzling rain, hung limply around his face. He looks easily old enough to be Pauden's father, Ember mused, watching him with concern as he tottered past her. He reached the standing stones, stepped in between them, and stood up straight, gazing at the people outside the circle with piercing blue eyes that spoke of wisdom and clarity of mind, even when the rest of his body was failing him.

Don`t forget Ember, old men are always powerful in fantasy for some reason.

I guess it's because they have to be powerful just to live that long...

"I, Cernd, make claim to the challenge," Cernd said, standing at the edge of the clearing, dressed in his simple robe and holding a plain staff.

"And I, Faldorn, accept!" Faldorn shouted from the opposite edge. She was equipped much as Cernd was.

I really want to root for Faldorn... why wasn`t she a PC instead of Cernd?

Because she already was

The shadow druid howled with disbelief and rage. Her spell forgotten, she raised her staff to try to ward off the werewolf that had been Cernd, but he - was it even still him? - snatched the staff from her hands, broke it in two, and fell upon her. The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

And down she goes. Nice scene overall.

Thanks!

"The tree drops the nut, but it has no say over how it flourishes. There is a difference between who your ...father wishes you to be, and who you are. I will only hold you responsible for the latter, and from what I have seen of you, I have no reason to bear you ill will."

Well, he is sensible I`ll give him that.

Personally, I find him far more interesting and nuanced than Faldorn, who's a one note ecoterrorist megalomaniac.

All the druids of the grove were gathered around the henge, waiting in solemn silence for the challenge master. Once he arrived and invoked the ritual of the challenge, Cernd and Faldorn would fight. As Cernd had told Ember on their way to the grove, the contestants were to fight with nothing but their own abilities; to ensure that, they would use no armor and no weapons other than a crude staff, and all blessing spells and enchantments would be stripped from them as they entered the circle - in Faldorn's case, her link to the grove would be severed. "It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Oh yes, she would kill you if you were at her mercy. Question is… would you do the same?

If he doesn't, she'll still be bound to the grove when the challenge ends.

"And I, Faldorn, accept!" Faldorn shouted from the opposite edge. She was equipped much as Cernd was.

Too bad she’s not clever enough to dispense with such stupid, risky old rituals. If her link with the grove is so powerful, why not just slaughter Ember and her party. The other druids would likely still obey her out of fear.

Cernd challenged her before she got that far.

"(A wizard's duel would be far more exciting,)" Edwin mumbled, earning himself glares from the entire group.

Absolutely, I do so agree! Unfortunately, for my Edwin, it’s getting hard to find opposition worthy of him, or stupid enough to even want to stand up to him.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

It seems that the Insane has defeated the Boring. I’ve no idea who I would to prefer to win, to be honest!

Well, if Faldorn won, this'd be one of the last chapters of my story.

The old man stepped into the circle, and raised his hands. "All honor to the Great Druid!" he cried. "Nature has her champion!"

The grove erupted in cheers.

Well, they sure changed their allegiance quickly. Who wouldn’t want such loyal followers, huh?

Fearful followers, you mean.

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Werewolf is just such a cool character concept. I mean… it takes a special writing ‘talent’ to make a werewolf character boring and devoid of personality, doesn’t it? Shame on Bioware for that one… at least your Cernd seems more alive.

My Cernd graciously accepts the compliment.

She nodded unhappily. "The thing you sense in me is Murder. When I attacked Faldorn, it siphoned life from the grove through her bond. I try to keep it under control, but sometimes... I can't."

Well, you seem to be doing a better job at it than most Bhaalspawn we’ve seen here, at least.

True, that

"The tree drops the nut, but it has no say over how it flourishes. There is a difference between who your ...father wishes you to be, and who you are. I will only hold you responsible for the latter, and from what I have seen of you, I have no reason to bear you ill will."

I guess that’s nice of him… even though I could have done without the metaphor.

Shh, what would he be without them?

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

The problem is that it might be too dangerous to let that other dark side too close to try and understand it, as it might easily take you over.

Yes. Even with his unique perspective, Cernd cannot fully understand her situation.

Then again, he is talking to someone who can use the blood of Murder to heal.

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

They seem to get along very nicely… hmm, but… but we need inter-party conflict and bickering, do we not? I certainly hope so!

That's what Edwin's for

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock

/me is tempted to make a joke about Stonehenge and it being one of the useful wonders to build in Civilization IV, but... it would probably fall flat.

So I'm not going to make it.

I've never played any of the Civilization games, so rest assured that I probably wouldn't have gotten the joke

"It is not necessarily a fight to the death," Cernd had said, "but in this case..." He had not elaborated; it wasn't necessary.

Maybe not, but in this case, this girl just needs to -die.-

Yes. For a number of reasons.

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Yeah, well, he might have a point. Wouldn't put it past her to have a poisoned blade or something tucked away in there just in case the fight wasn't going her way.

I think she has just enough respect for the ritual and confidence in her own supremacy to not bring anything but lice.

Then again, lice can be pretty devastating to a canine

"I know," Ember sighed. "If he loses, I'll challenge her. And if I lose... run."

Raven: "Yeah, because if Ember loses, too, we're hitting the place with a mass driver slug."

Harlequin: "And that'll flatten everything within a square kilometer. Everything."

Ember: Um, you don't have anything a bit more... precise? I'd like the forest to remain standing, after all.

The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

Awwww... but... but there should be blood and tearing and stuff... 'cause that would be cool and better than she deserves, anyway.

I couldn't bring myself to make Cernd do that.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

Ah, good. At least she's got a real weapon now. Staves are for wussies.

Only if you use them wrong

Falynn: "I use a quarterstaff."

Imoen: "Yeah, but yours is enchanted to blow up in an orgy of magical energy if you crack it in half. And it's got other goody powers, too."

Falynn: "Well. Right."

See, there's a huge difference between a quarterstaff and an enchanted quarterstaff

The scene of the challenge was a stone circle, a henge, that stood in a clearing near the heart of the grove. It was outlined by twelve giant standing stones, arranged in six pairs that each supported a massive slab of rock; the stones were heavily encrusted with lichen and mosses, but the surfaces that faced into the circle were completely bare. The ground within the henge was perfectly flat, and covered by a short carpet of grasses. Here and there, scuff marks offered a glimpse of the reddish-brown soil that lay beneath the grass; scars from some previous ritual, maybe even from Faldorn's challenge, Ember guessed.

Woah. I'm seriously loving the Stonehenge-esque space here. Maybe it's just because I'm familiar with the landmark, but even so I can really picture the whole thing. And it seems so idyllic, when nobody's fighting inside it, I suspect.

You've been there? *if so, is jealous*

The contestants were granted a single hour before the fight, to meditate and prepare. That hour was almost up.

Maybe it's just me being a Cernd fan, but I'd've loved to have had some indication of what both he and Faldorn did for that hour. Despite the fact it probably would have just been meditation.

Yes. Meditation, prayer, some attendance from Ember and random grove druids, and Ember and Cernd agreeing that she challenge if Cernd falls. But the preamble takes up more than enough of the chapter as it is

"One can only hope she doesn't have something extra tucked into the rat's nest she considers to be hair," Edwin muttered; Mazzy hushed him.

Teehee Edwin and Mazzy!

It is always good to pit Edwin against the Lawful Good

"One can feel the warmth of her admiration, even from afar," Yoshimo remarked. "If our friend loses, our lives will be in danger."

"I know," Ember sighed. "If he loses, I'll challenge her. And if I lose... run."

"Minsc will not run from his witch!"

"We could never abandon you in such a fashion, my lady!"

"You won't be abandoning me," Ember said quietly, "and I'd rather have you alive than be avenged. So do as I say."

She's clearly a leader here. In the story and in the grove. Which is ace. Oh, and the fact you have the speech without explanation and yet I know exactly who's speaking is awesome.

In my mind, when I let different people speak without being attributed, it 'sounds' like they're talking almost at the same time. It feels more chaotic

And it only works when the parties involved have distinct voices

Cernd and Faldorn entered the circle from opposite sides - Faldorn stumbled for a moment as she stepped across the boundary - and stood facing each other, staves held ready for combat.

Yahah! No grove energy for you!

The two combatants circled each other warily, never taking their eyes off the other. Cernd moved with the practiced ease that came with years of training, but Faldorn had an almost feral grace; it was very hard to guess which one of them might have the upper hand. Every now and then, one of them halted for a moment to chant a quick cantrip, a simple spell designed to strengthen skin or toughen flesh; the protection the cantrips added was no match for a blade or a magical weapon, but in this fight, the slight edge they gave might be enough to turn the tide of battle.

Faldorn attacked first.

I love this posturing, wary dynamic between them. The fight's clearly on, even though it physically isn't, and that conflict of personality's no less fascinating.

I figured I couldn't make this a fireworks show, or I'd have to justify why Ember hasn't done much spellcasting so far. So, my druids are low key

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet.

"viciious grin, chanted motion"? Oh, that's poetry. Awesome.

Thanks

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

And I love the clarity of the staff-fighting here. I can really picture it, especially with all the characterization of their incidental movement earlier. And oh no! Get up, Cernd! C'mon!

The onlookers would certainly have appreciated knowing that it was just part of his plan, eh?

The shadow druid howled with disbelief and rage. Her spell forgotten, she raised her staff to try to ward off the werewolf that had been Cernd, but he - was it even still him? - snatched the staff from her hands, broke it in two, and fell upon her. The shadow druid screamed as the werewolf pinned her to the muddy ground; she struggled for a moment, but couldn't stop him from wrapping his large, clawed hands around her head and violently wrenching it.

Woah. I think you caught the primal power I associate with a werewolf completely. Although, given all the philosophical comparisons between Cernd and Faldorn, I can't help but be worried he himself has resorted to 'summoning' a wolf to do the killing.

He understands his wolf, and the wolf is him. Her wolves are lackeys, and although she loves them, she has no qualms about sending them to their death for the sake of her cause.

"You knew all along that you'd beat her," Ember said to Cernd that evening. Faldorn's remaining supporters had been rounded up, the rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and the festivities celebrating the change of leadership were finally winding down. Most of her companions were still sitting near the large bonfire, but Minsc had fallen asleep under the branches of a young sweetmaple, Boo nestled securely in one large palm. She and Cernd sat some distance away from the others, on the trunk of a fallen pine tree. Cernd had a new robe and a couple new feathers in his hair, and the Great Druid's staff, the Staff of Thunder and Lightning, was cradled in his lap.

This is so picturesque, I just wanna be there too!

The scenery helps the conversation, doesn't it? (I added it when I realized that when I tried to imagine them talking, I was seeing them surrounded by darkness and nothing else, and remembered that they're not in the middle of a huge black void )

"Nature takes me as I am, but few people respond favourably to lycanthrope shapeshifters. It is easier to merely let them see how I am on the surface, and only divulge the truth if necessary," he said calmly. "However, something tells me that you are not unfamiliar with this philosophy."

Not lifting her gaze from the berries in the bowl, she picked up another one and put it in her mouth. It seemed to be sourer than the others she'd eaten.

I love the subtlety of this. I think it actually says more about their reactions to each other than saying it plainly could've.

Show, not tell, but make sure the showing does the telling.

"Yes, and like a black-tipped falcon, it is also deadly. Use it well," he said, and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I don't envy you the task of balancing your nature, but if you will take the advice of a werewolf: do not shun your darker side. It is a part of you, just like your human side. Finding their balance is not enough; find their harmony, and it might become easier."

"I understand, I think," she said. "And I'll try."

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

I think you write Cernd extremely well. I do get a sense of the paternal-wisdom I kinda figured he had, but you alos invest him with a kind of practicality in sharing food, little natural things, and that's a really wonderful aspect to focus on, I think. It's almost a shame he won't be sticking around, I think.

Yeah, he has a grove to run. I'll send the party to visit him if I get a good excuse to do so, though

Hmmm. Balance versus Harmony. See, Cernd's even making me think now. Awesomecore!

Cernd:

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet. As the grass rippled around Cernd's bare feet, struggling to wrap its stiff, jointed stems around his lower legs, Cernd began a chant of his own, redirecting the river of swaying grass towards Faldorn. The plants danced maniacally for a short while, trying to obey both of the conflicting spells, then settled down and shrank back to normal size.

I loved this part.

Within the stone circle, Cernd struck at Faldorn, but she smoothly ducked out of the way and counterattacked, landing a solid blow on his hip. Seeming to suppress a wince, the older druid backed off, only to raise his staff and attack her a second time. She twisted sideways, neatly avoiding the blow, but this time, Cernd was ready for her; with a deft twist of his hands, he brought his staff up and sideways, catching her across the shoulder. She cried out in pain, and one of her hands lost its grip on her staff.

...but 'seeming to?' Is he doing it, or not? If he's pretending, how could Ember twig on it, and why should the reader? If he isn't, it's even more superfluous.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

Oh, I just love it, again. Very clear, very vivid; I can actually see it happening, and, by now, you should know how horrible I am at seeing fights.

"It will be a pleasure to wipe your scourge from the land!" With a harsh laugh, Faldorn began to invoke a summoning spell.

"Dread wolf," one of the druids near Ember grumbled. "Just like when she killed Gragus."

Heh. I see that your Faldorn and mine have at least one thing in common... Neither is horribly original in her spell-casting.

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

...oh, so that's your solution to the 'clothes' issue...

The old man stepped into the circle, and raised his hands. "All honor to the Great Druid!" he cried. "Nature has her champion!"

The grove erupted in cheers.

...sheesh. Can they be more hypocritical?

"You knew all along that you'd beat her," Ember said to Cernd that evening. Faldorn's remaining supporters had been rounded up, the rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and the festivities celebrating the change of leadership were finally winding down. Most of her companions were still sitting near the large bonfire, but Minsc had fallen asleep under the branches of a young sweetmaple, Boo nestled securely in one large palm. She and Cernd sat some distance away from the others, on the trunk of a fallen pine tree. Cernd had a new robe and a couple new feathers in his hair, and the Great Druid's staff, the Staff of Thunder and Lightning, was cradled in his lap.

What a beautiful scene.

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

And what a beautiful weapon. Is it Belm?

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

Aww. I like your Cernd... He'll have to stay in the grove, though, won't he? He's too sensible and, excuse the expression, down-to-earth, to be much of an adventurer... :sigh:

I can't really decide which part I enjoyed more, the fight or the after-fight... 'm just sorry for not having the time to reply earlier.

Cernd moved to block her, but she feinted away and, with a vicious grin, chanted motion into the grass under his feet. As the grass rippled around Cernd's bare feet, struggling to wrap its stiff, jointed stems around his lower legs, Cernd began a chant of his own, redirecting the river of swaying grass towards Faldorn. The plants danced maniacally for a short while, trying to obey both of the conflicting spells, then settled down and shrank back to normal size.

I loved this part.

Thanks, it was the part of the fight that I most enjoyed writing

Within the stone circle, Cernd struck at Faldorn, but she smoothly ducked out of the way and counterattacked, landing a solid blow on his hip. Seeming to suppress a wince, the older druid backed off, only to raise his staff and attack her a second time. She twisted sideways, neatly avoiding the blow, but this time, Cernd was ready for her; with a deft twist of his hands, he brought his staff up and sideways, catching her across the shoulder. She cried out in pain, and one of her hands lost its grip on her staff.

...but 'seeming to?' Is he doing it, or not? If he's pretending, how could Ember twig on it, and why should the reader? If he isn't, it's even more superfluous.

The thing I was going for is this:
Cernd is suppressing a wince, so that only a flicker of something appears on his face.
Ember (who is the observer of this fight) sees this flicker, and thinks he is suppressing a wince, but she doesn't know this for a fact. So she can only say he seemed to do so.

"You dare?!" Faldorn shouted, dancing away from Cernd. She planted her staff in the ground and, staring defiantly at him, started a chant to call lighting. A quick jab of his staff interrupted her spell, but she caught him with his guard down, and landed a solid blow across his forehead. He tumbled to the ground, landing in a cascade of muddy droplets, and lay still.

Oh, I just love it, again. Very clear, very vivid; I can actually see it happening, and, by now, you should know how horrible I am at seeing fights.

I figured if I was ever going to do a fight properly, this one HAD to be one of them

"It will be a pleasure to wipe your scourge from the land!" With a harsh laugh, Faldorn began to invoke a summoning spell.

"Dread wolf," one of the druids near Ember grumbled. "Just like when she killed Gragus."

Heh. I see that your Faldorn and mine have at least one thing in common... Neither is horribly original in her spell-casting.

That's Faldorn for you.

With a growl that sounded more like a wild animal than a man, Cernd abruptly sprang to his feet. His hair rippled and spread across his face and body, his robe tore apart and fell from him in rags, his face elongated into a snout, his teeth and nails grew into fangs and claws. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had changed completely, and lunged at Faldorn in the shape of a werewolf.

...oh, so that's your solution to the 'clothes' issue...

Yep

(No idea where I'll go with the Slayer when the time comes, though, but somehow that is to me more of a metaphysicalmumbojumbo change while this is an outright physical change)

The old man stepped into the circle, and raised his hands. "All honor to the Great Druid!" he cried. "Nature has her champion!"

The grove erupted in cheers.

...sheesh. Can they be more hypocritical?

Yeah, they suck. Almost none of them liked Faldorn, but they couldn't gang up on her, and nobody was willing to risk being eaten by a dread wolf...

"You knew all along that you'd beat her," Ember said to Cernd that evening. Faldorn's remaining supporters had been rounded up, the rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and the festivities celebrating the change of leadership were finally winding down. Most of her companions were still sitting near the large bonfire, but Minsc had fallen asleep under the branches of a young sweetmaple, Boo nestled securely in one large palm. She and Cernd sat some distance away from the others, on the trunk of a fallen pine tree. Cernd had a new robe and a couple new feathers in his hair, and the Great Druid's staff, the Staff of Thunder and Lightning, was cradled in his lap.

What a beautiful scene.

It came about because I realized my mind's eye was seeing them hold the conversation in a pitch black room with everyone else mysteriously absent

In other words, scenery is useful.

It was a scimitar. It was perfectly balanced, decorated with ornamental carvings both on the polished wood handle and on the curved blade, and it was enchanted.

And what a beautiful weapon. Is it Belm?

Yep. Hate the name, and I'd played the game multiple times before I even discovered the little path down to the cowshed where it is, but it's a great weapon for her, and I don't have to name it in my story, and a rose by any other name and so on and so forth

He smiled again and picked up the berry bowl. "Come, my friend, let us join your companions. The night is still young, and these delicacies are too good not to be shared."

A smile spread across her face as well as she followed Cernd to the bonfire.

Aww. I like your Cernd... He'll have to stay in the grove, though, won't he? He's too sensible and, excuse the expression, down-to-earth, to be much of an adventurer... :sigh:

Yep, he's staying there. He's the leader now, after all, and it'll be his job to clean up the troll infestation and whatnot.

I can't really decide which part I enjoyed more, the fight or the after-fight... 'm just sorry for not having the time to reply earlier.

Just so you know, the fight and the afterfight were written on separate weekends