Throne Of Cards 60 – Stampede And Spirituality
It is a very natural thing for the young to want to explore their various gifts and talents before they settle down within a chosen field. Obviously, this should be done within suitable perimeters and given proper guidance. Otherwise, you should take care to carry a big stick.
Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’
Dekaras had never really thought about druids very much. Rasheman was brimful with nature spirits and magic, but the Wychlaran ruled there, and Thay wasn’t exactly famous for its druid groves either. So as frustrating as it was to have to wait for the others to come back, he decided to make the best of the situation and have a good look around. Some of the druids were too busy with chores to talk, and the one he found sitting immobile under a tree with his eyes closed turned out to be ‘meditating on the Cycle of Life’. Dekaras learnt this after he’d spent a good while trying to attract the determinedly calm man’s attention, first by politely addressing him, then by flicking his fingers under the druid’s nose to try to make him stir and finally by aiming a pinecone directly above his head. It wasn’t meant to do any harm and just as intended it only hit the tree trunk, but unfortunately this led an old bird’s nest to fall on the druid’s head. The young assassin found himself chased off with a stick while the previously serene druid shouted something about wanting to ‘recycle him into mulch’.
He eventually found refuge with one of the younger druids, an apprentice of perhaps twelve years. A skinny boy with long legs and messy, straw-colored hair, Teren as he was called, was only too happy to get some help collecting firewood from fallen branches.
“I only get to chop anything if I’ve looked all over the place and can’t find enough deadwood,” Teren complained. “It takes ages and ages. I thought being a druid meant being able to…to summon fire spirits and call lightning and turn into animals, but noooo, it’s all ‘Teren, fetch some firewood,’ ‘Teren, cook the morning meal,’ ‘Teren, water the ecologically evolved strangling vines around the camp’…”
“I know what you mean,” Dekaras solemnly agreed as he dug out a nice branch from under a bush. “They won’t let me do anything much either, back home. You should have heard Master Gorbia go on, just because I was trying to build up my immunity to poison. It’s not as if I got that ill. How am I ever supposed to learn these things if they won’t let me experiment? So, what do druids do when they’re not fetching firewood or sitting around pretending not to notice you?”
“All sorts of things,” Teren said, a little self-importantly. “I can’t say too much, some things are only for the Initiated.”
“So, you don’t know?”
“I do too! There are different ways you can go about being a druid, that’s all.” He proceeded to explain that other than your regular, basic druid, there were also what might be best described as specialist sects. There were Avengers, who were especially good at shapeshifting and could manage forms beyond most druids, along with some magelike spells. Then there were the more feral druids, utilizing a specialized form of controlled lycanthropy. “I’m going to be a Totemic Druid though,” Teren explained. “They send you out in the wilds to find your own special spirit animal, and then you can summon it to fight for you.”
Now, this sounded interesting, Dekaras thought. Actually, it also sounded familiar. The clans of Rasheman tended to have totem animals as well, although those were for the whole clan, not just one person. Even so, it sounded like something he wanted to try.I don’t see why it should be just druids who can do it either. I’m sure I can figure out how it works, how difficult can it be? Having asked Teren just a few innocent questions, he eventually excused himself and set off into the woods.
Remembering that he had promised Jaheira to keep within certain perimeters and not to get into trouble, Dekaras at first kept reasonably close to the grove. He found an interesting river, with clear and swiftly streaming water, and white foam dancing around the slippery wet rocks sticking out of it. A great deal of enjoyment was had from climbing back and forth across those rocks, particularly once he found a nice one in the middle of the river where he could sit on top of it like a rider on a horse and watch the river go by. Vaguely, he wondered if the adults would disapprove of this form of entertainment, but then he dismissed that idea. After all, adults disapproved of just about everything entertaining, so how was he supposed to tell? And I know how to swim, and I’m good at climbing, so I’m keeping my promise and not getting into any trouble. Satisfied with the logic of this chain of reasoning, he went on with his game for a while, until the rock started to get a bit cold. Besides, there didn’t seem to be any good options for spirit animals around here. Summoning a spirit fish just sounded too ridiculous, and while he thought he’d seen a water snake go by, that didn’t feel right either. It had to feel right, Teren had stressed that. Once he crossed the river, he found plenty of things to look at and explore, including some trees that made for climbing practice and he spent some time bouncing on a good branch some way up. This was a regular game though, and he certainly wasn’t about to settle for a squirrel or bluebird as his totem animal. No, that wouldn’t do at all. So, he continued on for a while, until he finally reached a ravine, with steep sides that made even small noises echo, and a few stunted trees at the bottom. This had to be the ravine Jaheira had mentioned before. Well, he’d promised not go beyond it, and he’d keep that promise of course. He’d just rest here for a little while, and then start circling back to the Grove. Satisfied with this plan, he found himself a nice, flat rock in the sun, and settled down there. The sunlight was just warm enough, relaxing his limbs and he yawned briefly. Very nice, this. Warmth, solitude, quiet. Warm, golden light, gradually turning a deep wine red as his eyelids fluttered close, and then faded…to…
Black.
He startled awake with a small gasp, his heart thumping hard in his chest and his breathing quick and ragged. He didn’t remember the dream, not this time, which was probably for the best. For a few confused moments he didn’t know where he was, nor if he was still dreaming and when he finally calmed down enough to get his bearings he didn’t feel entirely reassured. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but the golden haze of the afternoon had deepened into purple twilight, and the air was definitely cooler than before. They’re going to be so mad at me. I’d better hurry up and get back. However, there was still the matter of the spirit animal. He hadn’t had the time to find one yet, and he really hated leaving a plan unfinished. How to best go about it, though? He needed inspiration.
There was a faint noise, far off in the distance beyond the ravine. An eerie, haunting noise, a sound to chill grown men to the bone. Dekaras sat up straighter, an eager glint in his eyes. Yes, of course. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it? He remembered now what Jaheira had said, about lycanthropes hunting the woods at night, and how he shouldn’t go too close. Well, he wouldn’t, certainly not, but there was nothing wrong with taking advantage of the inspiration, was there? Of course there wasn’t. So he flexed his shoulders experimentally, to loosen up, and straightened his back. He focused as much as he could, because that’s what Teren had said to do. You apparently needed to really feel the spirit animal inside you, or it wouldn’t come. He closed his eyes, and concentrated as hard as he knew how. Songs in the twilight, silence on the hunt. The swift kill, the warmth of the blood, the closeness and strength of the pack, yes. I want it. He took a deep breath, leaned his head back, and….
“Awroo!”
The sound was…not quite as impressive as what he would have hoped for. If he was to be entirely honest with himself, it sounded more like an eager wolf cub than a fully grown animal and as for striking fear into the hearts of men he thought he could do with a bit more practice. Still, it was a start. Surely his spirit animal would appreciate the effort and appear all the same? He listened intently. Something rustled at the top of the ravine, and a few small pebbles tumbled down the steep cliff walls, but that was it. He howled their hunt, but they were heading off, not coming his way. Louder, then. This third time he thought he was getting better, he was still entirely too high-pitched and not as fearsome as he’d have liked, but he managed quite the satisfying echo along the ravine. Quite pleased with himself he stood, hoping to see a ghostly spirit wolf appear. And even if it doesn’t, this was still fun. Now there was definitely a noise from the top of the ravine. More pebbles falling, brought down as something moved about in the bushes up there. Then there was a noise, an angry ‘BLAAAAARRRTT!’, and rocks went flying as an enormous, dark something thundered down the cliffs, heading straight towards him, head lowered menacingly.
There was no time to stand around, no time to even think about what he was doing. Dekaras suddenly found himself as far up a tree as he could get without even remembering how he’d got there. Squirrel spirit animal after all? He vaguely thought, and then there was no time to think at all. The tree was unfortunately rather small, with thin branches that just barely bore even his slight weight, and a trunk that bent and swayed as the furious creature below him head-butted it. The beast was enormous, taller than a tall man across its broad back, with angry little red eyes and wide, spiky horns. It kicked at the tree now with its strong legs, and he had to cling on for dear life in order not to fall off. Moose. Very big moose. Diremoose. Very big, very angry diremoose. Very angry at me for making scary noises. Maybe this wasn’t one of my better ideas.
“BRRRRARRRRRGH!” The diremoose roared, head-butting the tree’s trunk again, and this time it didn’t just sway, it creaked. As Dekaras looked down, he saw splinters flying, and he thought the tree was starting to lean just a bit. Oh. This is bad. I mean worse. The tree shook again, and he just barely managed to grab a tighter hold on the tree with arms and legs, much like a treed bear cub he’d spotted once when he was little. Jaheira will probably eat me alive. The tree shook again. If the moose doesn’t kill me first.
“Stand aside, foul beast, in the name of the Watcher!”
The diremoose’s large, shaggy head swung around, the animal distracted at the sight of a tall figure in armor shining as brightly as the full moon. Anomen was charging towards it, his shield raised. The moose snorted angrily and pawed the ground, and then there was a mighty crash. A cascade of blue sparks flew from Anomen’s tall shield and there was a clang as of a hammer striking an anvil when the diremoose rammed into it, horns first. Anomen stood firm, but his knees buckled, and although the diremoose staggered aside, shaking its head in pain, it still looked just as angry as before. Dekaras watched, his heart in his mouth, as the beast charged again. This time the shield faltered slightly at the violent impact, and Anomen was driven to his knees. Another vicious kick hit the side of Anomen’s chest, just as the man slammed his mailed fist straight into the side of the moose’s head. “Brrrayyyrrgh!” The diremoose complained. Its eyes crossed and its knees were shaking as it staggered off along the ravine, having clearly decided this fight simply wasn’t worth it.
No. Oh no.
Dekaras slid down the tree, completely ignoring the splinters sticking in the palms of his hands and the way his legs felt as if they’d turned to water. Anomen lay motionless on the ground, his face pale and still, his previously pristine armor dented and scratched. A small trickle of blood ran out the corner of his mouth.
This is my fault, Dekaras thought as he knelt beside the fallen man. My stupid fault. This wasn’t something he could run away from, he would have to face the consequences. I deserve it too. He pulled in vain at Anomen’s slack arm. “Please,” He whispered. “Please move. We…have to go.” But Anomen didn’t move, and he fell back, feeling black despair choking the breath out of him, chilling his fingers and toes. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “So sorry.”
“Well you DAMN well should be, you little fool!” The boy fell backwards with a startled squeak as Anomen’s fingers twitched, bright and soothing light spreading underneath them towards his body. The cleric sat up with a groan, the colour of his face already looking healthier. “Helm’s Holy Halls, that hurt,” Anomen muttered. He cast a second healing spell, and then a third one, before he finally got to his feet. He was…looming, and the dark look on his face didn’t bode well, not well at all. “Just what was this little adventure intended to accomplish?” He thundered. Dekaras carefully edged backwards, until he ended up with his back towards the battered treetrunk. No, it doesn’t matter. I deserve it anyway. “Never did I think I would utterly agree with that wizard on anything,” Anomen went on, the buckles on his battered armour creaking as he walked closer to the cowering boy. “But I think now I should have followed his suggestion and kept you on a leash, or possibly in a cage! Have you no sense at all? Have you got a death wish? Was it not enough to get yourself lost in the woods, must you then compound it by provoking murderous monsters? Murderous monsters that the druids insist on calling ‘peaceful fellow inhabitants of nature’ so that I must fight them off barehanded for fear of a score of bearded, scruffy, twig-haired dirt scratching archdruids huffing and puffing at me for days on end? Why, I ought to…”
Dekaras was no longer listening. He had closes his eyes again, gripping his knees tightly with his arms as he waited. This wasn’t something he could run away from, or fight back against. He didn’t deserve that. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. He waited for the first blow or slap, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. It didn’t come. Why is he making me wait? What is he doing? It was quiet, too quiet. All he could hear was the wind in the treetops, and the cleric’s labored breathing.
“What are you doing?” Anomen’s voice was still sharp, but he didn’t sound angry anymore, not exactly. Dekaras looked up at him warily. The cleric was frowning, looking a little baffled, and then he sighed, his face pale. He swallowed briefly in disgust. “You thought…no. Helm’s mercy, no. I am not my father, do you understand? I would never harm a child, I swear it. I was merely worried, that is all.” He let his hands fall to his sides, and sat down with a brief groan of pain. “I promise.”
“Your father?” Dekaras asked, once he’d reassured himself it wasn’t a trick.
“Aye,” Anomen said with a twist to his mouth. “Lord Cor was at least good for one thing. He taught me what I did not want to be, and perhaps it was in part he who drove me closer to the Watcher. I do not plan to include him in any evening prayers of thanks, mind you.” He gave the boy a penetrating look. “Now, what was this about?”
“I’m sorry,” Dekaras said again, hanging his head as he was reminded of his error. “I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. It was all an accident.” He was briefly reminded of similar sessions back at the Guild. Master Gorbia didn’t believe in corporal punishment, no. Some of the other senior assassins could be easily provoked to violence when you got in their way or disturbed them however, and he’d always been good at provoking and disturbing. He briefly explained this to Anomen, as well as what he’d been up to in the ravine. This was already embarrassing enough that he didn’t think it could get any worse.
“I see,” Anomen finally said. Then his moustache twitched with a smile. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think it would be entirely unnecessary to inform Jaheira of the full details of this little adventure.”
“You do?”
“Yes. After all, it would be fairly shameful for me to have to admit that after battling dragons and demons I was trampled by a moose, even if it was a diremoose, and even if it was in a good cause. Also, it would be a shame to make Jaheira agitate herself needlessly. After all, we are both safe and sound.”
“Right,” Dekaras said, daring to smile quickly at the priest. “Perhaps if I were to tell her that there was a whole herd of diremoose? A full stampede, and you fought them off bravely? I’m good at stories.”
“Are you now?” Anomen nodded, his smile widening. “Of course, the Watcher doesn’t approve of fibbing, I feel I must point this out. Unless it is for a good cause, perhaps.”
“Oh, I know that. I definitely remember it sounding and looking and feeling like a full stampede. I wouldn’t have been surprised by anything less, would I?”
“Certainly not. I wouldn’t have been laid low by anything else. Yes, it is all coming back to me now. We must remember to give thanks to Lord Helm for allowing us to understand each other so well.”
The cleric held out his large hand, and the boy put his small one in it.
“Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Also, moose durid iz 4 runz.
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