Thread: Grimoire of Myths

Willow Spirit And so ends the tales of the First Age of our people. Ah, but in the eyes of you all I see that your thirst for the tales of our people is not yet sated. What is that you say? Who was it that saved us from the Darkness? We do not know. Perhaps the Great Powers took pity on us, and lit the beacon themselves. But now we hearken to a later tale, in the age that did follow... The Age of Fire and Darkness had passed from our lands, and while the lands of Darkness still loomed, we moved on with our lives. The forests of the land began to recover from the savaging they'd received, and our people flourished once more. The Great Powers offered our people their aid once more. This time, rather than a single powerful entity, they placed guardian spirits in many place, in many things. Though many in number, no one spirit would wield power even close to that of the Dusk Spirit. Such could not be endured again. The worship of the spirits was a natural thing, beseeching the spirits of the earth for a bountiful harvest, spirits of sky for fair weather, spirits of river for safe passage and plentiful fishing. But though the times were fair, not all was safe within the borders. The lands of Darkness still stirred, and nameless things stirred within. The watchers of the Dark were vigilant, but they were only mortal. One by one, creatures escaped the Dark, and fled to the forests within the realm. There they gathered, there they plotted. And from there, they prepared. The creatures of the Dark began to corrupt the forest, their very presence tainting the trees. And as the trees began to change, so too did the spirits that lived within. But not only spirits lived within the forests. There also dwelt a woodsman, caretaker of the forest, and as he saw his home begin to change, he took up his axe, and sought out the heart of the problem. The Queen of this forest was a mighty spirit, and she cried out for his aid. To sweep aside the creatures that so assailed her, and to do so quickly, before the taint within her was beyond reversal. Steeling his heart, he marched to find those that would do such evil. The creatures were not easy to find, but none could evade the woodsman in his home forever. With cunning and fury, he fell upon his foes. Blade rising and falling, he hewed down creature after creature, and for all his valour, for all his heroism, he was but one against many, and his foes knew nothing of mortal limitations. Sorely wounded, and nearly beyond the limits of his strength, the woodsman stood before the greatest of the Dark Ones, the locus of power that did corrupt the trees. To slay the beast was to save the woods, but the woodsman knew in his heart that even at his best, he would have been a poor match for such a creature. Throwing himself into an attack, the woodsman felt the claws of his foe pierce his chest, his heart and lungs ruined from the strike. The beast laughed at him, but the laugh ended as the woodsman committed to one last blow, now inside the guard of his foe. The axe took the head from the beast, slaying it. A wail rose from the remaining beasts, knowing that they would not succeed in their quest. They fled the fading woodsman, leaving him to his fate. The spirit that dwelt in the heart of the forest wept, seeing the noble woodsman laid low for his efforts. She could not allow such heroism go without the knowledge of the people. So she took his soul, so far from the songs of the Song-Sages, and she bound into a tree that grew near the river. The tree, once tall and proud, bent low under the weight of the spirit that now lived within it. The tree could not bear the weight alone, so the spirit did spread to others of it's kind. Sharing the burden of the soul of the woodsman, they held it safe in their embrace. But it was not the fate he had wished for. Now bound, he would never join the souls of his ancestors with the Great Powers. The tree did remain bent with his sorrow, for though he had been rewarded by the Heart of the Forest, it was not the fate he would have chosen for himself. So bound, he remains within the trees, watching over the rivers and forests, offering council to those who know but to ask. Waiting, always waiting, for one to find the words that might set him free.