The purification of Shadowdale woods

(This is an event write up on behalf of DM Coreobus)

The Storm of Purification

The Arch-druid standing upon the ant mound looked on in dismay at the destruction caused by the blighters curse. The murky swamps upon the land and the withering trees crying out from the forest. His heart ached and yearned to cure it and so did his will. He began his march to find those that would help. Mashing through the marsh he exited and made his way to the elvin city to find the ones known as Tyndal and Alataire' to help with this bewitching curse placed upon the outer edges of the groves sacred land and with them he made a stand against the blighted creatures tainted by the corrupt druidic matches. The waged on wards as the Arch-druid prepared a ritual that would cleanse the earth of the foulness that now was pasted over the landscape. The dank putrid air filtered throughout those that would pass by and help aid the three, soon being joined by Wythran, Yashira, Klianna, F'rlis, and Garag.

As the battled waged on many beasts and tainted creatures slain the ritual almost complete before one thing slipped Ka's mind. A material needed to control the purification storm...A Catalyst... Having seen the ongoing and the need to help solve the bewitched land and elder Ursine approached the group during a pause in the mayhem. Battered and bruised after fending off a few of the creatures itself it approached Ka'avain'nae. They spoke the tongue of nature for a few brief moments and the Bear relayed to Ka who then relayed to the surrounding company that the component needed was in reach. In through the hills to the north and beyond was a raging storm of corruption itself caused by a being of another plane. It however warned that if The druid bring more then a small number, many more lives would surely be lost. The Archdruid had to choose.

Garag, Wythran, and Tyndal were the first chosen...but as they were about to depart Zathala, a windborn Genasi, offered her aid and Wythran chose to step down. The march was on and time was of the essence. The four traveled a days north into the woods and finally reaching the wind and storm ravaged lands. The twirling gusts blowing the group about while more corrupted creatures rose from the waters to try and drag them down to join the cursed. Valiantly the group pressed forward. More creatures began to spring forth and from the Arch-druids visage a rain of flaming boulders crushed the army before them before the others mopped up quite literally. As they pressed forward the Bear warned them of the road ahead. A desolate land void of no life. Plagued by the beast of storms...With the thanks of the party they pressed on....

Moving deep ahead into the lands unknown the group was confronted by the demons spawn. Through perilous fighting they moved forward to find the beast on a hill. Storms and sky cracking above them as Tyndal prepared to copy the beast, Fight fire with fire...In a rage Garag charged forth, fueled by fervor and anger he with the party slammed into the beast. The battle lasted hours upon hours before in a final desperate maneuver Tyndal let forth a spell. The beasts mind was warped and grumbled below...It was done... In the forehead remained the Star of storms. A brilliant sapphire swirling with a storm in the center. Try as they might however...they could no dislodge the stone.

In an effort, though foolish, Ka morphed into his Emberguard and through brute strength ripped it forth, but at he cost of his being. Lighting shot down, coursing through his rock like body until he was crumbled into chunks of rock. The crystal flew and lodged itself in the mountains wall. Tyndal being prepared managed to Resurrect the druid but not at the cost of stupidity...they gathered the gem with some effort and marched back, fending off the left over force from the beasts corruption they managed to make their way back to the top of the ant hill past the grove.

Ka stood Upon the mound with the gem in hand, His staff planted firmly in the top of the mound as he began to chant, Calling forth to the god he worshiped to help grant him enough power to activate the ritual. With a stroke of lightning and a crack of thunder the storm began to pick up. The whipping winds enveloped the trio as more and more blighted creatures lashed out as Ka kept on upping the intensity of the rituals bindings. A large green light emanated through the whipping fog and miasma as more and more creatures fell to those defending the arch-druid. And at a final shout Ka finished the ritual and began to concentrate to release the energies he had built up. The sapphire of storms the Catalyst of his purification storm. This however awoke the beast. The Dormant hate of the blighter responsible. From the muck and grime, through the miasma and smoke rose Zalazars hate.

The evil creation lumbered forth and the resistance was joined by a monk of protection Donnath Wolfbayne (Correct me if this is wrong). Through the storms Ka could only look up hoping that the screams behind him were that of fighting and perserverence. THough as the shadow cast over him he felt the first blow land on the back of his head. He struggled to keep standing and the Crystal wavered. Then another...Ka fell to his knees with the crystal upheld then darkness. Zathala continued the fight after all four fell before the beast and with a shot from an arrow to the creatures core...the beast sloshed in a pile of muck. From Ka'avain'naes dead hand the crystal rolled forth and a loud whining hum began to grow. A light brilliant flash shot straight up towards the sky like a beacon in the night. The clouds parted before the blackness grew into a shining white and purfying rain poured over the corpses. It was only but a few moments before the sloshing muck had disintigrated and the miasma was washed away.

Ka opened his eyes to see Tyndal above him smiling, beaten and bruised....The rain felt refreshing as The archdruid stood uneasily to look at the fallen hero's now risen through divine intervention. The beast and curse of Zalazar defeated...the Shadowdale woods flooded, but no longer with the corruption of the blight but with the waters of purity. The bear that helped staring off with almost a smile before receeding into the woods as the group gathered themselves. It was complete.




As the ritual began




Zalazars hate rising



(Yes I gave this event a theme song)

((another viewpoint on the same event))

The steps taken are like any other, her eyes about the land, cautious and ready. A simple sigh escapes her upon viewing the waters risen up past their usual points. Mild annoyance changes to disgust as a wretched stench lofts its way to her nose. The mask about her neck is pulled up, futility founded through action as the smell slipped right through the thick cloth. She sees the hill ahead, and decides to get a better view. If she can find a path across, she might be able to escape this horror without losing half a day travelling around.

She meets a few on the hill. Perhaps they are also scouring for options. Perhaps they are stranded, to the masked woman it matters little. Lady Luck is not smiling on her this night, for her path is covered fully in the miasma of murky waters. As she is turning to leave a few faces recognized find their way to the hill. An acknowledgement of skill and affinities bind the woman to these others as they travel north, to deal with the cause of this all.

They march with due haste through the woods, and manage to find themselves drawing close to a storm of wild destruction. Through a bog, against undeath and deadly plant life the party fights tooth and nail to continue. When they reach a point the masked woman halts. A quiver, a quick gasp, she sees her elemental companion of massive sizes dip down into the water, more than half submerged. The monsters lost in the wind cause no distress to her, but water... It is so unnatural to her, she would surely fall victim to the pool if she is forced to cross it. Thankfully the druid turned to earth is able to carry her across these points, and even as she clings to its shoulder she hides behind the hood her quickened breath, glad that the stone under her fingers cannot feel the pressure of the death grip she holds.

Finally she is back on safe ground, and the group finds themselves in a barren wasteland. In the center here, somewhere, is the monster that is causing this. The beasts they meet here are like nothing other, horrors of great strength and resilience. Even the elements are against them, and the masked woman is often finding herself paying more attention to the sky and dancing against the strike of electricity than she is avoiding the blows of the beasts here.

They reach the eye of the storm, the largest of these creatures lumbering with the gem that focused this power in its head. An offer to shatter the gem is denied, it is important for the purging of the plagues in the woods south. With such, the group battles the beast, and after much time and effort provides little affect the elven wizard offers a single spell that bests the beast. Their troubles are not over, for the gem itself is a trouble to obtain. The druid who so aggressively wishs for the gem is struck down by lightning when gaining the gem, but even has nature is denied its rightful process he refuses to destroy the gem. They take it carefully, and head back to the hill...

Atop that ant hill the masked woman watches. Behind her the druid chants, the magics of the air and earth weave about in some odd effort to remove the curse. She cares little for the details as each wave of wicked stench and evil pour out at them in an attempt to stop it. As the climax of the storm, of the spell, and of the whole event accumulates a plant beast of unnatural proportions arises from the swamp. She has never seen such a massively powerful creature, and with no thought to any other option leaves more arrows in the beast than any foe she has fought before. One by one her companions fall, the half-orc, the wizard, the human who joins her in the end, and finally the druid. His cries of devotion break through the battle, and even as he falls the affects of the magics can not be ignored. Finally the beast turns its head to her, and with everything else lost she unleashes her last flurry, a furious storm of lightning arrows that pin into the creature like so many before it. No eyes, no heart, no hands or feet to target, she let her arrows fly with reckless abandon, and as it draws close it descends upon her. A skilled hop back, and the beast does not get back up to strike again. She adjusts her hood and mask as she looks at her kill, moving past it without much thought to bring back the wizard. She always does like his company more than the others. When they try to make her carry the half-orc she brings him back as well with a scroll, but she then notices the stench is gone. The waters are going to recede, she is done with this nonsense. Without another word she slips away, another conflict dealt with the aid of a woman of silence and reserved.