Maple / A Dryad's tale by Dryadfag
The fight lasted longer than it needed to.
The group stood there, panting, looking over the corpse of the green dragon that lay before them. The party didn’t even enter the ruins yet and already danger presented itself. So much for a simple mission. It wasn’t a very big dragon, at least; larger than a horse, but not some gargantuan monstrosity.
“Is everyone alright?” Alec asked. He was the de facto leader of the party, human, ranger, and master of surviving the wilderness. Dark hair, brown eyes, and chain shirt ripped apart under his tunic. His directions lead true to the ruins, but even he couldn’t anticipate a green dragon waiting at the entrance, likely getting ready to delve in for the ancient knowledge the party sought. Alec looked around. Everyone was still standing. Aerlissa, Devain, Fijit…
“Markus,” Alec saw the fighter laying on the ground, great sword next him, still and not moving. He remembered seeing him take a nasty claw swipe right across his chest, he had hoped Markus would just get back up and keep swinging. Evidently such was not the case.
“Markus!” Alec called his name again, hoping the wind was just knocked out of him still, when the response didn’t come, he looked to Aerlissa, nodded quickly, and they both rushed to the fighter’s side.
Aerlissa, an elven druid of fair, brass hair and piercing blue eyes placed an ear to Markus’ rent breastplate, hoping to hear a heartbeat. Alec pressed two fingers against his bloody neck, hoping to feel the same.
“Erastil’s horns, you are not dying on me today, damn you!” Alec swore through gritted teeth, “damnit! Aerlissa! Heal him!”
The elf, ever the silent one, nodded and grasped Markus’ bicep. She muttered praise to nature as a familiar soft glow enveloped her hands and spread onto the fighter. His wounds sealed, but breath did not return to the warrior’s lungs. Aerlissa looked at Alec, a shocked and crestfallen look on her face, and slowly shook her head. Leah, Aerlissa’s cougar, was watching from the background, occasionally turning her attention to licking her own wounds. In the branches above, Alec’s huntin falcon, Sorin, gazed intently at the party below.
“He’s gone, Alec…” Devain spoke up. A Half-Elf. And by far the most talented wizard Alec ever knew. He was possessed of black hair and emerald eyes, abstaining from the traditional wizardly robe for a much more practical traveling coat and boots.
Fijit, the rogue and a gnome, looked genuinely saddened and terrified. Markus was her best friend and drinking pal. He loved a good prank as much as she did. Tears started to form from her magenta eyes as she brushed her auburn hair from her face.
“DAMN IT!” Alec stood rather suddenly in a fit, turning from the body, “DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT!”
The party was silent. Too see their normally calm and collected leader break down like this was shattering to their morale. Their adventure’s would be much more solemn from now on without Markus… unless.
“…I can still save him,” Aerlissa stood slowly from the body, speaking for the first time in quite a while. Alec stood perfectly still upon hearing her words, turning around as the rest of the party turned their attention to the druid.
“He’ll… get a new body, but he’ll be alive,” she explained, looking this way and that, as if the subject made her uncomfortable.
“Define ‘new body’,” Devain said, serious look on his face.
“He could come back as an elf… or an orc… or any number of possible things, maybe even in a female body. I won’t be able to decide, but he’ll be saved and we can venture forth into the ruins,” she explained.
Alec crossed his arms deep in thought. The nearest town to even consider hiring a priest to revive him was three days away and they couldn’t afford such a detour when the ruins were right in front of them. If Markus were still alive, he would probably be all for it. Alec looked at Devain and Fijit. Devain shrugged nonchalantly, Fijit nodded furiously. Alec then looked at Aerlissa, and nodded.
“Do it.”
Markus looked around him. He was floating in a sea of silvery clouds and pure white sky, heading for a light in the distance. Was he dead? He heard Devain talking about souls traveling through an “Astral Plain” or whatever it was when they died. He didn’t particularly care and was quite drunk at the time. Of course, now he wished he was paying more attention back then, because the fighter wasn’t quite ready to toast pints with Cayden Cailean quite yet. He had a mission to complete and was definitely not about to give up the weekly bar visit with his friends, Fijit would just be torn apart.
He looked to the light and swore he saw his grandparents there, waving happily at him as he floated to his final reward in the afterlife. Suddenly though, he felt something attach to him, like a tendril or rope. It pulled at him with a massive tug and yanked him back away from the light. The tendril continued to twist around him, enveloping his soul as he felt something about it change, he couldn’t quite pin it exactly, but he started to feel quite different as he was pulled back to life and reality.
Aerlissa’s ritual was done. Markus’s armor and pack was removed from his body, leaving him in a simple, bloody tunic and breeches. The divine symbol carved into the dirt around him and valuable oils that the druid had acquired just in case someone died were applied to his body. With both hands on the body, Aerlissa began chanting in the druidic tongue, praying, begging nature to return Markus’ soul in a new body.
The rest of the party watched with bated breath, anticipating, watching, waiting, and praying that Aerlissa’s spell would work.
The divine symbols started glowing with an earthly, green light. Root-like tendrils started to emerge from the ground and wrap around the fighter’s body. A bright glow started to shine forth through the spaces between the roots as the spell worked it’s magic. Even the sunlight in the general area started to feel and look brighter than it usually should have been.
Under the roots, Markus’ body started to deteriorate and fade away; crumbling into dust and giving the roots the essence they needed to form a new body for the fighter. A frame appeared, starting at first as nothing but a vaguely humanoid shape but then slowly starting to take a more solid form. No one could see the entirety of new body quite yet. But they could see it forming under the tendrils. Nearby, a sapling grew quickly from the ground. No one noticed it.
In one final flash of light, the roots retreated back into the ground, the symbol disappeared, and the entire party looked away as the light momentarily blinded them.
When they could see again, there before them lied a slender, female, elven body, with skin composed of fine, maple colored bark and hair seeming to consist of vibrant, healthy leaves.
“It is done,” Aerlissa said, staring at the body.
On cue, the rest of the group, Alec, Devain, and Fijit, dashed forward and leaned over the new body, laying where Markus’ corpse was just moments ago. They said nothing, but they did see that this body was breathing.
A moment of pure silence passed.
“By Nethys, what did you do to him?” Devain asked, glancing at the druid.
“I reincarnated him. It worked… I think,” came her unsure reply.
Markus breathed slowly, trying to remember what was happening. He was with Alec and the others. They were going to some ancient ruins deep in the Redoran Forest. He was sober for two whole days. Yeah, he’d definitely remember that. There was a dragon waiting at the ruins entrance. The party fought it, he took a nasty swipe to the chest. And now he was just waking up. So why did something feel completely and utterly wrong here?
He felt something, a soft hum. Like a connection to some new life nearby, almost like he had a child. A lonely, vulnerable, child that needed to be protected at all costs. There was a weight on his chest though. Not his armor, no. It felt much more intimate than his armor, but oddly solid. What was it? His hair felt weird too, he felt the sunlight much more in his hair than he did on his skin. That was weird. He needed to see what was happening. What was weighing him down. He opened his eyes.
His friends were the first things he saw, standing over him, looking with concerned and worried countenances. Alec nearly reeled back when he saw that Markus’ amber eyes were now replaced with solid gold ones with naught but black pupils.
“Markus?” The ranger asked, hoping that his friend was behind those unfamiliar eyes.
The newly formed, undressed dryad sat up and shook her head, suddenly dizzy and realizing that her body was telling her in no uncertain terms than it needed to lie the hell down again. Markus ignored that feeling, and, upon feeling the weight on her chest shift ever so slightly, but not go away, she looked down and simply stared at what she was seeing.
The party waited, holding their breathes without realizing it, hoping that the first words to come out of this dryad’s mouth would be something that codified her as Markus.
“…I have boobs,” she said.
Alec sighed in relief. It was indeed Markus. His eyes drifted upwards as he stood straight again, relaxing and placing his hand to his forehead. Fijit stifled a laugh and Devain simply gawked. Aerlissa simply sighed and shook her head, figures, she thought.
Markus repeated him-…herself, “I have… boobs. Wooden. Boobs.”
“Y-…Yeah. We… We can see that, Markus,” Alec said, rubbing his forehead. Of all the things to reincarnate to…
Fijit could contain herself no longer; and burst out into pure, unadulterated laughter, doubling over, part of her laughter came from the joy of seeing her friend come back from the dead, and another part came from the absurdity of what he came back as.
Markus resisted every emerging urge to grope her new assets and got straight to the point, “What the hell happened? Please tell me I am drunk or dreaming.”
“The dragon over there killed you. Aerlissa reincarnated you into this body. No dream, and no one spiked your drink,” Devain said, realizing that he was staring and turning away, slightly embarrassed, “And… please… put a shirt on.”
Markus finally gave in and grasped her new breasts, gently lifting them and simply feeling them. Her flesh felt firm and hard, yet still flexible, perhaps even more so than it was before. She felt as though she could simply spring up and cartwheel, roll, and generally be really acrobatic. She leaned forward, looking down to her nether regions and groaned when she realized that her manhood was no longer there, replaced with a slit that marked the vagina. Markus decided he would focus more on that later and moved her hands up to her hair, pulling at the long, leafy strands, and realizing that they were taking in energy from the sun above, helping to curb the resurrection sickness that was making her feel dizzy and weak. At least she didn’t have to cope with any new limbs. Markus also felt the energy and life of nature flowing through her veins. A new energy that she had never felt before, alien and strange, yet, at the same time, it felt natural and pure. She felt the trees around her whispering, curious of the new dryad that had entered their forest. Even the dirt and leaves under her had a voice. Markus looked around, every color of the forest seemed more vivid and beautiful. Every tree seemed more alive to her than ever before. What she used to think was simply wood ready to be used to build the next house back home were now living, being creatures. They were talking about her, ever more curious. One in particular was calling out to him, louder than the others.
The sapling. Markus looked directly at it and immediately felt the hum again, stronger than ever. Almost without thinking she shifted forward and crawled over directly to it. Staring intently at it.
“That’s your tree,” a voice snapped her out of her trance of taking in all the new sensations. It was Aerlissa.
“What?” Markus asked, coming to her senses.
“You’re a dryad now. Connected to a single, sole tree that is your life bond. That sapling dies. You die. And I don’t have the means to cast that spell again,” the druid explained. Stepping forward and sitting down in the dirt next to Markus.
The rest of the party stood back, Fijit had finished laughing by now. “Oh, this is just too good,” she commented, provoking a brief glare from Alec.
“You… turned me into a dryad!? Like. One of those tree ladies!?” She asked, stunned.
“Yes… Tree lady. I’m a little jealous, really-“
“Jealous!?” Markus barked (ha ha) back, “Cayden save me, I’m a chick, Aerlissa! A bark-skinned, green-haired chick!”
Fijit continued laughing once more. Devain rolled his eyes and walked over to the dragon’s corpse, knowing that Markus was back and seeing if he could possibly collect a few scales for spell components. Alec began rummaging through Markus’ Handy Haversack, looking for a spare shirt.
“Can I even hold my sword anymore? I don’t feel nearly as strong as I used to...” Markus mused, examining her hands, shutting out the voices from the trees and shrubs and focusing on the matter at hand.
“Is it reversible?” she asked, “can it be changed?”
Aerlissa shook her head.
“Oh… no…” Markus said, collapsing, grasping her slender legs and burying her head in them.
“Hey! Cheer up!” Fijit chimed in, “at least you’re alive!”
Alec tossed a shirt and some pants onto the collapsed Markus, taking the situation as seriously as he possibly could.
“Dress up,” he said, “try and get used to the body. Your armor’s magic right? It should shift to fit the new body. If not, well. I’m sure the wooden skin will come in handy then.”
“He won’t be able to travel very far from the sapling,” Aerlissa said, “the resurrection sickness itself is bad enough, but if he… she… travels more than half a mile from that sapling, then he’ll… she’ll only get worse.”
Fijit shook her head, stifling a chuckle. This just keeps getting better. Alec sighed, thinking.
“…Dig up the sapling then. We’ll take it with us. You can put it in your tankard, Markus,” he concluded. Aerlissa looked at him, not sure whether to be offended or impressed.
Markus got out of her fetal position and grabbed the shirt and trousers, quickly putting them on when she realized that she was quite exposed. She walked toward her gear, picking up her great sword and giving it a few test swings. It was indeed a little heavier than she was used to. She’d need to get used to that quite quickly. She stuck the blade into the ground and went to her armor. It was indeed magical. Devain enchanted it himself; hopefully he enchanted it so that it would automatically resize itself to fit Markus’ new, female form.
“Um…” she began, embarrassed, “someone help me with my armor?”
“I’ll do it!” Aerlissa chimed, causing Fijit to laugh once more.
“What?” Aerlissa asked, genuinely taken aback, “I’ve always wanted to meet a dryad.”
“Well, since you are the regional expert on them, I suppose you can help me figure out why the hell I hear the bloody trees talking to me,” Markus responded. Alec smiled, he was indeed still the same old Markus.
“I’ll start digging up the sapling, Markus,” he said, pulling out a knife and heading toward it.
Markus had the sudden urge to stop him from even getting anywhere near her tree. But he contained it and let Aerlissa strap on her armor, which did indeed silently resize itself to suit the new form.
“We need a new name for you! Markus will just sound weird!” Fijit said.
“Oh gods…” Markus groaned.
“Hm… Margaret?” Fijit suggested.
“Margaret?” Markus shot back as she slid on her gauntlets. Her armor felt strange and unnatural to her. Which conflicted with her experience of having worn this armor for months.
“That’s my grandmother’s name. I will not take her name,” she said.
“Michelle then?” Fijit offered next.
“I had a crush on a girl named Michelle…” Markus said as Aerlissa strapped on the chestpiece, not unconvinced that the druid was taking ever opportunity she could to simply feel Markus’ new skin.
“She died of the plague,” Markus said flatly.
“Oooh, that won’t work then,” Fijit said, quite uncomfortable.
“How about Maple?” Alec chimed in, approaching Markus with the sapling in his tankard, “because I do believe this is a maple tree sapling.”
Fijit looked at the small plant, then at Markus, nodding happily, “that works!”
Markus finished putting on his boots and took the tankard with her tree in it.
“Maple, hunh?” She said, looking the plant over.
“…Maple it is.”
Maple sat in the dirt. Fully armored. Tankard with sapling in front of her, and still taking in the new sensations that came with her body. Nearby, the party was setting up camp. After the fight with the green dragon, there was no way the party was quite ready to delve into the ruins just yet. Devain and Aerlissa had expended more than half of their spells on the dragon alone and Alec had sustained some serious injuries. Aerlissa was not happy that he revealed aforementioned injuries to her until after Maple was reincarnated, but he cared for his teammates more than he did himself.
This particular adventuring party would be offended if you called them “treasure hunters,” but that was, more or less, exactly what they were. They had travelled far and wide across Golarion in search of ancient ruins to dig through and treasures to find, seeking wealth and power, like many other adventuring groups. It helped that Alec knew a wealthy museum owner in Absalom that paid hefty prices for many of the valuable, if not worthless to the party, relics they would often procure. These particular ruins were supposedly the remains of an ancient fey settlement. A race of beings long lost to the annals of history. They were said to possess a unique connection not only to nature, but works of artifice as well, as evidenced by the ancient stone pillars and decrepit walls.
Maple didn’t particularly care for the specifics. She was there to simply handle any and all physical threats that presented themselves. She’d handled everything from goblins to kobolds to skeletons to mummies and even a golem here and there, but no dragons before. She didn’t feel all too happy about being slain in her first encounter with one, and then being reincarnated as a dryad. But she knew going out that adventuring was a dangerous and sometimes very strange business. One of the foremost thoughts on her mind was how on earth she would approach her parents like this. Along with the countless suitors she had back in Absalom. Her parents may be able to accept that there son was now a daughter, and a dryad, at that. But all of the girls that she had once dated, how would they respond upon finding that the studly, handsome, battle worn warrior that was once Markus was now the dainty little dryad Maple? Who would Maple go out with? Did dryads even have sex? Did she now prefer men instead of woman? Her sex did change, after all, would her sexual preference have done so as well? She could never be sure with magic.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Aerlissa sat down next to Maple, resting on her shins and leaning to the side away from Maple. She lacked a tent or bedroll, and instead preferred sleeping under the stars above, sometimes in a blanket if the weather was unpleasant.
“You’re awfully talkative around me now, aren’t you, Aerlissa?” Maple asked, deadpan. She was still getting used to the change in her voice’s pitch. Having gone from a rather handsome baritone to an alto suddenly. Her voice also seemed to resonate slightly with an earthly echo, as if it always rang through the forest, though it was no louder than normal speaking.
“I knew that the spell would bring you back in a new body. But I was expecting something more along the lines of a humanoid like an elf or a dwarf, but never a dryad. Dryads are fey. Not humans,” she explained.
“I do feel a lot more… magical… than I used to,” Maple commented.
“In tune with nature?” Aerlissa prodded.
“The trees are talking to me, Aerlissa,” Maple snarked.
“They’re excited,” she observed, “there probably hasn’t been a dryad around these parts for ages. Likely due to the ruins, even I’m getting a bad vibe from them, as it were.”
“I am too,” Maple added, “which is funny because I wasn’t back when I was still a man.”
“I have a feeling these ruins will test us more than the others,” Aerlissa warned, looking at the still-new dryad.
“So,” the druid said, changing the subject, “What’s it like? The new body? Do you think you can use your powers?”
“What powers are there?” Maple asked, standing and grabbing her great sword.
“Well… from what I’ve learned from my circle. Back when I was still young, for an elf, I believe dryads can use powers related mainly to using the forest around them to attack. You know that spell I use occasionally that summons plants and roots to entangle our enemies?” Aerlissa asked.
Maple nodded. “You should be able to use that now, along with a myriad of other abilities. They should be instinctual to you, though, whereas I have to meditate for my powers,” Aerlissa finished, “here.”
The druid stood and stepped into the forest away from the camp, turning to Maple. Aerlissa nodded, and spoke. “Entangle me.”
“What,” Maple responded.
“Don’t worry, the spell doesn’t actually hurt. It just makes it rather difficult to move. You need to get used to using your powers, especially considering how useful they’ll be in a fight,” Aerlissa said, throwing her arms up briefly.
Maple bit her lip, noting how it tasted like syrup. “Are you sure now’s the best time to do this? I’ve never cast a spell in my life!” She protested.
“We have all night to practice. And for you it won’t be like casting a spell! It’ll just come naturally to you. Just think and focus, instinct will take care of the rest,” the druid tutored.
By this point the rest of the party had finished setting up camp and started a campfire, they had now gathered behind Maple to watch the fighter cast her first spell. Well, spell-like ability. Even Leah, Aerlissa’s cougar, watched from her spot lying down nearby. And Sorin, Alec’s falcon, watched from the branches above.
Maple saw the party behind her and shook her head. It was now or never. She closed her eyes and focused. She focused on the foreign, yet familiar energy within her. The energy swirled at her feet and down in her legs, yet couldn’t quite be released. Maple opened her eyes, confused. She looked down to the boots she was wearing, they were encasing the energy, blocking it from being released. Without a second thought she crouched down and took off the boots, letting her bare, wood-skinned feet touch the earth and dirt below her. The party watched on, curious and interested.
She felt a lot more comfortable with this, feeling the dirt under her feet with her naturally wooden toes, wiggling them down into the earth. She knew why most fey creatures typically didn’t wear shoes now. She closed her eyes and focused once more, feeling the energy underneath her. With next to no effort, it was released.
Maple sent the energy of the forest flying to Aerlissa, immediately, the ground underneath her stirred to life. Weeds, roots, and grass twisted and turned and erupted from the ground. Aerlissa couldn’t help but yelp in shock as a root twisted around her leg. Caught off guard, she tripped and fell over, immediately the grass and roots wrapped around her arms and other leg. Struggling, Aerlissa, started to wriggle free of the entangling vines, crawling and eventually standing to get out of the spell’s area as the plants of the ground reached forth to try and keep her pinned.
Once she was free, she panted, looking at the plant-life behind he still trying to reach out and pull her back in. Maple had both of her hands curled over her mouth in shock.
“Awesome!” she cried in glee. Aerlissa simply shook her head. Dryad or no, Maple was still Markus, and was just as excitable as ever when she wasn’t lamenting her new body.
Alec shook his head, smiling. “I think you’ll get used to the new body, Markus- er… Maple,” he said.
“Yeah,” Maple responded, “I think I’ll get used to it too.”
It was a lie. The warrior who was once Markus never much cared for the ways of nature. To him a forest was a forest, a place of resources and lumber. Sure, people lived in the forest, hunters, rangers, and druids. But he was none of those things. Markus was a sell-sword. He was a man of steel and a soldier of fortune. He revered Cayden Cailean, the god of freedom, ale, and bravery, and followed in his footsteps. He was born and raised in Absalom and only occasionally visited the forests outside of the city that lined the island. His parents hired the best soldiers and teachers to teach him the way of the sword. He had learned from one of the countless blacksmiths of the city to craft a blade. A forge fire was his second home.
The way Maple saw it, a dryad wasn’t meant to work the forge or even live in a city. But she would keep up the cheerful and grateful façade for now. She was at least still alive, and even if it came with having to live near a certain tree for the rest of her life and deal with flowers “talking” to her, then it was a price she’d have to pay. That, or die again and risk being reborn into an even weirder body. Aerlissa didn’t have the oils needed anyways. So she would simply have to deal with it for now. Focus on the mission. She was getting contractually paid for this. Get in, swipe any valuables they can find, get out. The dryad issue could be handled later.
“We should get to sleep,” Alec said, having been impressed with the entangle display earlier, “you’ll need plenty of rest, Maple, to curb off the resurrection sickness. Once we get back to town, we can probably hire a priest to remove the sickness entirely. For now, rest up; we’ll be up bright and early tomorrow to take on the ruins. I’ll take first watch.”
Aerlissa finished brushing herself off and went to her cougar, lying down to use her downy fur as a pillow, a role the large cat was more than willing to play. The rest of the party retreated to their respective tents.
Maple picked up her boots, looking at them and then down at her bare feet, staring thoughtfully at her skin’s new texture. She’d never understand how a wooden epidermis could possible be so malleable and agile like this. The fact that going barefoot was more comfortable to her instead of wearing boots was already such an alien feeling to her. She went into her tent and dropped the boots near the entrance flap. She was able to take off her armor by herself, unsure why exactly she put it all on in the first place if the party was simply going to set up camp.
Maple quickly realized that her sapling was not in sight and burst outside, sighing in relief to see it sitting in the dirt, undisturbed and forgotten. She lightly beat herself over the head for forgetting about it, and had an urge to apologize to the plant, before fighting it back, realizing how stupid it was to apologize to a tree. She stepped up to the tankard and carefully picked it up. Almost unconsciously, a silent “sorry,” escaped her lips. When she realized that she apologized anyways, she sighed, shaking her head, and put the sapling down right at the entrance of her tent before going inside and squeezing into her bedroll.
She was more tired than she had realized, and fell asleep almost immediately. In her dreams, she was wandering through a thick forest with a visibly heavy canopy above her, yet the forest was brightly lit as though the leaves were transparent. She was almost completely naked, wearing a bra made from leaves and twigs and a loincloth made of the same materials. She emerged into a large clearing, a hill, in the forest where the tree line ended. Atop this hill was a large maple tree. Her tree. Maple jogged up the hill and slowed into a walk when she was underneath its leaves. It was happy to see her again, and wondered how her waltz through the forest was. She smiled, placing a hand on the trunk. She leaned in close to the tree, placing her head against it and closing her eyes. The tree responded by softening to the consistency of water, at least to Maple’s senses. The tree still stood, tall and resolute, as she sank completely into it.
A brief moment of panic filled Maple as she tried to comprehend what was happening, but she was calmed when her tree told her not to panic. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel everything that the maple was feeling. She felt the roots burrowing and twisting into the ground below, drawing moisture and nutrients, the leaves basking in the glorious light of the sun, drawing in energy and life. It was an invigorating and uplifting feeling, like taking a hot bath at the end of a long day and feeling the life return to your body. She felt at home, home like she hadn’t been there for ages. Her maple tree comforted her and protected her, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would be able to harm her.
Except for waking up.
Maple slowly blinked open her eyes to see Fijit gently shaking her awake, “your turn for watch, tree girl.”
Maple breathed in harshly and snapped wide-awake, turned to face the top of her tent. “Bad dream?” Fijit queried.
“No…” Maple responded, “just… A weird one.”
“Riiiight, well, I’m going to bed, unless you need help with your armor,” Fijit stated.
“Nah,” Maple responded, “the dragon corpse is still there, right? I doubt anything will bother with us when they see that there.”
“Your call, bark-tits,” Fijit teased, leaving the tent. She had already come up with multiple derogatory nicknames for Maple. First it was “overcompensater,” now it was “bark-tits.” Fantastic.
Maple went outside in her nightshift and holding her great sword over her shoulder, still more comfortable barefoot than with shoes. She looked around. Fijit crawling into her child-sized tent, the fireplace burning with fresh logs. She could feel their pain. She looked away from the fire and looked instead at her sapling, small and dainty, and happy to see her. A slight frown graced her lips as she walked away from the camp and towards the nearest tree, a common oak.
Nearby, Aerlissa breathed softly against the coat of Leah, the cougar’s body slowly rising and falling as they sleep in the enclave of a tree’s trunk. Maple looked at them briefly and then back at the oak. Slowly, she raised her hand, wooden fingers outstretched. The oak tree seemed to be inviting her, saying she was more than welcome inside. She ignored its voice and stopped her hand less than an inch from the wooden surface of the oak.
“This is stupid,” she quietly told herself before pushing her hand against the oak.
At first, nothing happened. Then her hand “connected” to the tree, adhering to it as though there was glue on the spot where she touched it. Maple went wide-eyed in shock, her lips thinned and mouth stretched, both horrified and awed at what precisely was happening. Breathing sharply through her nose and fighting back every instinct to pry her hand loose, she pushed in. Her hand sank further into the tree until half of her arm was in the trunk, threatening to emerge from the other side. Deciding enough was enough; she yanked her arm out, staring at it in disbelief and flexing her fingers, making sure they still works and were all there. So maybe the dream wasn’t so weird after all.
She turned away and briskly walked back to her tent, sitting down next to the sapling and keeping a watch out for trouble.
The night passed without incident. Maple spent the entirety of her watch doing two things. One was trying not to think about the wood burning in the fire, and the other was continuing to think about what her new body would mean for her. Never mind the fact that Maple had to deal with being a chick. But she’d be attached to a single tree for the rest of her natural life. Speaking of her natural life, how long would she live now? Would she grow and die at the same rate as her tree? Trees live for a long time, right? Would his friends grow old and die while she remained spry and young? She held up her hand in front of her face, looking it over, she still had to get used to her skin having the consistency of wood and bark, yet still be as flexible, if not more so, than her old, human hand. She curled her fingers over and over, marveling at how the wood silently stretched like rubber with each contraction and still remain as hard a bark no matter what. She wondered if she could give people splinters with just a handshake. She also wondered if you could cut off an arm and count the rings to see how old she was. With that thought, she wondered if she still bled red blood, or if she bled tree sap or even syrup instead, and if she bled syrup, could she put it on pancakes?
A few silent hours of her silly and inane wandering thoughts passed, and Aerlissa woke up and approached Maple, sitting down in front of the dryad.
“Here to tutor me some more?” Maple asked dryly. Aerlissa shook her head.
“Do you hate me?” the druid asked.
Maple looked directly at her, pure, golden eyes meeting her bright blue ones. She hadn’t really thought about what Aerlissa did. She thought for a moment. Why would she hate the druid? She saved her life, after all, even if it cost Maple her manhood and she could talk to plants now. She shook her head.
“Of course not, Aerlissa,” the dryad said, “It’s just… A lot to take in. You know, considering my life will never be the same. I’m still getting used to the boobs.”
The elf smiled. “I was expecting a lot of possibilities when I reincarnated you, Markus… Dryad was not one of them. I’m not trying to teach you a lesson or to get you to convert to revering nature as I do. It’s just… Dryads are the sort of fey who have that sort of thing come naturally to them.”
“No kidding,” Maple snarked, “I’ll have you know that I just put half of my arm into a tree. I just really want a drink right now, Aerlissa, and I don’t even know if I have to eat anymore, considering that my hair takes in energy from the damn Sun.”
“You can still eat…I think. And you’ll need water, of course. Though as a Dryad, you can just turn into a tree and sap in water from the ground,” Aerlissa said, prompting Maple to roll her eyes.
“Oh, wonderful, I can turn into a tree. I can go into trees. I can make tree roots come up and grab at people. I can talk to trees. Any other tree related powers I should know about while we’re at it?” Maple asked, deadpan.
Aerlissa giggled. “Well, you’re a dryad. Tree powers are what you do best. If I recall correctly, you can also use trees as a medium of travel. Warping from one to the next. It has to be generally the same tree, though. And, of course, you can go very far from your sapling, there.”
Maple looked at the aforementioned plant and sighed, “remind me again, what happens when I do get too far from this thing?”
“You get sick,” Aerlissa answered, “really sick. Then you start to wither away much like a plant would die. It will eventually kill you the further you remain away from it.”
“Good to know,” Maple said, feeling suddenly a little sick herself.
“You can bond with different trees though, leaving your sapling behind and binding yourself to another tree. If you can do this with an oak tree somewhere, I know a member of my circle who can make them into treants. That way you’d be able to travel a little more easily and have your own bodyguard, I don’t know the spell myself, but one day,” Aerlissa mused.
Maple raised her eyebrows. Her tree following her around as a treant did much to curb the idea of being stuck in one place for the rest of her life eventually. Carrying the sapling around in her tankard, while it would work for now, was not something that would last forever. She’d have to eventually get a proper pot for it as it grew. She then came up with the possibility of filling one of her Handy Haversack compartments with dirt and planting her tree in that, having it come out of the top of her backpack. Silly as it would look, it would most likely be actually one of the best ways for her to move around. Though doors would become a problem.
“Anyways,” Aerlissa interrupted Maple’s thoughts, “I have watch for the rest of the night. You get some sleep. We tackle the ruins tomorrow, after all.”
Maple stood up and turned to enter her tent with a nod.
“Oh and uh… Maple,” Aerlissa said.
Maple stopped and turned around, listening.
“If it helps. After our adventurers are done, and if you wind up settling down somewhere with your tree, um… I’ll be glad to stay with you and watch out for you. I really never meant for this to happen, so it’s the least I could do,” she said, a little bashful at the offer.
Maple didn’t say anything for a while, then shook her head, “I think I’ll be fine Aerlissa. But um, if that’s what you want to do, then I won’t say no, and… thanks.”
Maple went into her tent, smiling, and crawled into her bedroll once more. A tear of happiness rolled down her cheek as she went to sleep.
Morning came for our intrepid band of adventurers, and Maple slept a little more comfortably knowing that, even with her new body, her companions, at least one of them, still cared for her. One sign of such care was no one else coming in to disturb the dryad until she woke up on her own.
The dryad who was once Markus was a notorious over sleeper. This reputation stemmed mainly from his rowdy nights of drink and the occasionally bedding with fine female company. Even as a dryad and sober, Maple slept in a little later than Alec cared for. When the dryad awoke, she poked her leafy head out of the tent to see that the rest of the party had already assembled their tents and were waiting patiently for Maple.
“Mornin’ gents,” the dryad said drowsily.
Alec, who was leaning against a nearby tree, acknowledged her with, “sleep well? I wanted to be in those ruins an hour ago.”
Maple shook her head, disappearing into her tent to grab her things and stuff everything back into her Handy Haversack, which well lived up to its name with its interspatial, huge compartments. Once the dryad put her tent into the pack, she looked at her armor, piled before her, and called out, “who’s helping with my armor today?”
She looked at Aerlissa, who was eager to do it last time, however, the druid shook her head. This prompted Maple to look to the rest of the party. Alec looked at Devain, who looked at Fijit, who was looking back at Alec, who turned his attention to Fijit, who looked at Devain, who looked to Alec, who looked back at Devain. Devain, sensing he lost the mental round of Rock-Paper-Scissors, sighed and approached Maple.
“Looks like we have a volunteer, now you know how to handle armor, right? Wouldn’t want you to pinch a finger or get a splinter now, I’d imagine it’d interfere with your light shows,” Maple joked.
Devain snorted and rolled his eyes, “just tell me what I need to strap on.”
“There’s quite a bit, magic man. After I get my hauberk on, you’ll need to strap the cuirass on, and then we move to the pauldrons, which will be all you. After that we…” Maple ran the instructions by Devain, who set to work getting the armor on. The wizard wouldn’t admit it, but he almost enjoyed the process. Instructions and delicate placing were no strangers to the wizard. That and he never expected to help put armor on for a female. Even if said female used to be Markus and had skin made of bark. A wizard’s work was often lonely, studying and scribing spells; he understood why most wizards had familiars. Devain opted instead to use his staff for his arcane bond. He wasn’t good with animals, unlike Alec or Aerlissa.
“Hey, don’t get to close now, I’m still Markus under all this bark,” Maple chastised when Devain snapped on his fauld and had to hug the dryad to reach around her to do so. He got close enough to her that he couldn’t help but sniff in Maple’s scent. She smelled like a blossom in spring, particularly after a rainfall, a heavenly, relaxing, natural smell.
The wizard silently helped with the rest of Maple’s armor. When they were done, there stood a dryad covered completely in full plate, save for a helmet. While Markus used to wear one all the time, Maple found that her leafy head of hair could not possibly squeeze into a helmet, magical one or no. The dryad shrugged at this and stuffed the helmet into her haversack.
She was wearing her boots again, and again, they felt uncomfortable for her. But she still needed the protection that they offered, barefoot or no, full plate was not full plate if the legs weren’t totally protected. Maple mused for a moment, before looking at Alec.
“Alec, can you pass me a dagger for a moment?” she asked. Alec nodded and abandoned his spot on the tree, approaching Maple and pulling out his hunting dagger.
“What do you need it for?” the ranger asked. Maple gingerly took the dagger from him and crouched down, a difficult thing to do in full plate. She briefly inspected her boots, noting that while the top of her foot and shins were covered in plate, the soles of her boots were made of leather.
“Just a minor modification,” Maple said. Directly afterwards, she carefully started carving away at the bottom of her boots, cutting away the leather soles and being careful not to cut her own feet, though given their consistency she had little reason to worry about it from a simple knife.
One minute later, she was done, soles discarded into the dirt. She stood and handed the dagger back to Alec, “much better.”
Alec took the dagger and put it away, single eyebrow raised. “Sort of defeats the purpose of shoes, don’t you think?” he queried.
“I dunno,” Maple responded, hefting her great sword, “I just feel better barefoot now.” Her tankard hung strapped to her side, sapling jostling lightly with every movement. Barefoot was an understatement. She felt entirely uncomfortable in all of her armor. It felt much too restricting instead of protective. It also felt unnatural to her, a concept that would have made the Markus of yesterday laugh and scoff in condescending amusement. To Maple, though, it was just another thing on the list of things that she would have to change around. She’d have to ask Aerlissa how to best approach the situation, most likely, images of her fashioning armor out of wood entered her head. They didn’t seem all that ludicrous to her.
Maple exhaled, curling her mouth into a grin and standing straight up, “well, what are we standing around for? We’ve ancient ruins to raid, do we not? Let’s get to it.”
Alec nodded and started leading the party to the still present remains of the ancient civilization, a tunnel descending into the underground depths. “Right,” Alec, “We all know the drill, Fijit in first, followed by Mark-MAPLE, then me, Aerlissa, and Devain. Keep an eye out for trouble and treasure. Sorin, stay.” The falcon perched atop a nearby pillar, obeying its master. Fijit danced in front of the party and gleefully stepped into the ruins, the rest of the party in tow and disappearing into its depths.
A sense of déjà vu enveloped the party as they delved into the depths. This was a situation they had all been in before. Unknown depths and tombs before them, darkness all they see down the hall, that tense feeling of anticipation, wondering what lie at the end of the hall. That feeling of adventure that Maple, Alec, and the rest had felt for the past eight seasons of their career.
“Can I get a light?” Fijit asked from ahead of the party, “kind of hard to find traps in the dark.”
Devain tapped his staff against the ground, instantly, it’s tip started to glow with a white, bright light. “Thank you~” Fijit responded.
The corridor descended for what seemed like forever, eventually, the entrance to the ruins became naught but a distant point of light in the distance, the walls dimly reflecting the passing light, carved of simple cobblestone. Loose pebbles rolled down the stairs with each passing step. Ahead of the group, Fijit slowly padded down, keeping an eye out for tripwires, pressure plates, and other such oddities in the stonework. No such oddity presented itself. The gnome was expecting such an occurrence. Most places start presenting traps only when treasure was nearby, and not in the entrance.
Maple shivered slightly more with each step, she didn’t like this, not one bit. Every step forward was a step away from the warmth of the sun and the cool dirt below her. She felt her sapling, she felt how cold and scared it was and how it wanted nothing more to go back up to the sun so it could grow. It pleaded Maple to stop and turn around, going back up. It begged her to return to the forest, where it could commune with the other trees and hear the sounds of the forest.
Deep down, Maple wanted to do it too. But she had a mission to do. As much as she wanted to listen to her sapling and turn around, returning to the peaceful, serene forest, she had to press on with her allies. Even if she died not twenty-four hours ago, the mission came first. Even if she was no longer human, she had a job to do and would do it, no matter what. The ever-continuing descent did little to help steel her resolve. Eventually she had to speak up or run screaming to the surface again.
“Bloody hell,” Maple said, “How the fuck deep are we going? The Darklands?”
Devain answered her, “it certainly seems that way. Have we stumbled into a passage leading to the vast caverns beneath the world? What did The Collector know about this place, Alec?”
The Collector was the alias of the man who was the party’s client. He gave them the locations of every ruin and tomb they have ever been to, and pays the party frankly ludicrous amounts of money to delve into them and return with any valuables and relics they could find. He then adds the most significant artifacts they find to his collection, guised as a well-guarded and very large museum. The minor ones he sells away, and offers the party a choice of a single relic to keep of the loot they find. Alec’s bow was one such relic, recovered from the ruins of an Elven City. More than one of Fijit’s daggers was a prize from tomb raiding as well. The rest of the party simply bought their gear from the countless vendors and suppliers of Absalom, out of which they operated.
Alec was silent for a moment before answering Devain’s question, “I remember him saying the ruins were supposedly an entrance to a dwarven outpost or an old tunnel. Going as deep as the Darklands is a very real possibility, though. Be on your guard.”
Eventually the light from the entrance had disappeared entirely, prompting Devain to speak once more, “I think it’s safe to assume that we’re heading for the Darklands. This might be a drow outpost.”
“If it is, I pray to Erastil it’s abandoned,” Alec responded.
“Looks like it is,” Fijit answered from the final bottom of the stairs. She stood before what looked like it used to be a doorway, but the doors were long since bashed from their hinges and moved away. The party entered a vast hall, ancient pillars of solid, carved stone held the massive hallway up. Maple could barely see the ceiling of the place from Devain’s light. Past the pillars, smoothly carved buildings of curved and elegant stone protruded forth from the rough, cave walls. Further in, large, luminescent fungi glowed softly in the caves, providing a soft light for the party to see further. They stood briefly in awe, taking in the impressive sight.
Maple felt the cold stone beneath her feet; no plant from the surface could even hope to draw life from this rock. She felt it and sighed, uncomfortable. Then scoffed when she remembered the Markus of yesterday would not be fazed at all by such a thought. It was amazing how much she changed in just one day. The shock of changing from male to female was bad enough, there was absolutely no getting used to the weight of her own breasts, but the fact that this body came pretty much part and parcel with a tie, nay, reliance on the natural world was a concept almost entirely foreign to Markus. He was a city boy, not some froofy tree hugger. To him, a forest was just some place that occurred when you weren’t in the city, no different from a mountain or desert.
But to feel the energy enter your leaves, to know how much life lived in the soil beneath your feet alone, to bask in the simple, glorious warmth of the sun, Markus had only briefly experienced such sensations, and not one hour from leaving it behind he already missed it all. He wanted to leave this dark, unwelcoming place and return to the light. He wanted to-
“Are you okay, Maple?” Aerlissa gently touched the dryad on the shoulder, “you’re shaking.”
Maple jostled her head, regaining focus. Was she going soft? Markus was a fearless, foolhardy, and brave warrior. Hell, when the green dragon presented itself to the party yesterday, he was the first to charge into the fray. Now the dryad called Maple was scared of the dark, of all things. Aerlissa’s concern boosted her morale. She nodded, “I’m fine.”
“Not scared of the dark, are you?” Fijit teased.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” She rebuffed immediately.
“Miss the sun? Wanna photosynthesize?” She continued.
“Fijit, I will smack you with the flat of my blade. And when I do-“ Maple started.
“Alright ladies, settled down and lets get moving. Stick together, we’re not going to do our usual split up and search for treasure routine, not down here. Devain, any idea what kind of settlement this is?” Alec responded, starting to do that leader thing and give orders.
Devain approached one of the nearby pillars, inspecting the runed carvings inside, “aye, this is a Drow outpost. Be on your guard. The inhabitants might still be around. Drow are a sneaky lot.”
The party continued together, avoiding the main path and painting themselves as a target. Alec and Fijit took point, moving to the nearest house. Fijit tested the door, good to know that the Drow where civilized enough to use them. She was, however, saddened when it was not locked. She cracked it open and rolled inside, quickly looking left and right for any signs of trouble.
There was nothing but cobwebs and small spiders inside. Alec and the rest of the party followed. They had entered what looked like a small office, there was a desk and chair, carved smoothly but covered in webs, a cabinet, table, the works, but nothing particularly valuable. The desk and cabinet were empty, seemingly abandoned for ages and those that did the abandoning took everything that was light and not nailed down or carved out of the stone with them.
“Looks like no one’s home,” Fijit said.
“Keep an eye out anyway. This many webs and spiders can’t be a good thing,” Alec responded.
Maple looked around, only slightly happier knowing that the place was indeed abandoned of Drow. She followed the rest of the party as they slowly checked the rest of the houses. They were all empty, eerily so.
“Wonder what drove off the inhabitants,” Devain pondered.
“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Alec responded.
Eventually the party found themselves at the central building of the ruins. A large, monastery-like building stood before them, impressive in its design and reaching to the unseen ceiling above.
“Okay, if there’s nothing valuable in here, I’m going to stab someone just on principle,” Fijit said, frustrated that the party had spent an hour down here and came up empty handed.
Alec rolled his eyes and helped the gnome open the large, stonework doors. The interior appeared as a large church or cathedral, lacking in windows, but the far end consisted of a large wall, with a huge bas-relief of an ancient, spiderlike goddess with an elven upper body.
“Who is-“ Maple started.
“Calistria,” Devain answered, “at least, according to the way the Drow see her.”
“I thought Calistria’s thing was bees. Not spiders,” Alec observed.
“Wasps, technically. And the Drow believe otherwise. Calistria reveres all insects, not just wasps. It’s the poison that’s important,” Devain explained.
“Regardless, a place like this is bound to have something valuable. Keep an eye out,” Alec said.
The party split up and searched around the cathedral, sliding through the pews and looking for anything of value. Maple walked right down the middle, heading straight for the podium. She stood behind it, looking at the cathedral before her. She set her hands down and felt an odd protrusion on the right side of the podium. Toying with it, she felt it slide down and click.
Suddenly, the entire building began to shake and rumble. The main aisle of the church shook and began to descend. The rest of the party glared daggers at Maple, who responded by rolling her eyes. Not the first time she accidently discovered a secret passage; she has a knack for that sort of thing.
When the building stopped shaking, there in the center of the church was a stairway, descending into a hidden basement.
“Well,” Maple said, “looks like we may have hit our jackpot.”
The party regrouped at the top of these new stairs and looked down into the darkness below. Peering deeply within.
“Something’s wrong,” Alec said, “do you hear that?”
Aerlissa tilted her head to the side, listening closely, “yeah… clicking. I think-”
“Something’s coming,” Fijit said, daggers ready.
“I hope it’s something I can kill, I need a good fight,” Maple said, giving her great sword a practice swing.
“Down here. I won’t be surprised if it is,” Devain said, free hand at the ready to weave a spell.
The clicking got progressively louder and heavier, transferring into a series of thuds. Out of the shadows, illuminated by Devain’s staff light, emerged a giant, hairy, insect leg, followed by another, and one more, and one more, and eventually a large, hairy body. The party readied their weapons as before them, a gargantuan and starving spider presented itself.
The party wasted no time in acting. Alec immediately pulled back his bow and began launching arrows into the spider’s face firing at least one arrow every two seconds. Aerlissa had Leah circle around the spider to flank it while she conjured a blade of pure flame into her hand, proceeding to try and hack at one of the spider’s legs. Fijit also circled around, dodging spider legs as they tried to impale her, and went for the beast’s abdomen. Devain opened up with a fireball, sending the flaming bead to the base of the stairs, where it erupted into a gloriously blazing explosion, badly searing the spider.
All of this served to merely make it angrier.
Maple went straight for the mandibles, meeting the oversized vermin face-to-face and bringing down her great sword upon it. Her blade struck true, and the beast recoiled in pain before lunging back forward to crush the dryad between its fangs.
Maple let her armor speak for her as the spider brought its jaws onto her shoulder, with a minor grunt; she yanked her arm free and swung once more at the beast. Alec’s arrows shot true; after all, it’s hard to miss such a large target. Leah leaped onto the beast and started biting and clawing away at its thorax. Fijit was underneath the beast, slashing away at the vulnerable abdomen.
Devain finished the job with a casting of Scorching Ray. Two beams of searing hot heat blasted forth from both his outstretched finger and the tip of his staff. Both beams struck true and pierced the giant spider’s entire body. With a shriek and a shudder, the vermin curled over to its side, dead. Leah leapt off of the body and returned to Aerlissa’s side. Fijit poked at a leg with her dagger.
“Yeah, I think it’s dead,” she commented.
“An Ogre Spider,” Devain observed, looking at the spider’s vaguely human-like face, “cute.”
“You alright, Maple? I saw that thing bite you,” Alec asked, concerned.
“I’m fine,” Maple said, examining her shoulder, “couldn’t get past the pauldron.”
“Right,” Alec nodded, “let’s see what this thing was guarding, and why it was alive to begin with.”
The group descended into the hidden stairway, finding themselves in a web covered secret basement. The smell of rotted and stinking flesh greeted the party, a smell that they, unfortunately, were used to. Regular sized spiders skittered about the webs. Running away from the light of Devain’s staff. Wrapped about in the webs were large cocoons, human-sized. Maple leaned in close to one, trying to make out the figure in it before the room started shaking and trembling once more as the stairs quickly ascended once more, blocking the party in.
“Fuck,” Alec cursed, rather appropriately given that they were trapped.
“Hey guys,” Fijit called from the other side of the hidden room, “check this out.”
The party followed her voice and found her looking up at a table, whereupon it had a few rows of vials and bottles of various colorations. Devain took one of them and jostled it, hearing and feeling that there was still liquid inside. Brushing the dust away, he read the label. It was spider poison.
“Hm,” the wizard hummed, sweeping away the rest of the dust on the bottles with a quick casting of Prestidigitation. The spell also cleaned off the dust on a book, it’s title written thankfully in elven. The wizard picked up the book and cracked it open, quickly skimming through the contents.
After a moment, Alec spoke up, “it doesn’t contain instructions for a way out of here, by any chance, does it?”
“I doubt it,” Aerlissa spoke up, “but I think this switch over here might do the trick.”
The party looked over, seeing the druid standing in front of a rather obvious lever sticking out of the wall. She pulled it, and the stairs presented themselves again, rocking the room as usual.
Around the basement, iron-barred cells occasionally broke into the walls, the cells were empty, and Maple didn’t particularly wish to know what once held them, though she did remember the cocoons.
“Think we should cut these open?” The dryad asked.
“Worth a shot, “ Alec responded, pulling out his trusty dagger once more and moving to a nearby cocoon, getting to work. He pulled out a desiccated and half-consumed body, whichever race it was, the person was no longer identifiable, though it still wore tattered leather armor and had a knapsack on it. Alec pulled off the knapsack, brushing away spiders that attempted to crawl up his arm.
Maple pursed her lips. She never really liked spiders.
“Fascinating,” Devain said, nose still in the book, “evidently, these poisons and elixirs over here were used in the process of converting a Drow into a Drider.”
“Drider?” Maple asked.
“Half-Drow Half-Spiders. Like centaurs, except with oversized spider lower halves,” Devain explained.
“They worth anything?” Alec asked, opening up the knapsack.
“Definitely to the Drow, yes. I’d imagine the Collector would be satisfied with this alone. Oh, and there’s a couple of healing potions over here too, and some neutralize poison ones,” Devain responded.
“Neutralize poison?” Aerlissa responded, “Looks like someone down here was a druid. Only we can make those sort of potions.”
“Regardless,” Alec said, pulling out an old coin purse and spider eggs, “let’s grab everything worth something and get out.”
Aside from the Drider lab, the cocoons held to remains of some explorers who weren’t so lucky in being able to take out the Ogre Spider. They had mundane gear on them, mostly worthless, but still some spare coins and weapons to sell. The party grabbed what they could and returned to the abandoned outpost, noting the presence of a tunnel leading deeper into the Darklands.
“We aren’t here to explore the Darklands,” Alec said, “It’s about time we headed back to Absalom and show the Drider lab to the Collector, see how much we can get off of it.”
Maple sighed in relief, finally, back to the surface. She could see the sun again and relax in its warmth. “Well, let’s get moving then,” she said, “I want to get out of here.”
“Aw, been away too long from the sun, bark-tits? Afraid you’ll wither and die?” Fijit teased.
“I have a sword,” Maple subtly threatened. Fijit giggled.
“Alright, ladies,” Alec chastised the two, “let’s get moving.”
The party moved down the central road, exiting the abandoned outpost and beginning the long climb back to the surface.
Sunlight.
Never had Maple believed that she would ever feel so ecstatic to simply see the sun again, but there it was. Before the party even made it out of the tunnel, Maple couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed the rest of the way up the stairs, tiring climb be damned. She felt the cool summer dirt beneath her and the warm sun on her head, her leaves taking in the energy they desperately missed. She closed her eyes, basking in the radiance of the surface and exhaled, feeling naught but pure joy.
The rest of the party emerged from the ruins with quizzical and somewhat concerned looks on their faces, even Fijit seemed a little put off by Maple’s attitude and behavior.
“Um… Maple?” Alec called from the ruins entrance, raising his arm to let Sorin flap down and rest on it.
“Hunh?” Maple asked, opening her eyes and turning to the party.
“You alright?” The ranger asked, starting to wonder if it was still Markus in there.
Maple was quiet, how could she respond to that? She just dashed out of a tunnel and into the sun like she hadn’t seen it in years as opposed to just a few hours. She genuinely enjoyed feeling the sunlight when yesterday she didn’t even care about the sun and just took it for granted. She looked at the ground, embarrassed and bashful. The last day had felt like a dream to her. A large part of her was wishing it were one.
The rest of the party exchanged concerned glances with each other, ending with them staring at Aerlissa. She was the one who reincarnated Markus, after all. The druid sighed, shaking her head, and approached the dryad.
The sapling still hung at her side, eagerly taking in sunlight after being underground for those few hours. Maple tried not to look directly at it.
“Markus?” Aerlissa called, using the name she had before the reincarnation.
The dryad looked at the druid. Her eyes narrowed, she did this. She’s why she’s acting so strange and unlike herself. Last night Maple didn’t mind so much, being focused more on the mission, but the mission was pretty much over now, and Maple had to deal with her reincarnation in full. She realized now that she wouldn’t be able to just walk this off and keep living life the way she did when she was Markus. The dryad curled her hands into a fist.
“What did you do to me.”
The words came like ice.
Aerlissa felt her stomach drop. That wasn’t just a question, she knew exactly what Maple was feeling and had been hoping all of last night that this moment would not come. She had hoped wrong.
Maple was angry with her.
“I saved your life,” Aerlissa responded just as coolly, keeping her emotions in check.
“You turned me into… into this!” Maple shot back, gesturing at her body, “some crazy, tree-loving, plant chick!”
“I could not choose what you came back as. Markus please-“
“NO!” Maple jerked forward, the trees nearby creaked and swayed.
“There was always a choice! I had the money, WE had the money, and the town was close enough! A priest there could have just revived me in my own body! Not like this!” She screamed. Aerlissa stepped back.
“We don’t know that. We aren’t in Absalom, Markus, we can’t just head to a cathedral and pay for a priest to revive you,” Aerlissa tried to reason.
“You could have tried!” Maple rebuked.
“You’re the one who charged at the dragon, Markus,” Alec called from the edge of the ruins, “and we weren’t going to take what would have been a week long detour to travel back to town, see if we even could have revived you, and then find our way back here.”
Maple looked at the still fresh corpse of the green dragon that had killed her, though she was a he back at the time. Charging enemies when they presented themselves was always how she engaged combat, she probably should have known better concerning a dragon.
“Then why didn’t you just leave me and explore the ruins!? Then revive me when you got back!?” She demanded.
“We needed our fighter,” Alec responded simply.
Maple was silent for a moment. She knew that the party revived her like this out of not only need but also concern for their friend. She could have broke free from the tendril that brought her back in the first place; it didn’t hold her than firmly when it grabbed her. But she came back anyways. Maple had a feeling that if she had known what she’d come back as, she would have broke free.
“But…” She stammered, “A dryad?”
“That was not my choice,” Aerlissa responded.
“THEN WHOSE WAS IT!?” Maple demanded.
“I’d say ‘fate’, but you’d likely just scoff at that answer,” Aerlissa answered.
Maple scoffed.
Aerlissa shrugged.
“You came back like this for a reason, Markus. Some cosmic dice roll didn’t determine your new form. Reincarnation gives you a new body based on what you did with your previous one, and fate deemed you needed to live the rest of your life as a dryad,” the druid said.
Maple shook her head, “you say it was fate. Bah. It was still magic. I knew there was a reason I don’t like it.”
“Hey, now that’s uncalled for,” Devain interjected.
“It’s true! Your blasted magic made me into this! And now you’re telling me you can’t undo it! I can’t live my life like this! Bound to this retarded tree! Forget the fact that I have breasts now – wooden ones, even! – And I can barely swing my sword!” Maple rebuked. She felt her sapling cowering, sad that it couldn’t do anything to make her feel better.
“Markus…” Aerlissa pleaded.
“No. Forget this. I’m leaving,” Maple turned and started to storm off into the forest.
“Markus!” Aerlissa called, starting after her, along with the rest of the party.
Maple snapped around, fury in her eyes as the forest sympathized with her rage and reacted. Roots and weeds sprang forth from the ground, grabbing at and wrapping around the legs of the party. Caught off guard by the sudden spell, everyone found themselves effectively entangled by the vines, even the spry and nimble Fijit found herself bound and unable to efficiently chase after her best friend.
By the time the party managed to struggle free of the vines. Maple had disappeared into a tree and out of sight completely.
Maple slid down, concealed in a large oak tree. Was this it then? Was she doomed to live out the rest of her life in need of the sun and living in the forest? That was not a life she could live. The man who was once Markus was born and bred for the city life, hell, if it weren’t for Alec and Aerlissa, he never would have found a way through this damn forest.
Maple just wanted to get away though, right now she didn’t care for her friends nor did she want to continue being with them. Outside of the tree, she heard their muffled cries, trying to find her. She shook her head. Sadly, wood was not soundproof. She needed to get away even further, but knew not how.
The tree she was in answered. It felt her need for escape and instantly showed the dryad a connection to every oak tree within half a mile, telling her that it could jump to one if she so desired. Maple’s heart soared, while she didn’t care for being intrinsically connected to the forest, at least the forest itself was kind enough to empathize with her and help in whichever way it could.
She choose the connection to the furthest tree she could feel within the network, she felt herself move, as if being jostled about by a creaky lift, and the voices of her friends were silent. Maple still felt a connection to further trees out, though, still wanting to run, she followed this connection once more, and then again. She continuing for two more times before stepping outside of the particular tree she was in to gather what little bearings she could.
All around her the forest stood, pristine and peaceful, quiet save for the occasional twitter of birds and rustling of some small woodland creature in the undergrowth. Maple fell onto her rear, leaning back against the oak tree she had just stepped out of and putting her head onto her knees. Alone, she finally had the opportunity to release her emotions. And so, Maple wept, alone, and of her own volition. She did not wish for her friends to see her cry.
“Damnit! Did anyone see where she went?” Alec barked, looking at the group, behind them, the ground still lashed out at them, vines and weeds still threatening to grasp and hold them.
“I think she walked into a tree or something,” Fijit said, pulling off a stem that was still around her leg.
“Damnit, Devain, you have that tracking spell ready? I’m good, but I can’t find a dryad in a tree,” Alec turned to the wizard.
“Of course,” The wizard answered. After they got separated in a tomb in Osirion, Devain always had one casting of Locate Creature prepared at all times. Immediately, he reached into his spell components pouch, pulling out a bit of dog fur and murmering the arcane incantation while moving his hands about. After the spell, Devain slowly turned about, before stopping, facing north, past the ruins.
“She went that way,” He said, pointed. The party immediately stirred into action and dashed into the woods.
Maple was mulling over thoughts of what she could do in this accursed body to try and cope. Only coming up with rage against her situation. Of all things, a dryad? Why? She couldn’t possibly comprehend it. Aerlissa told her that when someone is reincarnated, his or her new body is based on her past actions in life, supposedly. Maple never really hated nature, she just never thought about it. Didn’t particularly care for it or magic. She was just a city boy looking for adventure. Now she’s a forest-bound girl how can’t travel more than three hundred paces away from a stupid sapling. Did Shelyn make a bet with Cayden Cailean? Was Maple’s god using her as an example, just to prove to Shelyn or some other comely goddess of nature that he could appreciate nature as well? No, that was stupid.
Maple slammed the back of her head against the oak she sat against. She was rewarded with a throbbing headache. She stood up. How long was she there for, a minute, an hour? Maple melded back into the tree, her crying spell done. She remembered the general direction she traveled in and was about to once again use her ability to warp between trees when she felt a connection with on of the oaks suddenly snap away. Curious, she waited to see if it would come back.
Instead another one of the links disappeared. Concerned, Maple warped to one of the nearby oaks where the last one faded. Before stepping outside of the tree though, she stopped when she heard a voice. It was a familiar language, one she didn’t understand, but one she recognized. Goblin.
A sudden thud against the tree almost caused Maple to fall right out of it. The oak she was in relayed the pain from it to her. Another thud. More pain. She couldn’t stay in the tree, and stepped out of it, away from where the thuds were coming from.
She stepped right into the midst of a logging operation. Large, ugly, grayish-red skinned abominations were cleaving into the trees all around Maple. Hobgoblins.
The one who was chopping down the tree Maple was just in leaned over to look past it and at the dryad. He grunted. Another dryad tree, go figure, what was that, the third one this week? He continued chopping; knowing that removing a dryad’s tree would make the dryad less of a threat.
Maple looked around her in horror. The trees were screaming, dying all around her as the large contingent of Hobgoblin loggers cleaved their way through the forest, gathering lumber for some large invasion.
“Aw, wot’s dis? Another dryad? Oi! Gib! Come’ere. Take a look at dis!” Another Hobgoblin walked past and saw Maple, calling a friend over.
“Dere’s another one of ‘em. Heh, love the look on dere faces when we disturb ‘em. Priceless,” the beast said.
The hobgoblin called Gib walked up behind her, axe in hand and immediately going for the tree she stepped out of.
“Yeah, yeah. Just chop down ‘er tree and then chop ‘er down after it,” it said. The tree creaked and cracked, giving in the axes and, with one desperate scream to Maple, came crashing to the ground. Maple watched in horror, still caught off guard and distracted by the entire scene. The hobgoblins scratched their heads, confused.
“Hunh, she ain’t doin’ that witherin’ thing they usually do,” The first hobgoblin said, the one who was first chopping down the tree. Maple narrowed her eyes and hefted her greatsword.
“That wasn’t my tree,” She said, “But you’re about to wish it was.