Birth of a Nature God

[Darker the DRagon]

Tales of Mercia: Birth of a Nature God

Stories, myths and tales can be easily separated from reality. They are two separate things, two separate ideas. But in Mercia, the line grows thin. The line between reality and myth stretches, buckles, thins out in places and thickens in others. In rare places, in nexuses in which raw manna discharges into Mercia, the line does not exist at all, and at these places, legends are born…

Cyrib Thorngrowth valiantly stood guard on the edge of Viridia Forest. She knew Soul Reaver was terrorising Deadlakes hundreds of miles south. Still, the watch elf who she had relieved of duty had warned Cyrib of “strange, misty creatures” in the distance.
Cyrib was a stunningly beautiful elf, the moonlight reflecting off the smooth curves of her body, wrapped tightly in reddish leather from the hide of a hydraplant. What little jewellery she wore gleamed and bangs of her shoulder length black hair cascaded around her ears. Bright green eyes pierced through the night, scanning for threats.
There. About 100 yards away, half hidden by a rocky outcropping. Cyrib slowly raised her bow, reached into her quiver and drew a slender, all wooden arrow. Raising it, she sighted down the shaft at the rocks.
The creature ran out, and Cyrib saw it was just a rock badger, scavenging for food. Cyrib relaxed, lowering her bow.
Several minutes later the rock badger let out a terrified squeal. Cyrib snapped her head around to see the badge scurrying along the ground, closely pursued by a cloud of dark mist. Cyrib stifled a gasp as a skeletal thing leaped from the mist, grabbed the wailing badger in its hooked claws and dragged it back into the smoky cloud. Cyrib caught a glance of a bone white head carapace and a small ribcage on the end of a long spine which lead into the mist, along with the spindly arms that held the vicious claws.
A change in the wind brought sounds of crunching bones to Cyrib’s elongated ears. A few more seconds brought the creature’s vile stench, making Cyrib gag and her eyes water. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Cyrib looked up to see the creature glaring at her with red eyes burning with malice. Cyrib could tell this thing didn’t hunt to eat, it hunted because it hated. As slowly and as inescapably as death itself, the mist like wraith started to glide over the ground towards her, picking up speed.
Quick as a summer squall, Cyrib sent several arrows into the black cloud to no avail. It was as insubstantial as the air itself. Cyrib turned and ran into Viridia, the creature almost at the border.
As trees skimmed past her vision, Cyrib ran through the forest, her slim frame letting her glide easily through the smallest gaps. Glancing behind, she saw the mist could do that just as easily, if not better. It slid straight through a holly bush, emerging on the other side in thin tattered wisps which reformed to the complete cloud soon after.
The closest elf village was still to far away. She could never outrun this thing. Sprinting into a clearing, Cyrib tripped over a small root, bashing her soft face into the twig covered ground. Quickly picking up her bow she rolled over to see the ghostly skeleton beast leaping towards her, an unholy wail emanating from its mouth. Cyrib fired off a single arrow, striking the creature in its scrawny neck. Its ear shattering screech turned to a bubbling gurgle as it pitched forward. Cyrib rolled out of the way, but not enough. The now dead monster landed onto of the struggling elf as she rolled onto her front, its still outstretched hands piercing the flesh of her back, shattering most of her ribs and piercing her lungs. Cyrib screamed in pain and then again as the weight of the creature drove the claws further into her back. A moment later the beast started to dissipate, melting into thin black mist, taking its claws with it.
Lying there, face down on the forest floor, feeling her life slip away with each fading heartbeat, Cyrib picked up the arrow that had killed both the creature and herself, held it pointing to the sky and then splayed out her other hand before putting it near the top of the shaft, making a crude tree shape.
“Chyris mulorn…fanalia,” Cyrib whispered with her last breath, hoping against hope to summon enough forest manna to heal herself.
It came, the manna flowing through the arrow sigil into her wounds, stitching them up and cleansing any poisons that may have been there. Cyrib sighed with relief, feeling herself becoming invigorated.
But something was wrong. Even though the spell was complete, the manna still poured into her body. With wide and increasingly panicked eyes, Cyrib saw which clearing she had been chased blindly into.
A nexus, a place where raw manna was discharged into the land. You weren’t supposed to do magick here, it couldn’t be easily controlled and it did effects it wasn’t supposed to.
Cyrib got to her knees, still feeling the manna enter her. She felt exhilarated, but she knew it was much more manna than her relatively frail body could take.
Suddenly, a shockwave of manna burst from her shaking body, burning away her clothes and jewellery but leaving her naked and unscathed.
As Cyrib tried to cover herself up with her arms, she felt the small hairs covering her body grow until they were long, silky and the colour of a young deer.
Cyrib shrieked in surprise when her spine grew longer, into a fur covered semi-prehensile tail the length of her arm. Still the manna coursed through her, tearing at her genes.
“Silvanus!” she called to the forest god. “What’s happening to me?!”
Cyrib started to cry as bones jutted painlessly from her elbows, shoulders, knees and hips and formed into horns, which took on a wooden appearance. Her toes fused into three long wooden prongs and her small fingers merged with the ones next to them as her fingernails grew longer and became wooden.
“Help me!” Cyrib screamed into the unyielding night.
Cyrib cried harder when her face started morphing into a lizard like shape and then get covered in large wooden scales. Her ears solidified to wood and yet more wooden prongs grew from the back o her head, pushing her black hair out.
And still the manna filled her.
“Make it stop…” Cyrib whispered as she fell forward, fainting from the pressure of the manna. “Please…”

Cyrib awoke to birdsong and daylight. Sitting up, she saw she was in a clearing. Wondering why, the memories came flooding back. Standing guard. The mist creature. The spell…the transformation into the silky furred creature with the wooden prongs.
Was that real?
Cyrib looked down at her naked body and screamed. It wasn’t a dream! She had changed. a shining film of green forest manna covered her hands and feet. Cyrib hurriedly tried to brush it off, to no avail.
“No…” Cyrib choked as realisation caught up with her. “Please no…”
Picking up the arrow she had used to save her life and change it forever, she started crying again. This new body felt so alien to her. Cyrib’s tears trickled between her wooden face scales, onto her chest, matting the newly grown fur.
‘Was I better off dead?’ Cyrib thought about using the arrow to kill herself when something amazing happened. The manna enveloping her hand spread over the shaft and on the tip of the arrow a bud appeared, which unfolded into a leaf. Gaping in awe, Cyrib stuck the arrow leaf up into the ground, where it took root.
Ten minutes later it was a tree twice her height.
‘What am I?’ Cyrib whispered, looking back and forth from the newest tree in Viridia to her manna charged hands.
“You are now a spirit of this forest, Cyrib Thorngrowth.” said an ancient voice behind her.
Spinning around, Cyrib saw what the speaker was and instantly fell to the ground in prayer. It was the Kuno of the Growing Seed, second most powerful forest spirit under Silvanus.
It was basically a green floating robe that waved in an unfelt breeze. A second, thinner robe hung down its front, showing Silvanus’ tree-like sigil. Above the robes floated a cymbal shaped hat, from which hung vines and bunches o wildflowers. A pair of long, slender arms emerged from under the robes, one hand holding a prayer bell. It hovered in front of a shining green light.
Gingerly looking up, Cyrib saw the Kuno hovering in front of her. She quickly averted her gaze. The Kuno gently took hold of her chin and moved Cyrib’s new, wood covered head so she was looking at the nature spirit.
“You are no longer a mortal. We are equals.” aid the Kino’s disembodied voice.
“But…I still think…I…what am I?” Cyrib repeated.
“A spirit.” the Kuno calmly echoed. “But you are not dead. Nor alive. You are beyond that now. Silvanus in his immortal wisdom has charged me with your protection, and to teach you how to tame the wild mana within you.”
“You can help me?” Cyrib asked hopefully.
“I cannot undo your transformation, but you may come with me if you wish and learn of your newfound powers. You can help others in Viridia Forest and beyond.”
Cyrib stared at the Kino’s outstretched hand.
“Your choice.” it said.
Cyrib, still on her knees, twisted to look at the tree she had created mere minutes ago.
“What of my family?”
“You can watch over them, visit them. This I promise.”
Cyrib smiled, warmed by the kindness of the Kuno and the light behind it. Taking its hand, she stood up. Together they walked to the shining light, the ground beneath Cyrib’s feet bursting into plant life as she walked.
“Thank you..” she whispered, staring at the kuno.
“It is nothing. Now, come meet your brethren and sisteren.”
Gently, the Kuno led Cyrib into the green light and into History.
Once a lowly elf warrior, now a goddess giving the gift of life.
The tales of Mercia continue without time, without mouth ,without reason.
It is the way of Mercia.