Holos to Home

Zaya stretches a bit, looking to the astromech across from her with a nervous smile "Alright then.. start rolling D6" She'll wait, adjusting her glasses a bit before the holorecording begins.

"Hi Master.. I know it's been a while, but I hope this finds you well, I'm doing great too, our training is going well, and Kaju and Kumurlawurru are great team mates.  I know we haven't contacted you since we captured the Sith.. but we've been busy training"

Figiting a moment, the little Balosar rubs the back of her head.. reaching to draw her saber and igniting to present the blade. "You know the Sith we captured?.. Kaju and I tried to heal it's crystal, Kaju didn't do so well... but I managed to draw forth what it really was. This is my saber, Mr. Gum said it's odd for someone like me to make a saber like this, but I wanted to test myself."

The blade will shut off as she puts it away, moving to sit as she snickers a little bit. "It's really weird.. talking to someone that's not here.. but I'm going to keep going. We've done a little bit of work for people here as part of our training.. our most recent job had us work for a hutt who's trying to be a farmer, we had to investigate a forest where we found a strange statue.. it had a Kyber inside it, and was projecting a dark guardian.. that tried to eat me, but Kaju and Kumurlawurru managed to destroy the idol before it could hurt us."

"Beyond that.. we also found something weird.. a lady that's inhabiting a statue.. she says she's something called a Bendu.. an ancient version of the Grey Jedi I think, and we found a holocron made by ancient Sith and Jedi together. The holocron had a map in it that leads to three places that aren't on the normal star charts.. after some talking, we decided.. we're gonna pursue one of the spots on the map "

Frowning a moment, she waits, looking at the floor with a long sigh "I'm sure you're not happy, that we're just going off like this, but, we felt the Force brought us to the holocron.. we can't just ignore where it's leading us. Kaju wants to be quiet about this for a bit, but I don't think that's right, so I'm sending this message.. I hope you'll forgive us, but we've made a decision, and we're gonna follow it through..  I miss you Master.. I wish we could come see you, and we'd all go solve this together.. " Pausing, the padawan will blink a moment "Oh, right, before I go.. this is Vern, and this is Scruffy, there my new friends too" she turns to point to the sleeping animals in the background.. "Vern is special though.. he and I are connected.. I don't really understand it, but I can feel the force binding us, one day I'll ask you about it better.. until then... May the Force be with you Master.. good bye" and the holo-recording ends.

The Settlement of Incline

The Incline Station, and The Settlement of Incline:

In central Pennsylvania, there was once a distressed city before the dead rose... now a valley of death itself, the deep valley seeming to hold the mist in, creating a pocket of despair.

Above the mist-filled valley of former Johnstontown, built along a mountain ridge stands the settlement simply called the Incline. The Incline was built by people who fled the undead up Johnsontown's signature  landmark, a towering Incline Plain that the people rode out of the soupy mist and to safety. Built on stilts and platforms sunk into the mountain-side, Incline is protected from the undead when the mist rises above it's usual heights by sheer almost un-scalable cliffs, and thick walls of stone and timber reinforced with metal from Johnsontown's Steel Manufacturing industries.

The small settlement only supports a population of about two-hundred, with very little safe room for growth along the ridge. Certain members of the settlement live below the mist, caring for and maintaining the Incline Station at the base of the mountain, so that their scavenging teams have a place to venture into the shadows in search of materials.

Notable features of Incline-

The Incline Station: Connecting the top of the cliff with the deep valley of Johnsontown the Incline Station serves as the base of operation for the Scavenge Teams that delve into the deep mists here, and above all else, is the first place that gets access to Black and Witch Candles given it’s importance. Heavily fortified, with it’s only main access point being a concrete bridge that has since been walled and flanked with wooden guard towers manned by the Incline Musketeers, it is considered the lifeblood of the settlement.

Master Metalworkers: Being made of survivors from a city with a distinct steel-manufacturing industry, Incline has inherited the knowledge and push to work steel, their scavenge teams don't lack for sturdy tools and weapons.

Railway Mechanics: With the Incline Plain itself being their main way up and down the mountainside, the small settlement has no shortage of mechanics and engineers, and using knowledge and machines salvaged from the nearby Railway museum.

Incline Scavengers: In conjunction with the Metal Workers, the rare times that the settlement needs to make an active defense of the Incline Station from either Undead or less than Peaceful travelers, Incline's Scavengers double as their defenders, fielding armor made of steel plates and firefighter's gear, and generally blades of well tended steel, like modern knights.

Musketeers: Located in Pennsylvania, there was no shortage of hunters with a long history of Musket usage, coupled with a still sizable coal industry, and lots of scrap metal to melt down, the Incline Station and the Settlement above are also protected by men armed with carefully maintained Muskets, slow to reload compared to more modern weaponry, they are suitably more rugged, reliable when properly maintained, and in a pinch serve as very effective melee weapons.

Occasionally in her travels, Mahbu likes to stop in at settlements she's learned about, and if she knows she'll be heading by one she makes a point to show up with goods to trade, usually in the form of books, or hides she's collected in her travels.

A few times she's attempted to settle, but it doesn't last, being in one place to long makes her uncomfortable and the thought of building long term relationships just brings back flashbacks of when her journey in the wilds began. This hasn't really stopped her from building relationships with people though, and on at least a couple occasions she's helped salvage teams from these Settlements she's met, generally in exchange for news, but sometimes for items of substance, especially Candles when she can manage to negotiate for them.

Mahbu likes Layovers more than she does visiting Settlements, the people seem to understand her more, and the goods on offer can be so much more varied. It was at a Layover in Southern New York state that she found someone that taught her how to brain tan hides and create oil-cloths, a pair of skills that have given her a leg up on surviving, and trading with less skilled settlements in need of such things.

One perk to residing in Appalachia is that there are, or were, numerous museums and libraries filled with tools, and guides to build them used by settlers of colonial America and native Americans. A skill-set that is extremely useful in this world of modern inconvenience.

Though one major drawback to residing in Appalachia is the new fauna that resides there, with the horrifying Hidebehinds constantly lurking in the back of her mind.

Bringing the Sun

(After the last couple, I felt something a little softer was needed for Mahbu’s journey, without lights in the dark times you forget that they even dark, and forget what to look towards.)

The warm sun of summer shone over the water as the girl stepped up onto the creaking wooden dock... she had taken a detour in the mist one night.. her candle light not bright enough to find the signs that would've kept her going. With no reason to turn back yet she continued on for days into a week and then into two, following the highways and roads eastward to a place she'd never seen. It was like a whole different world as she smelled the salt and felt the warm sun caressing her tired and worn form.

Perhaps it was her time beneath the trees, clambering mountainsides and old coal mines, but the vast and infinite expanse of the sea before her was something she never thought could exist. For what felt like an eternity she just stood watching the sky, clear and vast with years of time to recover from smog and car exhausts, and she watched the waves, the crashing waters that went so deep that she could never imagine what beauty and horror alike may lurk below.

"A right pretty sight aint it?" a voice behind her chimes, causing her to tense and wheel about, knife in hand. The hand lowered slowly as her eyes fell upon an old woman dressed in well crafted leathers and carrying a satchel on her back. Her fingers were cracked and stained with dirt, and she held up a hand with a smile "Now now.. no need to worry about me."

The old woman knelt a vast distance from the girl as she unpacked her satchel, trowels, and a folding shovel being carefully dipped into the splashing waves. "You look like you've crawled your way from the circles of hell and just seen heaven missy. So why don't you sit a spell and rest, I've got stories if you'd like to listen but I'd keep a distance, I'm not quite safe."

And.. despite herself she sat, her arms hugging her legs as she watched the old woman clean her belongings, and counted the bags of seeds she carried.. she didn't catch her name, but the woman insisted she just be called Gran. Gran told stories of the world she'd seen, of the time before and the times as they are now, stories of people kind and cruel, and places that had risen from the ashes, but most of all she told of the wanderers she'd met and curious places in detail that felt strange to the girl at first.

She told of signs that the average person would overlook, signs that would lead to places of safety and to those that could be trusted, and spoke of people that she knew who had crossed the entire country to find those that were lost in the wake of the creeping shadows. And then she told of herself and those like her.. their time was passed but the future remained, and she would make well use of what time remained to her to bring something better.

Mahbu's eyes drifted down to the bags of seeds, head tilting as Gran smiled "Sunflowers my girl, one day they'll be big and strong and they'll brighten a darkness that the past left behind.. I'm just doing my part, so that kids like you have something ahead of them."

And then she packed her things carefully, gently bundling a batch of young sprouted flowers to her satchel before she rose. "There's good people out there, and you'll find 'em one day. Keep those sad eyes to the future and you remember, ol' Gran loves you." before she stepped off the beach and onto the road, heading off with a gentle wave to the girl.. off to a future that Mahbu didn't realize at the time was a death sentence.

She would be better.

The once sleepy town of Forest Hills, located in the rolling Pennsylvania mountains, once housed a population of roughly four to five hundred people though now it is desolate, empty houses already being consumed by the surrounding forest as streets crack and crumble with the cold winters quickly destroying what is not maintained.

Down the center of one of these broken streets the tatter-dressed survivor walks as fast as she could, a trail of blood behind her as she staggered through the rain towards the first intact building she could find. The rumbling thunder seemed to shake the very ground as she slipped in through a window as the rain began washing away the trail of red behind her.. slinking into the basement and cowering as she listened to the sound of voices, orders being barked.. and then a cry of terror as she saw the seeping gray make it's way through broken glass and cracked timbers, the mist had arrived with the storm.

Hiding, a ball of cloth bit between her teeth to keep from crying out as she cradled a small candle in a dark basement pantry, hand being used to hide the light should any of her pursuers come, she listened to footsteps above her. The first set were fast, running.. the second.. and third.. and what sounded like a dozen more were slow, scraping and dragging. Bang bang bang, came fists upon the basement door she'd barred as she scrambled down below, boards, boxes and chairs stuffed to keep it from swinging open.. and then a scream of pain and a gurgle of dying breath escaping lips just a few yards away.

For several hours she could hear them, ambling about the house, banging into objects and the crash of a television being knocked over before the steps began to recede, another hour before she dared to look out.. her face pale.. and clothes stained red as blood continued it's slow drip from her back.. With a seering pain, she finally moved.. lighting her lantern and placing it on a table in the basement, it's dim light shining as she carefully crept upstairs and unbarred the door.

Blood and gore awaited her.. and she ignored it, instead making a slow, wheezing climb up another stairwell in search of a bathroom. A risk would be made as she cut old towels to pieces, soaking them in alcohol taken from an upturned liquor cabinet on her way. Removing her shirt she used the mirrors to check.. and almost fell when she saw the damage the razor wire she'd crawled under to escape had done.

A few slow hours passed before she was bound in tight haphazardly sanitized cloth in an effort to slow further bleeding and she leaned against a wall to peer out the window. There were bodies, a few dozen.. all decapitated, some were people once, dressed in street clothes.. but some were these monsters.. dressed in survivalist military gear, police uniforms, and firefighter's equipment, and armed with knives and axes and clubs.. what little good it did against the roaming horde their shouting had lured upon them. Never again would she be so blind in her desperation, the zombies were horrible... but these men were monsters.

Their camp was a few miles south along the main stretch, a small fire station they'd fortified. She fell on old teachings and sought out the station when she reached the town, Firefighters and Police were the good guys, they'd help you if you were lost.. these men preyed on that. She saw bodies being burned in piles, boxes of loot stolen from people that had crossed their path, and before she escaped, saw them laugh as they made a pair of survivors fight to the death for scraps of food only to give it to their hunting hounds instead... In her haste to escape unnoticed, she didn't see the barbed wire.. nor the bells.. and they'd pursued her with a force unexpected, likely assuming she had more family nearby to capture.

Now two days later, sore and still slow, she crept towards the camp again in search of her missing gear.. and the camp was all but shattered, in their haste to pursue someone must've forgotten to seal a gate.. the zombies must've gotten in and the survivors of her hunters slain in their retreat back home. As she limped into the camp she thought it empty.. until she heard the scrape of a blade leaving it's home.. and a man, bleeding, covered in bites and  missing an eye glared at her.. his left arm was limp and shattered. She didn't care.

Both were weak, tired and all but broken, and she grasped the first thing near her as he approached.. it happened fast, he lunged, and she swung... and there was a moment she thought herself dead from the pain shooting through her body. When her eyes opened she saw he laid there, skull shattered as the axe lay lodged in his brain.. and blood oozed from her back as wounds that were just starting to close were reopened by her effort.

She learned so much in these days.. of how little she knew, of how some people had become worse monsters than the dead.. and most of all she learned what kind of person she would never become.

She would be better.

A girl in her mid to later teens, Mahbu is dressed in the clothes of a survivor, worn boots, ragged pants with belts holding pockets about the legs, a hood of roughly tanned raccoon hides is stitched haphazardly onto a faded camouflage hunting vest. A bandolier of candles crosses her chest, with a battered and travel worn pink backpack hangs from her shoulders. Her skin is a soft brown, with patches of pigment-less white skin here and there, a sizable patch covering her left eye, and hair cut short and uneven on her head by a dulled hunting knife she carries at her belt. A chipped wood-cutters axe almost never leaves her hand as she walks, it's blade stained red with rust.. or perhaps dried blood.. the difference is negligible, and a rusted lantern hangs from her pack, housing a candle to keep away the dark and the dead.

Mahbu doesn't seem to mine strangers.. she doesn't talk much.. but she is often friendly, for one that lives in the wilds of a post-apocalyptic Pennsylvania anyways, and will share food and drink with those in need. Friendliness doesn't mean foolish though,and her guard is never let down around others, a lesson she learned hard shortly after leaving her family farm which left a sizable scar down her back.

Her skills are honed by wild learning and from what books she has managed to find but it shows in the quality of her gear, or that lack of that in truth, but they get the job done, and she makes do with what she can scavenge or hunt.

Generally on the move with no real direction.. she seems to be following something but what exactly even she couldn't tell.. but her roaming has taken her north and south along the mountains over the years, never finding whatever she searches for.

When it happened

Appalachian Escapee She was 13 when it happened.. the mist had taken so much, and her family had hid away in the family's cabin high in the mountains of Appalachia, things went well at first, though the mist uncomfortably lingered just out of reach, like a sea of sweeping death in the valleys below. Grandfather fell first, one day... something just seemed to call to him, and he wandered away in the morning sun, down into the shadows and never to be seen again.. at least that was the hope, Grandmother went shortly after, lost without him and losing the will to even rise from her bed.

It was months later when the young one of the family was heard yelling, waving frantically down the path.. "Grandpa! you're back!" the words sent a chill down the spine of his parents and sister... and then they were silent as the family rushed from their chores. The mist had risen higher than ever before.. and the battered.. rotting figure of the family patriarch stood, the silent form in his arm un-moving as blood pooled beneath them. And more came behind him.. slow and staggering but encroaching on the house.

This night was long.. and the morning brought no reprieve, nor the next... and then it happened on a Sunday.. mother watched, battered shovel in hand and candle in the other, for father to return from the barn.. and then the soft glow of the candle vanished through the barn doors.. and a cry caused her to forget herself. Mahbu watched from the window of her bedroom, clutching a candle in her hand as she watched her mother's soft glow move across the yard and to the barn... and then she screamed when she saw that light vanish just as her father's had.

It was another day, hiding in the bedroom, dressers pushed across the door and almost burning the house down more than a few times as she fought sleep with a candle in her hand before the mist receded. Her body finally gave and she fell into a deep sleep once the terror left her, and that afternoon after she woke she ventured out. No cows.. no chickens.. no family remained but blood and bile and a barn that looked like a scene from a horror movie brought to life as her eyes widen in shock.. and then seemed to fade, as if something inside her shut off.

A slow week crawled on with the mist drawing back down the mountainside as the young survivor labored, at first going through the motions of their life.. setting a table for six.. feeding animals that no longer existed.. but on the fifth day she cried, and for almost a day she didn't leave that table. On the sixth day, with a tear stained face she left the house, a tattered pink backpack on her back stuffed full of every bit of trail-worthy food she could scavenge, a bandolier of candles draped across her chest no longer having shells to fill it's voids, a battered old lantern covered in blood stains hanging from her pack housing the soft flames of a candle and a wood-cutters axe in hand as she started down the mountain.. to find something, to find someone... to leave behind the ghosts in the mountains.

She was 13 when it happened...

Bad Dreams

The dark, tainted streets seemed to stretch on for eternity in the deep undercity that was Balosar. Filth and decay highlighted by the violence that came with it. A cloaked figure watched from the shadows of an alley as a band of thugs surrounded an older man, clubs and blasters in hand as they smirked, one picking up the dropped satchel as another kicked the man roughly in the ribs.

A voice whispered in the back of the figure's mind as they watched.. 'Eliminate the wicked'.

The streets seemed to fade as a scene of a speeder-station replaced the vision, a pair looking to each other nervously as they set down a sleeping figure along with a blanket and a tattered toy before hurrying off. The cloaked figure watching and following as they fled, the night shifting to day, then the day to night as the pair laughed, bottles of alcohol scattered across a kitchen floor and wasted food thrown into a trash bin.

The voice whispered again in the back of the figure's mind... 'Eliminate the wicked'.

The smell of blood was heavy as a broken woman lay in a heap on the dirty, muddy street, blood pooling around him as a gang sat perched upon speeder bikes, the smell of gunpowder still heavy in the air as one casually ejected the spent slug thrower cartridge from his weapon and whistled.. a pair of great deformed hounds charging out to feast on the offered meal.

Once more it whispered... 'Eliminate'.

The cloaked figure stretched out into the dirty streets as the bikers turned to gaze.. then laughed as they began to move and circle, mouths moving in a muted mockery of speech as weapons were drawn.

Blood, and pain and death, the scent was unmistakable as bodies lined the streets.. bikers... thugs.. criminals of all sorts.. cut down with quick and unrelenting force as the cloaked figure moved.. a blade of crimson fire in hand.

'Eliminate.'

The screams of terror sounded as the half-drunken pair scrambled back against the wall of their apartment, door severed and broken as the cloaked figure stepped in, golden eyes peering from beneath the shadowed hood.. and the crimson blade flickered to life, broad and flat as it sliced through the air.. the hood falling back to reveal cracked glasses perched on a pale faced balosar as the two were struck down, bodies sliced in twane by the dark weapon.

'ELIMINATE THE WICKED!'

Zaya sat, eyes widen and mouth opened to scream though no sound echoed, her eyes darting about before her fingers fumbled and the lights flickered on, the familiar bedroom aboard the ship greeting her sight as tears streaked down her face. She inhaled through dry lips as her legs were drawn to her chest.. rocking slightly on her bed and pulling her sheets about herself. "The force is with me.. and I am with the force" being chanted through sniffling breaths to calm herself... until the comforting call of the morning eventually drew her focus and she rose, dressing, grasping her saber from her stand near her bed and stumbling out to join her companions for the morning.

My first three Gunpla, built through careful, tedious work that I loved nearly every second of. I didn’t use the various decals because I’m terrified that I’ll mess something up, but I hope to get more practice and go back top finish them up one day.. Either way, I’m still quite pleased with them, though the armor on the FA-78-1 has some bad design choices (double-sided sticky tape), and I need more GMs.

O Mother River

As the budding settlement fades into sleep, the small gnome stirrs and slips from her bedding and into the cool night air.  Beneath her arm a bundle of wooden objects is held as she heads for the dock. In silence the bundle is unwrapped, a little wooden raft, crude in make but serviceable, and a small human-shaped effigy made of wood and twine.

"... normally granny would do this... Mother River, I know I'm not a devout one.. but please allow me this small step, to bring those taken from us to rest and dream.."

Tying the effigy to the toy-sized raft she moves to step out into the water, setting the raft to drift down the river and setting it alight before she sits, kneeling in the water with a long, slow breath.

"O’ Blessed Mother River, vast and wise, bear these souls upon your breast, and deliver them to the sleeping sea.

O’ Father Oarman, guide these wayward ones and protect their spirits from those that would harm and steal them away from their rest.

O’ Grandmother Sea where all life starts and all life ends, welcome these weary ones into your embrace and when they're ready, release them to the currents, that they may rejoin the flowing cycle and be born again where peace will keep them safe."

She prays softly, the water up to her chest as she sits upon her knees near the bank, the little gnome's face soaked and eyes red with tears as she watches the small raft burn as it drifts down the river until it either gets beyond sight, or burns itself apart and sinks beneath the waves. For just a few long hours she sits in the water.. crying in silence and repeating the prayer for each of the fallen that they failed to rescue from the Orcs.

As the final prayer is uttered, her eyes close with a shuddering sniffle, and she begins to stand.

"I am so sorry my friends... I am so sorry I failed you all... " she rubs her eyes once more, heading for bed in silence, patting her drake’s back as she slides past him and settling into her bedroll to cry herself to sleep.

Of forgotten friends.

Thunder roared as the blackend ground crumbled beneath their feet, the group of travelers standing before the coming darkness as soldiers all around tried to rise, to rouse the fallen. The looming shadow towered tall as twisted tendrils of darkness slowly seeped across the tattered field.. consuming all that lay in their path.

A flash of light shattered the shadows for but a moment as one of the travelers raised her shield, the tendrils recoiling as a great blooming of feathers erupted and burned like a thousand suns in the sky. "Fall back! Get the fallen to the wall! " came the booming voice of a warrior beside her as his burned and flame blackened armor seemed to shed it's crisp shell and his mighty blade surged into being in his hand, arcane energy trembling throughout his form.

And the shadow did bellow as a great black tendril swung for the defiant travelers, a great surge of blue magic erupting from the warrior as a shield of arcane dedication enshrouded him and he stared in defiance at the threat. All around soldiers and mercenaries fell back to the line, slow at first but shaking as they felt their exhaustion fading, the slow, sombre tunes of a flute starting soft and growing faster as behind the armor clad pair a green skinned figure shed his fluttering feathered cap and let his music soar to the heavens to inspire those about him, his companions seeming to swell before the fleeing soldiers.

A great booming sounded as a pair of tendrils arched through the air towards the fleeing soldiers, and an explosion of pale blue shattered the sky like sonic booms as a great flurry of arcane leapt from the outstretched hand of a towering giant of woman, her doe-like eyes and kind smile never once fading as her spellbook was clasped in hand and she chanted the incantations. A surge of wind and cold then streaked across the field as ancient magics were unleashed and the shadow-clad form found itself stripped of it's ghostly cloak. The great titan stood exposed, a mass of hatred given physical shape, eyes a flame with rage and great cloven feet digging into the earth with every step.

It's fist rose and then fell like a mass of death upon a group of wounded soldiers and those that had stood to protect them rather than flee... and a great bellow sounded as it recoiled in sudden confusion and pain, a deep cleaving gash sunk into it's wrist as the fur covered woodsman gripped his axe, a great wolf surging from the line of fleeing men to join him as the two cried out a howl of unified challenge to the demon that stood before them.

The scholars would say it was impossible, the sights that were seen that day, the bards would write endless ballads of the battle as mortals of all walks of life came together to stand before the great portal, all lead by a team of men and monsters that refused to yield as hell itself tried to break it's way into our world. But no tales would do justice the grief that came after. As families were given the news of lost brothers and fathers and mothers and sisters.. as soldiers lost those that had given their all  beside them... and as those bonded by fate laid one of their own to rest.

Beneath a great tree not noted on any map a small gravesite was made, and within a box of simple wood did he lay. A strange peace rested upon his face as the eternal sleep held him tight.. and so stones were laid, and earth was cast upon the casket beneath a great tree where initials were carved so many years ago by these companions.. friends in defiance of all that fate would throw.

But even as the warrior and the wizard said their farewells.. and as the bard promised their friend's tales of greatness would never be forgotten.. and as the champion gave a final prayer to the gods that may never listen.. one of their band was left behind. The great wolf sat.. staring in silence at the mound of stone lovingly stacked over his master's cold form, and a deep and mournful howl filled those woods for days.. and then months.. and then a year did pass before the howls would fade.

And on the anniversary of the great battle.. the heroes did gather once more in this secluded grove, beneath a great tree that had seemed in this single year to grow twice over, and they stared in silence.. and then wept in sorrow at what they had forgotten.. for over the great stone pile, the thin and withered form of a great black wolf lay... guarding her master and mourning him until her heart could no longer bear the sorrow, and she left these planes to join him.

The heroes cursed themselves for their negligence.. and a second grave was made.. and new initials were carved to this tree.. for their forgetfulness had cost the world another hero. More songs were promised.. more tales and great adventures assured by the bard to be written forever in the tides of history.. and a great promise was made by them all this day. All would be remembered for the great battle.. heroes of men and beast alike, and they would redeem themselves for leaving a friend to grieve alone, if it took every ounce of breath in their chests to do so.

A Friendship Forged

The sparks flickered in the kindling as the flint was struck, a few more strikes following suit before the light smoldering grows.. and the flames flicker up in the ring of stone. The short framed ranger uses her axe to sharpen and drive a series of wooden stakes into the earth around the fire, piercing the thick chunks of river beast meat onto them before settling, allowing the growing scent of cooking meat to begin to fill the air as she dried various herbs gathered from the forest on the stone fire ring.

As the herbs dried and crackled the ranger sat, eyes closing and exhaling slowly as her fingers dug slightly into the soft earth, a gentle green glow beginning to spread from the soil and up her arms as she channeled the ancient natural magics.. breath exhaling slowly and steadily before being drawn in and left out once more. Despite the warmth of the fire nearby her breath appeared cold, misty with a green tint to it as she began to breath into the base of the fire.. fueling the flames with magic drawn from the forest.. the flames flickering.. crackling and beginning to glow a bright yellow.

Reaching as the flames grew brighter and taller, the dried herbs were crushed and spread into the flames, a snapping of magic rippling about as the flames flared into a deep and lush green. The cooking meats dripped as they roasted over the enchanted flames.. the welcoming scent of cooking food fading from the air as if channeled.. following a single drifting line into the deep and dark forest beyond the fire and ritual space.

For many hours the ranger sat, eyes closed and almost meditating as she muttered the ritual words.. the sun overhead starting on it's way down as the snap of a branch drew the ranger's attention. A creature taller than herself gave a deep growl as it stepped from the shadow.. circling as the ranger stood, reaching to pick up one of the stakes of meat... she says nothing as she offers the cooked meat towards the creature, who's mighty maw rips it from the stake, biting deep and hard as it gulps down the enchanted foodstuffs.

It took little time before all the offered meat was gone and the scaled beast stood before the ranger.. her hand raising slowly and being held out. A deep snorting sniff made her tense a moment before it stepped forward, muzzle pressing into the offered hand as the deep green glow of the flames seemed to spread from the meat in it's belly, spreading across the creature and up to it's head as the ritual began it's final moments. The aura spreads as the ranger began once more to chant, her fingers being engulfed first as the magic bonding began, the pair staring at eachother as her voice echoed in the trees.. only going silent as the magic reached the top of her head and her eyes flickered with green druidic magics.

And then all faded and was silent, the green fire snuffing out for several long  seconds, almost an eternity before they roared to life plain and ordinary orange and yellow, magic now faded and ritual completed. The little ranger smiled to her newfound companion, patting the side of his heavy neck "Let's go home.." before snuffing the fire with dirt, and starting back to the safety of their budding village, side by side with the great beast that dared give her his time and blessing.