Summer has come to Goldenleaf Forest. Despite this, the goldenleaf trees remain a riot of gold and red and orange, as if autumn has begun to creep in prematurely. The non magical trees of the forest choose to maintain their deep green hues despite their magical brethren's chromatic preference, making the forest a glorious patchwork of color and season. Above the forest floor the branches of all the trees spread and twine, creating a soft, protective canopy within which animals of all kind can live their lives out, hunting, foraging, mating and raising their young with unmatched safety. That safety is not from each other, of course. Nature is not gentle. The predator still kills the prey as in all places. All inhabitants of the Goldenleaf Forest, however, are protected from the fear of hunters from beyond the forest borders with their carved bows and metal blades.
It is well known for miles around that the vast and sprawling Goldenleaf Forest is protected, some even say cursed. None of the locals, those who live just beyond the furthest tree tilling and shaping the earth to feed their families, will ever venture within the forest proper with the intent to harm. Anyone that does enter, even if their intentions are pure, returns claiming to have seen figures at the edges of their visions, to have been stalked by birds and beasts as they roamed, to have felt as if they were constantly being watched. Some say a monster lives within the wood, hunting any of the bipedal races that dares to enter. Some say the forest is a god and punishes any who trespass. Some say the magic of the wood is born of the trees, while others claim there is a spring deep within a hidden glade that possesses powerful magic to both heal and harm.
Whatever the truth is, the consensus is clear. Goldenleaf Forest is not a normal wood and any who enter would do well to beware its wrath.
It is well known for miles around that the vast and sprawling Goldenleaf Forest is protected, some even say cursed. None of the locals, those who live just beyond the furthest tree tilling and shaping the earth to feed their families, will ever venture within the forest proper with the intent to harm. Anyone that does enter, even if their intentions are pure, returns claiming to have seen figures at the edges of their visions, to have been stalked by birds and beasts as they roamed, to have felt as if they were constantly being watched. Some say a monster lives within the wood, hunting any of the bipedal races that dares to enter. Some say the forest is a god and punishes any who trespass. Some say the magic of the wood is born of the trees, while others claim there is a spring deep within a hidden glade that possesses powerful magic to both heal and harm.
Whatever the truth is, the consensus is clear. Goldenleaf Forest is not a normal wood and any who enter would do well to beware its wrath.
Sampaguita feels the vibrant energy of the forest, as well as a forbidding presence before she enters. However, there are things she worried about more, such as the curse plaguing her people. Gathering her courage, she passes over the magical threshold that separates the forest from the rest of the world, and enters.
When finally she’s passed, she felt calm. Now that she’s here, she has no idea where to go. She came for the spring but it’s not like when she enters it’ll just be in front of her. The hike to the forest was long and treacherous, so she decided to rest.
She picks a tree and sits beneath it, meditating and listening to the sounds and energy of the forest. Perhaps she’ll gain some clarity and guidance.
When finally she’s passed, she felt calm. Now that she’s here, she has no idea where to go. She came for the spring but it’s not like when she enters it’ll just be in front of her. The hike to the forest was long and treacherous, so she decided to rest.
She picks a tree and sits beneath it, meditating and listening to the sounds and energy of the forest. Perhaps she’ll gain some clarity and guidance.
This forest feels like no other place that Sampaguita has ever been before. It is living and throbbing and vibrant and powerful. There is undoubtedly a consciousness here, watching, waiting, judging. She can sense it running through the tree she is pressing her back against, through the soil she is sitting upon, through the very air she is breathing. It does not feel threatening, however. Not yet, at least.
Eventually, as the day slowly and inexorably wears on, there is the sound of a hoof tamping down upon the ground nearby. A hind, tall and proud, with slim, spiraling antlers and a beautifully shimmering reddish-brown coat steps out from behind a nearby Goldenleaf tree. It regards the intruder within its woods with deep velvety brown eyes.
Eventually, as the day slowly and inexorably wears on, there is the sound of a hoof tamping down upon the ground nearby. A hind, tall and proud, with slim, spiraling antlers and a beautifully shimmering reddish-brown coat steps out from behind a nearby Goldenleaf tree. It regards the intruder within its woods with deep velvety brown eyes.
Sampaguita feels the energies around her shift and wakens a bit, but she is unable to stay awake considering that the energies was not exactly hostile and she was so so tired. It must have been a few hours that she slept, for when her eyes start to open, it is dark. But the sounds of the forest calm her.
As she wakes she is startled by this magnificent creature before her. Must it be the forest’s guardian? Is it the avatar of the forest itself? She sits up as realization starts to hit her and scrambles for a way to make herself presentable without offending the spirit.
She decides to bow down in front of it, unsure of how to start her explanation.
As she wakes she is startled by this magnificent creature before her. Must it be the forest’s guardian? Is it the avatar of the forest itself? She sits up as realization starts to hit her and scrambles for a way to make herself presentable without offending the spirit.
She decides to bow down in front of it, unsure of how to start her explanation.
The hind moves slowly and inexorably towards Sampaguita. It's front hoof lands mere inches from where her head is bent. From the size of the beast, a good head taller than the tallest deer that the shaman has ever seen, it's foot should press deeply into the soft loam of the ground before her. Instead it seems to barely even bend the fresh green blades of grass around it.
A soft, furry nose brushes through the woman's hair, finding her scent. That same nose touches lightly at her forehead, a gentle and warm contact, before it nudges slightly, urging her to stand. It does not drive her out or threaten her being. It seems, whatever she has to say, she has earned the right to say it with her deference. At least for now.
A soft, furry nose brushes through the woman's hair, finding her scent. That same nose touches lightly at her forehead, a gentle and warm contact, before it nudges slightly, urging her to stand. It does not drive her out or threaten her being. It seems, whatever she has to say, she has earned the right to say it with her deference. At least for now.
Sampaguita feels the gentle muzzle urge her to raise her head. She does so slowly and as unthreatening as she could. She stops to a sitting position(like the way Japanese sit), and waits for a signal to begin her explanation.
She begins her explanation by explaining what has happened to her people and that she has tried to contact the guardian spirits of her tribe for help, but to no avail. As the shaman of the tribe she’s exhausted all her options and has heard in her travels that the spring here could possibly help her people. And so, she has come to ask for permission for her people to make a pilgrimage to receive healing. If the guardian permits.
She begins her explanation by explaining what has happened to her people and that she has tried to contact the guardian spirits of her tribe for help, but to no avail. As the shaman of the tribe she’s exhausted all her options and has heard in her travels that the spring here could possibly help her people. And so, she has come to ask for permission for her people to make a pilgrimage to receive healing. If the guardian permits.
As she finishes her tale of woe, the hind considers her thoughtfully. Its soft golden-red body is still and quiet, as if it were a highly detailed statue and not a living creature at all. Its chest barely even rises or falls as it breathes. After several long, drawn out minutes, that antlered head finally dips down in front of her once more. The beast turns with a soft padding of its hooves and begins to walk away from the shaman, clearly heading deeper into the forest. Before it is out of sight, however it turns to gaze at her once more. It's waiting. Patiently waiting.
Should she choose to rise and follow, the deer will lead her through the trees and deeper into the lush, shimmering foliage of Goldenleaf Forest. Even with no sun to set the canopy ablaze, the soft light of the moon is enough to showcase the luster inherent in the magical leaves above. As they walk, several small creatures, squirrels, rabbits and the like, will pass them by. A few pause to regard the intruder in their domain calmly but none flee from her step or her gaze. They act as if she is not even of consequence to them as they scamper about their tiny lives, finding food and shelter and avoiding the predators that stalk the forest floor.
It is close to midnight before the stag slows its gait and finally comes to a halt just at the edge of a large open clearing. In the very center of this field there is a low pile of ancient and weathered boulders. Bubbling up from underneath these rocks is a spring of crystal clear water that pools gently before turning into a tiny rivulet that wanders away and disappears between the trees on the far side of the glade.
Should she choose to rise and follow, the deer will lead her through the trees and deeper into the lush, shimmering foliage of Goldenleaf Forest. Even with no sun to set the canopy ablaze, the soft light of the moon is enough to showcase the luster inherent in the magical leaves above. As they walk, several small creatures, squirrels, rabbits and the like, will pass them by. A few pause to regard the intruder in their domain calmly but none flee from her step or her gaze. They act as if she is not even of consequence to them as they scamper about their tiny lives, finding food and shelter and avoiding the predators that stalk the forest floor.
It is close to midnight before the stag slows its gait and finally comes to a halt just at the edge of a large open clearing. In the very center of this field there is a low pile of ancient and weathered boulders. Bubbling up from underneath these rocks is a spring of crystal clear water that pools gently before turning into a tiny rivulet that wanders away and disappears between the trees on the far side of the glade.
The giantess follows the creature and eventually they come upon the spring. Does this mean it grants her people pilgrimage? She was astonished. It was pure and clear. The clearest water she’s ever seen or felt. She is thankful for its kindness, but she fears taking so many people will defile the waters.
She speaks to it of her fears, and asks for guidance on what she should do. On one hand she wants to save her people. And on the other she wants to keep this purity.
She speaks to it of her fears, and asks for guidance on what she should do. On one hand she wants to save her people. And on the other she wants to keep this purity.
The hind listens patiently while the shaman explains her new plight. Its head tilts slowly to one side so that it can regard both the woman and the spring at the same tiem. It is still for several seconds after she finishes speaking before turning to dip its muzzle within the cool, fresh water of the spring.
It raises its head once more and looks expectantly at Sampaguita. The antlers and ears atop its head shudder as it stretches out its neck and shakes its head before turning its eyes upon her once more. The soft muzzle dips towards the water again, but does not touch it this time. It seems more a gesture than an intention. It wishes her to drink.
It raises its head once more and looks expectantly at Sampaguita. The antlers and ears atop its head shudder as it stretches out its neck and shakes its head before turning its eyes upon her once more. The soft muzzle dips towards the water again, but does not touch it this time. It seems more a gesture than an intention. It wishes her to drink.
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