Fables Vol.2

Understanding that repeating the ritual without making the appropriate adjustments would grant me nothing more than an ever growing graveyard, I left the elven nation in search of any arcane or divine lore that would aid in my quest. I traveled to the mountain city to meet with an older student in the Academy. After a brief consultation, it became apparent that in rituals like mine blood or holy water would be needed.

I remembered that the pool in the Unicorn Grove was filled with holy water. Furthermore, I knew where blood could be obtained. For nearly a century I trained my skills for taming, and with the help of the Kaddar faeries I eventually mastered it. While training I met a giant sloth, a gentle creature who always carried a vial of his own blood. I never pryed into his mind to find out why he carried it, but that remained irrelevant now. He would give it to me, or I would take it.

After aquiring enough blood to complete my experiments and the ritual itself, I visited my old friend Brambus. I must say, the nature of the blood inspired me. When Brambus exclaimed that the blood cured poisons my heart skipped a beat. I left my animal companions breathless behind me as I ran back to the grove, excited to make a new attempt. Time would not allow for the attempt however, I barely managed to gather enough herbs before the sun vanished beyond the horizon. I tried then to rest, yet my racing my mind parried slumber's varried thrusts well into the night.

I awoke to a blood curdling scream that echoed through the empty streets of the elven capitol. Still within the protection of the grove I waited to see who or what had made such a cry. In only a few moments another cry declared an assassin within the city. Carefully I restrung my crossbow, and placed some special bolts within my quiver. Once again I found myself observing as this feral worked its way through the city seeking something.

I peered down to check my sword was free in its scabbard. Suddenly realization hit me, like a tree branch on horseback. I nearly fell backward when I understood that I carried what these unruly visitors sought. I knew that the assassin had not come to the elven city looking for me. However, if it knew I held the sword, my name would surely make its list. It was gone then as suddenly as it had arrived. Again I thought to step out and visit the princess for it was her voice I had heard most recent. She seemed well, so I turned and headed back to the grove.

The city seemed quiet and the morning was warm. I sat beneath the great boughs of the Antediluvian tree, considering the variations blood or holy water might have upon my ritual. Most important seemed deciding how and when each element might be added to the ritual itself. I came to the conclusion that I would use the holy water as a base for the brew. When it came to a boil I added the herbs and left it to simmer. I soaked the hood of longevity in the blood of the sloth, while the brew bubbled thickly in the heavy black cauldren.

The brew darkened and grew thick over time, all the while I worked at making my final choice. Should I sterilize the vial with holy water, or soak it inside the sloths blood. Deciding to try both I called forth a second raven. After straining the brew through the hood of longevity, exactly as I had done before. I noted that something strange happened...

(more to follow in Vol.3)