Willow stared up in dismay at the swarthy dragonborn barring her path.

“What do you mean, ‘the port’s closed,’ why is it closed? I have a round trip ticket, here, already paid for,” she protested, waving a slip of paper in front of him.

The giant man crossed his arms in front of him and leveled her with a glare, not bothering to inspect the paper. “I’m sorry, miss, but the port’s been temporarily shut down, and I can’t say any more on the matter,” he growled.

Less than intimidated, the sprightly woman suspected that he didn’t mean to growl at her, but that, with dragon-like vocal cords, he probably had little choice in the matter. She hoped.

Better not to find out, she decided, eyeing the sharp teeth protruding from a mouth several inches above her head. I may be able to take out one of these creatures, but I doubt I could take on a whole city of them.

“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked, gesturing at the city around them. “I paid for quarters aboard ship; I wasn’t expecting to need to rent a room.”

“Take this ship’s voucher and head back the way you came,” he suggested, pointing back toward the Foreign Quarter and handing her a paper marked with the seal of the City of No Name. "There’s a little inn down the road called the Drunken Sailor. It’s a nice place,” he assured her, returning to his guard station. “Not too many rats.” Willow heard the brute erupt into laughter as she sighed and turned away.

Hefting her pack, the lycanthrope fought down a wave of panic as she glanced at the crowded streets surrounding her on all sides. Buildings rose high into the air, hedging in the narrow streets and reducing the sky above to a narrow blue strip, fraught with fluffy white. The calls of street hawkers and fishmongers grated on her nerves, and children screamed and raced in and out of the stifling crowd, further setting her on edge. No trees could be seen anywhere, nor any sign of things green and growing, for that matter. The smell of raw fish and unwashed bodies assaulted her as she slunk through the market square, and she headed quickly in the direction the dragonborn had pointed. While she held little faith in his suggestion of lodging, she hadn’t the faintest idea of where else to go.

Scanning the oppressive buildings on either side of the street, she soon came upon a wooden placard sporting the pudgy face of a grinning sailor. Willow took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into a lively common room. Lanterns guttered from the walls, doing little to illuminate the vast, yet crowded space. Two harried serving wenches threaded through the tables, doling out mugs of ale and plates piled with food of an unknown variety. As the petite woman stared around uncertainly, one of the servers approached, pausing a moment to scream at a patron who’d fondled her as she slid past.

“Watcha wont?” she demanded, the stale alcohol on her breath nearly bowling Willow over.

“I’m looking for a room,” she replied, glancing around at her surroundings.

“Ain’t got one righ’ this minute,” the girl shouted over the din, looking her up and down. “But ol’ ‘Arry jus left, an’ I could ‘ave ‘is room cleared out righ’ quick, if’n ye kin wait fer a bit,” she offered.

Before the lycanthrope could respond, the woman was off again, bellowing for the maid.

Left to herself once more, Willow scrutinized the array of tables and benches, searching for a safe place to sit. She sighed with relief as a patron staggered past her, leaving a table near the door vacant. Threading through the sea of bodies, she slid quickly into the now-empty chair, pulled her pack into her lap, and drew her arms up around it. The overpowering smell of sweat and the ebb and flow of drunken voices assaulted her, and she closed her eyes and tried to shut out her surroundings. Her ears perked, however, as she heard someone mention the port.

“Yeah, they shut it an’ the District down, shut ‘em right down, they did,” she heard a man say in wonder, a drunken slur coloring his words.

“Not surprising, after the attack an’ all,” replied another.

“Nay, s’not the attack, what done it,” the first hiccupped, leaning closer to his companion. He gestured to the man in a conspirational manner, pulling him closer. “They say it’s those demons and devils, whot done it,” he whispered as Willow strained her ears to catch his words. “They’s left over from the attack, hiding in the sewers, they say.

“Yer mad,” his companion growled, shoving him away in disgust.

“It’s true!” the man insisted, raising his voice. “O’Gill’s boy, Dervan, saw em with ‘is own eyes. ‘E says ‘e was down there hunting rats fer the bounty, an’ they –”

Willow lost the rest of the man’s words as a drunken customer tripped and sprawled across her table, leveling it and nearly dowsing her with ale. Leaping up, she brushed off his apologies and grabbed her pack up from the floor as the serving wenches screamed at him.

Enough of this, she thought, retreating to the door. How hard can it be to find a decent inn around here?

Two hours later, she had the answer to her question. Every inn in the Foreign Quarter was overrun with travelers and sailors unable to secure passage out of the city. Every common room overflowed with drunken patrons, swearing and ill-tempered at the inconvenience and ready to trade blows at the least little insult. Willow had dodged several heated bar fights already, and was growing weary and footsore. Everywhere she went, however, she heard more and more rumors about hellish fiends roaming under the streets and dragging away hapless city folk. She even heard a pair of guards discussing the matter in hushed tones before they spotted her and glared until she passed by. Finally, she gave up her search and headed for the city gate.

Crossing through the giant, wrought iron monstrosities, she heaved a sigh of relief as she detoured off the road and headed into the thick forest surrounding it. As soon as her feet touched the blanket of leaves and pine needles within, her tread lightened and lengthened, as if a great weight dropped away from her shoulders. For a moment, the lycanthrope considered shifting into her wolf form, but there was still a bit of daylight left, and she feared to be caught mid-shift by one of the city’s ruling party.

Bad enough that I’m an outsider, she thought. No telling what they would do to me if they knew the whole truth of it.

Shaking her head, the woman angled farther into the welcoming forest, reveling in the feel of the light breeze through her chin-length auburn hair. She traveled gracefully over fallen logs and through the scant underbrush, making hardly a sound as she searched for place to camp for the night. In a few minutes, she had located a suitable clearing and laid out her bedroll in the lee of the sheltering trees.

See, that wasn’t so hard, she thought, smiling with satisfaction. Cities are highly overrated, anyway.

Once settled, the warden dropped her mental shields and joyfully let the primal power of the forest wash over her. She walked to the center of the clearing, drawing the sparkling green energy into her, cleansing herself of the smells and the taint of the city. Her road weary body answered the ancient call, feeling once more refreshed and revitalized. Her sore muscles sang, then gradually loosened, and her mind and senses sharpened, stretching to their full extent. Her amber eyes opened, and she grinned, heaving a sigh of relief as her body relaxed. Falling into her bedroll, Willow shut her eyes and mused over her situation.

Well, I’m stuck in the wilderness outside a city overrun with demons and devils, and I have no way to get home, she thought wryly as the first night birds sent their cries into the falling darkness. Lovely. What else could possibly go wrong?

This is an extension of the above story. It takes place the day after the above, and is a write-up following the events between Willow and Craed as posted in the "Coliseum." This encounter isn't finished yet, so I will continue to add on to this post as Josh and I continue to add on to the story.



Willow moved as slowly and gracefully as her name, her body flowing deliberately through a complicated series of swordwork exercises. Her longsword extended from her left hand, primal energy coursing through it, the blade no more than an extension of herself. As the warden moved through the various forms of her discipline, Craed drifted through the underbrush toward her, surprisingly silent for his large frame. Coming upon the clearing, he paused a moment to watch her practice.

She’s good, he thought as she launched into a series of lunges and ripostes. Wonder if she’d like to train together?

The silver and black dragonborn approached carefully through the trees, circling around in front of the warrior. Willow snapped out of her trance as he approached, but stood down warily as he waved and introduced himself.

“Hello! My name is Craed, and I noticed that you were training, there,” he said. “I'm a bit of a warrior myself and I was wondering if you'd mind me joining you, and perhaps a little spar?"

The lycanthrope sized up the warrior, noting his size and his lack of a weapon. He wore hide armor, and some sort of talisman hung from around his neck, fashioned out of a fox’s skull.

He certainly seems friendlier than those stuffy dragonborn from the city, she thought, considering him. And with his size, it should be an interesting bout.

Deciding to give him a chance, she shrugged and nodded her assent.

"I think it's only fair that I go first, since I'm gonna win,” he said, throwing her a grin full of very sharp teeth. “I mean, because I don't have a weapon," he amended, winking at her and advancing several feet.

"I think you'll like this first trick. Although, I suppose it will come as no big surprise to you, if you know my people."

He grinned at Willow once more as his teeth started to spark, the back of his throat assuming a bright white glow. The warden braced herself as he opened his mouth wide, and a blast of lightning leaped toward her. After only a foot, however, the lightning fizzled out, and the massive dragonborn doubled over, choking and sputtering.

“Ugh, well that could have tasted better,” he laughed, gasping. “Guess it’s been longer than I thought since I used it last.” He straightened once more. “I suppose I’ll try something different.”

Willow stared as Craed raised his hands before the totem around his neck. She was thrilled to feel a rush of primal power building, even as thorny vines sprouted from the skull and lashed out toward her.

Well this is interesting, she thought, relaxing and letting her instincts take over. She tensed and dodged out of the way as the vines snapped in her direction. She thought she heard the dragonborn let out a little whimper, but couldn’t tell for certain as she dropped into a ready stance a few feet from him.

What have I gotten myself into? Craed wondered, watching in disbelief as the woman dodged away from the barrage.

Willow let out a throaty laugh, flashing a pair of unusually sharp canine teeth.

"I generally wouldn't fight against an opponent without a weapon," she said, "but I see yours are merely of the unconventional sort."

Still grinning, the petite woman pointed her sword at the druid and called forth her own surge of primal energy. More vines spiraled from her blade, rushing forth and wrapping themselves around her hapless foe. Willow shifted her center of gravity and pulled with all her might, but the giant man refused to budge. Her grin faded as the vines receded, releasing her opponent. She looked after them thoughtfully.

"Hmm, it looks like you and I will have to step it up a notch," she mused.

Craed laughed and grinned at the woman, then crouched on the ground.

"Step it up a notch... now that sounds like..." Willow watched as the dragonborn sprouted silver fur and grew a long scaly, yet bushy, tail. The strange scaled fox gave a barking laugh. "That sounds like FUN!" And he leaped at her.

Taken by surprise, the warden just managed to dodge out of the way, blocking the fox's teeth with her leather bracer.

What is this thing? she wondered as she twisted and quickly counter-attacked with two jarring blows.

The first strike connected with his shoulder as the strange Craed-fox fell back to the ground, and she spun and launched into the second attack. The fox leaped out of the way, however, as her blade sliced the air next to his face.

"You are a quick one!" she growled as they settled to face each other.

"That...hurt," he yelped, favoring his leg and watching the woman with a more wary eye. Without another pause, he quickly launched himself at Willow and attempted to rend her with his claws once more.

Craed growled in frustration as she dodged out of the way again, and she took a moment to study his condition. While the strike had been a powerful one, she had taken care to strike him with only the flat of her blade. There was a difference between sparring to keep one's self sharp, and fighting to destroy an enemy. Willow intended to make sure this battle remained firmly in the former category. The warden nodded in relief as she realized that there was no trace of blood upon him. Satisfied with the fox's condition, she resumed her ready stance.

"Ready for more?" she asked.

Craed gave a grim nod of assent, and Willow launched herself into another attack. The druid nearly managed to dodge aside, but his injured shoulder slowed him down just enough for the flat of her blade to connect once more. She couldn’t put nearly as much force behind the glancing blow, however, and Craed gave a little grunt as he managed to regain his footing.

"This is not how I imagined this going," he mumbled to himself. "I need to back away a bit."

Springing forward in a lightning flash, the fox snapped at his opponent. Willow dropped and rolled out of the way just in time, and his jaws clamped down on air, an inch away from her leather armor. The warden stood as he sprung away again, just out of reach.

“Hellfire, I can’t touch you,” Craed panted, as he transformed back into his normal form, shooting his opponent a respectful look. "Okay – new strategy."

"You may not be doing much damage, but you're giving me one hell of a workout," Willow replied, grinning as her chest heaved. "Let's try this again," she muttered to herself, sizing up her opponent.

The warden straightened and pointed her sword, drawing again on the energy simmering just under the surface of the ground. Vines roiled up in a thorny mass and shot toward Craed, attempting to wrap him in their grasp once more. The sprightly brunette focused as much primal power into the attack as she could muster, letting it flow through her body and infuse her muscles. She sighed, however, as the vines once more failed to drag her foe off balance.

"You are a strong one," she growled, readying herself for a counterattack as the vines slipped back into the earth once more.

"Ya know," Craed said as he raised his hands and concentrated on his totem, "I've been waiting to try this one out, and I think this is a good occasion." The wind started to whip around the clearing, bending trees over and whipping the fallen leaves into a whirling frenzy. The gale rose to a screaming pitch, then suddenly everything went calm. Craed looked up at Willow's concerned face and grinned. As the warden looked around in alarm, the wave of power broke, and a small cyclone descended upon the unsuspecting woman.

The giant dragonborn was tiring, however, and his jaw dropped as the power suddenly slid from him and the gale merely ruffled the woman’s dark hair. Willow gazed around, wondering what had happened, and caught the crest fallen look on her opponent’s face. Relaxing once again, she turned and gave him a grin of her own.

"This will not be good," the dragonborn vowed, his resolve strengthening as he slowly firmed his stance. "I WILL HIT YOU AT LEAST ONCE THIS DAMN BATTLE!" he screamed, launching vines from his totem once more.

Willow's face fell, and she had time only to throw her sword up to protect her eyes as the thorns bit into her flesh. The vines wrapped swiftly around the woman, scraping ruthlessly against her skin. Craed held just enough back to keep them from cutting into her flesh and drawing blood, but he was pissed enough to hurt her. The vines dragged the lycanthrope closer before starting to recede just as swiftly back into his totem. Eying his opponent, the dragonborn made a decision and shifted into his fox form once more.

"Uh-uh, I'm not going through that again," Willow said, extricating herself from the last of the trailing vines. She quickly backed away from the grinning silver fox, drawing a strange circular weapon from a clasp on her belt. She chuckled to herself at Craed’s incredulous look - not many people had seen a chakram before.

"Try this on for size," she said, flicking her wrist and sending the disc streaking toward him. Willow grinned with satisfaction as the chakram struck her opponent squarely between the eyes, dropping him to the ground, before flying back into her waiting hand. Securing the weapon to her belt once more, she approached the gasping fox.

Ugh, I remember a strange spinning disc coming at me, Craed thought fuzzily. I remembered it getting larger quite fast. Then there was pain.

The dragonborn druid gathered his wits with a groan and gazed up from his position on the ground.

"Right... in... the forehead,” he croaked. “It's a good thing I have scales, even in fox form."

Craed changed back into his normal form, shook his head, and then looked sheepishly over at the woman who had just given him a sound beating. "If I was like the rest of my people, I would be a bit sore towards you for beating me," he told her, grinning. "But since that was a fair fight, and I at least got my one hit on you, I suppose I have nothing to be upset about. You are a worthy opponent... umm... You never did tell me your name, human."

She laughed and offered the dragonborn her hand, noting in absent amusement what he had called her.

"It's Willow, and I don't remember you giving me a chance to introduce myself before you tried to fry me," she said, eyes sparkling. "What brings you to this land, friend?"

"I live here. Have all my life. I hope to see more of the world but for now I am content to spend my days being taught by Mizzely." Craed laughed. "I suppose that is the reason I failed so badly. I am still learning." The dragonborn grinned at this wonderful excuse he had thought up, then laughed at Willow’s incredulous look.

"What brings you here? My people are not too receptive towards humans, or any species other then dragonborn for that matter."

"I'm trying to get home," the woman confessed, glancing longingly to the north. "But the council has secured the port, what with the demon scare and everything." The lycanthrope’s chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought of being trapped within that stinking city, crawling with people. There was no room to breathe in that place…

And no room to run, whispered the predator’s voice within her. Or escape…

The woman’s nose wrinkled at that thought, and she shivered, biting down hard on her instincts before they could consume her. After a moment, the panic released its hold, and she turned her attention to the unique dragonborn once more.

"Who's Mizzely?" she asked out of curiosity, seeking to distract herself.

This is a picture of what Willow's chakram looks like. It is considered to be a heavy thrown weapon with a 15/30 range, but can also be used in melee combat. The outer edge is sharpened, and thus it is considered a light blade for the purpose of enhancements. If the weilder is proficient with its use, it can be thrown so that it returns to the wielder after striking an opponent or a hard surface.

"Mizzely is my mentor, my teacher. Although she doesn't see it that way herself." He grinned. "I trust in her and her judgment completely." Craed looked over at the woman and smiled a genuine smile. "You should meet her sometime. She's busy at the moment so it will have to be later but I think you two may get along quite well." The Dragonborn winced as he shifted his weight. His ribs hurt after the fight but he was confident nothing was broken. Just sore. Willow noticed his grimace and offered to attend to his wounds but he waved her off. "I consider it a lesson well learned. I didn't take the 'fight' seriously enough and I got beaten. Good lesson to learn when you are simply sparring with friends and your life isn't on the line." He looked over at the woman and noted that she seemed a bit distracted. "Are you alright? You look as if something is bothering you."

Willow gave the man a wan smile, her instincts now in check.

“I’m all right,” she assured him. “I’m just not used to such a…crowded place, and the thought of being stuck here indefinitely…” Another involuntary shudder, quickly suppressed, rippled through the woman’s muscles.

“How can you stand to live in such a confined place, when you’re so close to nature?” she asked in incomprehension.

Craed thought about that for a minute. It truly was an excellent question. "That is something I have not yet had the time to contemplate. I have always lived in this city. It has always been my home. But lately... I don't know. I feel far more comfortable in the forest. I feel closer with... well... I don't even know that. Perhaps it is nature? Maybe something more feral? Have I become the fox?" The druid gave out a long sigh, and then chuckled. "So much has changed for me lately. I was once content to merely sit and read and dream the dreams of the past. But now... I want more action in my life. I want to do something! I just-" Craed stopped. "I'm rambling." He laughed a hearty laugh and looked over at his new friend and shrugged. "Perhaps I cannot stand it at all and am merely delaying the inevitable." The dragonborn got a faraway look in his eyes. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How different you can be from that which you've known your entire life?" He looked over at the woman and saw sadness in her eyes. He couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. "Do not be sad for me! I have become quite happy in this past year. It is merely where my current role fits best that confuses me." He gave her a grin. "Ahem. So. Tell me just what sort of tie to nature you have. I cannot do the things that you can with your blade. I do not even carry one, obviously! But I must admit. I am sorely," Here he grunted and shifted his weight to favor his ribs, "very sorely, impressed."

“I’m sorry I injured you,” Willow replied, blushing. “Where I come from, we’re constantly at war with the Genasi; they’ll capture us and try to make us into slaves, if they can.” A dark look flitted briefly across the woman’s face. “So we keep strong by sparring with each other - that way we can keep our brothers and sisters safe. I guess I got a little carried away…”

“No harm done,” the large dragonborn replied, smiling ruefully at her. “As I said, it was a good lesson to learn among friends.”

“I think you’d like Ilmentaur,” the woman said after a moment, glancing thoughtfully at him. “Besides the Genasi, it’s just us up there, and the Genasi are all confined to the southwestern border, anyway. It’s almost all forests and wildlands, and all of my kin are bonded with nature, in one way or another.”

“Really?” Craed asked, fascinated by the thought of an entire people with such a close understanding of the land. “Ilmentaur, that sounds familiar, but…”

“But you probably know it as Ilmendor,” she supplied helpfully. “Really, only us natives call it Ilmentaur,” she continued, shrugging.

“Why do you call it that?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Well, it got its name because most of us worship Fenris, and it translates literally to something like…” she paused a moment, scrunching up her face. “Forest of the Night Sky, or Land of the Moonlit Forest.” She laughed at the expression on Craed’s face. “I guess that’s what you get from a land filled mostly with shifters and lycanthropes.”

The dragonborn glanced back at his friend in astonishment, noticing once again the slightly pointed canine teeth and her startling amber eyes. “Wait, you mean…?”

She glanced at him with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’m not a human.”

As the giant warrior stared, the woman burst into laugher, and her voice fell into a joyful howl as her body flowed into the form of a sinuous grey wolf. Craed gaped at the creature in wonder as the wolf shook herself, then plopped onto her haunches in front of him. Her tongue lolling in an obvious canine grin, she gazed up at her friend with a mischievous sparkle in her familiar amber eyes.

Craed laughed aloud at the comic spectacle. He shifted himself into his fox form and plopped down comfortably.

"That's all well and good," He said as she lay down similarly. "But that does not answer my question."

“I guess you’re right,” she said, her voice assuming a throaty sort of purr now that she was in her wolf form. “Hmm, there’s no easy answer for that kind of question. Let me see if I can explain…” The wolf paused for a few moments, seeming to gather her thoughts.

“Well, I grew up mostly around Ista’Roch, but we tend to travel a lot so we don’t over-hunt a certain area. I had to learn to forage and travel in the wild without much shelter. Your tie to nature grows so much stronger, I think, when you have to rely on the land every day to survive.” A faraway look entered Willow’s amber eyes. “And sometimes, the land has to rely on you for survival too,” she mused, her voice fading out.

The wolf suddenly snapped back to reality, and she laughed as she turned and noticed the incredulous look on Craed’s face.

“That doesn’t make all that much sense, does it?” she asked, chuckling to herself.

“You mean protecting it against too many people settling in an area, and pollution and things,” he said.

“There’s that,” she replied, nodding. “But there’s also the land itself sometimes.” She laughed again. “Let’s see if I can clarify that for you. There are some places in my home where things have gotten…warped somehow. They say it was because of the catastrophe a thousand years ago. I don’t remember what happened, exactly, but even now the land hasn’t completely recovered. Magic never works quite right in those places, and the plants and creatures there are all a little…off. Most of them are harmless, but every once in awhile, something twisted pops up and causes problems. That’s where us wardens come in.”

“I don’t know about other races, but some of the people in Ilmendor have especially close bonds to nature. I mean, all of us have a special bond – we’re all part wolf, for the Lady’s sake – but wardens have an almost…otherworldly instinct about the state of the land and the natural creatures in it.”

“You sound a lot like druids, so far,” the dragonborn said.

“We are, I think,” the wolf replied. “We can channel our power like you can, and we live to protect nature and its creatures. But since the land itself is twisted sometimes, we have to rely on our strength and our fitness as much as our ability to channel natural force. That’s why we work to blend our arts with our weapons – so we’ll never be defenseless.”

“Ahh, I see,” Craed said, nodding.

“When we’re really in trouble, though, nature just tends to kind of…take over. I just let my shields down and call, and the power molds me into some sort of guardian form of itself.”

The dragonborn’s eyes were big. “Kind of like my animal form, then,” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But it only happens when we’re really in trouble. Not for something like a simple sparring match.” She grinned a toothy smile and laughed. “It’s for the best, I guess. Nature can’t waste her power on meaningless fights, and I’d hate to have to find this Mizzely and explain that I’d accidentally torn you apart because my natural power and panther instincts had taken over.”

Craed winced and decided that he was glad of this as well.

“So,” Willow asked as the first streaks of twilight gilded the western horizon. “Where do you go now?”

Craed looked to the reddening sky and gave a short yelp of surprise.

"Oh no! I've stayed far too long! I'm sorry to cut our conversation short but I have a prior engagement to attend. I'm afraid that I cannot invite you along either. If you will forgive me, I must go." Craed shifted to his Dragonborn form and, with a last wave goodbye, ran off toward the city.

Willow watched him run off and shook her head in amusement. He was certainly an interesting one, and worth keeping an eye out for in the future.