Date: 07.01.05
Session Plot: Cervus Ascends!
Participants: Cervus
Setting: Unknown regions of Tir Nan Og
Cervus dragged himself over the lip of the plateu, his body covered in bites and gashes inflicted by the wolves that had attacked him below. The pack of 7 lay dead at the base of the cliff face. His longsword had finished them, but he took many a wound before he put the last one down.
He had tried to speak with the wolves, pleaded with them to leave him be, but it was to no avail. The sickness of spirit that had been plaguing the land had infected them as well. They were manic and now they were dead, and he was grievously wounded. In his pack, the tails of the wolves were wrapped. Should he make it back from this, they would serve as a reminder to him that the woods needed cleansing.
He paused at the top of the cliff to catch his breath. This was the last place he had seen the ghostly white stag. He'd been following it for endless miles since it came to him after his meditation 3 months before. He had consulted his father's journals and read about ascendency, and following one's totem for a joining of spirit. With the Moon Court's numbers swiftly increasing, it was his last resort. He had to protect his people. Nox's ability to manipulate even Sajhiri with her sorcery was too much for the King to fight in his current state.
The stag's ghostly image had led him through woods with branches too close knit for him to fly above, up streams, through thorn thickets and underground caverns. Every step of the way he was hounded by crazed, ill-darkened animals which attacked with no restraint. He'd run out of arrows 2 days ago. He'd stopped to rest when he saw the stag high above at the top of the cliff. He'd been prepared to fly there, when the wolves attacked. The first strike ripped through his wings, preventing him from flying. The brilliantly hued insect wings now hung in tattered ribbons from his shoulder blades.
Ursa could mend them, he assured himself over and over as he climbed, hand over aching hand, to the top. What would have taken him moments, were he able to fly, had taken him hours.
He rolled on his back and breathed deeply, feeling the shadows of evening descend around him. The climb had taken what seemed like days, and had been agonizing. His legs felt like searing oil had been poured over them; his wounds burned from the foul ichor of the infected wolves.
A sudden brightness made him wince through his closed eyes. He cracked them open, wondering what new level of hell had descended on him, and blinked into the serene face of the translucent stag. It pushed at his cheek with it's nose, and though it was incorporeal, he felt the cool sensation of it's passing across his skin.
In his head words began to form. "You have travelled far, and through many challenges, to reach me, Cervus of the Sun. You are worthy of the Stag. But should you join with me, you shall know the loss of part of you."
Cervus staggered to his feet, feeling his body weakening. How much blood had he lost? He couldn't give up now, his people needed him. "There is no cost too great..." he whispered hoarsely.
The stag's mighty head bowed in salute, then it stepped forward and...through him. No, not through, it stopped within, and Cervus felt his being meld, both ice and fire at once, pain and ecstacy mingling in a moment of pure elation and dread. He felt the ichor in his wounds purge from his body, and felt the wounds themselves heal. Strength returned to his legs...no swelled in his legs, and he felt his entire form shift and twist, grow and mold itself into...something else.
He dropped to his knees, panting, and it was over. He felt the stag within him, felt the immense strength in his thighs and calves...though they felt different. He could smell the rabbits in their warren 10 yards away. He could hear the trickle of the underground stream beneath his hands. He opened his eyes slowly, and discovered a clarity and a sharpness to his vision that had not been there prior.
He stood, and instinctively spread his wings to steady himself. But there were no wings to spread. they were gone. The shock of their loss was equal to the shock of seeing his lower body. His humanoid legs were gone, replaced by the hind legs of a stag, proportional to him. A hand confirmed a tail to match, and earsas well. The weight of his head was discovered to be the growth of his antlers to massive proportions, but his neck and spine felt equal to the task of supporting them.
He'd never felt so powerful before. He grabbed his pack and looked down the cliff face, easily spotting ledges he'd missed before. he bounded down it with ease and unnatural grace. He was fast, faster than he could imagine. But he was flightless. Whatever speed he'd gained on the ground, he'd never more know the skies.
He refused to weep for his loss. Not now, not yet. Someday, when his people were safe, he would mourn his lost flight. But today, he had to get back to Lilium. If their last week together had produced an heir, she would not be far from term by the time he returned. He had several months of journeying to get back home.
The fey King leapt like a stag in the direction of home.
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