60 Ymiden 721
Myrkvior Forest, north west of Noatun
Myrkvior Forest, north west of Noatun
As Ymiden dragged on and the dry heat failed to abate, the lack of rain and unrelenting sun wreaked havoc on the land. It was strangely sudden in its wrath; the trials of early Ymiden and the seasons prior had been so humid and damp that this sudden and wicked dry spell seemed unnatural to most. Being Melrath, a land steeped in superstition and spirits, there were many who would believe that the fires that took hold were a sign that the spirits were angry. Some tried to reason that it could have been a lightning strike during a dry thunderstorm that started it all - that, or a careless outdoorsman left their fire unattended. The dry conditions were just right for a spark to take hold.
No matter the reason, the fires had grown large and out of control and were burning through the sprawling Wilds of the Myrkwood Forest. There was concern for the denizens of the forest - as well as neighbouring Noatun to the east and Alivilda and Fensalir to the south - but, most of all, the forest, itself, was sacred. It took little time for the Circle and the Melrathi Factions to deem the fires a genuine threat. A plan of action was put into place and contingents from each of the three factions were called to combat the blazes.
The Syns - particularly Defiance and Aborgation mages - were sent to battle the blaze and set shields to protect what they could of the ancient wood of the Dark Mother Myrkvior. Valkyrion dug trenches and lines in a bid to control the direction of the blazes. Skadiri identified hot spots and assisted with cold trailing and putting out any embers left in the fire’s wake. Ydalir assisted the Skadiri and Valkyrion, lent their knowledge of the woods and Wilds to their compatriots and tended to the wildlife left homeless and injured in the fire’s wake. Druids further assisted the Ydalir while also tending to the injuries of their fellows. Shamans worked to calm and care for the spirits of the woods while investigating the spirits of the fires. Lore Masters helped with their knowledge of containment, constantly working on what tactics to employ to best manage the fires. Then there were the Mervarians who shipped supplies and helped to rotate out faction members, utilising the coast and the Vynmur River.
It was exhausting work with one trial easily blending into the next. The acrid smoke left the skies an eerie yellow that grew progressively darker the closer one got to the flames. There, the sky was a perpetual shade of murky orange, the air thick and hot and surrounded by billowing, toxic black smoke. It blotted out the sun and made it hard for those near the epicentres to know if it were night or day.
Nothing seemed real.
A ten-trial in and little progress had been made. The fires still burned, leaving a path of black, charred wasteland in their wake. Visna treaded softly through it, a spectre in her light Aesir robes, a woven basket full of foraged grasses, bark, sticks, plants and herbs clutched in her arms. Bits of ash fell lazily about her like snow, leaving the charred earth dappled in grey. It fell on her cheek, caught on an eyelash, and clung to the stray wisps of hair that had fallen free from the neat, low bun she had bound her dark tresses in. She tried to blink it away but it held firm and she dragged the back of her soot-black hand across her eye in one last bid to rid herself of it, successful only in leaving a smear of charcoal across her face.
Her dark eyes roamed hungrily, seeking out anything alive amongst the burnt remains of her surroundings. Having been advised to leave some green vegetation behind so it might regenerate and grow amongst the charred remains of what was left, she was still on the hunt for anything she could forage and salvage without causing this strip of forest any further damage. Yet - from what she could tell - the burned area she currently found herself in must have been where the fire had been particularly intense; it was desolate, a large swath of black nothingness only broken up by the odd charred trunk or log. Tentatively, she reached out and ran a hand along the blackened bark of one, mourning the loss of the tree that had once stood there.
She paused just as her dirty fingertips slipped away, attention sweeping along the blackened remains to her left. The sight was so overwhelming and surreal and she felt a pull to reach out to the spirits of whatever might have survived. Without any further hesitation, she closed her eyes and clutched the basket to her chest. Exhaling slowly, she tried to still her mind, focusing first on the feeling of the woven basket in her hands, then the smell of the acrid air as she began to take steady breaths. Once satisfied with her level of meditation, she engaged in her Spiritmeld ability and pushed it out, reaching and feeling for any spirit in her vicinity.
No matter the reason, the fires had grown large and out of control and were burning through the sprawling Wilds of the Myrkwood Forest. There was concern for the denizens of the forest - as well as neighbouring Noatun to the east and Alivilda and Fensalir to the south - but, most of all, the forest, itself, was sacred. It took little time for the Circle and the Melrathi Factions to deem the fires a genuine threat. A plan of action was put into place and contingents from each of the three factions were called to combat the blazes.
The Syns - particularly Defiance and Aborgation mages - were sent to battle the blaze and set shields to protect what they could of the ancient wood of the Dark Mother Myrkvior. Valkyrion dug trenches and lines in a bid to control the direction of the blazes. Skadiri identified hot spots and assisted with cold trailing and putting out any embers left in the fire’s wake. Ydalir assisted the Skadiri and Valkyrion, lent their knowledge of the woods and Wilds to their compatriots and tended to the wildlife left homeless and injured in the fire’s wake. Druids further assisted the Ydalir while also tending to the injuries of their fellows. Shamans worked to calm and care for the spirits of the woods while investigating the spirits of the fires. Lore Masters helped with their knowledge of containment, constantly working on what tactics to employ to best manage the fires. Then there were the Mervarians who shipped supplies and helped to rotate out faction members, utilising the coast and the Vynmur River.
It was exhausting work with one trial easily blending into the next. The acrid smoke left the skies an eerie yellow that grew progressively darker the closer one got to the flames. There, the sky was a perpetual shade of murky orange, the air thick and hot and surrounded by billowing, toxic black smoke. It blotted out the sun and made it hard for those near the epicentres to know if it were night or day.
Nothing seemed real.
A ten-trial in and little progress had been made. The fires still burned, leaving a path of black, charred wasteland in their wake. Visna treaded softly through it, a spectre in her light Aesir robes, a woven basket full of foraged grasses, bark, sticks, plants and herbs clutched in her arms. Bits of ash fell lazily about her like snow, leaving the charred earth dappled in grey. It fell on her cheek, caught on an eyelash, and clung to the stray wisps of hair that had fallen free from the neat, low bun she had bound her dark tresses in. She tried to blink it away but it held firm and she dragged the back of her soot-black hand across her eye in one last bid to rid herself of it, successful only in leaving a smear of charcoal across her face.
Her dark eyes roamed hungrily, seeking out anything alive amongst the burnt remains of her surroundings. Having been advised to leave some green vegetation behind so it might regenerate and grow amongst the charred remains of what was left, she was still on the hunt for anything she could forage and salvage without causing this strip of forest any further damage. Yet - from what she could tell - the burned area she currently found herself in must have been where the fire had been particularly intense; it was desolate, a large swath of black nothingness only broken up by the odd charred trunk or log. Tentatively, she reached out and ran a hand along the blackened bark of one, mourning the loss of the tree that had once stood there.
She paused just as her dirty fingertips slipped away, attention sweeping along the blackened remains to her left. The sight was so overwhelming and surreal and she felt a pull to reach out to the spirits of whatever might have survived. Without any further hesitation, she closed her eyes and clutched the basket to her chest. Exhaling slowly, she tried to still her mind, focusing first on the feeling of the woven basket in her hands, then the smell of the acrid air as she began to take steady breaths. Once satisfied with her level of meditation, she engaged in her Spiritmeld ability and pushed it out, reaching and feeling for any spirit in her vicinity.