[center][b][u][h2]Faded Dreams[/h2][/u][/b][/center] [hr][hr] Diēscogitō awoke with a sudden start bolting upright and breathing hard. Sitting upright on the deerskin cot he had been sleeping on he took a moment to collect himself- allowing his breathing to slow and steady out. He lifted a shaking hand to his forehead to wipe away the cold sweat that had appeared during his rest. He'd had one of his nightmares again, but this one had felt... unique to the ones previous. Diēscogitō waited a moment as he collected his thoughts, allowing fatigue and uneasiness to bleed from his body. He could not recall the dream as it was already becoming a vague notion in his mind. So, as was often the case, he could not remember what had pulled him from sleep, it seemed much of his life had been one blighted by bad dreams and he never could retain any of them. Diēscogitō had always suspected they had something to do with his own profane affliction. A symptom of the fey-touched seemed to be dreams of things to come. Or just bad dreams. They were the stuff of premonitions or even visions of bad omens. Diēscogitō could have trained himself to remember them properly if he had truly wanted to. But he had never been one to wish to see even a hint of what the future held. Perhaps it was because he partly felt he did not really possess one. A scarred hand reached for a nearby waterskin sipping from it gingerly before allowing some of it to fall on to his face. The cool water helping to wake him fully and wash the sleep from his eyes. He capped the waterskin once more and shook his head as he cleared his throat. His lips were chapped and his throat still felt a little dry, but he was cautious about using any more of the water he had. The Webwood, as it was called, was not a place abundant in either water or food. Nor was it a place one willingly entered- not if one valued their life. So perhaps it was fate that he had eventually ended up here. It had been Diēscogitō's idea to come to the these blighted woods. After years of searching for his own salvation from the affliction that burned through his veins. Diēscogitō had soon come to realize there was no escaping his ill fortune. What had felt like a thousand physicians, alchemist, wizards, mages, sorceresses, witches and even the occasional witch doctor had, in the end, all told him the same. That there was no treatment mundane or magical that could rid him of the beast within. So he had orchestrated a meeting among his adopted kin, voicing his plan to seek his answers in the fey-touched realm of the Webwood. It made sense, in theory, the one place where fey ran so wild and free could indeed hold the key. But in the end, they probably saw it for what it was, his surrendering to his fate. It had been his chance to say goodbye on his own terms. It might have been somewhat selfish, yet they had ultimately accepted his decision. Perhaps a part of him had hoped they would try to convince him otherwise. But in the end, he knew this was for the best. The ranger slowly donned his gear, rolling up his cot before finally emerging from the nook of a rather large tree he had made camp within. As was often the case the woods were shrouded in ever-present mists, so thick as to dull even the light of a torch. The silence was almost deafening in the haunted woods. No birds sang, not a single insect chirped, and there were no mating calls to echo in the distance. The quiet was both unnerving and calming in equal measure. Before Diēscogitō could decide where his path would embark toward today a gentle breeze caught his attention. It seemed to swirl around him and held a presence almost familiar to him. He knew immediately what it was and smiled. Living within the webwood had meant he had been divorced from the outside world. Yet he had wished to keep track of his foster family by any means he could find. It had been blind luck and good fortune that he had come across a fey spirit of wind some years before coming to these woods. In return for some favors he had managed to gain its respect and in return, it allowed him small windows into the lives of some of his kin. The wind fey moved across all the world, and through whispers from one to the next Diēscogitō could keep track of things unfolding outside of the webwood. It was not perfect, nor did they bring back things he might find interesting or important but it was a convenience for sure. A single leaf flowed in the draft and Diēscogitō reached out and took hold of it bringing it to his ear. He wondered what whispers they had brought him today. Perhaps a snippet of Kareth's exploits, those were always encouraging. Tales of Dakgu were often exciting though much more bloody and at times unnerving. The spirits rarely spoke of Harvey as they oft avoided large cities and he spent most of his time locked within one. Diēscogitō had never been one for large cities, at least not living within one for an extended period of time. Of the two of them, he wondered who might be considered more the black sheep of the family. Diēscogitō froze as he listened to the news brought to him. Not moving from that posture for an extended period of time. It took a moment before he returned to his senses, even as it felt his stomach had begun to tie itself into a knot. He realized then and there his time in self-imposed exile had come to an end. It was time to go home. [hr][hr] Leaving the Webwood as no simple task even for the most seasoned of woodsmen. Diēscogitō barely managed the feat in a weeks time. That was hopefully to be the most difficult aspect of his journey. It had taken several more weeks of riding, or even boat ferries buying horses with the little money he had kept for emergencies. Though when that well dried up he was forced to bewitch horses both wild or tamed to bear him. Switching steeds when needed least he ran the creatures to death afterward allowing them to return to their masters. The real challenge began once he reached the border of Vendland and saw the horrors committed by the roaming mercenaries bands first hand in the form of brunt out farms and homesteads. So did mad race against time become game of cat and mouse. After what had felt like an age he soon saw the familiar silhouette of the Nightwood. It was a welcome sight, but one made bittersweet given the circumstances that begged his return to them. He had been fortunate to avoid the marauding bands and it seemed they had little cause to roam the forest here. He decided to camp within the canopies as he awaited the others. No doubt they would come once the news spread and he was glad for the pause. It allowed him time to come to terms with it all. He had never planned on returning to the Nightwood and nevermind he had left his kin on troubling terms, to say the least. He wondered how they would take the news. The appointed day seemed to come quickly to a nervous Diēscogitō. He was aware of the first of many to come trickling in, or at least he was aware of one perhaps two. It seemed many had kept up with their skills of woodcraft. Sharpened them to a fine edge. Others.... not so much. The walk to the barrows was not an overly long one and Diēscogitō surprised himself in how quickly he recalled the navigating of the secret places and paths. Perhaps hard-won lessons of the Webwood combined with a week of refamiliarizing himself with the terrain were the culprit. He laid a hand on a well-hidden rune carved into the side of an old tree and sighed. He stepped through the ring of trees and was greeted by the sight of those already present. His mind raced for the proper greeting given circumstances of their last parting and the best he could manage was, "hello." In a voice barely audible. Hello? Terrible, horrible even-- it seemed foregoing into the woodlands sheltered from civilization engendered little in the ways of elegant speech. Who'd have thought? Perhaps no one had heard him. He only hoped the silence that followed was soon broken to save him from further embarrassment...