Keepers of the Glade

It was bleak and dark in the graveyard, as it always was when Anankle came through this part of the area, and the rest of it for that matter. The Plane of Nightmare certainly wasn't known as a vacation spot. Chuckling to himself as he viewed a few of the fresher corpses in the yard, he was reminded that the Vah Shir would certainly be waiting for his arrival.
Damiana stood patiently next to an enormous rock that was frequently used as a landmark in this forbidden area.
"Hail Damiana!" Anankle greeted the Vah Shir is a voice devoid of feeling.
"Hello again, Anankle." came the reply, she always made an effort to make the little gnome feel very much at home.
"Are you up to this today?" Anankle continued, unchanged by the warmth in the Shaman's voice.
"Wouldn't miss it for all the catnip in Shar Vahl." Damiana replied through a fanged smile, "Well... not for a tenth of it anyway." She laughed to herself, knowing the gnome wouldn't join in.
"I've spotted several of the local creatures in the area, I will attempt to lure one here, be ready." Anankle said.
"Aren't I always?" came the quick reply.
Anankle snorted and ran off into the darkness.
Although the small gnome had chosen the path of knowledge, he had no trouble skimming across the bleak landscape in a hunt for the stuff of nightmares. Coming to a stop at one of the many majestic trees in the area,
Anankle spied a hatchling wandering the plane in search of its next meal. The spider, though considered a juvenile by its own kin, was easily 3 times the size of the gnome.
After looking over the surrounding area to ensure it was indeed alone, Anankle stepped into the open just next to the tree he had been hidden behind. An eerie wail carried on an incoming breeze freezing the arachnid in its tracks. Anankle seized the opportunity and chanted a few lines to a simple spell. A green and yellow glow surrounded the hatchling, its discomfort apparent in the way it twitched. Seeing the small morsel the spider charged at Anankle, Its blood soaked mandible shimmering from its last victim.
Anankle hesitated only briefly to ensure the hatchling would be close enough to follow him back to his camp. Then with a smirk the gnome turned and ran full speed into the trunk of a tree...
"Blast it!" Anankle exclaimed as he envisioned the spider tearing out his innards. "This confounded tree wasn’t here a.. uunnghh!" Anankle whistled through the air with the force of a storm. As he crashed to the ground, he cursed his foolishness.
"How did I let that lumbering treant sneak up on me in that fashion?" Anankle thought to himself. "Curse it! Ill not be fertilizer this day." the gnome muttered to himself as he got to his feet.
Anankle felt as though 20 Ogres had struck him. The thought made him chuckle. "Boomer would have been nice right about now,” he thought to himself as he sped back to his camp, the giant tree and spider close on his heels.
Damiana sat near the rock mixing herbs, liquids, and other things the gnome didn't care to know about, in strange looking bottles. She had recently come upon a formula that allowed her to change her form into that of another race.
Unable to concentrate on her work, she sighed and put her medicine bag on the ground. "Just how long did it take to attract something’s attention?" she thought to herself. "Just jump up and down waving your hands. How hard can that be?"
She laughed to herself as she envisioned the petite Anankle jumping up and down in such a manner. "I wonder if I can get him to do it."
Damiana's ears perked as she picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. Something was wrong. The footsteps were sporadic. "He must be limping." She thought to herself. "This can't be good."
The Shaman stood up and closed her eyes, envisioning the gnome and sensing his injuries. Calling forth spirits from another plane, Damiana sent their healing power to aid her comrade.
Anankle was on his last leg. Literally. The last blow had broken his thigh. He couldn’t run much further and all his attempts to cast a spell, ANY spell, had met with a flurry of blows from the spider and treant that now left him close to lifelessness. It was all he could do to keep from passing out. He had already bitten through his left hand in a failed attempt to control the pain.
Anankle looked down at his leg, and almost stumbled. His robe was drenched in a deep crimson. "A cretin I am for letting this happen to me!" he exclaimed. He could now see the rock were Damiana was waiting.
"If I could just make it there,” the gnome thought. And if at all possible, Anankle's face became even paler.
"Even if I make it I’m dead." Anankle realized." Ill be of no use and she will fall as well."
The thought sobered him, “Well, if it’s to be done…” Anankle stopped running and turned to face his pursuers.
“Foolish gnome!” Damiana thought to herself, “He thinks me powerless without him.”
Anankle braced for the final blow, as the treant and hatchling closed ground on the helpless gnome. “Never did get to lay siege to Ak’Anon.” Anankle spat on the ground.
A deafening Howl echoed through the air and the gnome turned to trace its source. A surge of energy rushed through him, bringing Anankle to his feet without pain. A giant ghost wolf leaped from behind the rock, its translucent form leaving a blue glow behind, hurling itself at Anankle. With unnatural speed the wolf bounded on the spider, both missing him by mere inches.
Anankle whirled around in a state of half shock watching the wolf and spider enter a bloody duel, when the treant broke his line of vision. Falling on his back, Anankle struggled to kick and claw his way back from the imposing tree when a solid bolt of ice the size of a marble column shattered into the tree’s midsection, sending it sprawling off.
“Where have you been Anankle?”
“Collecting firewood.”
“You mean it collecting you.”
“All part of the plan.”
“I see it’s working well.”
“You mock.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Probably.”
“Task at hand?”
“Let’s do it.”
Anankle entered into a heavy chant. The air around the gnome began to haze then swirl. His robes began to sway with an unseen breeze starting slowly then raising to a violent pitch. Anankle’s hair grayed and his voice became forcefully guttural, straining with the words of his craft. He tossed a small stone into the air and watched it dissipate to nothing. The air in front of him swirled at a tremendous rate, and with a horrifying roar, a colossal being of mist shot out at the treant. Thundering fists sent pieces of bark splintering in all directions. The treant turned to face the new opponent.
Damiana knew from past experience her spirit wolf would only delay the spider, so she worked franticly to gain the spider’s attention and save her summoned companion. The shaman uttered a few words and with a trance-like movement seemed to sooth the spider as its attacks slowed on the wolf. Thrusting her spear into the ground, Damiana began a ritualistic chant, dancing around her spear in strange erotic motions. A thick green haze emanated from the ground and slowly encircled the head of the shaman. With a sudden fluid motion Damiana ripped the spear from the ground and pointed it at the spider as if directing the strange mist. In an instant the green mist streaked towards the spider piercing its abdomen and slowly seeping into the small wound it created for itself.
Damiana had only a moment to smooth the fur on the back of her neck, as the spider came charging down on her. A quick involuntary hiss signaled that the chase was on, and with the spirits to aid her shaman ran circles around the arachnid while the wolf perused.
Anankle watched his handy work for a moment, obviously pleased. “Control is getting better.” He smirked, “Soon I’ll be ready.”
The gnome turned his attention back to the treant. “This will have to do for now,” he thought. “Repayment….”
Anankle stood perfectly still, his robes still swaying from the wind, eyes transfixed on his target. His jaw began to hurt from clenching his teeth. His mind filled with his deepest burdens.
“Hate”
“Fear”
His heart pounded in his chest…
“Disgust”
“Loathing”
Veins became clearly visible along his temple and forehead….
“Deceit”
“Abandonment”
A single tear ran down his cheek…
“Betrayal”
Anankle’s eyes flashed fire red in an instant, the sky glowed and parted and a solid stream of fire streaked down towards the gnome. Just as he was about to become engulfed in flame, Anankle raised his arms toward the approaching stream and it changed direction streaking through the treant, along with several trees in the area. Only ash was to be seen in what was the path of the fire.
Unfazed by the show of power. The gargantuan being of air quickly crossed to the arachnid and aided the spirit wolf in finishing what had only started a several minutes before.
Damiana stood looking over the scorched landscape.
“Upset?”
“Always”
“Not much to salvage from the ash.”
“We wanted the spider, not the tree.”
“Tree could have been a bonus.”
“Tree could have been death.”
“Your death might have been a bonus.”
Anankle stared at her.
“Was kidding.”
Damiana let it go at that, sensing the unpleasantness in continuing.
After a few hours of rest, Damiana decided Anankle had resumed being his normal ‘cheery’ self.
“Ready?” he asked, it had been the first thing he said for hours.
“Aren’t I always?” Came the quick reply.
Anankle snorted and ran off into the darkness.
The pair ran into no more complications for a few hours, but then HE showed up.
Atooche was known to be problematic. A druid who often spoke with the false confidence of made up deeds. His poor decision making while in a tight spot had gotten a few people acquainted with Anankle killed. Anankle had suspected Atooche of luring dangerous creatures to a hunting party he was in after not allowing the druid to join with them.
Anankle knew the druid could be trouble even when not trying to. The magician sat down and readied a few spells that may be useful should trouble occur.
Atooche studied Anankle and Damiana from afar. Both just sat pretending not to notice.
“You think he’ll cause problems?” Damiana asked.
“I hope so.” Anankle replied
“You’re mean spirited sometimes, you know that?”
“Yeah”
Atooche took on the form of a wolf and trotted over to Damiana. Sitting in front of her staring without saying a word. Anankle looked on with a disinterested look. Apparently making up his mind about something, Atooche left without a word.
“What was that about?” Damiana asked, after the druid had left. Anankle just shrugged.
“Ready?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Anankle Snorted and ran off into the darkness.
Anankle had already spied his prey on a nearby hillside. With a quick chant the large treant burst into the camp, only to be met by the pair’s summoned companions.
“Careful Anankle.” Damiana said, “The druid appears to have coerced one of the ravens to do his dirty work.”
“I see.” said Anankle, as hundreds of swords appeared from thin air and raced toward the treant.
Atooche had finished off one of the denizens of nightmare and rested just outside the camp of Anankle and Damiana. Sitting with a blood raven in the camp.
Anankle attempted to find a better casting position on the treant. Thinking he had found one, the mage began an incantation when he felt a sharp pain in his back and a piercing screech. Atooche has lost control of the bird.
Anankle quickly scampered away from the raven, commanding his elemental to come to his aid. The raven was quickly dispatched thanks to injuries previous taken by the raven, and the focus of the battle was quickly back on the treant.
Seeing the battle was clearly in his favor, Anankle sat down to rest from his recent injury, when Atooche strode over to him and sat in front of the little gnome, blocking his vision of the fight.
“Can you summon some focus items for me?” Atooche asked, and before waiting on an answer said, “I need the one that increases spell damage, and the one that reduces casting time.”
Anankle calmly looked at Atooche and said, “Go away… Once you learn to control your pets, come talk to me and I will consider.”
“You’re rude” came Atooche’s angry response.
“Only to those who deserve it.” Anankle continued calmly.
“I was killing that raven.” Atooche persisted. “You shouldn’t be in my camp anyway.”
Anankle arched an eyebrow. “Does this person actually believe that?” he thought to himself. “Why would he lie to the very ones to witness what he is talking about?”
Somewhat confused Anankle continued, “ We were here first, it was you who came and interrupted our hunting.”
“Whatever!” Atooche raged on, “Welcome to a very short shit list!”
Anankle could not help but chuckle as he tried to remember everyone who felt he had wronged. “Welcome to a very long line.” Anankle almost chortled.
Atooche continued to rant and rave, but Anankle had heard enough. He simply went back to scouting for nearby creatures to hunt. Atooche followed aggravated by Anankle’s unwillingness to yell back.
Anankle found a raven in a nearby tree and tossed a stone at it. Angered the raven charged down on the little gnome. As the raven approached the camp, it was met with shards of ice and summoned companions. Damiana had not been fazed by any of this. Atooche had enough. Unable to unnerve Anankle with words, the druid took action. Calm voices sounded in the wind and suddenly the blood ravens eyes glazed over. Atooche had taken the raven as his servant. Realizing the raven was no longer a threat both the elemental and the spirit wolf ceased fighting.
Satisfied, Atooche confronted Anankle one last time. “Good Day.” He said abruptly, with a smirk on his face. This was what the gnome had been waiting for. His response to Atooche was muttered in some strange archaic language, possibly not even directed to Atooche since we was staring at the raven. At the utterance of the last word, however, the raven’s eyes suddenly cleared and it turned on Atooche, who let out a sudden yelp.
The druid bounded away desperately attempting to stay ahead of his new attacker. “Camp stealer!” Atooche yelled as he maintained his frantic pace to get away. Anankle did not respond. He simply commanded his elemental to resume the fight against the raven.
“Didn’t know druids could run that fast.” said Damiana, at the end of the battle.
“Neither did Atooche.” Anankle replied.
“Sense of humor?”
“Reality check.”
“Sounded like a joke to me.”
“You misunderstood.”
“Nice try. I knew you had a sense of humor.”
“Ready?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Anankle snorted and ran off into the darkness…