Corruption

((A quick note for the timeline, this post begins as Xaneria is administered the Fireroot medicine within "Peris returns". The section completed within the waking realm would thus follow slightly after Peris departs. As with all my posts see the comments for acknowledgments. Enjoy.))



A deep crimson hue lay over the tall swaying grass of the field, cast by the sinking sun during the last death throes of the daylight. To the average eye the glowing field would be a sight of beauty, but the druid who stood in its midst saw nothing but a churning sea of blood. The wind stirred waves that lapped over him, carrying his scream along the crest of air.

Ailac clawed across the barren ocean of grass, his fingers tearing through the fertile earth as if it were fine surf. Panic moved him on, driving him to flee the island of rot that now stood where he had entered this place. Broken stalks and clods of dirt formed a wake in his haste. Images spurned him forward, a dagger unsheathed upon the rotting earth, Cenias’ face twisted in its last agonizing moments as his body emptied to the earth. Yet it was not an image that halted his slight.

There in front of him the crimson field flattened down, a low cut clearing of broken tops amidst waist high blades of golden red. Dark moss crept between the ravaged blades, speckled in sickly shades of rot. Decay blossomed within the air, the buzzing of insects becoming a torrent of noise amidst the silence of the dream world. A mount rose up in the centre of the corruption, covered in blackened vines that seethed like maggots upon a rotting carcass. But from that pulsating mound, fell silvery platinum hair.

“Il’dar… No! I will not let the Nightmare take you!”

Ailac leapt to his feet bounding to the vine riddled mound in a swift motion, plunging his hands into the darkness writing below him. Vines ripened with puss burst beneath his fingers, letting forth pungent noxious gasses into the air. Sickening ooze ate at his gloves, burning back the threads of fabric and leather to sting calloused flesh beneath. In a feverous daze Ailac dug on unheeding of his own wounds, pulling forth the limp form of the druid and darting back beyond the circle of corruption.

A violent whorl of darkened clouds blotted out the fiery skyline, summoned down by the call of Ailac’s powers. Lightning rent the earth, tearing clumps out of the corrupted field as the typhoon opened up over the field, dumping torrents of water upon the druids, washing the ooze from the bodies of the two druids and purifying them.

Ailac gently lay her down upon the tall grass, drawing forth a pillow of clean moss to cradle her as he kneeled down. Her form was whole, yet carried the chill of the grave. Warmth did not touch her, and though no wounds lay upon her body she radiated pain, lost in the Nightmare. Her shoulders were writhed in the black corrupting mist of the Nightmare; he could see it, her right shattered while a phantasmal sword flickered through her, impaling the left shoulder. Blackened ice lay over her body, fading into existence then forced back. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

“Il’dar, wake up,” he pleaded, his voice weak with concern. “You have to awaken, Il’dar.”

Breathing deep Ailac summoned the earth to his call, the overflowing power of the Emerald Dream coursing through him, threatening to tear him down stream. He reached out, grasping for the flowing torrent. Power flooded into him, threatening to tear him apart. “No… this power, something isn’t right.” Struggling he drew it further, forcing it to flow through him and be channeled into the struggled flows of healing he roughly knew, letting it flow from his palms and into her still form.

Verdant life enveloped Xaneria… and nothing happened. Time and time again. Her breaths becoming farther and farther apart.

Exhaustion flooded through Ailac, the force of nature fleeing from him as he dropped to his hands and knees. “Why Xaneria, why can I do nothing for you?” Tears stained his cheeks, falling quietly upon her cold cheeks. “Wake up, please. You must.”

“So in the end your true worth shines through. Pitiful, wouldn’t you agree, stray?” The voice was deep and booming, standing hairs on edge along the back of Ailac’s neck.

“Sadris!” Ailac growled, feral and vicious. Sadris stood behind him, looking down with unveiled scorn. He was tall, with long vibrant green hair. Dark tailored robes adorned his form, arms folded across his chest.

“Look at yourself, pitiful and powerless as you kneel beside your precious “Il’dar” weeping.” He strolled forward, amber eyes burning with contempt, stopping just before Ailac. “Just like before, there is nothing you can do for her. She suffers while you stand by, weak and useless.”

Ailac turned back, his growl feral, “You venomous Cra’xas… I won’t listen to your lies.”

“Foolish cub, you think I speak lies?” Sadris lashed out with his foot, kicking Ailac down onto his back. “You think you can do something, save her? Pathetic delusions of a lost child, what have you ever done to help her?”

Ailac drew up to his hands with hate evident in his glowing eyes, amber met amber. “I have been by her side, healer her wounds and eased her troubles. She is my mother and I as a child to her. I will not give up on her, take your filth elsewhere. You have caused her enough pain.” Ailac turned his back, the verdant energy coursing through him anew as he resumed healing, the energies rolling off her quiet form.

The dark figure gave a mirthless laugh. “So you stood by her side then, healed her wounds. But what did you do for her while you slumbered for centuries, while she stayed awake alone without your comforts. You do not have the right to protect her. Run off, cub. Your ministrations are useless.”

“Wake up Xaneria. This is only the Nightmare, you must fight it.”

“She will not wake. You will fail her again,” Sadris’ voice dripped venom.

Ailac spun with a fierce growl, crouched down low as if ready to pounce. “Be silent, fiend!”

Sadris began to walk around, circling slowly like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Your little resistance does not change the truth. You feel it, don’t you? Admit it to yourself; know deep down how you abandoned her, while she begged you to stay you turned your back. You can do nothing for her, you never could.”

Ailac flared up, his mind lost in anger. With a lunge he was on his feet, reaching out for Sadris throat with a killing intent, his fangs bared. “Endu’di rifa!” The war cry rolled off his tongue, his fingers sinking into soft flesh.

Sadris did not gasp, he smiled a cruel smile. “Look at you, so eager to fall into darkness? Will you kill me now, like you did your friend?”

Ailac’s hand fell slack, the bloody dagger clattering to his feet. Black vines congealed with rot stood before him, no longer in that hated form. Creepers round wound Ailac’s body, digging inch long thorns into flesh around his ankles and wrists.

“Now then….” The nightmarish figure said his voice cracked and raspy, dripping venom. “It’s finally time I took back what is mine.” Black vines spread forth from its body. They plunged into Ailac’s flesh, sending roots spreading through his being, hot blood fanning down his abdomen. Blackness swallowed the last remaining light.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Ailac's body jerked rigid, muscles tensing and shaking upon the stones of the Barrow Den. Beads of sweat pooling upon his body despite the cool air. A low moan feel from his mouth, twisted in pain with eyes forced shut tighter than sleep.

Neyeeva took notice of the movement of Ailac's body. She then heard the moan escaping his lips. She glanced momentarily at Eli as she rose to her feet to inspect the sleeping druid. As she drew nearer to the body she noticed the sweating. Instinctively she put her hand to his temple. The skin was burning to the touch, hot with fever. She drew back her hand, rising and turning away to gather a cloth and cool water. "He has a fever. " She explained as she procured the cloth and bowl from one of the packs Peris had brought.

Elizaebel remained calm, her back resting against the walls of the barrow as if unconcerned. Yet her eyes flashed down towards the druids, intently watching as Ailac lay writhing under the effects of the Nightmare, one finger tracing the hilt of the long sword arching over her shoulder.

Spasms of the fever wracked Ailac's body, his hands rising from his side to clutch the center of his chest. Weakly his hands fell to his sides, now his chest was no longer smooth, a vibrant gash lay beneath where his hands had been, black blood trickling from the wound as if it had been seared shut. Darkness pulsed through Ailac's right side, the blackness flowing through his veins, his skin turning paler. Ailac moaned again, weak and barely audible, as if being drained, streaks of silver washing out the deep blue of his hair.

As Neyeeva pressed the cool damp cloth to Ailac's temple and cheeks, dotting at the sweat, she was startled in a near fright, dropping the cloth into the water filled bowl with a great splash as the druid's body began to move suddenly. She watched as Ailac drew his hands to his chest, observing the new wound. Then the blackness took over part of his body, his hair changing. Neyeeva gasped as she realized the truth of what was happening. "This is no fever. It is the corruption!" Neyeeva placed her palm to hover over the wound. A soft green light shone from the palm as she directed the healing spell as she directed it into the seething wound. At the same time she concentrated, pulling forth the powers to cleanse the wound of any corruption that it might hold. The dual effort took much of her energy as she calmly allowed the healing spell to work. She then spread her arms out over Ailac's right side. She began to pull forth a greater amount of power to quail and cleanse the corruption of Ailac's body. Her down turned palms glowed with a stronger green light. She concentrated all her effort into the black corruption.

The blackness recoiled against the healing energies, fading and retreating it seemed. Slowly Ailac's body stilled, the wound sealed yet a charred black scar remaining. Slowly Ailac's body stilled, the sweat lessening.

Yet blackness enveloped once more, his right arm swallowed beneath the black blood. The tremor shook his body, his arm flashing out to strike for Neyeeva's throat with dripping claws of blood.

Elizaebel's hand quickly snatched Ailac's by the wrists, looking over the body. He was providing some resistance to her in his sleep, bringing a solitary moment of curiosity to the warrior's face as she narrowed her eyes and forced his hand back. Elizaebel looked to Neyeeva.

"It's still dangerous." She said with little emotion pulling Neyeeva up from the ground and moving her back a bit, now watching more closely the events portrayed on the fighting druid, her eyes being pulled at the chilling body of Xaneria from the corners of her vision.

Neyeeva scowled, growling a little after Eli had pulled her back. She lifted her chin assertively, setting her jaw. Determination filled her eyes as she once more dove into the cleansing powers, pulling them forth.

She knew better now, gave herself distance from Ailac. She closed her eyes in concentration as she released the cleansing energies about the barrow. She drug deeper, drawing together more, stronger energy as she motioned with her hands and arms, pulling them out and up, then forward to Ailac as she directed the powers to him, at the corruption. She opened her eyes narrowing them at the blackness, the Nightmare, as she released the gathered energy. While doing so she felt her own energy quickly beginning to fade; Neyeeva prayed silently that it would be enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Black clouds churned in the sky, engulfing the canopy of trees as it boiled and seethed impossibly low before bursting to retreat back into the air. Whorls of mist trailed through the air though there was no wind to carry them. No sun shone in this place, yet as Ailac opened his bleary eyes there was enough light to see. Thick branches lay beneath him woven together so heavily it felt as if he stood upon stone, covered only in a grass of fine oak and birch leaves. He stood in the center of a large clearing, over a hundred spans across of treetop, interspersed with thick branches towering into the air over four spans thick where they broke the canopy.

Ailac slowly began to search the area. At the edge of the canopy the trees trailed off, leaving a dizzying drop that at places feel unbroken for thousands of feet down into the mist. Some areas lay thick copses of trees branching off from the trunks of the cluster he stood upon, shooting straight out and unheeding to the laws of nature. Taller trees jutted from the mist away from the gap, some forty spans off, towering above the top of his canopy. Waterfalls interspersed the trunks, falling down beneath the mist. No place like this could exist.

Ailac turned back to the center with a pause, now ten paces away there stood a thick stump, gnarled and weather worn despite that it had not been there before.

A wicked laugh echoed through the air, cavernous and hollow it split the silent tranquility. “So finally the caitiff returns home.” From behind the stump the figure walked out causing Ailac’s jaw to fall open in shock. It was as if looking into the mirror drained of color. The figure shines white, skin clothing and hair the color of snow. It cracked a grin, black fangs bared behind pale lips, its eyes opening into blackness. “This time, runt, I will be taking our body.”

“What… what are you talking about? Where is this? Surely this can’t exist within the dream.”

The laugh came again as if the voice were mirrored by the screeching of rusty metal. “What you haven’t figured it out yet, runt?” The figured reached up, tapping the side of its head with its malicious grin growing.

Ailac stiffened, his muscles tensing as the air suddenly felt thick and strangulating. “No… this can’t be. This must be a Nightmare.”

“Slow aren’t you for a druid? You can’t even recognize your own mind.” The gravelly voice was grating, mocking, “Oh but you are correct. This does involve the Nightmare.”

“Who are you?” Ailac growled fiercely, “What do you want with me?”

The figure drew closer, white robe hanging still as he moved. “I AM you! What I want…. Is my body back, you petulant runt!” A black nimbus surrounded the white figure, swirling over its body as seething black vines erupted through the branches at Ailac’s feet, binding his body and lifting it into the air slightly. “Now I’ll take it.”

Ailac struggled against his bonds, tearing his arms free as the figure drew nearer. With a thrust of his arms he reached out, drawing upon his wrath and fury at being bound to send it in a wave at the figure. Glowing green energy shot towards the figure, screeching with anger, yet never found its mark. The dark figure waved a hand, dissipating it.

“Hah! What a pathetic attempt.” It pauses, looking at the slight smoldering mark upon the back of its white hand. “That won’t work here, don’t you get it? I am you, what you can do, I can. For all their talk about fending off the Nightmare, you druids sure don’t know much about it.”

Shock left Ailac suddenly, his head briefly clear. “This is no Nightmare. That… is myself.” With a smirk the vines binding Ailac dropped, dispelled into nothingness as he dropped to his knees.

The nightmare pauses, tilting its head briefly in confusing that Ailac had broken free. With a dismissive wave the grin was back, mocking. “No matter, this body is mine. Resist all you want.”

“You fiend…” Ailac breathed, rising to his feet to stare defiantly at the white figure. “Creature of Nightmare, I will not let you control me.”

“Oh no, I won’t be controlling you.” It paused, tilting its head back with a metallic laugh. “This is what happens, to those of us who fall into the Nightmare. The mind shatters, berated by the torrent of fear and anger. Out of the pieces all that remains is that darkness, pain and fear. Most stay asleep, consumed. Those others who wake are nothing more than a shell, the mind having long since devoured itself.”

It paused, spitting vile filth into the trees. “But then you… Just as I had you something drew you back together. It’s too bad really…” In a flash of movement the figure sprung, lunging towards Ailac in a blur and slamming a fist deep into his abdomen. Ailac lifted from the ground, being flung back by the force against a massive branch cutting out from the canopy. “You should have stayed asleep. Now you get to suffer.”

Ailac fell to the ground, his head reeling from smacking off the thick bark. A black whirr flew towards his head; quickly he stumbled forward, rolling out of the way as a blackened staff flew through the air where he had been. The staff tore into the branch, splintering it into pieces as the base of the branch fell with a thunderous crash. Ailac rolled to his feet, the figure turned, black quarterstaff of rotting wood twirling through the air with his right hand. “I missed.”

“Such power…” Ailac thought, crouching low and trying to collect his spinning thoughts. “This is what I have fought, this side of myself. Xaneria, Cenias, Neyeeva… so many risk themselves to cleanse me of this. I will not let it win.”

The figure lunged again, twirling staff a midnight blur as it dived forward. Ailac dodged the staff as it tore rents in the canopy where he had been, scrambling frantically away back from the black blur. His own nightmare’s maniacal laughter spurning him on.

Canopy gave way beneath his feet as he was forced back off the edge of the treetops, plummeting down towards a branch below. Ailac saw the Nightmare come, leaping high over the edge with staff in hand. Twisting Ailac brought his fingers towards the tree, drawing on the energies of Nature within himself to guide it into the wood. The power sang to him, sang to the tree as bark peeled away, coiling about his arm before being molded, long shaft taking shape bound with vine into a bow, three long branches drawing straight to form arrows fletched in leaves. Kicking out his feet Ailac twisted, facing himself up to fire the branches at the Nightmare descending down upon him.

“So you play at being a sentinel, do you Ailac?” The black staff spun deflecting the first shot, the branch falling uselessly with the nightmare. The last two branches missing wide it grabbed the arrow, blackness swirling over its white arms and into the branch, shattering it into a thousand splintered needles it hurled down before it.

Ailac twisted, his feet hitting the branch with a solid impact that should have broken his form. Pain seared through his legs but he held, the vine snapping from the top over the bow as the shaft straightened to a quarterstaff of living wood. Needles bit into flesh as they rained from above, reflex barely catching in time as Ailac lifted the staff up to block the blow. The corrupted staff crashed into living wood with a reverberating smack, the Nightmare hung in the air balanced against the Druid holding him at bay. The branch beneath them cracking with the force of the collision.

“This might be fun, runt.” The hollow voice taunted, seeping confidence.

“I will not succumb!” Ailac screamed in protest. He shifted, twisting the bottom of the staff around to whip the vine out, wrapping around the Nightmare form. Ailac swung the staff, drawing the figure down to slam it towards the tree, strength flowing into him through the living wood.

The blackened staff waved, snapping and twisting in shape. Two curved thorns over a foot long tore through the vines binding the Nightmare. With a snarl it lashed out, hewing through the branch as it bounded off from the trunks towards the far trees. Ailac leapt from the falling branch, staff ready in hand as he followed, landing on a small outcropping split by a river, water crashing to rocks before falling down past the enormous trunks below.

The two danced across the shallow water, spray flying as staff and knife sliced through the mist of the waterfall. Black knives met living wood again and again in furious succession, sound drowned beneath the roar of the water. Chips flew from the living staff, replaced by creepers before the next blow could fall.

The figure drew knives together, blackened creepers joining them into a thick staff once more. Darkness flowed from its hollow gaze, hatred unrelenting. Ailac jumped back, clearing space as he landed beside a large pointed rock, half his size and twice as thick jutting from the torrent of water. With a roar of fury the black staff twirled, Ailac rolling away from the rock and staring in shock. Bulging creepers burst form the staff, encircling the rock in darkness and tearing it from the earth plateau.

“You think you can run, weakling! You’re mine!” With a roar it drew back the vicious club, unearthly in size compared to the elf wielding it. Darkness swirled along its arms as lashed out, the rock mace arcing towards Ailac. Living wood shattered beneath the force, sending Ailac back into the trees walling the waterfall, a spray of blood bursting from his mouth in a gasp.

Regaining his footing, Ailac threw himself to the ground, ducking beneath the mace as it tore into the wall of trees, spike splitting the trunks as if they were overripe melons. Rolling Ailac coiled up and lunged, living wood embracing his arms as thorns burst from the ends of the wood into massive claws. The figure lunged back, its mace shattering from the blow. Enraged Ailac forced on, swinging wildly as if he were the Ursine spirit himself, the figure nimbly dodging out of reach each time.

With a flash of darkness the Nightmare tossed Ailac back in a cyclone of wind, sending him sprawling to the opposite side of the plateau. Muscles limp; Ailac let himself twist with the force, springing to his feet as he slowed, years of feral grace coming to his aid. The figure stood and grinned amused.

“It’s meaningless, Ailac. Your efforts are as meaningless as ever. Soon I will be the master and you the beast, I’ll give us new meaning.” The last of its words trailing over the roar of the waterfall, it stepped back dropping from the plateau.

Ailac lunged after his fleeing self. “I will not let their efforts end in vain.” Living wood twisted about his body, merging over his left hand forming a circular core cradling a small seed. Bladed thorns erupted to form a glaive. Sliding down the trunk Ailac focused, unheeding as he plummeted through the mist to the earth below.

Ailac crouched low, scanning the ground wearily. This plateau covered in lush grass, stretched on as far as the eye could see. Tall lone trees dotted the clearing, giving it the look of the ground at last. Behind him the waterfall continued to plummet downwards shattering any illusions of the earth being beneath his feet.

With a crack the corrupt vine lashed out, catching Ailac’s shoulder and sending him to the ground. Blood trailed the air as the whip-like vine recoiled behind a tree. In a flash the whip cracked again, this time from a different tree. The vine lashed out, each time different, forcing Ailac to roll from the attacks and pain to sear his wounds.

With a flash of light the Nightmare was there, crouching in front of a tree with the vines flowing back into its body. Ailac didn’t hesitate, letting the glaive fly true. The figure moved with lightning speed, snapping the glaive from the air. “So much for your dreams of becoming a sentinel, runt.”

With a pulse of power Ailac drew up, letting the flows of rejuvenation flow from him into the seed. The glaive pulsed, erupting into a spray of vines that wrapped and entwined the Nightmare. “I am a druid. Nature is my only companion. Now I shall be cleansed”

The Nightmare grimaced, tugging at its bonds as it writhed and flailed feebly. Ailac drew closer, his gaze fixed upon the figure, gazing into his own corrupt eyes at that which plagued his mind and shattered his soul.

The Nightmare smirked. “You forget, Nature is mine to command as well.”

Black rot burst from the grass about the figure, snaking its way to his side to encircle the roots of a great tree, its trunk over five paces thick. Rot ate and twisted its form, devouring wood to feed itself into a form of twisted corruption, a mighty treant of decay. Rotting wood creaking in protest it burst to life, reaching forward its massive hand towards the pure druid, threatening to crush him in its filth.

Ailac braced himself, no time left to dodge the massive hand. Opening himself anew he felt the verdant life force swallow him. He pushed it into the earth, vines lashing out to stop the giants movements. Hundreds of vines burst from the earth, yet the treant pushed forth, struggling against its bonds to devour the druid. Fresh vines wrapped about its arms, an unending stream of rope with thousands of binding threads to tie back the corruption. Verdant life force colliding with blackened flows of corruptions, the raw energies of the two druids lashing against each other locked in the struggle of wills.

Sweat dripped over Ailac’s body, stinging his wounds as he threw his all into the vines. Verdant life force pushed back at the blackness, then was consumed in a wave of darkness, the enormous hand driving forwards to swallow the druid and earth with tremendous forth, sending eruptions of dirt and grass into the air.

Dust and blades of grass drifted to the ground, the twisted form of the ent collapsing into a mass of blacked roots and vines. Silence fell upon the plateau, broken only by the rush of water falling down to places unseen. The pale figure walked forth, sagging with effort as inky sweat dripped from its form. Bracing itself against the mass of corruption it grinned.

“Finally, this body is mine. No hard feelings, runt. Now I’m the Master, you the beast of burden.” Blackened eyes slid shut, head tilting to the sky expectantly. “Let fear and corruption reign supreme.”

Nothing happened.

The figure jumped back from the pile, eyes flinging wide to reveal pitch black sockets, scanning the plateau behind it. “No… he can’t possibly –“

A rush of air cut the Nightmare off, gurgling black ink that dripped down from its chin. From its chest burst forth flowing verdant life, tearing flesh with a wrathful vengeance, arching the Nightmare’s back forward with the impact.

“I will never let you take me, my mind is not broken.”

The figure twisted as it slid from the glowing hands held to its back, crumpling to the ground like one of its rotting vines. It was helpless, staring up at the druid looking down upon it. He was stained with blood, burning wounds marking his chest and arms, but he was whole.

“Foolish runt,” the figure spat, raised onto its elbows to glare up at the druid, its voice dripping hatred. “You cannot cleanse me. The Nightmare shattered your mind, and I was born. You may have won, but I’ll be back. You cannot run from me!”

“I know,” Ailac replied coolly. Black eyes shot open in surprise.

“Anger, fear, pain and sorrow. That is what you are, it is what you bring.” Ailac paused, drawing a breath and looking down with sympathy in his eyes. “But these are a part of myself, of every being. You are a part of me, part of the natural balance of life. I accept this, accept these things as a part of myself. They are mine to command, but shall never control me.”

Beneath his gaze the Nightmare flickered, flakes peeled from its skin tearing off into the air. Bone and sinew unwound, being unmade into black mist that slowly burnt off as a ray of sunshine pierced the churning clouds, vibrant blue sky visible once more. Drawing a deep breath Ailac smiled, closing his eyes and opening them once more into the realm of the Emerald Dream. Peace washed over him.