The Elves of Gotresham – Sheryl, the Fae-Touched – 26.11

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The ground exploded beneath the half orc’s feet. Roaring up and out from the earth attacking as it went was a large monstrosity that attempted to flatten the mighty warrior. But though Baine might appear to be heavy, he is able to get out of the way. Commander Howl’s men are not so lucky.

Looking farther south, Sheryl sees the heavily armoured knight unleash with holy fury into a Frost Giant as his mighty, silvery elk batters the larger foe with its antlers and hooves. The roar of pain can be heard all the way where the bard stands on the upper battlements of Fort Blackstone, despite the galeforce winds always prevalent in the open lands of K’ul Goran.

Turning to face northwards Sheryl sing’s out to the Gotresham elves, a kulning call that can be felt down to the bones of all who hear it. She asks the elves to not attack them, to help them take out the mighty foes that have suddenly swarmed them from the south – a frost giant and two fire giants. The winds carry her words and intent to them and some of the elves seem to be swayed by her plea.

But then a Sickening Radiance blossoms into life beneath their running feet and it staggers all of them at the unexpectedness of it. The hope she had been feeling at the turning of a tide, possibly finding an ally for K’ul Goran is instantly banished as she watches the elves be slaughtered by Commander Howl’s men. It takes but a moment to see who cast the spell. Sheryl runs over to the blue tiefling, Serpentine, and shoves her back, attempting to Bestow a Curse to break her concentration on her spell, shouting, “What are you doing?! They could be our allies!”

The affronted look on Serpentine’s face turns to incredulity. Commander Howl shouts out, “She must be charmed! Someone stop her!”

Before Sheryl can do anything the blue tiefling scoffs at her and snaps her fingers. There’s a faint popping sound in Sheryl’s ears and the battle raging around her vanishes.

Dazzling, stimulating, and vibrant colours that nearly blind her, coupled with the heady, rousing, and euphoric fragrances that assail her senses, staggers Sheryl. It has been nearly nine months since she last walked in the meadow she now stands in. It’s one that is near and dear to her as it’s where she learned music from the greatest of teachers. The beautiful music she can hear stops and through her jumbled thoughts she recognises the pan flutes that had been making the sounds.

“Merla?”

She turns and stumbles. Standing not ten feet away is Kruxeral.

“Kruxeral, please, you have to send me back. I was–”

He’s right in front of her, holding her up with a steadying grip on her arms. How did he move so fast? Why are my legs so wobbly?

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Now why would I do that? You have returned!”

She starts shaking her head, the disorientation leaving her. “Please, you don’t understand. I have to get back. I have to stop–”

“There will be such celebrations, now that you’re back,” Kruxeral says, cutting her off. He brushes a stray hair from her cheek softly and his hand lingers there for a moment. “...And She will be delighted to see you again.”

The heightened senses she has forgotten about, that have slowly been falling asleep for months are suddenly awake and in overdrive. The closeness of Kruxeral, his verdant eyes pulling her in, it’s taking everything she has to not be overwhelmed with the feelings assailing her. She wants to stay but she also wants to get back because… because…

The satyr pulls back and throws his hands up, casting fireworks into the air. A wave of panic washes over her as Sheryl realises he’s calling Her, telling Her the prodigal daughter has returned.

If She knows I’m here She might make me stay! Our agreement didn’t say anything about coming and going!

“Krux-”

There’s a squeezing sensation and another popping noise that makes her ears ring and Sheryl is no longer in the meadow with Kruxeral. She is surrounded by complete and utter darkness. All of the heightened emotions of the last minute are still in her veins and the panic she felt suddenly turns to outright hysteria. She cannot see anything around her and her fear of the dark overtakes her.

A scream tears from her throat as a wave of thunderous force sweeps out from her, pushing everything back. Sheryl crouches down into a ball rocking back and forth as repressed nightmares surge through her mind. There’s another scream, the sound of someone falling and then the bubble of Darkness is gone.

After a moment or two, Sheryl tentatively raises her head and it takes her panicked mind another moment to realise she can see again, that the darkness is gone. She stands up and looks to her left. When her eyes fall upon the bodies of the slain Gotresham elves, their blood already soaked up by the hungry ground, tears start to fall. She doesn’t care if the others see.

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Sheryl sits in front of the half-elf paladin and Grandmaster of the Order of the Crimson Fist, Varis, as his giant stag makes its way across the rolling planes of Ku'l Goran. She is quiet, her earlier outburst from the battle fading into a calm. He doesn’t say anything, just lets Sheryl bask in his calming aura and she is grateful. But her thoughts are all a tumble, a whirling tornado as she tries to figure out what to do.

“We shouldn’t have killed the elves,” the words tumble out past her lips before she even realises it. “They could have been our allies against the giants. But now, I think all hope of that ever happening has been lost. I’m…” she can’t bring herself to say the words because they would be a lie. She does not regret what she did. “I tried to stop Serpentine from harming them. But I failed. Just like I failed to convince the Shunned to not attack my friends and I the last time. And they were all slaughtered as well…”

The wind whips around them. The rest of the party is subdued. Baine keeps throwing glances at Mystogan who in turn keeps looking back at Serpentine, but no words are said. Sheryl is glad for the wind, that it steals the sounds of her words away from their ears.

“I don’t know what to do. I want to help the people of Ku’l Goran. But I’m worried. Worried they won’t have the support they need to win. They cannot fight a war on four fronts. They shouldn’t have to!” she looks at her calloused hands, at the years she sees there. The inexperience.

“Varis, I... I don’t really know you but the others seem to trust you and you’re a commander. Do you… have any advice?” she turns to better see his face.

Varis is silent for a while before answering.

“Failure is a tool. Every great work, every deed of legend, the life of every hero, rests upon a foundation of failure. Learn from it, better it, but do not dwell upon it.”

Sheryl furrows her brow, understanding making her nod. She waits for more.

“You wish my advice? Then you shall have it.

“A war is not a duel, not a bar fight. It will not be won by the side whose individual soldiers are most mighty, but by the army that fights as one. There was much nobility in what you did today. You sought to prevent the loss of life, to turn an enemy into a friend. This is both wise and honourable, and it has earned you much respect,” Sheryl feels brightened by this. “But you were also a fool,” he continues, dashing the feeling just as it started to bloom. “You attacked an ally in the heat of battle, in full view of soldiers of K'ul Goran. You lessened yourself through your actions, but more than this, you lessened all the warriors of Daring. How can our allies put their faith in us when they see we attack our own? And if they do not trust us, how can we help them?”

A dropping sensation hits her stomach and Sheryl starts to realise the full extent of what she did. Before she can dwell on it, Varis continues.

“I do not know if this war can be won. I will do everything in my power to ensure that K'ul Goran prevails, but our enemy is mighty, and any victory will be dearly bought. My advice then is this – know yourself, and know your enemy. Few warriors can stand toe to toe with a Giant as Baine did today. If you are not one of them,” he looks down at her, “then you must use your wits. Keep your distance, harry, and support your allies. But most of all, live.” His eyes go back to scanning the horizon. “You do not win a war by dying for your people. You win a war by making the other man die for his.

Beyond that, there is little I can tell you. Survive the coming storm, and perhaps we will speak more.”

Sheryl absorbs Varis' words to mull over. She has more than the war to think about on her journey back to Daring Heights. One things for sure, she won't be staying there for the next little while. Too close to where she walked through from the Feywild. Maybe she could spend some time with her friends who live by the sea, which could be the break she needs before she fully decides what her part in this war will be.


Continued in ‘Reunions’ 🦋