What's a Fog Veil doing here? (Pre-Unveiling & GF'd)

[Xyltha Thanole]

One night, Early Ponutis, Winter, Era I, PF XV

Twas Ponutis already before Xyltha was able to reach the heavily wooded boundary to Silrosia. He had only heard of the fog recently, though rumours and news of it had been abound for months before. Rumours that told of a maligned fog that had through means arcane and mysterious, descended upon the bustling vibrant town of Silrosia - the city he had once called home. He wondered how his estranged family were fairing now; were they still inside, trapped by this foggy entity. Or were they displaced from the city as some other inhabitants were.

The forest loomed in front of him, as the moons glowed above him. As he reached reached the outermost thickets of the wood, he halted. He wasn't sure what he was seeing. Was it - a fog? A dense fog that seemed almost to consume the forest, roiling and frolicking. Daring any to invade.

Tentative, he approached slowly, glancing around for any signs of other similar-minded intruders or beasts of nature.

[Gossamer]

The forest was quiet, unobtrusive, but restrictive. Unlike what the young silrosian male remembered, it was neither welcoming nor friendly. Its branches slapped at him as he moved through it, discouraging and unwelcome. The Veil, unlike its true meaning, wasn't elusive. It was a glimmering shimmering curtain that was a lot like peering at the suns going down through the thickness of the ancient wood. No matter how much he tried to move forward, the elf could not seem to make any progress. It never got closer as he walked. In fact, the whole process was exhausting... like walking uphill in a downward torrent of a cascading mountain stream.

It brought sweat to his brow, and left him wanting to know why.... why this rejection... why this isolation. It overwhelmed him with feelings of loneliness. There was no sensation of connectiveness... no longer a sense of history as he traversed the forest.

It was almost a futile effort... one he was slowly realizing.

[Xyltha Thanole]

Shivering, though more from the sense of isolation than from cold, the elfling trudged aimlessly onwards, his pace getting slower and slower. Frustration was building, as he realised that he had no hope of breaching the Veil. It roiled endlessly forwards, rejecting the elfling's advances.

"Why! Who are you! What are you!"

The echo of a desperate elf emanated, filled with anguish and sorrow. The brooding feeling of dread was building up inside him. He could not help but feel ostracised, not by other people, but as if the trees themselves had turned their backs to him. The silence of the woods was beginning to feel suffocating...

Was this perhaps time to backtrack, find his way out of the woods? Xyltha, filled with irrational fear and anxiety, failed to heed the words of caution and warning that whispered in his inner ear. Onward he trudged. Aimless was his destination.

Even as he continued his amble, grimacing each time his face encountered the sharp blow of a tree branch, his mind dwelled on this mysterious dilemma. It would seem that the Veil was a magical construct, just seeing it was confirmation enough. From what little he knew of the Veil, it was an Ancient Elven magic that had long been forgotten, or so it was said. And it was a guardian; a sentient guardian from the time before the Imperial annexation of Silrosia. The Herald hinted that it was the consequence of discordance among the native forest-dwellers and the forest that had long served to protect its borders. Whatever the truth was, it lay shrouded behind that layer of Veil that stubbornly held him at bay.

Tired overcame his stubbornness, and his feet gave way. His light frame slumped to the ground, as his back came to rest against the trunk of an ancient tree; the gnarled roots jabbing harshly into his butt. There was no sense of walking any more, not for the time being.

[Gossamer]

As Xyltha leaned against the bowl of the tree, tired, a warm feeling crept up his body. He really... just wanted to sleep. His eyelids felt heavy, and his whole entire body just seemed to draw comfort from both the ground beneath him and the great tree at his back. The light from the Veil shining through the trees lulled him..... it was so like a sunset. Sleep... it was time to sleep. Thoughts weighed heavy on him, but the exhaustion set in making it hard for him to even remotely think let alone worry. A yawn overtook him, then another, then another. He closed his eyes, and sleep claimed him. But it wasn't a normal sleep, nor was it a sleep from out of a storybook, where a hero wakes after a thousand years of slumber to a whole new world.

No, this was the sleep of transformation. While his body rested, his mind lingered fascinated by what he saw. Deep within the slumber, he found a gleaming seed fresh sewn on the forest floor from lofty pine cones above. He saw it, then reached for it.... holding it aloft in his hand as he plucked it from the inner dreamscape of his mind and somehow in doing so became the seed. He tumbled, for his body had no form other than a rock-hard nugget, end over end until he lodged deep into the soil. Water washed him as cool rail fell. Leaf litter from other trees gently fell over him, covering and protecting him.

He began to grow.

Time lost its meaning, though new things invaded his world. He felt the heartbeat of Telath as he stretched his roots out into the warm body of the mother. Other trees sang to him, calling him in a song formed from wind over leaves and the gentle sway of wood creaking in the sway of the wind. He could hear their voices, calling to him, whispering to him, encouraging him. Grow. Grow. Grow.

[Xyltha Thanole]

As Xyltha entered the dreamscape, his consciousness was subsumed by the sensation of germination. He felt a connection with the earthy foundation of Telath, and wallowed in the exhilarating feeling of growing to new heights. The other trees, occupying the dreamscape in their various guises, beckoned for him to grow; grow up, grow side ways, grow crooked, grow straight. It didn't matter to him, as long as he would grow, and extend his roots even further deeper into the soil beneath. A good growing tree never neglects its roots.

He marvelled at the fantastic landscape. He "knew", somehow, that this was not real, yet it felt so real. Confusion reigned in his slumberful mind. Where was he? How real was this? He stretched his "arms/branches", towards the other trees calling him. Who were they?

"What are you? Where am I? What's happening to me?"

Regardless, rooted to the dreamery soil, he remained watchful, awaiting for what else would transpire.

[Yre'Tsym]

ooc: I will continue from here on. Let me know your needs...

The fog continued to wrap around Xyltha, growing thicker and darker every second that he stood rooted, until all was black. Xyltha would not be able to see through such darkness, yet he somehow saw the landscape, clearer than it ever was. The trees and grasses had pulled themselves off the ground and began walking towards one direction, towards a place he instinctively knew as, home. The ground grew bare as more plants unrooted themselves and marched on. Several deep voices and many small voices beckoned him from all around, far and near, to follow. To follow to the place called home. A place where nothing could harm them, a place where they could grow forever more.

A strange force took over Xyltha's legs or roots, and made him pull himself out of the ground. It had took him several attempts, more if he resisted, but eventually, he was out of the earth, unrooted and free. Free to do whatever he wants. Free to go wherever he wants. Free to go home!

As the plants moved towards 'home', animals fled from 'home' A family of skunk suddenly stopped some distance in front of Xyltha, the mother skunk sniffed him. It was sure that she did not like what she smelled, as she quickly release a few jets of skunk-flavoured smoke towards Xyltha and scrambled away. A female voice was heard over the din of many other voices that ask him to follow. The female voice said only one sentence, a sentence that would clear his mind if Xyltha were to listen carefully. "Nothing is there anymore..."

The beckoning voice grew stronger and louder. A powerful call for Xyltha, to come home.