I am Derek, Son of Erina, Daughter of Leorina, in the Line of the West Forest Gaurdians since the naming of the Wood. For the past five years I have walked in darkness; my crimson eyes dead to the world of flesh and blood. What they see now is something deeper, something grander; the world of spirits. I will tell you how I gained this gift, and how it began with a curse.

As is custom of my kind, the long eared sort, is to tend to the Wood, to remain in the Wood, to guard the Wood. It is forbidden for any of our kind to leave save for an edict from the Gods, and even then preperations are said to be long and tedious. I had no edict from on high to grant me leave, I left for love. The love a son has for his mother.

Many come to the wood for many reasons, some innocnet and some ill. There are those who seek shelter from the rain, and Thor's grand parade of numbus. They burn the scraps of bark and desbris that litter the floor and catch what small animals may stray too close to their camp. They commit no crime in this. They take no more than what the need from the Wood, though they give little back save for ash and waste.

Some seek the forest for its wood in greater mass. Whole trees, sometimes many, and mature trees full of seeds and life. From these hearty men a tribute is to be given. Oft they are saplings they have grown in their villages, young and still able to move across the land. They offer this to the Wood and they may take its bounty.

Then there are the ravagers. The Thieves. The Murderers. The Rapists. The dark ones who turn the shelter of the darkened wood into a nightmare for the innocent. It is then we appear. It is then we strike. With grand blades some would say unbefitting 'gentle' creatures such as ourselves, we strike down these foul wretches, and save their victims if we can.

It was on once such raid against a foul being of undeath, a LICH, that my mother was struck with the taint of the undead. Such was the strength of the foul beast that even struck by sacred arrows it had strength to flee and curse my mother for the wound she dealt upon it; thus inhibiting any...recreational activity...it might enjoy otherwise.

For a week I stood by her bedside, my sisters, some older, many more younger, around me. My father long dead, and my brother with him in the great halls of the gods, I was their only hope. By this I mean in no way my elder sisters were in any way laking in skill, but the sight of ones mother in such pain without means to even placate her suffering brings pain to even the mightest of hearts.

On the Seventh morn since her curse wound was forged I sought the Druid of Knowledge who lived in our village. Of a fading sect of few who found the fountain of knowledge from which the great Odin drank, and partook of its waters and paid equal due to the great one. An old weathered Lapine, he sat wrapped in scales of great beasts and bid me tell him what I sought. I asked not for the cure, for had he known it would have been administered. Instead I asked for the path to the fountain.

Where he and I stood was in the center of our village and my words brought upon me such curses I shudder at their memory, but in that moment I was unshaken. My siblings, who had followed me, pleaded for me to think otherwise, but I could not be swayed. I could not support my family. My mother could. If banishment was the price I'd pay for my mother's life, so be it.

My eyes were dead to fear from that moment on. You cannot understand the prospect I faced: A man only just being named that, and the choice to abandon all that is dear. I could have no doubts. I had to do this. Wise words would guid me and cold steel would cut down my foes. The price the well would ask for was not upon my mind at that moment, only reaching it was.

The Druid saw the fire that burned in my soul and smiled, silently he drew, in his own blood upon a scroll of beast skin, the map and handed it to me. I was given no escort to the edge of the wood, I was offered no supplies, nor would I have been allowed into the stores had I tried, I strode with naught but my blade and my map at the edge of my world. I never broke my pace as I broke into a wild, wide world, the soft soil of a fledgling farm under my paws.

For Five years I traveled, meeting many men and women of great strength in arm and heart. I shared my strength with them to help them, so that they might find their goals fulfiled, and so that they might aid me in mine. Thrice I stood at a shore's edge while comrades drifted ablaze on funeral pyres. Once I stood aside an asile as two became one in the eyes of the All Father.

With a party of comrades I made the final stretch of journey, but they stayed at the edge of clearing in which the well stood. I neared and the crows that surrounded the well took form of a man in black. He asked what would I pay and for what did I ask?

I would pay with my sight, and I would seek the knowledge to heal my mother. He smiled at me and bid me drink. For this I had prepared and many had been lifted to my lips over the years, though all the ales in all the lands could not match the bitterness. Truth. It was Cold. Hard. Fact. Though it filled me with agony as I saw images of innocent in pain, all the atrocities my blade would have prevented had I not embarked on this journey, I also saw my mother lived, in pain still, but alive she was. My eldest sister had died amid a fire, blades locked with a wild beast of chaos, her spirit among the valkyries. My youngest sister had taken up the sword and sought to wield the Zweihander as I do. I smiled at this knowledge and drank deeper. Some strange vision, half a blur of color and mist flashed before me, I could not comprehend it, despite the water's magicks.

It was then I saw spell and the formulae for my mother's salvation. It was then I stopped drinking, it was then I became blind to the world of flesh. I did not shout, I simply turned to where the keeper had stood, said my thanks, and departed. I stumbled, and my friends caught me. They were aghast at my blindness, but did not question me, I had long past explain my motives, and they aided me to my forest.

It was there somthing, astounding, happened. At the edge of the wood, or where my comrades told me it was, the Druid of Knowledge stood. While I was blind to all else, I could see his emerald spirit standing before me. I was shocked, to say the least, and he soon told me while my sight of flesh was gone, it left my eyes free to see the realm of truth; of spirits; of souls.

He guided me, alone, to my village and I could feel the anger all around me, he took me to his hut and I sat amid the smells I'd long ago savored listening to his stories. Through a ritual of his own creation, taking what he told me was many hours but to me was but a flash, I saw the winding spirits all around me. I could see the traces of where beings had been. I could study the echos of those long dead. Most of all, I could boggle at the hate eminating from the Druid. For while he had aided me on this quest, he had lost his daughter due to my absence. He knew I knew this without him saying it.

I stood and left his hut, the dark brown of the reed's spirits highlighting the blackness around me. I went to the Apothecary's hutand spoke to her openly of the potion and its spell, she listened and I saw her attendents flit about, writing things down and taking things off shelves and out of chests. That done, one task remained of me.

The Cheif stood in the center of the village. His soul was red with rage and violet with betrayel. I stood and stripped off my armor. He said nothing but raised his hand, spirits of fire formed a tip while echos of steel hummed in the air. I did not flinch nor cry as searing steel cut brands into my face and chest. I accepted this scars. They were a symbol of my devotion. They represented my sacrifice so that my family could live.

The trail done, I was allowed to see my mother. I will never forget what I saw. He soul was pure as moonlight, so clear and defined, only a black mark across her waist marred her ivory beauty. My second eldest, now eldest living, sister stood in my path, called me traitor, and slapped me hard across the face. She wept openly, a pure blue soul of morning scared with yellow filgery of false hatred. She allowed me pass and I lingered only to speak my love for my mother. Her lips moved and my eyes saw golden runes spill out of her mouth to form her words. I turned to leave the home I'd known for all but the last five years of my life, and smiled at my younger siblings as I passed. The youngest tapped the small of my back with her wooden sword. "Point" she said, with a mischievious smile. I tears flowed from my ears that could not see, for I swear before Odin, I saw a valkyre in that tiny Lapine lass.

I gathered my armor and breathed deep one finale time. I walked out of that woods a second time, this time a man reforged by time and wisdom. A man who still did not fear the world outside the Wood, though I knew it to be far more perilous than even the most reviting of the Elders' tales. A man who had given up his family so that they might live on.

As I saw my friends again, for the first time with this eyes that see the souls of all, my smile reached wide. Bright souls burning with the fires of honor, but more than that...one soul...harbored another. I rejoined them and told them what I'd done, and gave two friends knowing smiles.

What adventure waited for me beyond the rolling hills of grain that stretched to the horizon? It occured to me, and a feral grin stretched back my lips. I had saved my mother's life, and restored my family to the extent that I could with sacrifice, now all that remained was to see to the matter of it never happening again. Now came the destruction of the LITCH.

But I would need some help, and if what I learned before my mother's cure was not sure nonsense, for with my sight I saw it as another map. A map leading to the lands of the dead. To reach their, however, I would need some help, and if what my mother said was true.

"You need a mate."