|
The Arcane Order |
| Lumberjacks around the forests of Yew have
always spoken of the dangers in cutting into the live wood of trees.
Many inexperienced jacks have met there end after the misplaced swing of
their axe. Most of these have been ruled by the guards of the land as
unfortunate accidents. Indeed there is never a sign of foul play to be
found. Those that are fortunate enough to live through one of these
mistakes have tales to tell of beautiful music and ladies so lovely that
there senses fail them. They usually find themselves lost. Some lose
consciousness only to wake up again miles from where they were. Such is
the way the Dryad protects her tree.
Traibrar hoisted his axe onto his shoulder. Looking back once again at his dwindling woodpile he realized it could be put off no longer. Winters in Yew here harsh. As much as he dreaded stepping out into the snow and frigid air, his stock of wood for his fire would soon be gone. To make matters worse, dark clouds loomed on the western horizon. A storm was approaching. With a last sigh and a grimace he push open the door of his log cabin and stepped out into the frozen afternoon. Traibrar was found the following morning. The storm had covered all but the top of his hat. In his right hand he still held the axe he had used to chop his entire life. His face was a contorted mask of panic. The tree he sat leaned against showed no sign of his handiwork yet frozen to his beard were chips of chopped wood and dust. While the storm last night had been blinding, the guards investigating his death could not understand how he could not have found his way back to his own front door... less than 20 feet away. |
The
Library Arcane: The Lord of the Dead