Information


Flews has a minion!

Willow the Tixel




Flews
Legacy Name: Flews


The Glade Hikei
Owner: Naerina

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 5 days

Born: August 23rd, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 7 months, 5 days ago (Legacy)

Adopted: August 23rd, 2009 (Legacy)

Statistics


  • Level: 20
     
  • Strength: 63
     
  • Defense: 24
     
  • Speed: 1
     
  • Health: 24
     
  • HP: 24/24
     
  • Intelligence: 146
     
  • Books Read: 146
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Gold Specialist


The week before, they had found thousands of dead fish washed up on the shore of the Peka Glade Lake. It was, they thought, some kind of waterborne plague – they on land were untouchable.

Now, though, Curiama and Flews looked at each other worriedly as they were called into the home of their dying neighbor. He was sickly and frail, and hadn’t spoken for days. But when they entered the cabin, he looked at them with tired eyes and rasped, “It’s the Plague. It has returned.”

Flews looked at Curiama fearfully. The plague was something surreal, intangible, unimaginable It hadn’t happened for hundreds of years – was stuff of legend, really, and their stomachs dropped at the thought of being in the midst of it.

Something tickled the back of Flews’ mind. Some kind of nursery rhyme or poem she had heard as a child. She struggled to remember, to form the full verse from just an inkling of a memory:


“When it comes
Sickness and death in a wave
Visit the wise elder tucked discreetly away
For life he may give, and death he may stay.
”


And so Flews and Curiama went to visit the hut of the shaman, who himself was stuff of legend and a source of fear for all of the villagers.

A gust of wind blew through the hut, though there were no windows on the walls. It looked deserted, as if no one had been there for years. Cobwebs matted the antiquated pots in the corner and a layer of dust coated the herbs which still looked suspiciously green.

Flews’ heart dropped. So there was no hope after all.

They turned to go when a rustling noise called their attention.

Peering into the darkness, Flews could make out a vague shape slumped on the far side of the room that had not been there before. As she stared at it, it stood.

It was terrible to behold; had some kind of dark power around it that drained everything around it of energy and was itself veiled in darkness.
"Well, now, little adventurers, don’t go just yet,” it rasped.

Flews gathered her courage. “You’re the shaman. You’re the one who can save us,” she said pleadingly.

It took a step towards them and Curiama cringed. “Actually, children,” it said with its grating voice, “you are the ones who must save us. It is foretold. Do you not heed the prophecies?” It started to chant, its whisper-voice growing louder until it seemed a scream:


“One large and one small,
In stature and in courage,
To save them all
Must venture into the forest,
And face its ancient fury,
To combine fire, earth, and water,
And return to the source
To restore all lost purity.
Every creature, one and the same
Must gain back their health
Amidst the cool of the clean flame.
”


“Th-that’s just old wives’ tales,” Curiama stammered. “It’s not true. There’s no such thing as prophecies.”

The shaman laughed, a horrible cackle. “Say what you will, children. There is no prophecy. Only the plague, with no cure.” It continued to laugh and disappeared as if it had never been there at all.

“Wait!” Flews shouted. “Wait! Help me understand the prophecy!”

But the shaman was already gone.

Curiama looked at Flews and shuddered. “We’re going into the forest, aren’t we?” she said, dread coating her tongue.

“You can be sure of that,” Flews said, eyes hard.


As they walked through the greenery, hooves crushing twigs, they realized how decrepit it looked. Trees were losing their vitality, ferns losing their vibrance.

“The plague’s affecting the forest, too,” Flews said softly.

They continued to walk, not entirely sure of what they were looking for. The sky began to darken.

“We can’t be out here when it’s dark,” Curiama said. “You know the legends of the walking trees. And now we know that anything can be true…”

Flews nodded. “Alright, we’ll head back.”

But when they turned around, they found that their tracks were gone.

Curiama let out a little cry of astonishment. “Wh-where did our tracks go? How are we supposed to find our way back?”

“Quiet,” Flews said suddenly.

All around them, the rustling of the trees grew louder.

The branches of the trees around them were twisting, writhing, reaching towards them like snakes.

Flews closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Run.”

They ran as the sky grew darker and eventually they were running blind. They were knocked unconscious as a giant tree root coiled around their bodies.


When Flews and Curiama came to, it was dawn and they were face to face with a menacing but inquisitive looking tree-face.

It scowled at them.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little travelers, running through my forest with reckless abandon,” it said spitefully, with a voice that sounded older and more tired than the earth itself.

“Oh, it has been a long while since I’ve tasted blood – always this water, water, water – you know, I do like a little variety in my meals,” it continued grumpily.

Flews looked at the pink sky, willing the sun to rise. She knew that all she had to do was hold off the tree until sunrise. Just a little stalling, she thought.

“Blood?” she said. “You must be going batty – we don’t have blood in our veins. We’re made up of water. No variety here,” she said quickly.

The tree scowled and narrowed his eyes at her.

“It has been a long while,” the tree pondered, its bark grating against Flews’ coat. “Maybe my memory fails me.”

The tree made to set them down, then changed its mind. It brought Flews close to its eye. “I don’t believe you, little traveler. Prove it to me.”

“I dropped my knife,” she said. “You have to let me down so I can find it and cut myself to show you the water in my veins.”

The tree grumbled. “Why don’t I just smash you and see what color comes splashing out of you when I do so, eh?”

Flews shook her head. “No, that would just make a mess, and you would have to drink the same boring water anyway. Let me down so I can get my knife.”

As the tree set her down and began to grumble about its dry bark, she feigned to search for her knife.

“Come on, come on, come on…” she said, looking at the tiny sliver of sun coming over the hill.

The tree began to get angry and snatched her up, scratching her in the process and making her bleed. “You liar!” it screeched, and bent its arm back to smash her on the forest floor.

Just as its arm went back, the sun peeked over the hill and it froze, groaning as it lost control of its limbs.

Curiama was sniveling in the grasp of a branch near her.

She let out a deep breath and clambered out of the grasps of its branch. She was beginning to climb down when a flicker caught her eye. A small branch, thinner than her arm, was burning.

Suddenly, words of the prophecy came back to her.

“…to combine fire, earth, and water…”

“Curiama!” she yelped, “Help me break this branch off!”


“What now?” Curiama asked, once they were back on the floor. “We’ve got fire, and we’ve got earth, but what about water?”

Flews paused. “Wait. Do you remember the line in the prophecy? ‘To return to the source?’ We know where this thing started.”

“The lake!” they said in unison.


It didn’t take long to get back to their village, though the branch that was miraculously still burning did fetch them some strange looks. They pushed past people, running for the lake.

Curiama cocked back her arm and let the burning branch sail, leaving an arc of fire in the air.

The moment it hit the water, the atmosphere changed.

There was a moment of complete silence, breathlessness, and then they gasped, breathing in pure air.

Above the river, impossibly, danced a ten foot high inferno. Curiama started at the sound of fish jumping in the water. They hugged each other and cheered, and went back to the village to spread the news.


And so it was, the prophecy, that every creature, one and the same, gained back their health in the clean flame.


Credit

Coding, profile, character by Naerina
Overlay by Rathoren and story by User not found: khan
Background equine sketch by renaxxakat

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