A Docent's First Tasks

Messages for the Rangers' Guild
Ilana
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2015 4:22 am
Guild: Rangers

A Docent's First Tasks

Post by Ilana »

“This is for you.” Old Handrug passed a note. It was written on the coaster for the jar of slimy green stench.

A concentric circle sat in the middle of a bright flaming sun, signifying the desert city’s central plaza. Our naive Ranger looked at the note, angling it for its magically animated effect.

“These Ranger markings never make any sense.”

Ilana stepped outside and looked up into the thick canopy, softly whistling for her companion. Leaves rustled as a shower of twigs, down, and a very clumsy eagle crashed onto the walkway.

“Feathers, you're cheaper than a horse, but at least you can fly. Let’s go.”

The adolescent giant eagle stretched its wings and took off, weaving through the canopy of the forest. Never had this ingénue felt so free. Ilana glanced over her shoulder and thought back to those younger days in the city. She looked forward again and put her angry nostalgia out of her mind just in time to miss another redwood. The youth pulled the reigns closer to her body and muttered, “You fly like an errant drunk! If you want to make it to Damius in one piece, you need to try harder.”

The giant eagle stumbled its way out into the Great Northern Road, but picked up its pace as it turned south for the Devardec gates. There, Ilana descended down onto the dusty cobbles of the central plaza and took in her surroundings. A tiger, a gargoyle, and a hippogriff filled out the space in the square as their riders chatted away on top. Another Ranger motioned for her to come over.

Ilana glanced back and forth for Damius, but did not sort him in the crowd. She figured that her mentor just could not make it. Lingering acrimony over her earlier thoughts spilled over as impertinence, “Yes, my Lord. What is it you desire for me?”

“Don’t be silly, Ilana.”

The seasoned Ranger grinned as he pointed his thumb north, “You know what, I have for you a task.”

“Is it ‘die to poison darts’? Because that one would be way too easy.”

“Of course not, it’s something for you to work on, as well as helping you learn your way around.”

Ilana pushed loose strands of her hair back. Green colors surround the brown in her eyes, and garnished her hair in the way of a bow, but was the green peeking out from behind her ears, too?

“Part of being a ranger is being an expert in moving around. We want you to be great at directions, and knowing your surroundings.”

The silver haired ranger pondered over the task for a moment, “Can you manage your ways between the major cities? Let’s go to Tranos. Take your time; don’t rush.”

The docent took a deep breath, smiled, and confidently slid onto her eagle’s back. Her lord spent many a year arranging business on behalf of the Goldcroft miners. Convincing the towns' smiths to use their ores and their tools meant weeks on the back of a cart. The elf smirked as she led on. The two winged creatures flew abreast, weaving low along the road. A lost lamb, a farmer, and a temple whizzed by as the two made their way into the heart of Tranos.

“Like a pro.” Ripshaw grinned, “That was good. It’s tough down the road, but then you go north a thousand measures. Ilana, do you know where Goldcroft is?”

She tried her best to obfuscate the feelings welling up. The corners of her breathy smile twitched as Ilana buried her disdain for this part of the task. He already knew. This old soldier had an awareness that could read the best actors, and he knew.

“Yes, my Lord.”

The pair spun their wings around and flew back through the desert and plains, the longest way to the city on the other side of Norland. As the two rangers made their way into the square, Ilana looked around through the busy throngs of people. She found what she was looking for, a red haired half-elf girl making her way through the small shops. Ilana turned and faced the older ranger, and doing her best to turn her back on the whole convivial affair.

“There. Done. Our grudging allies here in this city.”

The wiser Ripshaw nodded in agreement over the observations. “Ok, that’s two out of three. Do you know where Frostfall is?”

Ilana shook her head, “The Northern Mountains always seemed out of our jurisdiction, so I never wandered up there.”

“Ok, well, Frostfall is a toughy. Let’s start from Tranos' center.”

With the elder ranger leading, the flight took no time at all. The pair sat beneath the opening of the Kobold lair so close to Northern Tranos.

“The guild sometimes uses totems for markings, but more often you'll just have to learn the landmarks already here.”

“Like this ribcage? It’s been here since I was a little girl.”

“And the lonely, old, warrior. Slay him a Deep One, one day. Until then, Frostfall is the long way around the Kobold’s mountain, following the Eastern side. I'll help you, but you have to walk it.”

The pair worked their way up the steep, twisting mountain road, mounts in tow. A goblin here, a snow drift there, and eventually the snow covered peaks yielded their bounty. A rustic, leather covered city sat buried in the snow.

“The Assassins, the Barbarians, and the Temple of Death are all up here. There are hundreds of shortcuts, which you will need to learn on your own. Do you think you could walk from here to Tranos? Devardec?”

Ilana nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

“You’ll make a fine Ranger, yet. I think you'll have to go far.”

Ripshaw grinned at his fatherly pun and pulled on his hippogryph’s reigns. The hippogryph, antsy at having walked its way up the mountain, snapped its beak at the passersby. Its owner brushed his hand over the beak in a quick upbraid, before climbing on top. The hippogryph lowered down one last time on its haunches, ready to take off. POP!

“And… he’s gone. Which way to Devardec again?”
Ilana
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2015 4:22 am
Guild: Rangers

Ogre King

Post by Ilana »

The arrow made a gruesome sound as she plucked it free from the head of the Swamp Hag. This hag, once a proud ranger, now lived insane within the mists of the marsh, losing herself to the wilderness as she fell away from both civilization and reason. The condition of the thing hopefully did not adumbrate the future of all Rangers as they age. The training a Ranger gets in poison is thorough, meanwhile the exposure handling the oozing black tar is just as thorough. Was the risk of being this crazy later on worth the risk of death now?

Ilana lifted up from her crouch in the grass and scanned back and forth across the black-as-pitch water for any others. These pity kills left a sour taste in her mouth, or perhaps it was the tannin floating from the rotting vegetation strewn throughout the Marsh.

"Wasted, this water is ruining all my arrows. Should have treated them when Radiance had offered."

Ilana broke the warped shaft into pieces and threw it into the water. No lay person would be able to tell them apart from all the dead sapling bits floating around. She was trying her best to apply the skills her seniors had taught. Especially on the hunt, it would be embarrassing, if not deadly, to let something else track behind a Ranger.

Tap, tap, tap, "Excuse me."

Ilana spun around and almost lost her footing, her gargoyle skinned glove planting in the blood matted hair of the hag for support. She glanced down at the bloody glove, quickly wiping it off on her leathery skirt. She looked her aggressor in the eye, a battlemage.

"You scared me!"

"Greetings, Ms. Ranger. Ilana, I presume? I am Voderic. I've brought a message from your guildmaster, as a favor for a friend." He continued with the hint of a smirk, "You're so deep in the swamp no one could find you."

Ilana looked down at the elven fighter's sword. Still sheathed. She breathed a sigh of not dying today, then smiled and snickered at her thoughts. Covering her tracks only works when a magician's scry isn't involved. The dark haired elf cleared his throat, "My eyes are up here."

Ilana thought to herself how cheeky this one was! Although, she had better resume her obstinate attitude before he mistook her reticence for lovestruck stupor.

"Where is Damius now?"

"I just have your instructions. You're being sent further out. Seems there's been... something... trampling all over the southern shipping lanes. He wants you to look into it."

Ilana down at his gloved hand, now resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Thank you for ignoring the question, my Lord. I can go my own from here."

Ilana began trudging her way through the bog to the tree where Feathers was resting. No, wait, she began trudging back the other way! Her bladed captor stood right beneath the eagle resting somewhere above in the fog. Voderic grinned and extended a hand and pulled the young ranger out of the muck. She returned the favor with an exaggerated frown. Voderic flashed strange smile, the shape was amicable, but his old blue-grey eyes distant.

"What would it cost to keep you around a bit?"

Voderic came back from his thoughts, "You can't afford it. But consider it already paid up."

Ilana shrugged and went back to pulling Feathers down from the tree. She looked around at the shadowy mist of Moorwaine that made safe flight unlikely. It would be impossible to convince the eagle to carry her out, so walking would be it. The pair, and Voderic, began their stroll out of the marsh.

"So, Ms. Ranger, have you given much thought to your future? What kind of Title do you think you'll be pursuing?"

Did he want to offer his to her? Ilana looked at his loosely freed hair and started walking faster. His steps opened up and Voderic had no trouble keeping up with the shorter elf. His hand reached for her shoulder and pulled, hard. Ilana's foot overhung the huge pit trap waiting outside Nirimloth.

"You have quite the trap sense. You're basically the Platonic Ranger."

Ilana smirked and prodded him in the ribs, "Thank you. But I would like to think that I don't die THAT much. If anything, Obtuse fits better, don't you think?"

"An Obtuse Ranger, and yet also 'a cute' Ranger. I like it."

Ilana turned back to facing the road. It wasn't the flirting that made her uncomfortable so much as was his lack of enthusiasm behind it. He was covering up for his mind being elsewhere. The group eventually happened across an exploded cart, broken pieces thrown all over the side of the road. Ilana looked down at the prints. A mixture of something sliding, something hooved, and something ogre made up the mix of prints.

"Do you see the wool bits in the cart's cages? There were sheep there. What came through here wasn't just animals from Nirimloth. Those were being chased. The sheep are missing, so something was hungry. And no prints from the cart owner."

Voderic peered at the cart, then leaned against the side of the wreck, "Perhaps he was eaten, too."

Ilana looked at him with disgust. Too bad the evidence agreed with him. They worked south from the wreck, following the path of tracks until the air became rancid at the foot of a ruined tower.

"What is that, that stench is terrible? And it's emanating from that hole down there!"

"I expect you'll need a bath later."

"Yae that would be a good idea. Between Moorwaine and what I’m sure is an awfully disgusting creature's hole... HEY!"

Ilana had remembered he had scryed her earlier. She charged straight over to give him smack in those dark locks. Voderic loosed his frog and pushed Ilana to the side with his scabbard. Almost on cue, the floor opened up to another huge pit. The snarky battlemage continued walking right over the pit in his winged shoes.

"Too easy, Ms. Ranger."

Ilana opened her mouth to sass back, but an Ogre thundered in!

Voderic gazed apathetically at the attempt of a challenge, "A guard? This seems the right place!"

The ogre leaped at Voderic, but two arrows found their mark in its back. Voderic only needed a sidestep and the ogre cast itself down into the abyssal pit. The pair peered over the edge and appreciatively whistled in tandem. In this dark dungeon, the pit, the likes had never been seen before, hid massive spikes, which many will probably never really get a good chance to see the likes of.

Voderic bent down and touched Ilanas shoes, imbuing them with the matching tiny wings. They made their way across the spike lined chasm, and straight to a squat steel door. Ilana grabbed the spikes on the door and shook.

"You see, a burglar I am not, and you, not enough muscles. Should we come back with a Warrior to get this door open?"

Voderic put his hand where a handle would have been and pushed, chuckling, "It's unlocked."

"Hey, you cheated, and you didn't even check the door! What if it had been trapped?"

As soon as the door was open, a smell reluctantly worth describing arrived. A putrid mixture of ogre droppings and a rotting pool of blood and bones adorned the floor. Ilana gasped for viable air and waved her hands in front of her face.

"What do they need traps for? This reek should have kept ALL the adventurers away."

Voderic looked up and down, "Oak tree roots on top, pool of blood on bottom. I've known people who'd call this homey. Also, more ogres!"

His sword found home in the gut of another beast. An ogre leapt over the first with his club and brought it down towards Voderic's head. The battlemage sat down, tilting his sword in the first ogre and used him as a shield. An arrow whizzed by and stuck square in the chest of the second attacker. Voderic pressed the two ogres off of him and flexed mightily.

"Not enough muscles, Ms. Ranger?"

Ilana rolled her eyes and walked over, toeing the edge of pool. With Voderic's sword recovered, the pair buzzed their way across the room, winged shoes struggling away from the bloody mess of a floor. They methodically emptied the rooms, the ogres fattening as they progressed deeper. At one point, Voderic leaned into a doorway, took one look around, and then slammed it shut.

"How awful is it?" asked our naive Ranger.

"They weren't sheep in the cart. They were children, in wool clothing."

Ilana's heart sank to the floor. She didn't have to look through the door to know why Damius wanted this taken care of in lieu of extra aid for the defense of Tranos. Aside the portcullis, all the other doors had been wooden. Voderic continued sliding his hand along the wall and motioned at his find, another steel door.

"Ready, Ms. Ranger? This is it."

Voderic pushed gently at the door, and it slid open. A deep ruckus roared through the opening alongside the guards and slime hiding in the room beyond. At first, the guards looked to overwhelm the invaders. However, none of the brutal club swinging found its mark, with Voderic and Ilana's expert footwork dancing away from the strokes. Instead death was inflicted commensurate with the ogre's crimes in a blur of arrows and steel. Ilana shoved an arrow into one guard's chest, pulled it out and shot it into another. Voderic's steel moved on its own, two here, and two more there. As the last ogre-guard fell, a hulking figure began to stand from his throne.

Its deep, grating voice meant to begin something unintelligible in ogrish, but Ilana interrupted, "SIT. DOWN!"

Ilana marched straight at the rising King, making him take an arrow to the knee. The hulking beast growled in pain as it stumbled back into its throne. With no more words spoken, Ilana dashed straight in, driving the arrow further through the limb. The now flailing ogre tried to clutch the Ranger as she broke the front half of the arrow off, stepped up the remaining shaft, and climbed onto his chest before stabbing the poisoned arrowhead into his neck. It struggled, grasping for anything it could, be it Ranger or air. The ogre grappled at her shoulders, but as the fire built within Ilana as she tightened her choke, driving the arrowhead deeper into flesh.

Eventually the fury and bloodlust had left her like the fight in the Ogre King's body exhausted. Ilana pulled the broken arrow to the floor in disgust. It was neither the the awful taste of blood in the air, nor was it the especially killings that normally made her nauseous. Ilana found disgust in the apathy she had towards the lack of compassion she found during this battle. Perhaps the Ranger was finally getting used to killing, with pity or not. Or more likely, that poison is finally working on her, too.

The quiet click of a sword resheathed brought her back from the breathy silence.

"Are you ok, Ilana?"

Ilana walked back and weakly pressed the previous door open. She looked into the room and saw into her past. Bodies of people hung up, all dead to her, the same hanging and flaying as punishments for the slaves that failed her father. She was taught to put on the facade of appearances, but her 'brothers' and 'sisters' were all raised in that fearful, tortuous environment called home. One of the bodies dressed in maid's clothing, her mother. Her mother had been broken in spirit, given in to the capitivity both on and off the bed.

A flash of white light brought Ilana's focus back on the awfully kept hair. Ilana looked down at the tar-like poison smeared away from the cut in her hand.

"I think you stuck yourself back there. Thought I would have to start digging a grave."

Voderic chanted something and pressed a blinding white light into Ilana's body. Ilana eventually made it to her, the lady in her redoubling the effort to compose herself. She quickly dismissed her anger, and mistrust, at her new friend over what else she thought he could have pressed while she was unconscious.

"Your help was much appreciated, my Lord. As the problem is resolved, I believe you are discharged from me. I have a report to write."

Voderic grinned and bowed, "As you wish, Ms. Ranger Lady."

She would be feeling sore the next day, but at least that could happen in her bed.
Ilana
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2015 4:22 am
Guild: Rangers

End of a New Beginning

Post by Ilana »

A dress! "A dress and boots," were the words on the tip of her irreverent tongue.

Dresses were the least of what she felt she needed to discard to escape the captivity of her prior life. With the primitivity of the leather and fur she had clad herself in, the other word that sprang to mind was indecency. Damius' instructions, however, were comprehensive and absolute. Tradition dictated a respite from society's many obligations in order to firstly attempt, then present a report of, a Ranger's deepest link to the forest. Such was the obvious sentiment Ilana had gleaned from her task within the two days after the meeting in Damius' office.

"In the forest, just your bow. You are to talk to nobody. Instead, take in the forest; listen to it, feel it." In emphasis, Damius threw a nut to guide a scurrying fuzzy thing away from Ilana's careless feet. The squirrel angrily darted away into the rest of the Great Redwood as it contemplated the nearly visible end of its rodent life.

"You can only use things that you do yourself. Your own spells, your own enchants. Getting in tune with yourself will help you trust in yourself. I speak from my experience, which was me naked with a spear."

Ilana attempted to contain a smirk that instead escaped as a giggle. Her thoughts wandered:

A youthful Guild Master
regaled with bear and boar
naught but a spear, his hair, their fur
entertained and inspired a girl.

What her father would have done if he caught her in the same fashion anywhere but behind a changing curtain! She would have been demoted from a ward to the mines with the rest of his slaves.

Damius stamped a seal into one of the scrolls prepared on his desk, bringing Ilana's attention back. "You can do it however you wish, but just the simplest you can be. No bracelets, necklaces, or rings."

Ilana's fingers played with her guild ring strung on the Archer's Necklace hanging low on her neck.

"But my Lord, A lady without her jewelry?"

"As primal as can be."

Capitulating, Ilana slipped the necklace off and into a pouch. She supposed that if someone would be to wander by a dead, stark body, it would be better that none could attribute the ineptitude of combat to any particular guild. But why even bother, for the choice of nothing else but webbed bow would give it away. She shrugged. At the very least, a Period of Solitude would allow her some time to sort through herself.

"It will be an enlightening experience. I believe that you are up for the challenge."

There was another stamp for another scroll.

"Also, the importance of this task is explicit. Under no circumstance, desire, or even mistake, are you to leave the wilderness. That being said, should the Khatarans resurface, what you should do is difficult to say. But I would say personally, should they enter the forest..."

And another stamp.

"They are at your mercy."

The messages completed, Damius bundled up the scrolls and offered them to an owl much too small to struggle the abundance of notices to their respective places. Ilana looked at the little white bird, then to Damius.

"Understood, my Lord."

Damius scratched his feather quill across a scrap of parchment. It looked like a reminder for his Docent of her objective, perhaps even words of encouragement.

"Upon completion, I will graduate you from your discipleship. You will receive your title and your Ironwood Bow," he grinned.

"And it will be Damius, please. We're all Rangers here."

Ilana's lips curled to a quiet smile to complement her mentor's grin. She would achieve final acceptance into the guild.

"May I have your leave then, my Lord... Damius?"

With a playful grimace Damius shooed the owl on its way.
Ilana
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2015 4:22 am
Guild: Rangers

Alcohol is a Killer

Post by Ilana »

100 days had come and gone. She had been away for weeks. Black clouds billowed above like the coal smoke of the refineries in the city below, covering the moon in shadow, darkening the earth below. Ilana's eyes adjusted to the darkness, squinting into the glare of the city's lights below. Men had enhanced their ability to tame the land by sacrificing the moon's natural beauty; their city's burning lights twinkled all the brighter to drown the moon's reflection. Her eyes followed the line between Dirimloth and the walls of Goldcroft, a line that continued until she was looking down into the little phial. The liquid inside reflected the moon like serene waters, but smelled of turbulent fire. Ilana held her nose and sipped.

One sip. Two sips. Three sips.

She wasn't a wizard, but none-the-less blew out dragon flames. She drew another breath with the lukewarm air as she ruminated. She wondered if the guild had decided what it wanted to do with Tranos. She wondered over her acceptance of Damius' suggestion and being away from the smorgasbord of brothers and sisters called Rangers. She wondered if Damius ever caught up on the paperwork. She wondered if the trusts offered any interest on money they stored. She'd been away for weeks already. 100 days was a long time.

Ilana leaned back against the rock she had worked into a chair. She felt most Rangers would have spent their time in the forest as transients, always moving to prevent ambush, for the dangers were as common as the trees. But she preferred to use the forest as the animals did, camping in little hides here and there. Her improvised comforts contrasted the great barons of construction, who continued their expansion into and onto the land. Ilana remembered her years of wild adolescence teaching her that the forest not only offered an adventure not yet experienced, but also a shelter from all the ghosts of the past. In 30 days, she had at tried the traditional Ranger route, wandering and mapping the forest, plains, and rivers. In 60 days it was beaches, and mountains, and caves. But as the season drew to a close, so did her circumnavigation of Terris. It had brought her back to the city where she had begun her adventure many years ago.

She never drank, but still Ilana held up the nearly empty phial. She peered through the glass, down at the walls Goldcroft had built around itself, walls made of stones lubricated during carving by the sweat, blood and tears of people long forgotten. Guards stationed at the wall drank and horse-played irreverently to pass the time, the citizens they were policing having grown docile in the city's successes. They were all magicians, trained by their lord in the art of illusion. They were all warriors, trained by their lord in the art of emotional discipline. They were all thieves, trained by their lord to value gold so highly they named their city after it. And they were all counterfeiters, having falsified to outsiders the true value they placed on the principles of humanity. They could meet each other, love and marry each other, toil their whole lives, yet die never having understood their dispirited situation. They wore their prosperity like masks.

The city was emotionally dead.

The years the waif had spent in the slower pace outside the city had softened her, softened the porcelain mask she had been born wearing. She wanted to remove it, here in the solitude. She could grasp the intangible; her fingers grabbed the facade. Rather, that was just her face, the one she could just now start feeling again. The tingling felt like a line of ants were carrying their trophies back to their nest while her nose was in the way.

"How are these ants different from the murderous mutants in the gigantic ant nest of the Wildlands?" Ilana pondered, "It's only because of their size that people address them."

The Ranger almost couldn't feel the wet blue orbs that slithered down her freckled ivory complexion. Size. Her years determined the diminutive size that had kept her in the cage she lived in. The columns in front of the mansion stood like prison bars of emotional fraud that 'call-me-father' had jailed over her face. Hers was a mask she'd taken far too many years to never really grow out from. Her mother would simply ignore what Master would do. Ilana decided that resented them both: her elven mother for acquiescing so easily to their debtors' enslavement, and her human 'father' for the evil he forced so vehemently on her mother.

Ilana began to shiver. This year, Longing was exceptionally warm. And yet she shivered worse than she ever had. She pulled the corners of her Elven cloak over her shoulders, looking at the jeweled beetle making its way on its own journey up the edge of the material. She sighed deeply and chastised herself. Solitude had dragged her into the prison she'd sought to escape. She really should get on with it; sitting here would only keep her thoughts wandering. From this angle, the way Goldcroft spilled out from between the mountains and the forest looked the same as an old wound re-opened. She was ambivalent. She still hadn't decided how culpable her step-brother was in all of this. They were all raised under the villainy of the estate, yet is the child really the father to the man? Could he have chosen not to act the like the human mongrel he was?

Her father had only plundered her mother, but that beast had tried to seize them both from his father.

The last of the alcoholic potion was no longer tenacious in its fight against emotion; Ilana could taste the metallic memory of blood in her mouth. "No," she decided, "He owes more than just a middle finger."
Ilana
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2015 4:22 am
Guild: Rangers

Tending Garden/Letter of Declination

Post by Ilana »

Her task nearly complete, Ilana proceeded to the objective afore last. She intended to track down a pigeoner around the square to get a message to the guild.

The letter was left square on Damius' desk. It was folded neatly, and bore no wax to seal it.

Smears of blood further mar the obviously shaky handwriting.

To Damius:

I feel that I have come of age upon finishing my period. I thank you for encouraging me into choosing to spend some time away. My lessons in the guild so far have taught me how to camouflage not only my person, but my feelings as well. To me, professionalism in the guild is paramount. The risk of siege unto the land, whether it be Tranos or Dirimloth, is great. So I have resolved to assimilate the militarism that keeps our guild working. I am truly excited to give you this request to end this Period of Solitude and return to the flock. You are more than a shepherd; you have been a dissimilar, peerless, and unrivaled father-like figure.

I have arrived at this conclusion only after spending some time in deep thought. Everyone has scars, and this time alone has allowed my deepest wounds to blossom. Rehabilitating this pain is what drove me through my path of actions, culminating in this report to you. I am embarrassed to admit, this is the fourth time I am rewriting it. These bloody hands refuse to leave my ink legible.

It is with a GRAVE regret that I wish to decline the title. A large part of me was only recently satiated with the situation of my past. I didn't want to leave it where it stood. I took it upon myself to bury my problems, deeply. Perhaps the forest will find a better use for my past.

As per your instructions, I am writing my observations into the significance of the tradition behind Solitude. In itself, the tradition is out of context. I interpreted your instruction not only literally, but allegorically, too:

Bare Naked- A Ranger as nude as natural modesty can hide no scars. The past is no longer hidden behind the regalia of a Ranger's societal network.
In the Forest- The wilderness is alive and difficult, as is a Ranger's life full of challenges not yet discovered.
On Your Own- Each Ranger has a unique past, but an even more unique future. One must learn to stand and deal with their problems independently before expecting interdependence with the guild.
For a Time- ALL scars heal with time, many of the trees I observed bore evidence of just that.
For a Title- Ironwood is a term representative of the greatest of trees. The hardness of the tree keeps it alive through many tribulations. Its has a nearly immortal lifespan.

Thusly the lesson that the period of solitude may teach is that a Ranger's actions will reflect the person a Ranger should be. Strong, and constant, a true Ironwood Ranger needs to find strength in their duty, regardless of the inclement weathers of life. All of this again irrespective of the scars of one's personal tree.

Send for me. I will see you at your desk.

Gratefully,
-Ilana Bellamont

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