Of Realms and Relics

A Hero is Born

Three hundred and forty years ago.
Skritch raced through the forest. Needles, like wooden splinters, sailed past him as he ducked.
It sure was easier to run in his natural realm, in his natural body.

In the realm of Vale, he was always some weird mutated version of a bird. Not to say he wasn't a bird, because he was. He was a Cracow. A human version of a bird. Beak and all. Sleek and black, but he had just used the Orb of Life to cross realms and bring a human baby to the Nature realm. He needed to run.

A vine wrapped around his feathered leg and pulled. He spun off balance and crashed to the forest floor. He kept his winged arms crossed to his chest, holding the swaddled baby close to him. Rolling to a stop, the vine shot towards him again. Skritch kicked it away and drew a sign in the air.

He extended his almost human hand and a ball of fire took shape, as wilted plants began crawling towards him. One exploded into a hail of wooden needles. Skritch pushed the ball in front of him and closed his fist. A wall of fire materialized as he scrambled to his feet.

He quickly inspected the baby and took off running again, looking over his shoulder periodically. The war against the Wilted had lasted too long. So many of his kind had died, as Shathari had released the plague of the wilted into this realm in his last moments before being banished. In the spirit realm he had trapped souls, but no one knew why. In the shadow realm he had created lurking creatures that attacked after spending too long in the shadows. Skritch needed to find a way to end all of this. This baby, Pallando, bore the mark of Cor. A small crescent moon shaped birthmark behind his left ear. He knew this was the sign he was waiting for.

He raced along the forest, constantly checking behind him. The wilted were mutated plant like creatures that poisoned all plant life around them and turned them into other wilted. Zombie plants...what a ridiculous thing.

A vine fell in front of him, hanging from a low tree limb. He dodged as it swung, narrowly avoiding its thorns. One prick could result in paralysis, and then it was lights out for you. No fighting back, just watching helplessly as the vines suffocated you and pricked you with their poison needles over and over.

There, he could see his home in the distance just passed the growth of cherry pines and bright orange fire maples. His kind lived in the trees, which they had adapted to avoid the withered. As they were mostly ground dwelling things.

He checked Pallando again, "Not long little one. My kind will show you the ways and build you into the greatest wizard known to this dimension."

Pallando looked up into Skritch's face and softly cooed as he reached up and touched his beak.
Such an innocent and soft thing, but he was sure this was one of the pieces to the puzzle Cor had left for them to discover. Shathari surely could not be banished for all of eternity.

A snap of wood shook Skritch from his thoughts. To his left a massive Withered had erupted through the forest. A Fairy Poplar with gnarled branches and razor sharp bark. It moved faster than any he had seen before.

They must've sensed what he had done and who he had brought with him. They normally wouldn't attack in such force. He forced himself to run faster, his lungs burning. Movement caught his eye from his peripheral to the right. He stumbled over a dip in the ground and lost his balance. He tried to roll with the fall but it was too unexpected and he sprawled and crashed. Pallando, rolling from his grip began crying.

He snuck a glance at the corrupted poplar tree.
Gods! It was almost on top of him. He traced another symbol in the air and raised his hands, palms up. The ground shook in front of him as the forest floor rose into an earthen wall. He turned back to Pallando to scoop him back up.