Lord of the Forrest

The Meeting at Marivelle's Grove

Running up through the circle of participants of the rite of spring, the maiden, completely nude and absolutely beautiful was a site to behold.  None who saw her were left unmoved by the power of her raw beauty heavy with magic.  Now, as fast as a leopard, she dashed through the the circle and stopped abruptly in front of the druid who had been leading the rites.

Barely even breathing heavy after her run, her eyes found those of the druid. She smiled a playful smile at him and slowly lowered herself to the ground before him reclining back onto her elbows. She giggled ever so softly while looking up at him coyly from beneath her brow. Licking her lips and raising an eyebrow, she let the toe of one delicate foot slide exquisitely along the length of the opposing thigh and back again. Finally the seductress beamed a smile that could have lit up a room, flipped her hair across her face hiding an eye and slowly, seductively and brazenly spread her legs for him.

Several in the crowd gasped at such raw sexual power. A few chuckles were heard also. There was absolutely no denying the tangible pull of her (or his, depending on the observer's persuasion) powerful spell of passionate lust on any who saw her.  Tugging at them, pushing them, the scene enticed them with a delicate madness to rush over and take her with abandon and, although the spell inflamed the observer to consume her and themselves be consumed by the flames, those around the circle were not so ensorcelled.

Looking down upon this embodiment of seduction from mere feet away, the druid’s eyes left those of the maiden as he allowed his senses to drift down to drink in the perfection of her form, its flavor, its aroma. Shaking his head ever so slightly, his eyes again met hers. “You know I can’t do that, you naughty little fox.” He said with a wry smile.

There was a smattering of laughter and light applause among the congregation and the spell was broken. The maiden laughed again, whirled and was up on her feet. In two powerful strides she covered the distance between herself and the alter. Without pause and in a single motion she stepped up, placed the toes of one foot on the edge of the alter and thrust herself powerfully like an arrow into the night air.

The length of her body stretched out showing the perfection of both curves and muscle, and she seemed to sail through the air in slow motion. With a sudden flash and loud pop she shapechanged into a large, white owl and flew off into the shadows of the trees. Marking the spot of her startling transformation in the air a handful of soft, white feathers slowly spun their way to the ground.

The circle of congregants cheered and applauded at the spectacle and shouted, “Merivelle has returned to us! Hooray! Merivelle is here!” and “The King of Aradia has returned!”. To this the druid gave a playful, overly dramatic bow and smiled; beaming affectionately at them all as many began to approach him.

Seeing them approach him like happy children filled his heart with compassion and brought tears to the old druid's eyes. Raising his arms in affectionate response and anticipation he invited their embraces and yet, just before being completely encircled by friends and adorers, he managed to peek over at the southern end of the circle. Yes...good. The strangers had joined the circle. He had been a bit worried upon seeing 'the reason for his return' chasing the mischievous spirits attracted to the magic of the fertility ritual.

Any practitioner of magic knows that any ritual can attract curious spirits. This circle of practitioners was protected from such mischievousness by the cast circle and it's glowing wards at the four cardinal points. Casting a circle prior to ritual is pretty common but most here are knowledgeable enough to know those spirits for what they are and not be taken by their tricks. Not so these naive ones.

"They're very inexperienced." he thought as his view was blocked by the attendees. "This innocence must be the reason She has chosen them. Mother of Erde. I see your wisdom."

Assured of the well being of this party of strangers, Merivelle began embracing the multitude of attendees, many of them old friends, and received their calls of warm welcome. Many brought gifts which, with many apologies, he told them he could not accept. To which, of course, came distressed faces and the inevitable questions.

"Oh, come now." One of his Elven friends of years past countered. "Why can't you accept our gifts, Merivelle? We are so happy and so blessed by the goddess for your return.." And, though the druid hated to do so, he had to explain that he would only be here for a very short time and then things must go back to how the Goddess wilt them to be. The order of Nature must be kept.

As Merivelle feared when those around him heard this a cry of despair rose up from all of them in the realization that this wonderful person whom had been taken from them once long ago would now be taken once again. Several in their great sadness clutched at him as though, by sheer will and physical strength, they would not let this happen.

Freylin, one of the priestesses of the old grove and consort of his so long ago pleaded, her face buried in his robes, "No..! No, Merivelle. Stay with us! Please don't go back." A tall and able bodied yet very old man reasoned, "Merivelle we can have sacrifices in your place. A hundred bulls. A thousand fine bulls! So, you see? You don't have to go... Merivele?" And another elf of the city of Aradia argued, "Please don't leave again. Aradia needs you. Erda needs you!" And there was heavy weeping a

mong the now even larger group surrounding him.

Quickly, Merivelle did accept one lone gift brought to him by Lyra Merilwen, an elven princess of Aradia who had only just returned to Aradia having cut short a long journey of diplomacy to attend the evening's rites. The princess returned to him his old, long coat, rich and shining with forest colors which she had taken at his passing of the veil and had kept preserved in his honor for these many years. This gift alone was accepted but it was only on condition that she would take it back at his departure. Wearing his beautiful old coat of brilliant greens, maroons, red ochre, autumn gold and yellow as he had done for many of his final years brought joy to many who had known him well.

Going to each and everyone of them, he hugged them and kissed their cheeks. There were even a few to whom he gave a new name from the goddess herself. And, though they called Merivelle's name again and again in a vain attempt for him to "Listen, Merivelle... Merivelle... Wait a minute... Be reasonable, Merivelle... Merivelle, don't leave us again... Please… Merivelle...", it slowly became clear to them that this was beyond his control...and theirs.

Although touched deeply himself the old druid managed to hold back his own tears and through a persistent smile and much laying on of hands was able to console many of them. Slowly their smiles returned even as they daubed at tears. Yet, there were still a handful who were just too distraught. These were lead with great affection into the druid's home that rested embraced in the arms of the fantastically huge yew tree that dominated the grove and were made as comfortable as possible.

Following them in were many friends and comrades of theirs who brought them food and drink from the feast which was quickly growing outside. Eventually, even these came to realize and understand the will of the Goddess and the short and sweet mission of the great druid of Aradia. In the process, they were fortunate in that they would be allowed a night and a final rite of spring with Merivelle, the favored servant of Gaea.

Outside, the friends, loved ones, pupils and followers of the druidic order were beginning to fire up the forest spirits and bring them in close for a true woodland bash of epic, magical proportions and the five guests, never having been exposed to a feast of this nature, were in for a wild ride indeed.