Version 2.0
In the quiet confines of his solar, Brandon sat at his desk. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm rays upon the polished wood. Seated across from him was Hawthorn.
"Hawthorn, it is good to see you again," Brandon said, looking upon the more refined Hawthorn that he has seen so long ago now, no longer the lost child of the forest. "It seems we only meet in bad and difficult times," Brandon said smiling sadly.
"Seems to be that way, But I do not regret my war, Aloe must be stopped, and I will be the one to do it." Hawthorn declared.
"That we can agree on, his monsters are already starting to become a massive danger to the North, there are constant reports of werewolves attacking traders, ghouls roaming past battlefield looking for scraps or hunting any left behind, Isdråk are appearing in more numbers, especially in hills and mountains," Brandon said shaking his head.
"And Ice spiders have started to move into the forest as well, we tracked and killed a nest of them that had moved in. And I have no doubt that Aloe is working on more of his creations as we speak which is why I have come for your help Brandon. The fact that Aloe personally came and raided the grove and only took supplies for rituals worries me greatly. We need to track him down and stop him. Elder Oak will take care of the grove whilst we will take care of Aloe."
"Sounds like a plan, I'll gather a team of my men for that task, we can move out tomorrow," Brandon said.
"Good, I have Aloe's trail so I can lead us to him." He said a smile on his face.
/
Gathered at the edge of the dense forest, Brandon stood flanked by his men, Edric, Lyanna, Halvar, and Theon leading some of the King's guard. Jon and Jocelyn, along with Alys and Ben, would remain behind to safeguard the kingdom and attend to their duties.
With Hawthorn as their guide, the group ventured forth into the heart of the forest, with towering trees that looked vastly healthier than when they were kids, with bright green and orange leaves and vastly expanding networks of branches, that allowed the sunlight to peep through. The shafts of golden light, basked them in the light that warmed their skin sending a comforting warmth through them.
As they pressed deeper into the forest, the air grew thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, while the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls filled. Wild deer, dire wolves' squirrels, and all manner of creatures had started to repopulate the forests again.
Guided by Hawthorn, the group followed the winding path through the forest, over roots and under branches they ducked and weaved through the dense forest heading further and further into the heart of it.
They travelled far reaching the other sides of the forest and as they neared the edge of the forest, the landscape began to give way to rugged terrain and jagged cliffs that rose steeply towards the sky. Here, amidst the rugged beauty of the under mountains, they followed Aloe's trail, for he seemed not to care to hide his tracks now leaving a trail of marks.
With their footsteps echoing through the cliffs, they finally arrived at Aloe's lair—a secluded clearing nestled within the heart of the valley, where a solitary heart tree stood sentinel amidst a sea of lush greenery.
They gazed upon the ancient tree, its gnarled branches reaching skyward like a drowning man's grasping fingers, curled and withered as it reached ever higher, grasping and writhing. And like always Aloe stood before the tree his ritual strung about him like a child surrounded by their toys.
But Aloe seemed mad, gone were any lasting gentle features, replaced by his twisted visage. Tattered remnants of plant material or clothing clung to his emaciated frame, handing loose, eager to fall off him and return to the ground. Thorny protrusions jutted from all of his skin like jagged spears, now imbedded further into his skin running up his arms and legs like a pubic hair of pain.
His eyes, burned with a feverish hunger, betraying the remnants of his dwindling sanity. Long strands of wiry hair, tangled and matted with filth, framed his gaunt face like the tendrils of some foul parasite. And in place of his missing hand, a grotesque and twisted amalgamation of flesh and ice, a severed head of an ice spider mixed into his flesh.
"Oh, good, good, you have come, yes," Aloe exclaimed, his eyes twinkling as he darted around the clearing, flinging his body around his experiment.
"This is the end, Aloe; you can never win. Stop this madness; it is accomplishing nothing but bringing death and harm to the North," Brandon implored, his voice tinged with urgency, while the rest of the team quickly moved to position themselves strategically around the area.
"Win, win, no, never. Monsters, creatures, yes, they win, and we all lose. Hunt, kill, track, find, rip, tear, feast, hunger, yes, yes—all good things for the betterment of them all," Aloe rambled disjointedly, his movements erratic and unsettling.
"What have you done?" Hawthorn interjected. "What has happened to you, Aloe? You're completely... flayed."
"Change, yes, good, works better, faster. Allows creations to come to life faster, fill the world, hunt, kill, track humans, never give them a moment's rest, always chasing, always hunting, never giving up, always after you," Aloe responded, his gaze fixated on Hawthorn with a disturbing intensity. "Always watching, always killing, always bringing death. Yes, yes good. Humans will always watch their backs, only to be attacked from the front. Hehe," he cackled, rubbing his arms gleefully. "My great creation for you all."
"You are crazy, Aloe. Enough of this, your evil machinations end here," Hawthorn declared, as the team advanced to confront Aloe.
"No, no, Evil, evil only when on the losing side. Rituals are good for the winning side; you know all about that, Hawthorn. You banish life, and I bring it forth. So, behold," Aloe proclaimed, delicately placing a single rose on his ritual altar just as arrows flew through the sky, striking him directly. However, Aloe showed no signs of pain, only great reverence for his creation.
From the ground, roots surge forward and start to conjugate, they twist and turn as they start to form into a form resembling a deer. From the ground earth and rock start to vibrate as they run up the lengths of the root and sink into the form of the creature.
"Come my Drif," Aloe says as he looks upon his creature in wonder whilst the party stares in wonder and horror. As it fully forms it lets out a bellow of a call, straight from the gut as it sounds out as more of the creatures start to form, as the ritual continues.
The Drif stood tall and imposing, its massive form towering over even the tallest of humans, seeing all for what they were worth.
The creature's bulky, muscular frame exuded raw power. Swathed in a coat of fur as white as snow, it seemed impervious to the biting wind that was whipping around the grove as the ritual continued, its thick fur providing insulation against the harsh elements.
With each step, Drif's powerful limbs, adorned with claws as sharp as icicles, left deep impressions in the ground. Atop its head were antlers as sharp as the winter winds, crafted from bone and gleaming in the pale light.
But as Aloe goes to goad Brandon and co about his creation the Drif attacks him as it calls out again, slashing him across the chest. Again he did not try out. Taken aback, not used to his creations attacking him, Aloe falls to the ground as he scampers away from the now growing heard of Drif.