The Modryn Return

Arlos Darkleaf’s Tree-like features cracked with what might have resembled a smile, “So you cling to your old life and old name?Good, good. You will need that determination in the coming days.” His deep voice booming and echoing around the glade.
Arthyr stood and realised how different he felt; lighter, stronger and there was something else, a power deep within which pulsed through his body. He looked up to Arlas, “What, what has happened to me? Where am I?” He stuttered.

The Treeman turned and started to walk away, “An old friend is on the way, he will explain. As for me, I have other places to be and others to attend to.” And with that Arlos vanished into the woods as if he had never been there. Arthyr stood in the middle of the glade stunned, he looked around trying to determine where he was but no matter where he looked he could not tell. The sky was shrouded from him by the overhanging trees, and the woods that surrounded him seemed to continue to shift and change each time he looked carefully at them.

Bright white light spread out of the gateway and into the glade. Then through the gateway came a figure carrying an odd looking staff. Arthyr cocked his head, another memory sparked in his mind, he knew this being, an Aelf, old far beyond his appearance.
“Arthyr, it is good to see you. You’re new form is formidable.” Chuckled the Aelf, “You look unsure, it is to be expected. I am Dayga, Spellweaver of Spiteshade Vale. I am here to guide you and help explain what has happened.” Arthyr nodded, the memory became clearer. “Dayga, I, I, remember you. Thank you for coming. I have many questions, but what happened to me?” Dayga smiled and sat down cross-legged and placed his staff across his legs.

“Arthyr, you died. Glasznik and his beast extinguished your life. However, somehow, Kurnoth and Alarielle saved your soul before it was lost to Slaanesh. Your soul was kept safe in one of the hidden soul pods. Where Kurnoth has kept a watchful eye over you, granting you the gift of your new life.” Dayga said as he pointed at Arthyr. “You have been awoken. A quest has been bestowed to you and your kin, the Tower of the Eternal Wood has been claimed by the Bad Moon, and you shall take it back.” Arthyr nodded, it made sense now. The shattered memories, the otherworldly power he could feel pulsing throughout him; he stepped towards Dayga, “Where to now then old friend?”
“First to Spiteshade Vale to collect your weapons and your brother!” Replied Dayga as he stood and returned to the glowing gateway through which he had entered the glade.

Rebirth

Pain, dull echoing pain thrummed across Arthyr’s body, he recalled seeing the giant red Squig bite down on him almost swallowing him whole and then shaking him like a rag before he everything went dark. Now as consciousness returned the pain was everywhere, he managed to open one eye to see he was in the grasp of a giant bird of prey, glowing with the power of Ghyran. Atop the bird carrying him sat an Aelf, glowing with the same power, as if life was emanating from deep within them. The Aelf turned his head and looked down at Arthyr, “Rest brother, you have fought well.” Arthyr gasped and pain wracked his body again, it can’t be he thought!? “Aias?” He whimpered through broken and bloody lips. “I once was, but your brother still, yes.” Replied the Aelf.
Arthyr shifted his focus to the clouds above, they swam by quickly, bathed in faint green light while the sky above darkened before all went dark again and consciousness left him.

There in the darkness the pain started to fall away, peace started to blanket him, he could hear a strange song off in the distance and smell flowers and spring rain. Vibrant, clean green light enveloped him as the pain finally left him. Where am I he thought as he drifted further into the peace and serenity of this place. The music got louder, and the smell of flowers and rain got stronger. Who am I? The question shocked him as he realised he could not remember who he was, he searched inside for something, Stornos, Tal Stornos, Spiteshade. These words floated in his mind as he tried to remember. “Wake my son, wake up Lord of Spiteshade.” A dry rough voice called out, disrupting his peace. He forced his eyes open, at first all he could see was green, dark green, as he focussed he realised it was the a thick forest canopy stretching out far, far above him. He turned his head to where the voice had come from and there stood an old bearded Treeman, it was kneeling and bending over him. It’s eyes glowed with a bright blue light, while its wooded body, was a dark mossy green, a bright blue spirit hawk sat on its shoulder. “Where, where am I?”
“You are home my son.” Replied the Treeman. “We are deep inside Spiteshade Vale.”
“Spiteshade, Stornos, what...?” He replied.
The Treeman picked him up and cradled him in his arms, “ You were once a Prince, Arthyr Stornos, Scion of Tal Stornos and Lord of Spiteshade. I was once called Arlas, Lord of Tal Stornos, but my Queen now calls me Arlos Darkleaf, and you are reborn, reborn as the living remnant of Tal Stornos and the Modryn clan. Now rise and tell me who you are.” Demanded Arlos Darkleaf.
“I am, I am Arthyr Stornos!”Replied Arthyr.