CHPT 303: Claude Grey, First of Few, Last of Many.....

Monday Morning, December 3rd, 2240. Ursula's awakening grows near...

The Ancient Oak Ritual had been completed. Another of it's kind had been born. Both another of the Ancients, and another of it's Knower. A Knower of the Oak....

When they're first born they know little. They have only just sprouted, like a seed after a warm spring shower. They have no idea of the power they've been connected to, no idea of their Crest, no idea of their division within Druidry...and even less about the history of their kind in the New World. It all comes in time. Growth comes to all that is natural, in time.

Claude was really no different...

Well, maybe that was a lie.

In many aspects his birth into Druidry was very different. Very unorthodox on many fronts. But, just like the rest, he lacked that foundation of knowledge and understanding-- the very thing one gains from their Teacher. The way they'll learn of their Crest, their Division, their connection.

And like all the ones birthed before him, he had questions. The first question that came to mind-- the easiest...and the wildest difference in his awakening.

"Rollan, what is a Lunar Druid?"

The man hadn't smiled since.

His hazy mask of drunkness that put him in a friendly state of tranquility vanished. Cold anger was all that remained, bursting to the surface in a way it had done very few times before. The only difference was, this time it stayed.

Claude had to go to sleep with no answers that night. Sleep, it seemed like such an impossible task. An unwanted destination since the possibility of waking up in the Astral Realm was always present. It didn't feel right to engage in an entirely different journey when a new one had only just been introduced.

Maybe he was overthinking it. Either way, sleep found him. And just like the previous night, the nightmares haunted him in a new way.

When his eyes finally closed, he was subjected to witnessing things that seemed to be picked out by the God of Wolves himself-- following his warped and world ending agenda and what part he planned for Claude to play within it. And just like last time, when he woke and tried to recall upon the nightmare, the metaphorical lines that split him and Fenrir had blended and faded so aggressively that he couldn't tell the difference....

he didn't know when he was looking into the eyes of himself, and when he was looking into the eyes of Fenrir.

If his usual nightmares of the nasty feminine voice calling him and someone else weak was enough to motivate him into hardcore exercise, then the new nightmares he'd been having were enough to make him feel the need to best an army of foul and mindless monsters alone.

He settled for exercise anyway. During that time, the thoughts of what transpired on the previous night never strayed too far from his thoughts, he could still hear Rollan muttering curses and other unintelligible French words while he ran through the forest and worked to pump his muscles until they exploded.

That's how most of the day went....

Eating. Training in physical combat and Druidry, worrying about Ursula and the bird, rinse and repeat.

By the time the sun began to set behind the trees in the distance and the afternoon washed over them in a shower of snow and cold winds, he was tired of waiting. Rollan was given his space. Now he required answers once again.

***

The grass felt good under his feet. The light snowfall felt even better on his shoulders as they rose and fell with each deep breath. If it was any colder, he'd be steaming from the amount of spear work he'd just completed. One day, the beautifully simple weapon would feel like an extension of his limbs. Not today though, he had other plans currently.

Plans that were inches from unfolding as he crossed the field splitting the dense woodland from the tree house. On his way, the many heads placed in liquid filled jars in the canopy above seemed to view him in a new light-- as if Rollan's own reaction was a shared experience.

"Fuck off." He growled with his eyes pinned to the head of a BloodStarved Vampire as it loomed over him. The not-Raven in his arms squacked in support.

In a rush, he closed the distance and entered Rollan's home. As soon as his feet were inside, he could feel the miasma of dread clinging to the air with a sickly humidity. It hung over the table at the center of the front room like a sheet. It dripped from the dresser at the back of the room near the animal skin divider. If it were a tangible presence he would've been swatting it's touch from the sleeping Berserker resting by the window. But then again, she seemed to be the only unbothered presence in the room.

He didn't look at her long, it only took a few minutes for the anxiety and worry to come flooding back, so he continued to the back of the room where Rollan resided.

When he crossed the room and pushed aside the divider, he found the man standing, head hung low and shoulders cast even lower. Like the weight of the world had officially become too much and he was now subjected to slowly being crushed.

It all seemed so dramatic. There was more to the situation. Had to be.

He was sure of it after his eyes trailed down to the object in Rollan's spindly dark fingers.

It was brown..natural yet morphed by unnatural means. Wood, carved into a four legged shape by the use of a blade based on the slashes and cuts in the object. When Rollan turned the object in his hands and allowed its face to meet Claude's eyes he realized what he was looking at.

A Wolf.

"Leave me.." Rollan said, in a voice completely devoid of the usual friendly calmness.

The words pissed Claude off. First he was left off in the dark after awakening a power the man took part in giving, then he was ignored all day and when he finally comes for answers, he's told off.

"No."

Rollan looked up at him through his blindfolded eyes.

"I know you heard me, but I'll say it again. No. I'm not leaving. In fact, we can stand here and mope all night since I'm feeling like doing the same....unless we talk. I gave you your space-- but a man can only do so much to keep his mind off certain things. I've done it all. Now do your job as Teacher and teach me."

Rollan's jaw flexed, back and forth in a repeated motion that matched the steady tap of his foot. If he was the imposing type, now would've been the time when Claude contemplated if he should duck the oncoming punch or just run.

He did neither.

Silence filled between them as the contained Armaments of the Underworld hung on the walls ominously behind the blind man.

"...Stubborn little prick." He finally growled before walking past him and grabbing a seat at the table in the front room.

"Yep. Stubborn as hell." He replied before following. Once in the front room, the bird hopped off his arm and began making it's way up the dresser with nothing but the agility produced from it's stick-thin legs.

The two sat in silence while Ursula rested beside them for a tense collection of seconds. Claude silently observed. Even though the man was wearing the usual clothing and all-- he seemed so different. More than simple anger. The way he constantly fidgeted with the wooden wolf sculpture-- almost in a self soothing manner...like he was paranoid or in shock. The same steady out-pour of stress showed in every inch of him as if his body was screaming from within.

"[I was wondering when you'd realize. You really are naive at the worst of times, Claude.]"

"What?"

"[Can't you tell? He's a bit of a drunk...and you've shocked him back into sobriety...for some reason he's choosing to stay that way for now....]"

Before Claude could think any more on what Arne had told him, Rollan spoke.

"She was nothing like you...."

"Who?" Claude asked in confusion while the black bird sat above them on top of the dresser with its beady watchful eyes.

"The last Moon Druid I knew. She found the Druids around the same time I did, yes, yes she did....in truth, the Druids found her. She was a troubled child, alone and in the wild. She was nothing like you. She was feisty, manipulative....advantageous and merciless. But she made me laugh...she was my friend. Was she a good one, maybe not so much, hm? It did not matter....where I came from there was no such thing as friends. I didn't understand how her....qualities would grow and fester like an infection. Not until it was too late..."

Claude stayed silent. Questions and confusion swelled, but he was relatively positive that it would make sense in time. Rollan seemed to enjoy sewing truth in knowledge slowly and precisely. Even in such a down and out state, he still played the game.

"When we first took part in our own Ancient Oak Ritual...we were so excited..." A flash of a true smile appeared on Rollan's face, "I can still remember how she giggled and laughed with excitement. We were gonna spread the touch of nature even to the most unnatural of places. We'd seen what the unnatural could do. Behind our laughs there was motivation, hm? Her just as much as I. Then the Ritual happened....."

The silence spoke of a severity Claude could feel in the pit of his stomach. Something bad happened and he didn't need to be told flat out to understand.

"Blood is an interesting thing, no? It holds the secrets to many things..many histories....many truths. Her truth was revealed that night just as yours was yesterday. She'd been found by the Druids as a young and helpless girl...eating the deadened remains of a freshly hunted corpse in little more than a scraggly dress. She knew how to speak by then of course-- no older than thirteen. She also knew how to lie-- how to deceive. Something I'd learned myself after the results of the Ritual. Just like your own Ritual-- it had adverse affects. A different response...because she wasn't simply human. She was a Witch....a strong one based on the way her magic twisted the Ancient Seed and called to the Moon."

"...There was different Magic in her blood.." He realized.

"So....She was made a Moon Druid. She played off her Magical Ancestry-- in the eyes of....well, everyone, she was the sneaky little girl again. Now with a rare power. The only Moon Druid within our Grove. The Druids showered her in love and respect. She was never happier basking in all the attention. Then...our Grove grew. More kids came-- more saved...more wandering Nomads were converted.....what do you think happened during their Rituals, hm?" Rollan looked up at him.

".....Some of them became Moon Druids."

Rollan looked back down at the wooden sculpture-- not even bothering with nodding, "Her source of self importance vanished as quickly as it came. Why celebrate her when there were now a handful of Moon Druids, hm? Her rarity was no more, you see. I should've picked up on the way it angered her. I should've known. The Moon Druids quickly became the victims of some of the most gruesome attacks i'd ever heard of...throats ripped.....limbs gnawed off...bones split and sucked of marrow...hearts and organs crushed. They were being hunted..."

"Nobody guessed it was her?" Claude asked before he could stop himself.

"Many people did. But our Druids that practiced Augury knew all. They were confident it was a wolf. A Silver Stalker of the night. The murder scenes supported such a theory. And as I said, she was manipulative...she was able to keep herself out of suspicion in the eyes of those that mattered. And just like that..." He said, finishing with a snap, "Every Moon Druid fell victim to the Silver Stalker of the night. Within their deaths....you could see the anger..the stomps...the postmortem bites and slashes...no Earthen creature is led by such intense jealous rage-- except for humans...."

Claude shivered, he could almost see the deaths...the gruesome nature of it all. He'd seen worse-- far worse, but the unease remained.

"She was once again one of a kind. But she was naive-- short sighted...stupid really. The others our age knew she did it. We were positive of it. I'd long since abandoned our... friendship, but I could always see through her lies...as if she'd accidentally given me the only skill to do so. She had no respect and revere from us, hm? Even our leaders no longer viewed her in awe...only sadness at the memory of what they once had. The change did more than enrage her. The failure of her plan only brought her worst qualities further to the surface. She was more manipulative...more feisty-- combative even, and more selfish. She stopped attempting to hide her disappearances. Wherever we were stationed, she'd disappear for hours at a time..."

"She was exploring?"

"Searching." Rollan corrected. "And she'd found what she was looking for. I did too. I took it upon myself to search her cot during her disappearances. I'd find all manner of things...animal bones...her usual wooden sculptures...and a newer development. Notes-- Letters. Shared between her and someone that went by the name, Fiara."

"That was all you got...a name?"

Rollan shook his head, but continued sightlessly peering at the sculpture that he suddenly realized must've belonged to the woman, "No, of course not. I began gathering evidence with the help of a friend, searching for a way to show the higher ups that she was up to no good. I had one of the others read through all their letters. They grew fond of each other quickly...."

The scent of tangy and rotten jealousy scorched by burning hot rage fluttered into his nose for a moment before disappearing.

"...Erhm. As I said, they grew fond of each other quickly. Especially for her. He told her of his riches....his thirst to see the world...her beautiful uniqueness. I don't even know how they found each other...but they did. And they clicked. The meetings continued. Fiara put an emphasis on meeting at night. He had a distaste for the sun. Eventually their conversations took a turn....I could practically feel how he was twisting himself into her. He wanted her to leave. It didn't take much for her to want the same thing, no?"

"Didn't think it would....did you guys follow her when she left?"

A look of dread poured from Rollan's face. "No. We died that night...."

Another chill.

"It was on the night I followed her. I wanted to see Fiara for myself....maybe even kill him and try to talk sense into her. Talk her into facing justice...So, I followed. When we were returning, right when I was beginning to smell and recognize the natural sight of my home. Something exploded with light. I cannot see with my eyes....but I could feel it's brightness warming my face. And then, everything was destroyed-- everything. I was barely out of distance....lucky me, hm? When my ears finally stopped ringing, the last thing I heard amidst the silence was hundreds of bats flying over me and the smell of wolf strong in my nose. They let me live..."

"...She used the Ancient Seed Rune..."

"Yes."

"Fiara....He's a Vampire, isn't he?"

Rollan sighed, ".....Ahhh yes. The immortal blood-fiends and collectors of all things rare. She became his newest edition. His new living rarity."

Claude understood the loss of important people. He understood it like few else, "Fuck. I'm sorry for your loss Rollan....I'm sorry they didn't listen to you....I'm sorry she got away."

Rollan grunted in understanding, "We are sorry for a many things."

"There's one thing I don't get."

"Hm?"

"Why was she so important? There had to be other Moon Druids in other Groves, right?"

Rollan nodded, "Of course. There once was. They fixed that. This is why I'm telling you this...you must be safer than the rest."

Claude rubbed a hand over his face and through his long shadowy hair in frustration at what he knew would come with Rollan's next words.

"[Ohhhhh fuck! Should've seen this coming, Claude.]"

"...Monsieur. You and Lilith Leto are the last Moon Druids."