I wrote this based on the druid/barbarian class discussion inspired by the inimitable Zero.
She cradled the great bears head on her lap, bitter tears flowing through the matted fur, moistening the lifeless eyes.
She caressed his ears, pushed her face into his and wept.
Stretching away from her, the bears mutilated carcass told a story of a brutal death - exposed, blood-soaked flesh where the sumptuous hide of glowing runes had been.
“PEACE, BRIENNE” murmured the deep rumble of Horghall.
“Peace? The runic bears were our fiercest allies, there will be no more peace in the Rathwood”.
“THE ELDER ENTS WILL FIND HIM. THIS GRAVEMAKER WILL PAY. THE BEARS WILL RETURN TO US”.
Brienne nodded, but it was without hope. Horghall was right to call him a Gravemaker. How could another druid do such a thing, something so barbaric? To destroy the balance of the wood. There would be many, many graves…
He walked on in silence. The power prickled him, lanced through his muscles and ran like tremors across his nerves.
The blood soaked bear hide clung to his frame as he stalked through the branches.
“STOP, DRUID” came the crunching rumble of the Ent.
“THE COUNCIL OF ELDER ENTS NAMES YOU GRAVEMAKER, AND YOU WILL RETURN TO FACE YOUR FATE”
He turned to face them, peering out through the bone mask.
Three mighty tree men stood there, towering over him. Mighty, but slow to react.
He slowly turned the twisted daggers from his belt.
“THE COUNCIL OF ELDER ENTS NAMES YOU…”
“I heard you, timber man” he hissed
“WHAT IS YOUR REPLY?”
Beneath the bone, his thin smile turned to a chilling grimace as the runes of the murdered bearskin began to glow.
“Ashes to ashes” he whispered.
And then there was fire.