^

This is only for roleplay purposes. It is not an official log.

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A clearing appears at the edge of the woods near Ruined Oak.

Ringed by tall trees with silver bark and vibrant green leaves, it seems to spring from existence as though placed by magic. The birches provide shelter and privacy, shutting out the interior from the view of any passersby. Small clusters of purplish crystals are suspended from branches, pulsing faintly with soft light. Four of the largest trees stand resolute at the edges of the clearing, bark decorated by Druidic symbols that glow with faint green light. Those who walk past swear that their limbs seem to wave hello, leaves rustling even when the wind is still.

Clusters of purple-blue flowers burst from the shrubs and undergrowth, matching the shade of the crystals hung above them. The soft scent of lilac is carried from the bushes by a gentle breeze, infusing the air. The same breeze swirls through the pale mist that coats the ground, causing the motes of green light within to bob and dance.

Scattered around the edge of the area are vines and brush, all intertwined to form comfortable couches and chairs. These seats are positioned around wooden tables that appear to have been dragged into place. Each is covered in all manner of fine food and drink, the smells rich and inviting to weary adventurers who often make do with hard tack.

A woman wearing a simple green dress stands at the center of the clearing, a staff clasped loosely in one hand. Brown hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face with foreign features. Angular cheekbones and a high-bridged nose, sharply pointed ears, and piercing hazel eyes set her apart, transforming her appearance from typical tiefling to something more akin to a faun. The distinct set of antlers sprouting from the crown of her head only enhance the effect, betraying her connection to the magic of the Feywild.

Lyric surveys her grove with a small smile, nodding in satisfaction at the display before her. For the first time in months, no armour adorns her person, there is no pack slung across her back, and even her magical gauntlets and helm are noticeably absent. She looks eerily similar to the fresh-faced druid who started her journey on Katashaka, all those months ago.

Raising her left hand and the ornately carved staff within it to the sky, Lyric begins to chant a simple spell. High above the whispering leaves, the clouds swirl and churn in time with her words. Indistinct edges coalesce, shapes twisting until they form a white message against the vibrant blue.

“Going Away Party! Come to the town outskirts. – Lyric”

As friends and Adventure Family filter into the copse of trees, the druid calls out to each in turn, warning them to speak “Welcome” or risk the ire of her guardians. A simple password, easily guessed or overheard, but effective nonetheless.

Lyric guides those who enter to the tables, soothing their obvious worry and concern with promises of mulled cider, warm stew, and even sugar cookies. Over and over, she repeats the same few phrases.

“I am fine. I will explain. Please sit. No, I am not going to change my mind.”

She flits between the tables, spending time with every person who comes to visit. Enjoying their company and memorizing their faces, their mannerisms, every part that she can. She shares a joke with Te’sil, a hug with Cynder, a story with Zak, so on and so forth until the sun begins to fade behind the horizon and the only illumination comes from the crystalline lamps ringing the clearing.

Standing up from her place beside Enyaw, Lyric smiles at the people gathered around her grove. Her eyes flick over each one, pausing to remember the time she’s spent with them in the wilds of Katashaka and in the towns everyone has come to call home. With a sigh, she clasps both hands around her staff, planting the butt into the dirt before beginning to speak.

“Thank you for coming, everyone. Before I begin, know that the decision to leave the island is not one that I am making lightly. I have agonized over this for some time now, but ultimately have decided my time here must come to an end.

From the first moment I stepped foot onto this island, I ventured out in hopes of making a difference. In hopes of helping those who needed me in this dark place. After nine months here, I have magic I could have never dreamed of, and experiences which have shaped who I am. I have found a family who accepted me, and friends I could trust to watch my back whenever I needed them. People I could trust with my life, over and over again. And I know that even when I’m gone, back to Candlekeep and the Sword Coast, that I can trust those same people with the lives of the adventurers here while I try to help the lives of those back home.”

Though a smile stays on her lips, a few tears begin to roll down the druid’s face. Her breathing hitches, and for the next few sentences her voice shakes with emotion.

“Thank you, my friends, for giving me happiness when I least expected it and a place to call home. A beacon of hope to come back to, time and time again. Please, do not think of this as goodbye forever. It is simply a farewell until we meet again, whether it be in this life or the next.”

With that, Lyric begins to cry in earnest. Her shoulders shake with the force of her weeping, both hands flying up to cover her face. Between sobs, she manages to choke out the last few words.

“For tonight, let’s eat, drink, and be merry. As a celebration of the time we have had together and a promise of more happy nights to come!”

Sometime during the night, Lyric slips away with Enyaw to say her last goodbyes. Even after she leaves, the grove remains standing until a full day has passed, allowing her friends a precious moment of solace from the darkness and pain of Katashaka.