Amoonrann walked slowly along the road to the hamlet of Sandpoint, her eyes closed, her mind adrift in quiet contemplation. Already in the distance should could hear the barbaric sounds of 'civilization' coming from the small town in the distance. It made her skin crawl. It was all so cold, dead...unnatural. Even the ground which she walked upon, the beginnings of a road, filled her heart with sorrow. She should be able to sense the life under her feet, feel the grass caressing her thighs. But here, on this road towards the 'civilized' world, she could only feel the dust being crushed beneath her feet emphasized by an all to disgusting crunching sound as she put one foot before the next.
But death is only the beginning with the 'civilized' folk; for they do not merely kill the lands they stake their claims to, but they cannibalize them; they consume them; and build disgusting monuments reaching ever upwards to the skies as manifestations of their superiority over the lands. But the lands cannot be tamed; they are magnificently wild and vicious; with a dark cruel irony underlying every action. To master nature is to fall before her. The ancient wizards of these lands the 'civilized' call Varisia learned this irony well when all their great monstrosities fell back to the wilderness from whence they came. Such is the way of things, and so shall it ever be.
The Vanaras wished she could simply turn about and head back into the woods she knew so well; to surround herself with the natural beauty of the world; to climb the tallest tree; and swim in the deepest streams. Most of all she wished to be rid of these constricting 'civilized' clothes: she did not share this sense of modesty the 'civilized' had; quite the opposite, in fact. She found the notion absurd and unnecessary. All creatures had genitalia of some kind; so why must the 'civilized' go to such elaborate lengths to convince themselves otherwise? At best, Amoonrann could grant the use of pelts during the winter for survival purposes; and armor was appropriate when one was at war with another....but nothing in nature goes to war the way the 'civilized' do. There are territorial disputes, granted, but never any so grand as to put the balance itself in jeopardy. The 'civilized,' by contrast, have wars the spread like a wildfire, consuming entire continents, and burning everything in their wake until all that remains is smoke and ash.
Amoonrann shivered as she imaged the Churlwood grove burning; as shadowy figures marched too and fro, sparing nothing from a slow burning death. All of it in the name of some cause or another; a cause nature cares nothing about. All because some arrogant child fails to realize the consequences of disrupting the balance. It was all so petty, and finite; the causes so vague and non-descript that it was foolish to expect nature to pay the price.
Or they may simply consume it to build more artificial constructs, Amoonrann thought and, indeed, that was the reason the Churlwood Druids had dispatched her to Sandpoint. The Druids had been finding more and more evidence that hunters and woodsmen were daring to touch the borders of the great Churlwood forest and Amoonrann was being sent to ensure the locals of Sandpoint were aware that the Druids would tolerate no further encroachment into their lands and failing to comply with this demand means war with the Druids. The Druids wanted no such war, but at the same time, they would not tolerate their lands being taken from them in the name of 'progress' or something so useless. If the 'civilized' could not be taught to respect nature, they could damned well be taught to fear nature. Amoonrann was to do all she could to convince the locals that encroaching on the lands of Churlwood was really more hassle then it was worth.
Indeed, on her journey from the grove to here, Amoonrann herself and delayed the efforts of at least two parties of woodsmen. She appeared from nowhere upon both their camps and warned them they were in the sacred lands of the Druids and they were to depart immediately. The first group had laughed and made obscene comments about nature; which Amoonrann promptly responded to by entangling the lot of them in the roots of the nearby trees before making off with their logging equipment and hiding it elsewhere in the forest. The second group tried to negotiate with Amoonrann, thinking the 'rights' to these woods could be bought from her and Amoonrann responded to the proposition by calling down a Stormbolt on their wagon which exploded into tiny pieces. She repeated her warning and added that it was not a negotiation before she vanished into a thick fog that began to roll in while the fool woodsmen drew their swords. Amoonrann hoped the woodsmen came to their senses and were leaving the wood; 'lest her brothers and sisters find them again marching deeper into the wood. They may not be as forgiving.
And so Amoonrann approached the town of Sandpoint; ready to bring the Druids' terms to the people of Sandpoint. She knew full well that her presence in the town would be met with some hostility -- the relationship between any city or town in Varisia and the Druids was...strained, at best; and so she dressed in leather armor. Her long white hair flowing naturally down to her hips and billowing in the light breeze that came from ahead which smelled of cold metal, and iron. And when she finally entered the city, she could feel the eyes of everyone upon her.
Let them stare, Amoonrann thought as she marched towards the mayor's office. She was here on the business of her people...no, this went beyond the mere politics of her people. This was about the natural order and these people would be made to understand that there would be no compromise. They will cease their encroachment, or their city will fall back to the nature from whence it came. If not by Amoonrann's hand, then by the hand of another.
