Mimiriholt was a place unlike any other, a forest that not only stretched for miles all around its center but was also blessed with a warmth unbecoming of a place so far to the north. This made it an ideal home for all sorts of creatures, whether big or small, corporeal or… less so. Trees largely of the sort found in the north in general rose high into the air, forming a rather unique skyline, especially given the presence of Mimameidr and her many guardians, several being large enough to add to the view or else could be seen flying around the enormous tree at times.
At any rate, not all of the forest was as peaceful, blessed, or particularly magical as the rest, and as one headed further toward the borders to the north and east, they found the place becoming ever-so-slightly more normal. The presence of dryads, elves, trolls, pixies, and other sorts kept the place more than fascinating enough for anyone of the human persuasion, but if one was journeying from the center of the elven presence in these woods, they would notice a distinct difference in these parts of the woods. This was the Warm Wood.
Near the edge of this Wood, a small clearing formed in the trees. Tiny houses either hung from or extended out of the trunks of many of the trees encircling this clearing, their elegant and colorful build - not to mention their scale - making it clear they were the homes of pixies. However, rather unusually, the clearing was silent and empty. The houses, usually open and flooded with cheerful pixies going about their daily business, were all shut tight and eerily quiet.
Odder still, a massive white varg paced impatiently across the clearing. Clodagh had been there for quite some time, accompanied only by ‘Kyle’ Bloodmoon, as he was a member of her pack. She’d ordered others to scout around, keeping her newest recruit nearby as her vargs searched the borders of the Warm Wood for answers to some very odd sightings. It was these strange sights that were the reason the woods were unnaturally silent, and the pixies had retreated into the safety of their homes.
It pained Clodagh to see such (relatively) innocent little creatures having to fear for their lives just because of rumors.
She let out a frustrated growl, but before she could do anything more she and her larger packmate heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A rag-tag band of various creatures - ranging from a stone troll to a young dragon - entered the clearing, clearly wondering what was happening. Clodagh blinked, glancing at Kyle - she only ever referred to him as such, possibly because ‘Bloodmoon’ was a name that reminded her too strongly of his… origins, before looking over the small group of other forest-dwellers.
“Greetings,” Clodagh said with impatience evident in her tone, even though it was not directed toward those gathered. “I’m sure you’re all here for the same reason. Kyle,” she paused to nod toward her fellow varg,” and I share it. An evil has entered these sacred woods.”
She began to pace up and down the rough line formed by the adventurers. “My pack has found many small groups of goblins and the like apparently scouting the woods near here, and are now hunting for more information behind this. It is doubtless the jotnar have something planned… we just need to find out what it is, and stop it.” Clodagh finished, pausing in the middle of the line.
She cleared her throat, as if realizing something, and dipped her head slightly. “Ah, for those of you who don’t know, I’m Clodagh, titled ‘the Fierce’ by both friend and foe. Kyle is a member of my pack, but… I don’t know any of you.” She paused, glancing at the dragon and tilting her head slightly. “Except perhaps you. Or rather, I know of your lineage.”
Clodagh glanced around at the others. “As for the rest of you, we have some time to spare and… mingle. I doubt many of you know who each other are, and if we need to fight together, we ought to know about each other.”