Sometimes life gave you lemons.

Sometimes, a person armed with those lemons made lemonade and lived out a rather boring life. Every once in a while, a person armed with those lemons threw those lemons right back at life, roared to the heavens and proceeded to stomp about in what was no doubt a terrifying display of power, anger and stuff. Important stuff. Like... Annnyways, for a certain dead girl armed with bad luck, lemonade... was... well, take a look for yourself.



The forest was on fire.

The Taurerosa rainforest was on fire. Thick columns of dirty, foul smoke rose into the air, dry winds spreading the stench of ash and embers and the seeds of yet more fires. Caws of trapped birds, the frenzied screams of panic-stricken mammals and the rattles and hisses of other creatures too great or too large to move about quickly were heard throughout the forest, like some bizarre symphony who's beat was set by the roars of the ever-growing flames.

It seemed so unlikely. The rainforest was not a name strewn about lightly, it not only denoted the highest degree of vegetation density but also the highest degree of humidity, precipitation and general feeling of wetness found anywhere besides actual oceans and lakes.

And all it had taken was a fall.

Or, to be precise, it had taken a curious dead girl climbing up a rather large tree ten seconds to hit the ground. Or, to be even more precise it had taken a curious dead girl climbing up a rather large tree that just so happened to be a relative of the famous fire-flower ten seconds to hit the ground. Or, to be even more precise than precise it had taken a curious dead girl climbing up a rather large tree that just so happened to be a relative of the famous fire-flower ten seconds to hit the ground because she just happened to carry a knife imbued with shadow properties that the tree was highly allergic to.

(Whew!)

The tree sneezed.

And this is the beginning of a story.

The harmonies of a placid forest are not to be disturbed. A great deal of misfortune comes to the one who upsets the natural melodies of nature, an even greater deal to the one who intends to destroy it altogether. To the one who already has rotten luck set upon them: the worst misfortune of all.

The elf, the hunter, the wolf-friend, had set upon herself the duty of collecting various food sources, and, above all, charting the new environment, even if only a mental record. Beside her pranced a particullarly intellegent wolf pup, who, 3 and a half fortnights previous, had been named Arestu by his now late mother. He nudged her calf with his white snout, so she reached down and stroked his bespotted head and brushing her fingertips along his white tipped ears. He bounced even moreso and licked her several times with a soft pink tongue. Aralishia the elf smiled, patted him, and returned to her persuit. Arestu took it upon him to find at least one considerable prey to help Ara, who he had began to think of as a sort of mother, master, sister, friend. He immediatly hushed when he found his first catch. His paws stepped forward achingly slow, and Ara stopped searching to watch him. Paw after paw, each step taking what seemed like an eternity. Or more. His final silenced step landed him a good few feet from his prey, then pouncing on the rather suspicious looking leaf. He landed squarly on it, then did a full roll forward as he counldn't stop the momentum of his gleefull attack. She ended sitting, leaf in mouth, a fair distance from where he had first landed on his prey. His tail wagged involuntarily, however serious the effort the pup put forward. He stood and returned to Ara, offering his catch. She stroked his head and held her hand below his mouth, as a way of asking if he was sure. He dropped it in her hand and bounded forward, searching for another leaf that dare cross his path.

As sudden as Arestu had tumbled, and just as unexpected, a grand thump was heard not far from where Ara was. She glanced upwards, but through the forest's thick canopy she could not spot the sun. She supposed the crash was due west, her assumption based on the nothern direction she followed both before and (hopefully) after entry. "Efu?" she whispered, and the pup crashed through brambles and stuck t her side. She gave him a gentle pat and headed in the direction of the sound, only to meet the sight of an undead girl whom had crashed upon the rainforest floor.

"Hiya!" Robyn said cheerfully.

And then the forest exploded. One moment there had been nothing more innocent: birds were singing, leaves were rustling, the wind was cheering, the bees were- what exactly did the birds and bees do to merit so much attention from parents?- the bees were off doing bee stuff. The next moment, the great fire-herder sneezed. From every bough of its great heartwood, roaring jets of fire exploded outwards. It was an almost beautiful display- a myriad of different colours spiralled outwards inundating the surrounding forestry with blues, reds, blacks, whites, oranges, teals, and more. Each fire seemed to dwindle for just an instant and then explode into a fiery conflagration. As to be expected from such wet conditions, some of the fires did go out but a surprising- an unnatural- number did not.

Robyn 'ooo'd' at the spectacle: the entire tree had somehow caught fire and the heat of it was more than enough to singe her eyebrows. Her topmost layer of skin was already baking and if she stayed too much longer her eyes would surely start to melt from the incredible heat. Unfortunately without a sense of self-preservation, she stayed right where she was, looking as the multi-colored tree continued to spit out fire.

"Fiyah!" She said happily. "Fiya-fiyah!"

Up above, cloud cover that had been steadily building was suddenly whisked away when a weather mage _accidentally_ stole the precipitation that had been building up in order to fuel a few a experiments.

Down below, the flickers of flame were starting to create their own weather. The fire spread surprisingly quick and ash already started heading upwards into the sky blanketing the forest in a pall of unnatural night that would continuously feed the flames. Through it all the unintended instigator merely laughed and giggled.

No sooner had Ara begun to ponder how on earth the dead girl managed to be, well, not dead, and sputtered out a hello than the tree burst suddenly into a spectacle of multi-colored flames. Somehow the cheerful undead girl remained determinedly oblivious to the blatent forest fire blossoming before her very own rotted eyes. Ara couldn't imagine how persistant and stubborn this clever and determined girl had been at simply staring into the flames, cheering, "Fiyah! Fiya-fiyah!" She couldn't fathom the talent. No sooner had this though occured when another came about; they aught to get out of there. And the girl, stubborn she may be, aught to get out too, aughtn't she? Ara surmised that the dead, or undead for that matter, couldn't die in a fire. But still, it would be unpleasantly hot. And smokey. She could suffocate. Become unconcious. And what would happen to her then? If her body be the feast of deprived predators, may her soul live on, but this would be death, wouldn't it? The body stops but the soul moves on? Ara realized she didn't have time to ponder whether or not the undead could die. She needed to get out.

She gave a high, frantic whistle for Arestu, and as soon as she spoke his name she realized her voice was cracked and high with worry. He came immediatly, and now his tail wasn't wagging. He was genuinely serious.

The undead girl needed to come. Ara assumed reason wouldn't work. She grappled the girl's arms, a task she found extremely difficult as the arms weren't much more than burning dead flesh. With each drop of energy she could muster, she leaned backward, shoving each foot into the mud to hold her upright. Her leg twisted painfully into a contorted knot of pained muscle and caused her to rip it out of the mud. She placed it back in carefully, her hair now dragging along the mud, beads of sweat pulsing down her forehead.

Thrice openly stood in the fire. He didn't feel the heat or the searing of flesh that other commonly felt. Born as a half-demon he was gifted with immunity to fire for the most part. He walked tenderly amongst the burning trees and animals. He had heard a scream of some sort coming from the area and he was searching for it. He had a hand gripped upon his sword hilt watching for dangers of panicking animals. He soon heard a crack as a tree came collapsing towards him. "damn..." He said as his sword came into his hand and he fell into the familiar form of leaves dancing on the wind leaving the tree falling into 7-8 pieces.

"This is getting out of control." He said as he finally came upon two woman, or at least one was, the other smelled like the dead. The woman was dragging the corpse anyway. The corpse was alive, but it wasn't neccessarily a zombie. He didn't know what to cal the corpse at this point. He knew he should help now though. "oye, oye, oye!" He called out as he ran threw the final lengths of the flame. He was unburned and unmarked, along with his clothes which were fire retardent. "Need some help?" He asked quickly as he heard the groan and crash of another tree not far away.

"Nuuuuuh!" Robyn said, marshaling her considerable strength and trying to pull away. This meanie-pooh wanted her to get away from ze firez! That wasn't to be tolerated! "Nuuuuuh!" She repeated, one hand outstretched towards the pwetty, pwetty flames. Her other one was supposed to be getting out of this infernal grip but seemed to be more content to sag their limply. Robyn half suspected it had to do with the crispiness of that particular limb. (Note to self: crispiness on bacon good. Crispiness on Robyn-rin bad.) "I Need Yooooou." She said to the flames. "Come back- come back!!" Nothing doing, for some reason the meanie-pooh kept on dragging her away from the fire even though they were such luffly, luffly fires.

She tried to dig her feet into ze durtz but ze durtz was still wet and was pretty much just vegetation. Once again it just seemed so fantastically unlikely that this forest fire had spread at all but Robyn wasn't thinking those thoughts Robyn-rin was thinking about the fact that the bootiful firez were moving away.

"Nuuuuuuuuh!" She said again. "Nuuuuuuuuuh!!!"

Her musings and gibbering was cut short by the arrival of a newcomer who she looked upon with a slightly raised eyebrow. For some reason Robyn-rin suddenly felt hungry even though she knew she wasn't supposed to make treasties out of talking people because talking people who were made into treatsies had talking people friends and if lots and lots of talking people friends decided that Robyn-rin had no more need of continued life they'd chop Robyn-rin into little treatsies. And that was bad. Or at least that's what Alice-Mommy claimed. Robyn-rin wasn't so sure. Robyn-rin felt that becoming a treatsy was just a natural stage of life- like... breathing.

"Need some help?"

"Nope." Robyn said cheerfully, shaking her head. Robyn-rin should be looking at the fiyah, not staying with the meanie-pooh. She gnashed her teeth and tried to head to the fire again. On top of her head, a small blob named Ursula smirked quietly.

The girl could not detect that she might become the feast of the predators of the forrest. Dire circumstances caused for...dire decisions.

She heaved the girl harder, which made her protest harder. This wasn't working. She called out to the flames, begging to be free of Ara's vice grip. She wouldn't let go of the girl's life so easily. She had a sudden, strange attachment to her. She groaned louder and louder, filling the forest as if the fire wasn't occupying enough of Ara's thoughts.

"Nuuuuuuuuuh!!!"
she groaned, reaching to the flames. Was she dense?
"Nuuuuuuuuuh!!!, Nuuuuuuuuuh!!!"

"I'm saving you! Consider yourself lucky!!"

And, for one reason or another, the though dawned upon her. She glanced back and forth, shaking her head madly. At last she found a small blob of gray fur.
"Arestu, a fire! Get out of the forest!"
However she begged, the wolf pup seemed firm in keeping pace with his half wolf-friend. He seemed vaguely interested in the bones (which, admittedly, looked awful fun for the pup) the composed the undead body. He gave a playfull growl, stalking the bones. Ara gave him a look, but he was no longer interested solely in her.


OOC: Don't hurt eem! He's... a friend-friend! :frantic:

...A cute friend friend!!!!!! :frantic:

((If you wnat me gone, just say the word))

By now the air was thick with the smoke of the fire, staining the bright undersides of leaves with a sooty residue. Higher and higher the flames licked, scorching everything in their path. A slight wind blew, fanning the flames, whipping them into a small inferno that irradiated heat in great waves. Steam rose into the sky as the fire crackled among still-living branches and trees, their leaves hissing in pain and fury, unable to escape the blaze. All animals had fled, there were no insects in the air, no movement nor sound but the roar of the flames licking higher and higher.

Amid all this stood a grand and beautiful old Oak, thick set, with roots that sprawled for a meter in every direction save up. Two great limbs hung down on either side, their ends sprawled into an almost hand-like assortment of branches. Near its top the bark was so gnarled and twisted it had formed a face-like structure, with a great beard of moss. Higher still its branches fanned out, giving it a proper canopy where a pair of birds had made their nest. But this was no ordinary tree.

The fire spread a little further, spitting embers and igniting more foliage. One such ember happened to land upon the roots of the great Oak, scorching the ancient wood, on its inevitable journey through the root. It lay there and burned for almost a minute before an almost imperceptible chance occurred high up on the tree trunk. Two small bits of bark withdrew, revealing two perfectly round ‘eyes’ in the wood. The eyes were not blank, oh no, they glistened with a sentient intelligence. The tree shock slightly, as thought caught in the wind. After a moment it shock again, harder this time, but no more than if a strong wind had been blowing. It seemed as tough something was troubling the tree. And then something very strange happened.

The great roots on what could be described as the tree’s left leg shifted, ever so slightly. The ember that was now well and truly stuck within the root had finally gone out, its heat not sufficient to set the grand tree ablaze. The tree seemed to relax, its leaves rustling back into position. But its eyes still remained open, surveying the scene before it. The great tree - Ghaladir by name – was thinking. It looked at the flames consuming its brothers and sisters, greedily lapping up their life. Fire? he thought, fire is not good for us. He stood there and thought, considering what might happen, trying to decide upon a course of action, but not hasty.

Before him one creature dragged another away from the flames. Orcs? he wondered, the added confusion of these two did not help his decision making. Had they started the fire? At this Ghaladir began to get angry, for why would anyone want to destroy his beautiful forest? He should talk to them, but they were moving away.

The roots of his left leg lifted, creaking and groaning against each other, trailing mud in their wake. The ‘foot’ traveled a fair way before crashed back down again, barring the Orcs path. The other followed it, closing in behind them. The great tree bent slowly, its ‘knees’ creaking, its ‘back’ straining, ‘hands’ reaching out to grab the pair…