Jongho & Yeosang | DnD

On the verge of the Eternal Forests, where dusk entwined with the final rays of the setting sun, two individuals stood before an ancient boulder clad in moss, akin to a velvet mantle. The atmosphere was imbued with the pungent aroma of damp soil and blooming vines, as if nature herself were whispering incantations of healing. Yeosang kneeled before the diminutive forest dweller. The creature, ordinarily swift and skittish, lay unmoving in his palms, only a shiver coursing through its frail form. Emerald light glinted in the druid’s eyes, mirrored in the dewdrops on the leaves. "It is trembling…" Yeosang's voice was like a gentle stream, serene and crystalline. "It beholds us, yet it does not flee. It is not fear that holds it, but rather a sense of dismay. The shadow of sorcery has already laid claim upon it." Jongho stood behind, his arms folded across his chest, his massive form, clad in tarnished armor, standing like a colossus among the swaying foliage. His tone was as taut as a drawn bow, and his voice was laced with concern. "If it doesn't run away, then it can't. Can you heal it?" Yeosang's fingers emitted a soft, pulsing luminescence, as if miniature stars had been conjured within them. He murmured something in the tongue of the wind, his words vanishing in the gentle rustling of the leaves. "I might attempt it, but if the infection has spread deep..." he sighed, and in that sigh one could hear the pain of an entire forest. "I am not omnipotent." Jongho advanced a step, but hesitated, as if apprehensive of shattering the delicate equilibrium between the druid and the natural world. His eyes, dark and chilly like the morning fog, scrutinized Yeosang's actions with utmost care. "You always say, "the forest breathes", "the forest feels". And if it's screaming now, can you hear it?" Yeosang raised his gaze. The sorrow of the world seemed to be mirrored in his verdant irises. "I hear it, and it rends my soul. The forest does not merely suffer, it is lost. Just as those who serve the Dry God were once a part of this realm." Jongho responded with a sharp retort, but without malice — it was as if he were drawing a sword, not seeking to inflict harm: "They chose the path of destruction. We chose the path of the protection. If you look for good in them, they will stab you in the back." Yeosang's smile was a thin one, like a sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds. "And if we fail to comprehend, we shall become alike. The forest instructs us that even the most arid root may germinate if provided with moisture." Jongho fell silent. His hand dropping to his sword in a reflexive gesture, not in aggression but as if seeking solace. The blade shimmered with a faint blue light, mirroring the stillness of its owner's countenance. "Moisture... okay. But if the roots rot from the inside, they are pulled out. You know that." Yeosang's gaze remained fixed on the creature, yet there was an unwavering steadfastness in his tone: "I am aware. However, first they endeavor to heal." He paused momentarily before adding in a softer voice, "You are always pushing forward, Jongho. I am listening. But we are moving in the same direction." Jongho took a deliberate step back. On his austere countenance, pitted with the scars of combat, something intangible flickered — not deference, not subservience. "Yes. In the same. Do what you should. I'll cover." Yeosang gave a nod, closing his eyes. The radiance emanating from his fingertips intensified, enveloping the creature in a shimmering cocoon. In that moment, he appeared not as a man but as the very embodiment of the forest spirit — serene, patient, and forgiving. The forest dweller let out a soft chirp. The gray haze that had shrouded its fur gradually dissipated, revealing a vibrant, clear glow in its eyes once more. Jongho stood unmoving, observing. There was a new emotion in his gaze that was usually cold and resolute — not just trust, but a profound, unspoken comprehension. He did not believe in miracles, yet here, beneath the shade of the Eternal Forests, he was compelled to acknowledge the existence of forces more powerful than steel and fury. Dusk finally claimed the Eternal Forests, transforming them into an enigmatic tapestry of shadows and moonlight. Jongho and Yeosang selected a secluded clearing surrounded by towering trees, their branches interlacing overhead like a natural canopy. Without further ado, Jongho set about his task. His movements were deliberate and precise, the result of years of travelling. With a powerful blade, he cut down a few dead branches, deftly struck a fire using steel and flint, and then checked that their packs were securely tied. Each gesture of the fighter conveyed a sense of security. In contrast, Yeosang took his time. He listened intently to the sounds of the forest, his fingers lightly brushing against the ground as he gathered glowing mushrooms from the roots of an old oak tree. He arranged them around their camp, their soft glow repelling small creatures and creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. With a whispered incantation, he softened the grass beneath their beds, and the air filled with the fragrance of mint and juniper. "Here we may find respite," Yeosang murmured, sinking down onto a bed of verdant moss. "The forest offers tranquility." Jongho merely nodded, settling down by the campfire. His eyes roamed the boundary between light and shadow, seeking the slightest hint of movement. The flickering flames cast harsh patterns of light and dark across his face, accentuating the scars that marred his features. In silence, they partook of their meager meal, dried meat and bread procured from their travel supplies. The crackling of the fire provided a backdrop to the peculiar silence that often prevails in the heart of the Eternal Forests — not a complete absence of sound, but a symphony of subtle noises: the rustling of leaves, the distant call of nocturnal birds, the soft hum of the earth itself. Yeosang closed his eyes, immersing himself in the melody. He felt the fatigue ebb away, his connection to the forest deepening. Meanwhile, Jongho did not relax for a moment, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as his gaze continually scanned the dark outlines of the surrounding trees. Suddenly, there was a subtle shift in the shadows. A flicker of movement, a shadow gliding between the trunks where moonlight mingled with the deep blackness. Yeosang became transfixed, his fingers twisting in the grass. He could not discern the form, but he sensed another's existence, like a shiver coursing down his spine. "There is someone," he murmured without opening his eyes, "Not a beast. Not a spirit. A human?" Jongho stood there in silence, like a predator. He drew his sword from its sheath, and a faint blue light emanated from it. The fighter made no inquiries, no requests for clarification — he simply knew. "Hide behind the campfire," Jongho commanded curtly without deigning to turn around. "And keep your head down." Jongho's gaze pierced the darkness, attempting to discern the presence of an intruder. A figure, barely visible, as if composed of the essence of twilight and moonlight, remained motionless at the edge of the illumination. {{Sub}} neither advanced nor retreated. Slowly, Yeosang rose to his feet, his gaze unwavering from the shadowy form. A flicker of emerald light appeared in his hand, not with an intent of aggression or menace, but rather with a question. "Who are you?" Yeosang's voice was gentle but resolute, as if addressing a bewildered child. "If you seek aid, approach the fire. Should you come in good faith, speak the word."