Summoning Kobolds At Midnight: A Tale of Suburbia & Sorcery.

Druidic Circle of the Amber Grove.

Syril adjusted the last strap of his armor before turning to the mirror made of a yellow-orange glass within his room.

"Oh how I've missed wearing something that actually fits."

He twisted and turned in the armor of his station. Black chitin with yellow bee fuzz lining his bracers, shin guards, and the collar of his breastplate and at the joints of his arms and legs. An amber short sword and dagger clasped at his hip. Upon his back was what he missed most though. A longbow the color of honeyed wood lined with amber crystals along its length with two thicker clusters at either end.

He tested the drawstring and sighed contentedly at the firm tautness of the cord. Even doing this much with that cheap bow he had before would've snapped the string. Maybe even crack the bow itself if he was especially unlucky.

He looked to where the pile of discarded former equipment was... well, discarded. When he had entered his room he couldn't get out of the far too tight leathers and chainmail fast enough. If possible he would throw it all into a fire with a liberating cheer as it burnt to ash.

But no. His cathartic destruction wouldn't happen as the equipment would be retrieved by others to be cleaned and stored for those that got the urge to venture away from the grove like he and others before them.

He gazed around his twenty-four by twenty-four room with a sigh and a smile. Like others of the Grove Warden's, his room was built into the inner center of the truly gargantuan world tree that was the epicenter of the grove itself. The room had a vague hexagonal shape to it as evidenced by the six walls. He heard tales that back when the first wardens made their homes in the world tree, that their early partnership with the local giant bees meant their homes were made like that of a honeycomb. Including being built with an opening facing the open space of the inner tree. He heard that after some early mishaps, the rooms became what they were today. The shape still being the same but now horizontal instead of vertical.

A hexagonal wooden bed sat within the center of the room, covered in yellow bee fuzz for cushioning. Apart from the amber crystal mirror, pieces of the golden colored crystal were strung from strips of leather as well as embedded in the wall, all of which caught the light from the small, and only, window on the door of his room.

Other than that, his room was sparsely furnished. A small chest for storage. A washbasin. A wooden chute that led far down to the base of the tree where waste and refuse was turned into nutrients for the world tree and other nearby flora.

He peeked into the open wooden chest that held his things. Among the essentials like rations and a waterskin were also the modest loot he had from his adventures. Not quite the mountain of wealth most would assume. What most don't realize is adventure parties usually live hand-to-mouth. What rewards they get almost always end up going towards repairs and supplies. While the bounty for the elder dragon was quite the ransom, the majority of it went to travel expenses alone. Especially for travel to a druidic grove that was deep within wild and untamed wilderness full of monsters, animals, the elements, and general ne'er-do-wells on top of the increased frequency of magical wastelands appearing.

It was the last one that made the leadership of the grove wary. Were it some natural occurrence few would take issue. But magical wastelands were something entirely unnatural. They were the natural order turned upside down and inside out and then twisted and turned a thousand different ways further.

As if that wasn't already bad enough, they've started appearing closer to the fey wilds. Among other catastrophes, these have led to a mass of refugees and expats fleeing to the grove for shelter, food, water, anything really.

He closed the lid to the chest and exited his room to behold the interior of the world tree. Stretching some twelve feet away, thick curving wooden walkways stretched along the interior that connected the various "floors". If he went to the edge and peered over the edge, he'd barely be able to see the far bottom of the tree, nor would gazing skyward reveal the top of the boughs. The only thing keeping him and plummeting into the expanse of air was his own elvish dexterity and reflexes.

The only things could his elf eyes see were the mixed groups coming and going about their business on this level of the world tree. Wardens like himself marching in small squads of five. Lumbering pale-barked treekin slowly going along at their own pace. Yellow-white wood dryads with small beehives in their branch like heads that buzzed with activity as they lurched and shuffled about. Even the diminutive of the fey were to be seen as brownies with fuzzy tipped pointed ears and mouse-like tails came and went from small doors barely the size of an apple while pixies and faeries all colors of the rainbow flew and buzzed through the air, giggling and snickering with glee at some hidden mischief only they were aware of. Then the apir. He didn't even want to think about the creepy faux bees that seemed to appear and disappear at their own whims.

Tenders, those that looked after the herds of amber stags and other flora and fauna of the grove, came and went with bags of feed or herding giant bees meant for riding to tacking platforms. During his travels, he's heard that other groves employed more "traditional" aerial mounts like sky eagles and even dragons!

Among the various groups were the druids themselves. Wizened elders seemingly as old as the groves themselves. Though looking at them one wouldn't ever be able to tell. They wore robes of yellows and whites with black and yellow bee fuzz for accents and carried staffs of honeyed wood topped with crystals of amber in the shape of small hives that held within them very special bees.

These special bees were what allowed the grove's druids their unique form of amber magic, or ambermancy to humans. He wasn't sure why they seemed to like adding mancy, ology, or onomy to everything. Regardless, these were a special type of "princess" bee born from the queen of the hive of giant bees that made their home throughout the entirety of the world tree. Even now he could see stretches of honeycomb running along the interior walls in seemingly random patterns that dripped and oozed rivers of thick flowing honey.

The queen birthed so many princess bees over the course of her long life. One would inevitably become the queen should something happen to her. But the others were allowed to travel and assist the druids in performing magic as stipulated in an ancient treaty between the grove and the giant bees.

Even from his position in the world tree he could hear the chorus of buzzing as the giant bees came and went as they flew for leagues in any direction and returning with so much pollen and nectar that some of the smaller fey were lost in clouds of pollen or globules of honey.

They weren't the only contribution to the Grove's defense however, Seril thought as he spotted a squad of bumbleflyers flying past his level. The buzzing of the bumblebee wings vibrating the air like that of a tremor as the squad flew down and out an opening within the tree and headed off to whatever needed their attention within the grove.

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Then there were of course the others. The average giant bees partnered with wardens. Or even used as mounts for pixies and fairies for their little "raids" against whichever poor sop that they got in their sights. A special squadron specifically to catch those not sure of foot should they fall from the levels. The more heavily armored queen's guard that never left the throne room that housed said queen.

Speaking of throne room, he thought as he decided it was about time he got moving. The Amber Council and the Arch-Druid were expecting his participation. If he and Kerin were being sent for then that must mean that most of the elder leadership of the wardens were off elsewhere. Not that he was complaining. After being away on adventure for some time he was looking forward to some time doing nothing but standing among the council and looking imposing. Though he doubt he needed to do much since odds were the Warden-General was there as well.

With magic and powers that were only known to the fae and the druids themselves, he travelled dozens of floors with every step he took as he ascended further and further up. If not for the fact of almost running into the giant amber wood doors that led to the council chamber/throne room, he might've kept going. Wouldn't be the first time that fae have played such tricks. They once did it to one treekin that with every step it ended up either at the very top of the world tree or the very bottom! The treekin didn't seem to mind though, which is probably why the trick didn't last more than a week before the fae grew bored and left the treekin alone.

As he neared the chamber door that allowed entry, he passed the stoic elves guarding the door with barely a nod and went inside. Once within, he beheld the administrative heart of the Amber Grove. The vast chamber was bathed in pleasing yellow light and filled with voices and the buzzing of bees. In the center of the chamber was the Amber Council itself.

Above hung a grand amber crystal chandelier that glowed a soft light that illuminated the chamber. A hexagonal table that each held leading figures among the factions of the grove. Nature spirits, elves, fae, woodland centaur, and the intelligent fauna of the grove. At the sixth and final side of the table, sat the dual figures of the Amber Grove and the council. The Arch-Druid himself, and at his side was a bee that to be called massive would be a vast and inadequate understatement.

The Arch-Druid and the queen bee sat upon a platform of rich amber as they gazed down at the rest of the council. The Arch-Druid was undoubtedly an elf. His face was handsome with skin a rich sun-kissed brown with eyes that glowed a warm yellow. His hair was a mass of matted brown locks that little bees freely entered and left from. His frame could scarcely be seen under the mix of druid robes and warden armor, but what Syril could see left little doubt that the Arch-Druid was anything but some backline spellcaster like Astrala. That and the fact he wielded a long elegant glaive that looked like it could disembowel a giant in one fluid motion.

The queen bee, though perhaps empress would be a more apt title, fulfilled her title and then some. The gargantuan bee took up a full quarter of the chamber by herself. Her eyes shined with the same yellow glow as the Arch-Druid's and Syril could tell at even a glance that there was a deeper intelligence to her. From the gouges in her chitin and bare patches in her fuzz, she's also seen her fair share of fights and combat as well. At a glance Seril could see tenders, bee and elf, coming and going from one end of the empress and carried away writhing grubs that would then be placed into comb and tended to in order to grow the hive. Seeing the size of the empress, he wasn't surprised. There was probably some point that she could've done it herself, but those days were long behind the massive bee. Along the walls and above the chamber perched the royal guard for the empress. These bees LOOKED like royal guards! Their chitin taking on the appearance of knightly armor.

He quickly spotted Kerin and the Warden-General and hurried over as the council was already deep in conversation.

"And when will that be?!"

The voice came from the delegation from the fae. The current king and queen of the grove fae he would take a guess. The fae, especially the pixies and faeries, enjoyed their politicking and schemes and it wouldn't surprise him if there was a different set of royals tomorrow or even an hour from now to take their place.

Said delegation looked akin to those he saw on his way in from outside the grove. Small beings with arms and legs that looked more like brittle twigs than actual limbs. Hair brightly colored and outlandishly styled. Clothes a hodgepodge of discarded insect parts and whatever leaf, flower, or other forest debris they could get their hands on. The king himself reminded Seril of a grasshopper with a overcoat made of beetle shell and leaves. While the queen was garbed in what could only be described as some sort of millipede dress gown. At their side was a veritable procession of other fae that tended to their whims all dressed in similar hodgepodge manner.

"When we have gathered enough supplies. While we are aware of where the portal will lead us to, we do not know what has changed since the fae were there last."

The answering voice came from the Warden-General herself. The elvish woman had a face like any typical elf. Astoundingly beautiful, by human standards that is. Her hair, blond that bordered on white, was tied into a short ponytail that didn't reach past her luminous pale-skinned ears. Like himself, she wore the same bee themed warden armor. About the only difference between her own and his was that she had a honey yellow shoulder cape that denoted her rank and more than a few gouges from seeing far more action than he.

"If we wait too long, what supplies we have will be used up."

The speaker this time was the delegation of the woodland centaur. The figure was old. His human skin was dark but showed signs of greying from age along with his hair that was pure gray. His horse hide wasn't any better and Syril would bet that were it not for the blessings of the fae that the wizened centaur would have passed already. His foggy clouded eyes stared at a single spot on the table and when he spoke, his voice, once deep and imposing he was sure, held a frailty and tiredness to it. Odds were this would be the last Seril saw the centaur as even faeish blessings could only extend life so far. The only way he got here looked to be the two younger, and from the looks of it related, centaur that kept close to him as well as a few forest satyrs that regularly gave him some sort of medicine. Or alcohol. He wasn't sure when it came to the two races if there was even a difference to them.

The other delegations also spoke, voicing their own concerns and assumptions. From what Seril could gather, it was over how soon to begin the migration. Some, like the Warden-General and the nature spirits, led by some sort of willow-like treekin that he wasn't sure was even facing the right direction over how thick its willow stems flowed over its face, wanted to wait for more time and supplies or for more nature spirits to arrive with comments from a pair of flowering shrub looking forest spirits at its side. While others wanted to leave as soon as possible before they either didn't have enough supplies to accommodate the move, or before something happens to the grove itself.

So far, the voices were split. The nature spirits and elves in favor of waiting for more supplies and bodies. The fae and centaurs wanted to leave as soon as was able. With the fae blessed animal delegation, some dandy looking toad, badger, mole, and a rat, abstaining after making a far too lengthy and wordy speech as always.

After hours of arguing, threatening, pleading, and all manner of discussion, the voices quieted and all eyes turned to the Arch-Druid. It was clear that they were gridlocked and in order to move forwards, the tie would have to be broken.

The Arch-Druid stared impassively down upon the council. The only sounds in the room was the varied sounds of anxiousness from the council and the constant droning of the bees. Only after a long and heavy voice absent silence, did the Arch-Druid speak. When he did, his voice came out like that of a groan from the very tree itself.

"An expedition."

The delegation all turned to one another before looking back at him as he continued.

"An expedition will be sent across. It will be they that determine our path forwards. If the other side is safe. We will move. If not. We will wait until we are better prepared."

A thundering bang from the butt of his glaive signaled the path forwards, and left no more room for arguing. The council came to an end, and the delegations departed to carry out the word of the Arch-Druid. As they did, the Warden-General rose and turned to Syril and Kerin.

"Make ready you two, you'll be among the expedition."

"Us?" Seril heard Kerin ask.

The Warden-General nodded and marched past, the two of them fell in behind and followed along.

"As wardens it is our duty to see to the safety of the grove. This expedition is just another way of doing just that."

"But how are we supposed to do that?" Seril asked.

"A squad will be assembled and sent across the faey portal. The portal should be stable enough on our end to keep it open."

"Should?" Kerin asked a little unsure.

The Warden-General stopped abruptly and turned to look at the two of them fully. Her speech discarding the official tone she had put on during the meeting.

"I wont mince words. Even the fae themselves aren't sure the condition of the other side. What records we've been able to decipher from Faeish suggest there was a reason the fae left that place. But what and when is uncertain. The only hint we have is the records frequently mention some sort of 'gold eagle'. But since this is coming from the fae means take anything I'm telling you with a hefty grain of salt. The other side could be a place so alien and inhospitable that you'll die the second you step foot there. Or it could be meadows and rainbows. The point is, we don't know. But it's either take this chance or wait for our world to deteriorate even more."

Syril and Kerin looked at one another before nodding and saluting the Warden-General.

"Our orders general?"

The Warden-General nodded with a genuine smile on her face.

"Head to the quartering lodge. Assemble a squad skilled and trusted. Then make ready. For there's a chance you don't return."