Isindarl

- - Isindarl: A Study in Life Written by Disillusionist! Most Pearlcatchers take great pride in keeping their pearls immaculate, but not Isindarl. Her pearl is scratched and abraded, and that's fine with her, for it means it bears the marks of adventure, just as she does. Isindarl is quite interested in the creatures of Sornieth, and despite having no battle experience, she enjoys observing them up close in their natural habitats. To protect herself, she has learned some concealment spells, but more often than not all she does is craft ingenious disguises of branches and leaves, for she knows that magic can damage the natural world. New beings are discovered in Sornieth all the time. Perhaps someday she will set aside the time to train herself, so she can be at the forefront of expeditions. But she doesn't mind sitting comfortably by a stack of books and research notes, collating information that comes in. Sometimes even just wading through knowledge is in itself an adventure.

Phytocat Toy Trinkets It's important to play with your familiars for at least fifteen minutes every day. 22 Grouse Basilisk Field Notes Dragonmade Someone was very dedicated. 22 Decorative Feather Fan Trinkets A flashy way to keep your cool. 23 Noxious Coralclimber Toxin Organics Unstopping this vial releases a foul odor. 34 written and coded byDisillusionist

The fallen body of a hapless Pearlcatcher, a wanderer who had gone far too deep into the forests and never emerged, was fished out of the marsh by a sorrowful group of Oakheart druids, led by one Skydancer wood-nymph by the name of Caryati. Their party had been patrolling the area just west, closer to the Glademother's domain. The land was treacherous here, half-alive itself, and it didn't take kindly to intrusions. The little body was cold, still, and they regarded it with as much sorrow as they did a fallen ancient oak. Such potential, one muttered, lost by the careless footfalls of a stranger to the land. The broken trees, churned earth, all attested to a rockslide; perhaps a herd of wild animals had been spooked by the pearlcatcher landing- or perhaps even lurking- amongst them. Was that a whole sapling she had tied to her back? What on earth possessed her? Did she not know how dangerous the monsters and the beastclans and even the spirits were, in a place as uncharted as this? Perhaps the very land had rebelled against her stealing a sapling, and lashed out in revenge. Even the druids could not travel these lands alone. They shook their heads in sorrow. As they spoke the last rites to lay the still body to rest at the feet of the Glademother, something very odd began to happen. Some vines stretched forth from the trees in the shallow pool, as if the earth had already begun to reclaim it, and curled around the limbs, twined through the hair, encircled the tail. The dry and dead sapling, reaching out tender roots, embraced the pearlcatcher's shoulders, and all of a sudden life blossomed, as did the tree, shooting forth flowers and new leaves while the pearlcatcher gasped, spluttered out mud and filth, and struggled to her feet. The earth was a part of her now, entrenched as the roots which spanned the hole where her spine had broken; the spirits had seen fit to grant her another life. The druids warned that they were unlikely to do so twice, and she ought to be more careful in future. Also, keep hydrated. She was part plant now, and should never leave the green earth, lest she wilt or catch dry rot or similar.

The druids dropped the dazed and confused Pearlcatcher off at the Oakheart Clan, whereupon she was immediately 'adopted' by the local nature dragons. Caryati especially took the poor thing under her wing, understanding the shock of being resurrected at the whim of the spirits. She helped her wash the dirt from her face, come to terms with the greenery sprouting from her from all sides, and then asked for her name.
The pearlcatcher shook her head, sadly.
"Ayla, then. Because you're sprouting an Oak tree." Caryati was ever-practical, smiled and patted the young one on the shoulder. "You'll fit in here just fine, don't worry."
Years later, Ayla found the hand-scribbled textbooks which she'd dropped, in the landslide. She was fascinated by the smudged charcoal sketches, the detailled descriptions of biology and anatomy of wild creatures in their natural habitat. She thought this was a fantastic idea; her skin goosepimpled at the thought, as she ran her hands over the oddly familiar covers. The marsh had half reclaimed them, but half-preserved inner cover, still intact read, 'Isindarl: A Study in Life' and she wondered at what a pretty name that was. She might, in fact, use it. As a pen name though, of course...