The Winds Bleed Back Home

Life, Identity

Crush flies back home to find that his home isn't what it's supposed to be.  He finds his father tortured as a dark message from Scizzord.  If visiting Bactran brought answers about Scizzord, Crush visiting home brought a new booklet of questions.

Crush had left his friends to check in on personal matters in the Timberbank. Calling on the peak of his magic to be lifted on the winds he commanded, he flew northward. As Crush flew home, he focused on the good things. On his father who cared for him. The same flecks of gold in the scutes that hid under Crush's moss. For the training he learned in these timberlands. For the area itself. But as he flew, the bad also found its way of creeping in. Of the berating elven mother. Of the loss of his brother. Of running. And as he flew, the contortions of mind away from what was wanted also crept into reality somehow. Of a river being not where he remembered, though rivers move and hills erode. But as he neared closer to his old home, the off-ness of the world around him grew. A boulder across the way where it shouldn't be. The stream flowing on the wrong side of the house. The house itself slanted. Worried, he approached the door. A knock was returned in a distressed call. The door opened to a horrid sight   Hobbling in into the doorway was a shrivel bulk. A tortle in likeness but limbs dried and cracked. Face forced inward, eyes, crossed, shell scuteless and scabbed. Crush's father wavered and fell to the side, his arm snapping dryly off at the elbow. Crush cried. Questioned. Fumed. Channeled. Pulling out diamond dust, Crush cast the same restorative magic he had upon Chupta's mother. Hydration came back to the tortle as moss sealed cracks. As vitality returned, the scabbed shell bulged and burst in pockets, blood flowing freely from it. Conjuring spores, Crush called for them to cover his father's bleeding shell, to stem the flow and protect like a graft.   Crush helped his father to a seat and they spoke. They spoke of unspoken things. Of the elven mother not be his. Of other full blooded tortle relations. A mother now gone. Of an uncle who left long ago on wondering legs. Of times gone and where Crush had been. And then. And then of his uncle's Return. Scizzord's return. Twisted an mutated. Vicious. Demanding to know where Crush was. Claims that Scizzord would not be replaced. That he would not have what was his taken from him. Of torture, and being left as a message.   Crush Cared for his father. He produced goodberries for the moment but needed to gather supplies for his father to last out while Crush was away. That night and the next morning, he collected food and water. And as the snow came down on a land no longer Crush's own, a land taken from him, he flew back toward his friends to gather the pack to seek vengeance.