The Ranger in Green 2 – Magic Stones

The Ranger is a guardian of the forest. Clad entirely in green, his attire blends seamlessly with the surrounding foliage—an expertly tailored green outfit, complete with green boots, a green cloak, and a green tunic. He possesses the ability to merge with the forest greenery; he embodies the balance of nature and the harmony of the world. That is the nature of the forest ranger. He moves swiftly—like the wind, moving in unison with it. He travels while the wind blows, moving silently even as the breeze sways the trees and leaves. The Ranger makes his way through the forest.

The forest is beautiful, rich with dense greenery. Everything is immersed in green, as if the entire world were one vast forest filled with towering trees and broad leaves. Conditions are perfect for the growth of shrubs, grass, and trees—so many trees with massive leaves that their size is astonishing, alongside others bearing an incredible number of tiny leaflets.

Yet, the world is not merely a forest—a fact that is unfortunate for the forest elf. The beautiful, green world he understands so well is not the same everywhere. There are stones—placed here by necromancers—that function as portals. They summon creatures into the forest: gniloks, zombies, and other sluggish undead horrors capable of seizing an unwary traveler. No one knows exactly how these stones work; they are magical, black, and resemble ordinary boulders.

Portals. Stones. Portal-stones. As time passes, rot emerges. A rotting walker appears—a gnilok or a zombie. Rot is dangerous to plants, and zombies, too, can spread infection. Someone truly malevolent orchestrated all of this. There are many such stones in the forest, lying dormant until the time is right. They are magical stones—like a spell set on a timer, yet bound to trigger eventually, whether in a week or two.

Right there on a small forest path, one such stone is visible. It is a black stone with a thick black border, while the center is gray. A gray circle—perfectly shaped—is marked on it, containing a tiny inscription. The elf does not know what is written there; such stones must be disposed of.

The elf carries a magic elixir in a clear glass jar. Inside swirls a bright green, glowing liquid; the color is dense, yet bubbles are visible, and light filters faintly through the fluid. The ranger pours the bright green liquid over the stone.

A cool breeze stirs the air. Tiny sparks shower from the stone—so many of them, like a miniature fireworks display. Yet the sparks vanish quickly, never traveling far from their source. The stone simply crumbles and instantly disintegrates, as if it had never existed at all. Only a faint layer of ash remains—barely perceptible, yet it will serve as good fertilizer for the plants.

It is worth checking all the paths again. These stones keep appearing, requiring constant re-examination. Daily forest patrols demand constant vigilance. The forest is vast—too large to check every inch—which means zombies and rot-creatures will still roam here. Still, there is one less stone now. This inspires confidence that control measures will yield results and that the stones will cease to be a problem—even if their nature remains a mystery and a method for their total eradication has yet to be found.

The rustling of leaves. It is the wind. The elf stopped looking down at his feet and moved on, making his way across the dense green carpet of branches, leaves, and undergrowth—a thick layer of grass. He remembered this part of the forest; there was a small clearing of lush grass here. It was worth taking a look there, too.