Waking up in a forest is not a bad thing for him but it was not his forest. When he slept the day before he was in his grove surrounded by what he nurtured through the years. The forest he was in now was not his forest for the leaves were dark and dying yet still vibrant. All in all Narrock was rather confused about the forest he was in and how he got there. Not that it truly mattered in the end he was here where ever here was. And while it would have been nice for some notice before his kidnapping to another forest, he was at peace for the simple reason of it being another forest.
What concerned him was the sky he saw, the moon he knew was not broken but there it was in the night sky several smaller fragments of the moon hung in the sky for all to see. So it was most likely he was no longer in Faerun… which meant a gate spell must have taken him to a different plane of existence. Not that it hadn't happened before though travelling to the elemental planes of air, earth, water and fire of your own volition was different than being gated around the planes. He would have asked the wizard or sorcerer that sweep him away why they had done this but he awoke alone to the sounds of nature. This was nice as now he could start to see the details of the forest in how little there were any animals around, other than the occasional hoot or the growl of a wolf. Although the growls sounded off for some reason… no matter now was not a time to think, now was a time for action and so Narrock got off his butt and stood up.
Wandering came naturally to him after all druids wondered many places in their lifetime. Though his adventures in many of the larger cities of Faerun made him rather recognizable which lead to very awkward getaways. And while the titles of 'hero of Neverwinter' and 'Hero of Waterdeep' were nice it mattered little to him since he longer liked Neverwinter and Waterdeep was still repairing last he saw the city. Still when he came across a river in the forest he followed it down river. Cities were not his favourite place but villages were as they still needed to connect with nature and hadn't built homes and walls with silent stone and wood. Villages respected nature and in turn nature would reward the villages with a bountiful crop or a downpour for struggling farms. So when he eventually found a village after an hour or so he was concerned. The palisade that surrounded it was broken and by the area around it there were no farms to be seen. The gate itself looked like it was broken from the outside which likely meant monsters or bandits had attacked the place recently. Still he was confused about his whereabouts so with little caution Narrock strolled into the village.
Humans. His like for them decreased dramatically after what happened in Neverwinter even if half his blood was human. Still the militia he found when he walked in didn't deserve this, his chest torn to pieces, arms missing from whatever torn him apart and left him dead in the middle of the road. Muttering a small prayer to the man he continued on finding more militia and villagers slaughtered as he walked through, stopping at every corpse to ensure they had truly passed and offered prayers for them all. Humans didn't deserve this; they were not responsible for what happened back then. Eventually he found what looked like the only not completely destroyed building in the village, Narrock surmising it to be the village hall. It was a large structure, likely would have noticed it if he wasn't busy with the dead, with doors looking more enforced and the windows being mostly intact. Likely if any survived they would be within so with no hesitation Narrock knocked on the front door.
It took a couple more knocks before someone opened the door, an old man wearing a mesh of leather and metal; a conscript for whatever attacked their village most likely. "Are they gone?" he rasped a look of pure fear as his eyes darted at what little he could see. Narrock had no clue what had attacked but they had not attacked him as he gave last rites so he merely nodded at the man who looked relieved. "Thank the Gods it's over… I don't know who you are stranger but please come in." When he entered he found what remained of the village; half in blankets, cots or on the ground with the other half standing guard at the windows or becoming pressed into being medics for the others. When the door closed only a few of the guards looked away to see him enters but none truly paid attention to him so he walked to the first body. Bandaged badly the man looked weak, panting as he tried to breath properly despite the wounds across his chest. Narrock pulled a flower from his pack and put it near his mouth, a nurse looked like he would stop him until she and others saw the shine the flower gave off. The man began to breath better, in through the nose and out the mouth, before he smiled at him; "Thank you" was all he said as he slipped into slumber. Narrock nodded before turning his head to the nurse and a few of the medics that stared at him. "Bring me your injured, your sick and your dying. Lay them towards me so that I may restore life where life may be lost" was all that Narrock stated as he shuffled towards another villager. This one had yet to be properly tended to, a deep gash along her right forearm, likely to lose it if not treated properly. He looked at the woman before smiling, "Take heart young one for I will mend what has been broken." Guards and medics looked in awe as a light appeared in Narrock's hands as he slowly applied it to the wound. Muttering under his breath the wound sealed itself with flesh reknitted and blood that was once lost was now replaced leaving no scar. He looked at her, seeing the confusion in her eyes and he smiled, "Rest young one and dream of a better tomorrow."
The medics soon parted as he went from body to body offering aid, several overcoming their awe to assist when he called on them for patients that had already been treated. He offered prayers as he used both natural remedies for minor pains and injuries and the light when he found bodies with more sever wounds. The others eventually snapped from their stupor and returned to work with vigor, hope however small ignited within them as Narrock treated another man who looked old but had eyes of someone who still had a fight left in him. It reminded him of Nasher, except there was no mustache in sight, there was however several cuts on his arms and one on his face. Magic was not needed for the arms, the ointment he created for several others would be enough, but the face would need a healer's touch as he proceeded to apply the medicine to his arms. "I thank you stranger," he looked up to see the man stare at him, "many of us would be lost had it not been for your kindness. When I am better I will see you rewarded." Narrock merely shook his head, "if I wanted something I would have asked instead close your eyes I will need to apply a cure to that cut." He stated as a light appeared again in his hands and applied it to the man's face. When it faded the man stared at him, "Who are you? What are you… an angel?" Narrock smiled, "I am no one of importance nor am I an angel. I am merely a very lost doctor." He stated as he went onto another patient.
An entire day went by when Narrock was truly done with everyone including several guards on duty that tried to hide their injuries and while the nurses scolded he applied cures to their wounds. The hall was quiet as most of the townsfolk were asleep but there was still work to be done. Narrock walked back outside escorted by a guard at their insistence that he be protected from the 'Grimm' whatever they were. Still he had one last duty before he could rest, "Tell me guardsman how do you treat your dead?" The guard remained silent as Narrock picked up the first body, a child no more than ten years old. Unlike many others he encounter the boy's face was at peace, accepting death… he wish he could have meet the boy before this so that he could learn the name of someone so brave. "We bury them but with so many we may have to cremated them instead but that's for the others to decide" the guardsman watched as Narrock carried the body to the hall before laying him down on the ground with his arms across his chest. Then Narrock preceded one by one carrying the bodies of the dead to the hall and laying them, he lost the guard after the third body. The man's wife had her chest ripped open but even dead he mended the flesh, the guardsman blessed him as he mourned. The lives of the living must be cherished but the dead must also be respected and given peace. He knew what could happen if the spirit is restless so he wandered through the entire village finding people he missed, blessed them and brought them back to the hall. By morning the bodies of 48 men, women and children lay before the hall. It was then when all prayers for the dead were done and fresh was remade did he collapse much to concern of the guard and those who rushed outside when they heard he fell… not that Narrock knew he was too busy sleeping.