Post by Maur on Jun 29, 2016 7:41:39 GMT
"Any word from the Mother?" a voice spoke in the darkness, it resonated from high above the treetops, the body it belonged to shook the earth with every movement of it's massive feet.
"You ask me such things as if I would know before you, I'm surprised you haven't lost hope already, Adai." Another figure responded, he only came up to the other's hip in terms of height, these two were an unusual sort, massive trees who walked and talked.
"Are you insinuating that I do not have the utmost faith in our Mother Fayodinn?" The taller figure asked, looking down at his friend as he did so.
"You have given examples in the past." Fayodinn informed him as they stopped walking, and looked out over a massive lake, it's surface was still and serene whilst it's depths churned with monstrous beasts, even Adai feared getting too near to the water.
"Four days since we lost contact with the Mother..." Fayodinn said to his ancient friend as they glared into the abyss, "I'm not certain things will ever be the same."
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"I believe it is time we stopped for a drink." Adai said to his shorter companion, Fayodinn hastily agreed as the two took a break from their morning walk around the place they called home. Adai stopped dead, and dug the roots at the end of his massive legs into the soft earth of the Swamp, there he tapped into the world blood, and drank, Fayodinn did the same, but it tasted wrong, foul in a way, he found that he could not remove his roots, his body kept sucking up the defiled energy.
Fayodinn cried out, as did Adai, in fear and confusion, they bellowed in harmony as Adai looked to his friend, and lashed out with both titanic arms, their bark began to turn grey and old, but with his last ounce of strength, Adai pulled Fayodinn from the earth, tearing his roots in the process. Once he was free Fayodinn scrambled to help his friend, sap leaked from his wounds but he paid it no attention, attempting to lift Adai from the earth as he had done. It was not possible for Fayodinn, his friend was too large. He could not abandon him, so he forced himself to stare upon his old friend's eyes as the light behind them faded into a grey nothing.
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The Northern Marsh was home to many, from the creatures that swam in the waters of Marsh and Swamp alike, to the insects in the air and those that crawled across the ground. Rumors existed however, that other things lived here, things that had not lived in most of the world for many ages.
Fayodinn was one of these things, he was a Treant, one of the tree shepherds, a titan of living wood as old as the world itself. There was a time when his kindred could be found in every forest in existence, but that time was long gone.
If one were to ask Fayodinn he would have no idea how his friends slipped away. He tended his trees through the ages, not an easy task as the trees who managed to thrive in swamps were not the kind who took too well to direction, but he managed, even when the world blood turned sour in his mouth, he managed to scrape by, his roots dug deep into the earth, and like the trees around him he relied on the soil for his sustenance. He is much weaker for it, but at least he escaped death.
When his mother, Azalea of the Weald, gathered together Treants from all corners of the world in an attempt to cure a mysterious illness, she dispatched a messenger to the Swamp, fortunately for the Treants of the Marsh, the messenger never arrived, if he had delivered his message Fayodinn would have perished at the hands of Timore's beasts alongside Fenfur of the Great Forest and Caliya of the Northern Wood. All of the Treants besides Fayodinn perished anyway when the world-blood was tainted by Sayre, Den only knows how he survived ingesting the filth.
He didn't know when the realization hit him, or why it did, but one day while tending the trees, Fayodinn raised his wooden head to the sky, stood, and walked from the Marsh.
He walked for years, time drew on as he roamed the earth, stalking from forest to forest, constantly searching for one thing, and one thing only, his mother, Azalea. Along his journey, he ran into a curious librarian somewhere in the north of the world that told him where to find her, Etirath.
Name: Fayodinn
Age: As old as the World
Gender: Male
Race: Treant
Height: 38 feet
Weight: (A lot)
Combat style: Does not often participate in violence, he is generally given a wide berth, but when necessary, vines and massive arms don't hurt his chances.
Weapons: Himself
Abilities: Spore cloud, all Treants have the innate ability to neutralize enemies with a non-lethal gaseous excretion, this takes at least ten minutes to bring down a human.
Gear: Nothing
"You ask me such things as if I would know before you, I'm surprised you haven't lost hope already, Adai." Another figure responded, he only came up to the other's hip in terms of height, these two were an unusual sort, massive trees who walked and talked.
"Are you insinuating that I do not have the utmost faith in our Mother Fayodinn?" The taller figure asked, looking down at his friend as he did so.
"You have given examples in the past." Fayodinn informed him as they stopped walking, and looked out over a massive lake, it's surface was still and serene whilst it's depths churned with monstrous beasts, even Adai feared getting too near to the water.
"Four days since we lost contact with the Mother..." Fayodinn said to his ancient friend as they glared into the abyss, "I'm not certain things will ever be the same."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I believe it is time we stopped for a drink." Adai said to his shorter companion, Fayodinn hastily agreed as the two took a break from their morning walk around the place they called home. Adai stopped dead, and dug the roots at the end of his massive legs into the soft earth of the Swamp, there he tapped into the world blood, and drank, Fayodinn did the same, but it tasted wrong, foul in a way, he found that he could not remove his roots, his body kept sucking up the defiled energy.
Fayodinn cried out, as did Adai, in fear and confusion, they bellowed in harmony as Adai looked to his friend, and lashed out with both titanic arms, their bark began to turn grey and old, but with his last ounce of strength, Adai pulled Fayodinn from the earth, tearing his roots in the process. Once he was free Fayodinn scrambled to help his friend, sap leaked from his wounds but he paid it no attention, attempting to lift Adai from the earth as he had done. It was not possible for Fayodinn, his friend was too large. He could not abandon him, so he forced himself to stare upon his old friend's eyes as the light behind them faded into a grey nothing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Northern Marsh was home to many, from the creatures that swam in the waters of Marsh and Swamp alike, to the insects in the air and those that crawled across the ground. Rumors existed however, that other things lived here, things that had not lived in most of the world for many ages.
Fayodinn was one of these things, he was a Treant, one of the tree shepherds, a titan of living wood as old as the world itself. There was a time when his kindred could be found in every forest in existence, but that time was long gone.
If one were to ask Fayodinn he would have no idea how his friends slipped away. He tended his trees through the ages, not an easy task as the trees who managed to thrive in swamps were not the kind who took too well to direction, but he managed, even when the world blood turned sour in his mouth, he managed to scrape by, his roots dug deep into the earth, and like the trees around him he relied on the soil for his sustenance. He is much weaker for it, but at least he escaped death.
When his mother, Azalea of the Weald, gathered together Treants from all corners of the world in an attempt to cure a mysterious illness, she dispatched a messenger to the Swamp, fortunately for the Treants of the Marsh, the messenger never arrived, if he had delivered his message Fayodinn would have perished at the hands of Timore's beasts alongside Fenfur of the Great Forest and Caliya of the Northern Wood. All of the Treants besides Fayodinn perished anyway when the world-blood was tainted by Sayre, Den only knows how he survived ingesting the filth.
He didn't know when the realization hit him, or why it did, but one day while tending the trees, Fayodinn raised his wooden head to the sky, stood, and walked from the Marsh.
He walked for years, time drew on as he roamed the earth, stalking from forest to forest, constantly searching for one thing, and one thing only, his mother, Azalea. Along his journey, he ran into a curious librarian somewhere in the north of the world that told him where to find her, Etirath.
Name: Fayodinn
Age: As old as the World
Gender: Male
Race: Treant
Height: 38 feet
Weight: (A lot)
Combat style: Does not often participate in violence, he is generally given a wide berth, but when necessary, vines and massive arms don't hurt his chances.
Weapons: Himself
Abilities: Spore cloud, all Treants have the innate ability to neutralize enemies with a non-lethal gaseous excretion, this takes at least ten minutes to bring down a human.
Gear: Nothing