Editing Midnight RPG - Chapter 10.01

===SEER SIGHT VISION:  "THE MISSING TIME IN THE DEAD MARSH SWAMPS"===

===SEER SIGHT VISION:  "THE MISSING TIME IN THE DEAD MARSH SWAMPS"===

'''This begins a situation occurs after the trees had seemed to overtake Eranon... Concerning what happened to Eranon and the trees of the Dead Marshes.''' [[Image:The-Dead-Marshes.gif|The Dead Marshes|thumb]] <br> When last we left the heroes of Eredane, it seemed as though the great trees of the Dead Marshes enveloped Eranon.  Quickly advancing some 20'-30', overtaking the young Elven wildlander...  But what seemed to be is not the same as what has come to pass...  The great swamp trees had not advanced.  Eranon stood firmly in the muck and mire on the outskirts of the Dead Marsh lands.  He looked up into the black dense swamp-tree foliage.  The wind began to rush.  Cracking of bark and timber mixed with slurping splooshes and soon the wind carried a creaking moan on the foul smell of the putrid swamp beyond.  <br>  Holding aloft the necklace given to him by Ossion, he let loose the silver acorn held tight in his palm.  Speaking into the slight wind Eranon heard the slump of you and your human companions all caught in mid-fall...  Vines and black tree limbs reached out from around and above the wildlander pulling your and his friends from their feet as they dangled, drifting into unconciousness.  <br> <br>  the wind whisps and Eranon's ears perk as if listening...  <br>  Meanwhile, your joints begin cracking as the forest begins to rip the human and your bodies from limb to limb.  <br> <br>  '''a deep voice'''  this one not of the whispering wind, this one built with the gravel of tension and tiresome grinding of wood and muck raking... <br>  '''''"THEY DO NOT HEAR... THEY DO NOT KNOW... THEY...'''''  <br> '''''DO''''' <br> '''''NOT''''' <br> '''''PASS!''''' <br> '''''THEY SHALL BECOME AS SOIL, FOR OUR OLD BONES..."''''' <br>  the voice of the black barked swamp cypress cracked as his timbers ground with a turn of what could appear to be the torso of this elder of the swamp.  Its face, not that of a man, yet strange and alien.  As it bellowed out, as if in pain, the swamp replied...  Two... Three... Four... and a Fifth moaned in a song of death murmurs, lumber snapping and breaking as the body of one of the humans was tossed into the vines of black elm.  <br> These trees... were not of the living whispering woods familiar to any Caransil or other woodland folk.  These were the trees of the Dead Marsh, these were the trees remaining from the once proud cypress, the beautiful ash, the elm, the cottonwood and the sycamore... And as they stand allowing the one with the silver acron to pass, the ones without will not be so lucky.  These fatal few are the last tree herders, now pushed to the outskirts of their lands.  Able to go no further.  For they would die if they traveled beyond the pale and foul energy of the sickening swamps.  But perhaps "die" is a poor term.  Can that which is already dead, truly die?  <br> Eranon stands at the forefront of the black trees, perhaps he can ask these trees how they yet move when they are already DEAD?!!...  <br> <br>  '''ROLL:'''  Durgaz (Intelligence +1)  ROLLED:  9+1 =  10 ''  <br> ''The moaning heard coming from the trees could have resembled the breaking of the wood, the deep moans seemed to have taken the minds of your body as well as Kyuad, Zal'Kazzir and the Cobra, driving you into unconciousness.  Is it Eranon's heritage of elven-kind that protects him now or Ossion's amulet?  Whatever it is - your body, Kyuad and Zal'Kazzir will be ripped in multiple parts if Eranon doesn't have something to say about it quickly!!''

'''This begins a situation occurs after the trees had seemed to overtake Eranon... Concerning what happened to Eranon and the trees of the Dead Marshes.''' [[Image:The-Dead-Marshes.gif|The Dead Marshes|thumb]] <br> When last we left the heroes of Eredane, it seemed as though the great trees of the Dead Marshes enveloped Eranon.  Quickly advancing some 20'-30', overtaking the young Elven wildlander...  But what seemed to be is not the same as what has come to pass...  The great swamp trees had not advanced.  Eranon stood firmly in the muck and mire on the outskirts of the Dead Marsh lands.  He looked up into the black dense swamp-tree foliage.  The wind began to rush.  Cracking of bark and timber mixed with slurping splooshes and soon the wind carried a creaking moan on the foul smell of the putrid swamp beyond.  <br>  Holding aloft the necklace given to him by Ossion, he let loose the silver acorn held tight in his palm.  Speaking into the slight wind Eranon heard the slump of you and your human companions all caught in mid-fall...  Vines and black tree limbs reached out from around and above the wildlander pulling your and his friends from their feet as they dangled, drifting into unconciousness.  <br> <br>  the wind whisps and Eranon's ears perk as if listening...  <br>  Meanwhile, your joints begin cracking as the forest begins to rip the human and your bodies from limb to limb.  <br> <br>  '''a deep voice'''  this one not of the whispering wind, this one built with the gravel of tension and tiresome grinding of wood and muck raking... <br>  '''''"THEY DO NOT HEAR... THEY DO NOT KNOW... THEY...'''''  <br> '''''DO''''' <br> '''''NOT''''' <br> '''''PASS!''''' <br> '''''THEY SHALL BECOME AS SOIL, FOR OUR OLD BONES..."''''' <br>  the voice of the black barked swamp cypress cracked as his timbers ground with a turn of what could appear to be the torso of this elder of the swamp.  Its face, not that of a man, yet strange and alien.  As it bellowed out, as if in pain, the swamp replied...  Two... Three... Four... and a Fifth moaned in a song of death murmurs, lumber snapping and breaking as the body of one of the humans was tossed into the vines of black elm.  <br> These trees... were not of the living whispering woods familiar to any Caransil or other woodland folk.  These were the trees of the Dead Marsh, these were the trees remaining from the once proud cypress, the beautiful ash, the elm, the cottonwood and the sycamore... And as they stand allowing the one with the silver acron to pass, the ones without will not be so lucky.  These fatal few are the last tree herders, now pushed to the outskirts of their lands.  Able to go no further.  For they would die if they traveled beyond the pale and foul energy of the sickening swamps.  But perhaps "die" is a poor term.  Can that which is already dead, truly die?  <br> Eranon stands at the forefront of the black trees, perhaps he can ask these trees how they yet move when they are already DEAD?!!...  <br> <br>  '''ROLL:'''  Durgaz (Intelligence +1)  ROLLED:  9+1 =  10 ''  <br> ''The moaning heard coming from the trees could have resembled the breaking of the wood, the deep moans seemed to have taken the minds of your body as well as Kyuad, Zal'Kazzir and the Cobra, driving you into unconciousness.  Is it Eranon's heritage of elven-kind that protects him now or Ossion's amulet?  Whatever it is - your body, Kyuad and Zal'Kazzir will be ripped in multiple parts if Eranon doesn't have something to say about it quickly!!''

''the BLACK CYPRESS''  it's bones made of branches, it's body the core of the tree - the broken tree herder cracks and bends to the Elfkind making the forest feel so very very small...  <br> Eranon pushes back the morning's breakfast as his stomach turns with the smell of rotten limb and leaf as a maw in the trunk of the tree opens to speak...   

''the BLACK CYPRESS''  it's bones made of branches, it's body the core of the tree - the broken tree herder cracks and bends to the Elfkind making the forest feel so very very small...  <br> Eranon pushes back the morning's breakfast as his stomach turns with the smell of rotten limb and leaf as a maw in the trunk of the tree opens to speak...   

'''Eranon'''  "NO!!  With all respect, old one, you are wrong.  They have all proven themselves friends of the wood, friends of elf-kind.  They have all risked thier lives to deliver Messiah, a young ramaloce to the elves, to turn the tide of war.  They all travel with me to save the Shadow-Wall from Vrolk.  The Orc is Durgaz the Mirror Breaker, he has rid the marshes of the Shadow's reach.  The Erenlander is Kyuad the Scroll Bearer, he brings the words or Aradil.  They have all made a pact with the dire animal of the swamp, at the control of the Sarcosan.  These deed they have done for my kind, and all of Eredane, and many more will they do, if you do not kill them.  Please let them cross, I will take care to obscure your presence from them, though I don't know how you intend for me to cross."

'''Eranon'''  "NO!!  With all respect, old one, you are wrong.  They have all proven themselves friends of the wood, friends of elf-kind.  They have all risked thier lives to deliver Messiah, a young ramaloce to the elves, to turn the tide of war.  They all travel with me to save the Shadow-Wall from Vrolk.  The Orc is Durgaz the Mirror Breaker, he has rid the marshes of the Shadow's reach.  The Erenlander is Kyuad the Scroll Bearer, he brings the words or Aradil.  They have all made a pact with the dire animal of the swamp, at the control of the Sarcosan.  These deed they have done for my kind, and all of Eredane, and many more will they do, if you do not kill them.  Please let them cross, I will take care to obscure your presence from them, though I don't know how you intend for me to cross."

and as the Cypress drones on Eranon can hear the others rumbling voices seeming to speak lower to one another...   

and as the Cypress drones on Eranon can hear the others rumbling voices seeming to speak lower to one another...   

'''''"SO THEN ELFLING, IT COMES TO WE CYPRESS TREES. SO HIGH WE REACH OUR LEAVES YET THEY SEE NO SUN. SO DEEP WE DIG OUR ROOTS YET WE FEEL NO PURE SOIL  YOU HAVE COME TO THE LAND OF THE DEAD AND HERE ONLY DEAD WALK SAFELY. WE CANNOT WALK WITH YOU. WE CANNOT BE KNOWN. YOU SHALL HIDE KNOWLEDGE OF US IN THE RECESS OF YOUR MIND. YOU WILL NOT ALLOW WE UNDEAD TREE HERDERS TO BE WITNESSED.  WE GIVE YOU THIS GIFT AND EXPECT YOUR VALOR.  WE DO SO RISKING OUR UNLIVES.  YET FOR THIS HOPE TO ONE DAY SEE THE SUN BEFORE THE NECROMANCER GIVES US UP, WE WILL STEP ASIDE AND LOOM OVER YOUR TRIP THROUGH THE HEART OF DARKNESS. THE VOTE IS CAST. YOU MAY PASS."'''''  

'''''"SO THEN ELFLING, IT COMES TO WE CYPRESS TREES. SO HIGH WE REACH OUR LEAVES YET THEY SEE NO SUN. SO DEEP WE DIG OUR ROOTS YET WE FEEL NO PURE SOIL  YOU HAVE COME TO THE LAND OF THE DEAD AND HERE ONLY DEAD WALK SAFELY. WE CANNOT WALK WITH YOU. WE CANNOT BE KNOWN. YOU SHALL HIDE KNOWLEDGE OF US IN THE RECESS OF YOUR MIND. YOU WILL NOT ALLOW WE UNDEAD TREE HERDERS TO BE WITNESSED.  WE GIVE YOU THIS GIFT AND EXPECT YOUR VALOR.  WE DO SO RISKING OUR UNLIVES.  YET FOR THIS HOPE TO ONE DAY SEE THE SUN BEFORE THE NECROMANCER GIVES US UP, WE WILL STEP ASIDE AND LOOM OVER YOUR TRIP THROUGH THE HEART OF DARKNESS. THE VOTE IS CAST. YOU MAY PASS."'''''