Midnight RPG - Chapter 9.03

Kevin

This begins a situation that I hope to be "resolved" by game time... Concerning what happened to Eranon and the trees of the Dead Marshes.

The Dead Marshes

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.
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 his

companions all caught in mid-fall... Vines and black tree limbs reached out from around and above the wildlander pulling his friends from their feet as they dangled, drifting into unconciousness.

the Whisperer
"Fear not Eranon of the woodland realm." the wind would say.
As he began to hear the air escape the bodies of his friends, their joints cracking as the forest began to rip the human and orc bodies from limb to limb.

another voice this one not of the whispering wind, this one built with the gravel of tension and tiresome grinding of wood and muck raking...
"THEY DO NOT HEAR... THEY DO NOT KNOW... THEY...
DO
NOT
PASS!
THEY SHALL BECOME AS SOIL, FOR OUR OLD BONES..."
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.
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?
Eranon stands at the forefront of the black trees, perhaps he can ask these trees how they yet move when they are already DEAD?!!...

ROLL: Eranon (Knowledge Nature +10) ROLLED: 19+10 = 29
Eranon, you have heard of these tortured souls. Formerly Tree Herders (or Treants) in the days before the shadow fell. They were rare after the Sundering these majestic spirits older than most elves in the land. Some are still rumored to aid Aradil and the fights on the fronts of the war, but their time in the sun is gone. These five twisted ancients you now stand amoung are something other... Once herders, now turned and dead. Quite literally Undead Tree Herders. Valendil told you once of the story in a horrible lament song of sorrow. The tune could have resembled the breaking of the wood that you heard before the deep moans took the minds of your friends, driving them into unconciousness. Is it your heritage of elven-kind that protects you now or Ossion's amulet? Whatever it is - Durgaz, Kyuad and Zal'Kazzir will be ripped in multiple parts if you don't have something to say about it quickly!!

Eranon / Steve

Eranon Eranon hold the acorn aloft and shouts. "Stop!!! They are with me. They too carry the blessing of Ossion, and they are under my protection. Please let them pass." Eranon isn't sure whether he is shouting at the Undead herders or the other trees for aid, but he hopes that someone will respond.

Steve Is Eranon actually free to move, or is he somewhat pinned in place?

Kevin

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...

ROLL: Eranon (Fortitude Save +4) ROLLED: 12+4 = 16
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...

"THEY DO NOT BARE BOND OF ANCIENT KINSHIP!
THEY DO NOT HOLD THE SACRED METAL!
THEY DO NOT WALK LIGHT ON EREDANE.
THEY ARE NOT OF ELVEN KIN, KITH OR KIND.
THEY SHALL BREAK AS THE HUMANS LUMBER US INTO COTTAGES! THEY SHALL REND AS THE ORCS TEAR MY BROTHERS LIMB FROM LIMB! WHY DO YOU SPEAK FOR THEM? THEY DO NOT SPEND THOUGHT ON YOUR KIND. MANKIND AND ORC LEGION HAVE NARY A THOUGHT FOR FOREST-FOLK. EVEN IN DEATH IT IS THE ELF-KIN IN THE BLACK-NAIL THAT HAS ALLOWED US TO SWAY IN THE WIND.
WHAT... LITTLE ELF-KIND HAS MAN DONE TO GATHER YOUR WORD? WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO STAY OUR BRANCHES??"
the voice of the Black Cypress drones on for moments allowing Eranon to position himself as necessary for attack or defense. The sounds eminating from the trees seem to be a dark song that does not effect your elf ears.

[No. Eranon is not pinned. He is free to move. The trees do surround you looming over you having grabbed your falling companions. But if necessary Eranon could tumble out of their reach. There is more open swamp to your back but your friends now hang some 25' above you, held aloft together by the four other death shrouded Tree Herders.]

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

the TWISTED SYCAMORE

" YES... WHY DOES THE ELFLING TRUST THEM?!!"

the HUGE ELM

"IS IT TRULY ELF-KIN WHICH STANDS BEFORE US OR A DIRE-SERPENT ILLUSION??"

the DARK GROVED COTTONWOOD

"PERHAPS IT DOESN'T TRUST, PERHAPS IT HAS NOT A CHOICE, PERHAPS IT IS BEING FORCED"

the GRAY-SHADOWED ASH

"THE WILL OF THE FOREST DIED WITH US, IT COULD BE THAT ARADIL HAS ABANDONNED HER POST AND THE LONG EARS HAVE BECOME ORC MEAT WITH OUR FORGOTTEN BROTHERS ON THE BURNING LINE..."

the DARK GROVED COTTONWOOD

"PERHAPS IT CAN BE QUESTIONED, PERHAPS WE TEARS THEIR LEGS OFF SO THEY MAY NOT RUN, PERHAPS WE CHOP THEIR ARMS AS THEIR KIND DOES OUR BROTHERIN, PERHAPS WE TAKE THE ELF AND..."

the BLACK CYPRESS turning in defiance to his graven brothers...

"QUIET!!! IT HAS THE CHILD IN SILVER! IT IS OF ELF-KIND! IT IS OF ARADIL'S BLOOD. IT CAN BE TRUSTED. YET IT'S TRAVELLING COMPANIONS, WHETHER BY FRIEND OR FOE ARE NOT OF ELVEN-MAKE! THEY MUST NOT SEE US WALK, THEY MUST NOT KNOW WE LIVE AFTER DEATH. THEY CANNOT CROSS OUR SWAMP. ELF - YOU MAY LIVE, YOU MAY BARTER FOR PASSAGE. HUMAN'S AND ORC MAY NEVER KNOW OF US!!"

as the ground rumbles with the reverberations of the Treants speaking, the great Black Cypress dips it's leaves and you see first Durgaz, then Kyuad, then Zal'Kazzir begin to be pulled taunt again - seconds from being ripped in pieces!!

What do you do?!?!

Eranon

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."

"What can I offer you to ensure their safe passage?"

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Midnight: North & South Portal