Calling of The Moot

[AfroJoeTheOlogBro 1095]

Calling of the Moot

 

Deep within the Talus Grove, far along a gentle river, and upon a solitary hill, sat a lone figure. This small, wooden creature, wrought of root and vine, hung from the branches of its Slumber Tree, looking out over the vast expanse of the domain it had laid claim to. The Seedling, stout in demeanor and indomitable in spirit, was known to its few friends as Fangorn. This seedling, among the first of many to awaken, felt a longing, a call; though it had seen none other like it before, it felt loneliness. Loss...

 

Sorrow.

 

And it was in this sorrowful mourning that wild instinct tugged upon the crystalline heart of this lone seedling, and in its sadness, it would obey its instincts…

 

And call out. A sound, akin to a hunting horn, would escape from its lips as it shouted deep into the moonlit sky, raging against the darkness of despair. It did not expect an answer; how could it? It was the only one of its kind, or so it had thought...

 

Across the continent, within the dark and shaded woods south of Helena, a trio of howls would shriek out in response to the seedling’s call. Sawing, wheezing mimicries of common sounds echoing across the rolling plains and thick woods of Arcas. Predatory forms, perched high on the tree tops, would answer the call of a newfound brother, different they may be. 

 

Kindred in spirit, purpose, and kine to the same forces, those seedlings of a darker persuasion would raise their heads high to the moon, in hopeful sorrow.

 

And as the frightful howls pierced the air, a gentle hum would emerge from the Norlandic Northmarches; a cacophony of birdsong, sung in harmony with the choir of life and beauty. Within a lone glade of the frigid north, a newer seedling would sit, basking in the soft glow and embrace of moonlight’s gentle kiss. 

 

This seedling’s voice, mixed with the drones and howls emerging from across the continent, would serve to create a beautiful, haunting song; The Balance, represented by the voices of those who would maintain it. 

 

All from different walks of life, these seedlings would feel a longing; it was time…

 

For a moot.

 

 

Spoiler

 

This is a post announcing the first Entsmoot to occur! This will be a gathering of all current seedlings at a TBD location and time, so as to accrue as many seedlings as possible! Contact Salty Alty#7030 or Benjamin Walker#0877 on discord for an invite!

 

Credit goes to altiar1011 for helping to edit and polish this post, as well as myself for well… writing it!

 

 

[Valannor 6405]

Hoarfrost would hear the call of Fangorn from its perch in the trees bordering The Pale, and would likewise raise its voice in song. 

[Sevastiel 285]

Decays head lifts, lips peeling back into a grin, its icy blue eyes glimmering as it listens. As Fangorn’s call finishes, it rises onto its hind legs and gives a drawn out, earshattering scream in response, birds likely fleeing in fright, the grating sound piercing through the deep silence of the night and leaving it feeling so much emptier than before. 

[LaffenOutLoud 355]

A gentle, feminine Treant with a motherly touch quietly wandered through her burnt down forest within Siramenor she had been birthed into. As she clipped away the charred tips of branches and watered the trees, she heard the call of her fellow Treants from the distance. And so, she lifted a beautiful sea-shell collected from the neighboring beach, and blew firmly into it, joining in symphony and in reunitement with her tree-kin.