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Events News Post #498

Does That Tree Have A Face?

Written by: Anonymous
Date: Monday, April 6th, 2015
Addressed to: Everyone


Early Chronos in the year 680 AF saw Terane, the dwarven Sylvan of Bagwar's Copse, grow rapidly into his Viridian form. Armed with shears and twine, he incised one of the great elms in his grove and attempted to create a link between his own plant-like form and that of the great tree.

All grove users felt the denial that rumbled through the roots of the world, every tree in every forest protested the breach and lent their strength to the elm in the copse. Terane found himself utterly embraced by the deciduous giant, drawn past parted bark to truly become one with the ancient flora.

Strange things happened then. Terane's elemental channels had been bolstered as he made his hubristic error, and his grove had stored up a great deal of sunlight. The two merged, one empowering the other until a great storm broke from the elm to swirl about the copse before spreading beneath a sunny sky, remaining captured only by the eaves of the forests. Sheets of rain fell in torrents, repeated lightning strikes persuaded even the most sodden of tinder to spark and catch alight. It was a busy few days for the forestals of the realm as they worked tirelessly to contain the fires that threatened to blaze rampant.

Having sought the aid of the Dryad Queen, a small band lead one of Titania's handmaidens about the various forests, within each she approached one of the elder trees to commune, to hear the words spoken by the elders and alders. As lightning-borne conflagrations raged, the forests softly chanted:

The Virid seeking to neutralise
The storm must strive to synchronise
With meteoroc power at turmoil's eye
Before the copse of elm absorb Sol's supply.

As Penwize muttered the last line thoughtfully, the great storms drew together, localising their fury upon a single grove, where an elm tree stood bearing a strange visage within its rugged bark.

Hail drummed a tattoo upon the rain-soaked earth, lightning both struck in force and leapt in glorious chains about the grove, while the wind gusted heavy clouds into eclipsing the very reach of the sun. It was Darkender who first grasped the significance and started to match his Sylvanic elementalist skills to the pattern of this strange local weather.

As others followed suit, they drew the strange storm's energy into themselves. Slowly the great winds subsided, the leaf-litter fluttered back to the earth as the storm dissipated. Synchronised with the meteorological fluctuations, a surge of power wreathed the gathered Sylvans and invigorating and irrevocably altering their elemental grasp with the infusion of weather weaving.

In memoriam of Terane, and with a promise never to follow his example, the Sylvans also learned from the dryad the peculiar art of propagation.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary:
After synchronising their abilities with that of a great storm, Sylvans have learned the arts of Weatherweaving and Propagation.


Penned by My hand on the 18th of Chronos, in the year 680 AF.


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Events News Post #498

Does That Tree Have A Face?

Written by: Anonymous
Date: Monday, April 6th, 2015
Addressed to: Everyone


Early Chronos in the year 680 AF saw Terane, the dwarven Sylvan of Bagwar's Copse, grow rapidly into his Viridian form. Armed with shears and twine, he incised one of the great elms in his grove and attempted to create a link between his own plant-like form and that of the great tree.

All grove users felt the denial that rumbled through the roots of the world, every tree in every forest protested the breach and lent their strength to the elm in the copse. Terane found himself utterly embraced by the deciduous giant, drawn past parted bark to truly become one with the ancient flora.

Strange things happened then. Terane's elemental channels had been bolstered as he made his hubristic error, and his grove had stored up a great deal of sunlight. The two merged, one empowering the other until a great storm broke from the elm to swirl about the copse before spreading beneath a sunny sky, remaining captured only by the eaves of the forests. Sheets of rain fell in torrents, repeated lightning strikes persuaded even the most sodden of tinder to spark and catch alight. It was a busy few days for the forestals of the realm as they worked tirelessly to contain the fires that threatened to blaze rampant.

Having sought the aid of the Dryad Queen, a small band lead one of Titania's handmaidens about the various forests, within each she approached one of the elder trees to commune, to hear the words spoken by the elders and alders. As lightning-borne conflagrations raged, the forests softly chanted:

The Virid seeking to neutralise
The storm must strive to synchronise
With meteoroc power at turmoil's eye
Before the copse of elm absorb Sol's supply.

As Penwize muttered the last line thoughtfully, the great storms drew together, localising their fury upon a single grove, where an elm tree stood bearing a strange visage within its rugged bark.

Hail drummed a tattoo upon the rain-soaked earth, lightning both struck in force and leapt in glorious chains about the grove, while the wind gusted heavy clouds into eclipsing the very reach of the sun. It was Darkender who first grasped the significance and started to match his Sylvanic elementalist skills to the pattern of this strange local weather.

As others followed suit, they drew the strange storm's energy into themselves. Slowly the great winds subsided, the leaf-litter fluttered back to the earth as the storm dissipated. Synchronised with the meteorological fluctuations, a surge of power wreathed the gathered Sylvans and invigorating and irrevocably altering their elemental grasp with the infusion of weather weaving.

In memoriam of Terane, and with a promise never to follow his example, the Sylvans also learned from the dryad the peculiar art of propagation.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary:
After synchronising their abilities with that of a great storm, Sylvans have learned the arts of Weatherweaving and Propagation.


Penned by My hand on the 18th of Chronos, in the year 680 AF.


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