Secret Santicorn 2019: Ents and how to prune your human.

Oh, oh oh! Merry Santicorn! 

So, Sven at Wanderers and Willows asked for "a unique take on ent/treefolk lore, or some random tables related to them".

Look no further, my friend! With only a few days of delay and (hopefully) few grammatical errors, I hereby present you your gift!

What do plants think of humans (but also goblins, dwarves etc... you get me, okay)?  Many people, now and then, asked themselves this question.

Lumberjacks, who chop wood. Farmers, who snatch precious soil from them. Gardeners, who mutilate and arrange them according to fickle aesthetic standards.

  

Truth be told, most of the Plantae kingdom members does not concern themselves with us. Their lives span centuries if not millennia, and they've started to think of us as a sentient species only lately. Building structures and using tools did not give away any meaningful hint, insects and birds do that all the time. To be honest, there were reports from shrubs and flowers sent into human territories, but no one believed them at first.

 

 
This does not apply to Ents. Ents are obsessed with us.

WHAT ARE ENTS, THEN?

Being a tree is boring. There was quite an (unsurprisingly quiet) uproar when they realized humans were not as mindless as they first thought. It's like waking up one day and finding out that your dog, who was happily chasing his own tail yesterday, has built a car. 

Some were frightened. Others were fascinated. Assemblies were called and much deliberations ensued. So, while the first ones struggled to come to terms with it, the others decided to have a closer look.

There are no reports of Ents prior than a  few years ago. This is because, while becoming an Ent is a recent trend among arboreal aristocracy, a fad spreading from root to root through slow but enthusiastic chemical gradients takes centuries to find enough followers. Imagine the outrage when some of the most radical ones decided that obsessing over us wasn't enough. They started to mimic us, reproducing that crazy expenditure of energy called "movement". It took a while, but now they have the gist of it.

WHAT DO ENT WANT?

To learn more about humans. To do human stuff. They are no stranger to the act of eating: birds, insects and even some distant, outlandish cousins are capable of doing that. Cooking is a different matter. It terrifies and fascinates them at the same time, expecially the part where we use fire.

To own and breed humans. Every Ent has at least one or two specimens they're really proud of, usually kept on display in their homes. They can be bought, found or, well, "adopted".

To educate humans -They cut us and eat us because they don't know any better. Just like we learned how to walk, they will learn how to perform photosyntheti- why can't you seem to stand still for more than one day, silly? At this rate, you'll never grow roots!  Oh, they're driving me crazy, but they're so cute, you know-

To study humans. A few among the Ents are in pursuit of something bigger than a menagerie. They've seen what some humans are capable of, and crave the power to set their enemies on fire o to grow unfettered, not bound by water, soil and sun.

WHERE TO FIND THEM

The typical Ent village is always hidden, but not too well- they lowkey want to be found. Their homes (a shelter from the rain, how lovely!) are usually little more than roughly arranged boulders in the shape of a house. Occasionally someone embarks on more ambitious projects, which usually end with a lot of frustrations and stones being thrown around. They have yet to develop fine motor skills, but they're getting there.

When they're not resting (going around is exhausting, after all), they'll be tending to their humans.
They wear skins and furs, hanging from their branches. This is not a contradiction: just like one of us could worship cats madly but not reserve the same courtesy to rabbits, so there are preferences and currents of thought among the Ents.  

These differences can sometimes degenerate into full-fledged wars, which tend to involve nearby settlements.

Will they be happy to see you? Definitely. They will wave their branches and coil their roots around your feet before remembering  that's not how you speak with humans. Sometimes they'll have translator birds, otherwise I hope you're ready to play charade with a 30ft tall overly-enthusiastic tree.

Will they let you leave? Not necessarily. But if you could stay and teach them proper etiquette, they would be so grateful.

WHAT ARE THESE WEIRD LOOKING TREES UP TO?

1-Cooking. They've arranged a bunch of animal corpses into a pile and they're smashing them to a pulp with heavy boulders, all while humming happily.

2- Playing catch. The game will be preceded by a mass escape of all the animals in the vicinity.

3-Trying to speak human. The tree you're resting against just bent over you, twisting and snapping their trunks and branches in a haunting cacophony of screeching. They're saying "Hello friend!".

4-Nursing. Carefully placing a bunch of screaming adventurers inside their hollowed out trunk, where you will be safe until we get home.

5-Tending to their beloved ones. Trying to prune humans to make them grow stronger. It is not working. Disappointment is growing and so is the number of corpses.

6- Defending their honor. Marching towards an enemy settlement, on the verge of a fandom war. 

SOME ENT NPCs FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT

1- A Carob who longed to be a mother. Their branches are home to a bunch of rowdy goblins who were mistaken as human babies and whom they love dearly. The goblins are living like kings, going around stealing stuff while they're not busy eating carob pods. There's some loot stashed away in the trunk, but the mother is very protective of their children and their toys.

2-The Old Sycamore, once symbol of the Wizard Academy. They have gorged themselves for decades on raw magic, seeping from the nearby wizard graveyard. After being struck down by an incautious apprentice's lightning, they were sold off to a sawmill and soon forgotten.

Now they roam the land, a dead and scorched sycamore trunk, overgrown with moss and fungi, carried around by a servile hill giant. Somehow still thinking, gifted with the power of undeath and magic, and very resentful.

3-A giant and strong Oak. Good-natured but dim-witted. Always accompanied by their trusted blackbird, who acts as advisor and interpreter. Unbeknowst to the Ent, the bird has a bone or two to pick with humans and is fond of translating according to her whims.

OSR City Challenge: a fake settlement and a real one

Disclaimer: this post is part of the GLOG city challenge, courtesy of Mother. It borrows extensively from other sources, such as Patrick Stuart's Anglerlich, BBC documentaries and, as I've found out fifteen minutes ago, the manga Gigantomachia. It couldn't be helped, deep sea fish deserve all this love and more.


Other entries:
Of Slugs and Silver
Alone in the Labyrinth

Words for Yellow 


It looks unremarkable from a distance, no more than a meager collection of crooked shacks, if it weren’t for the lights. Tall, slender street lamps, gently swaying in the wind, casting a warm light. They seem to beckon weary travellers, telling them where to find shelter for the night.

As you approach, the village begins to take shape. There’s people walking around and smell of cooked food coming from the houses. Climbing plants are wrappened around each building, heavy with flowers and translucent, round fruits.

You need to be really close to realize something’s off. The houses have almost no openings and look like they’re made of hardened wax, the fruits are dimly pulsing and all the people you thought you saw are gone. It is because, by now, they have already surrounded you. 
 They vaguely resemble shriveled humans, with small heads and big, fanged mouths. Each one of them is connected to a thick umbilical cord, which all converge at the center of the village, disappearing underground.

Some of you will be eaten almost immediately. The less fortunate will be stored alive until the eggs hatch.

This, of course, is just a bedtime story.

Even though they’re not mindless, Angler Mothers have been hunted for generations and their number dwindled significantly. The surviving ones fled away to less inhabited lands, where unsuspecting preys could still be found.

Among them, however, there’s one who decided to adapt.

                                                   

                       THE ANGLER GRAND-MOTHER

Not exactly what I was thinking about, but this is nice too (art by Dominic Qwek)

 Wise with age and tired of having to fend off hunters all the time, she moved closer to the steppe, where settlements are few and far from each other. In exchange for food and protection, she now provides safe passage through inhospitable lands. She swims in the ground as if it were water. Once in a month she embarks on a longer journey, crossing the desert to collect traveler and merchants from farther lands.

HOW DOES IT WORK

The Angler Grand-Mother is many times bigger than any other member of her species, thus allowing the construction of a full-fledged village on top of her. Many of the buildings are actually made out of brick and mortar but some of the “fake houses” (which actually contain lung-like organs) have also been retrofitted to host people. As long as she doesn’t move her appearance is that of a village built on a series of uneven mounds, her fins barely visible to the untrained eye. Her fishing rods dot the settlement, lighting it at night. They also double as sensory organs.

The males, who are slightly smarter than a human child, are tasked with day-to-day management. They are all dressed like butlers, in a somewhat naive but honest attempt at putting visitors at ease. They’re all linked to the Grand-Mother by a umbilical cord which they try to carry discreetely, whose functions consists in supplying food and sperm, also allowing her to give orders. Since the Grand-Mother is no longer interested in reproduction, they now only use it for the former.

It is not mandatory, even though strongly advisable, to bring a gift while first entering the village; the Grand-Mother is mainly interested in food (a chicken will suffice) but will grudgingly accept money and other riches. She has taken an interest in collecting small fish as pets. Bring her one and she might even be willing to speak with you, lowering one of her appendices and allowing you to stare into the light up close. Be warned, though: she's cranky and has very little patience.

The Grand-Mother only travels at night, always at a comfortable pace. She usually follows predetermined routes but will deviate to collect lost travellers. There are metal rods stuck in the ground troughtout the steppe: make one of them vibrate long enough and she will come to pick you up. Those who cannot pay the rescue fee are usually conscripted into her entourage for variable amounts of time.

NOTABLE NPCs

Bartimeus Landerberg: Garden Wizard, owns a greenhouse. Has almost succeeded in weaponizing cacti. Wants to kill the Grand-Mother and use her corpse as fertilizer. When in danger he turns into a tumbleweed and rolls away, already plotting his comeback.

Sofronisba Lossia:  adorable old lady, runs a small emporium. It’s actually haunted by her own mortality and would pay handsomely for a bottle of Grand-Mother’s blood, which she believes to be an elixir of longevity. She’s right, by the way.

Heatstroke: saved from the brink of death by the Grand-Mother, has suffered extensive brain damage due to excessive sun exposure. Thinks of the Grand-Mother as a goddess and of herself as a prophet. Desperate for a sign.

HEARSAY

So far, no city has been able to convince the Grand-Mother to join their army. Succeeding to do so would dramatically shift the power balance in the region. But what might such a old creature desire? Some say that her two last daughters still dwell in the deepest reaches of the desert, half as small but twice as vicious. If that’s true, maybe she also has granddaughters, every grandma’s soft spot.

The males are not compelled to follow the Grand-Mother’s wishes. She speaks to them in a language made of lights, hums and vibrations and they usually obey out of worship and fear. The word is that the smartest among them are starting to come together, seeking to overthrow her.

A group of Goblins, escaped from a slave pit, somehow found a intact desert ship, renamed themselves The Hearty Crew and have been following the Grand-Mother ever since. They’re about to run out of supplies (the plumpest among them) and are eager to launch a full-scale attack. The Grand-Mother, on the other hand, thinks of them as nothing more than a nuisance.