Root Meditations With Pelinal Whitestrake

It was in mad-thought processes that the Star Made knight stumbled into the sacred secret grove of the Marsh in all his raging glory searching for the bastard-sons of Auri-El. Hist acknowledged his maddening state and greet.

GREETINGS.

Massive streams of picture-thought-mathematics-songs puncture Pelinal’s fragile psych and causes the Crusader to tumble over backwards into nasty Marsh waters. Star-Made jumps up and looks wildly around sacred grove for cause of indignant tumbling

“COWARDS! I WILL WASH MY HAIR IN YOUR—”

GREET?

Star-Made almost once again tumbles over into nasty Marsh waters but holds onto massive tree root system and is only tossed halfway into air and recovers quickly. Star-Knight recognizes Hist for first time since entering and madness deepens.

“What sorcery is this?!”

REPEAT. GREET?

This time the Glorious Knight does not even halfway tumble from the Hist-Speak and only his madness worsens from forced prolonged thought punctuations. Seeing nor hearing any other alternatives, White-Hair engages in conversation with the voice-words.

“I am Star-Made instrument sent to rid the land of the sons and daughters of Auri-El until the soil is soaked of blood. And I – do – not – talk – to – TREES!!”

WHY?

“TREES. DO. NOT. SPEAK.”

DEBATABLE.

“Mer magicks in trees that speak without speaking will not faze me, Knife-Ear Lords! I will cut down these as I have cut down Ayleidoon armies countless times before!”

NOT MER.

“If you are not Mer made and you are certainly not grown by the hands of Men then what are you?”

HIST.

“What is a Hist?!”

PELIN-EL KNOWS.

“I know many things but Aka nor Morihaus ever told me about a ‘Hist’.”

HMM.

Hist roots shake and quiver as they muse over Star-Made’s comment. Pelinal misinterprets this as laughing, and draws his blade – the avenging light of those who strength he partakes in – and steps menacingly towards the trees.

“WHO ARE YOU TO LAUGH AT ME, TREES?!”

…MAD?

“My madness can, never, and will not be truly understood. And what would Trees-That-Speak-Without-Speaking know about madness?”

STOP.

“You are fools to believe that my madness can be stopped.”

TEACH.

“I would never learn.”

TRY?

“Impossible!”

DID.

Pelin-El frowns as realization dawns within his eyes, and he begins to move his limbs frantically as mind marvels at his temporary sanity.

“But… how?”

TEACHED.

“What did you did you do? What did you do to ME? I DEMAND YOU TO TELL ME!”

REMEMBER.

“I CAN’T REMEMBER IF I WAS NEVER TOLD!”

TRY.

“I order you, insolent plants, to tell me what you taught me or I will burn you to the ground!”

…RUDE.

Pelin-El raises his sword to strike the Hist when multiple roots interrupt from thousands of incisions within the ground and wrap around Star-Made’s limbs and raise him up in the air. He cannot fight back.

TEMPORARY.

“RELEASE ME OF THESE INFERNAL ROOTS! MY MIND IS SLIPPING; TELL ME HIST.”

TOO RUDE.

“WHAT?!”

GO. NOW.

Hist released all roots except two from Glorious Knight, and flung him into the air away from the nasty marsh waters and wet air of their land and he flew far to the west and slammed into Cyrodiil near the lands of the moon-elves-that-weren’t-elves. Pelin-El would never again be welcomed in the Hist-Lands, but would have been, if he had only listened.