Background
Legend has it that the Ancient Redwood began his life aeons ago as the only nut to fall from the Elder Tree and take root beneath its massive canopy of leaves and branches. His name has been lost to memory, even to himself.
They say he is the Father of the Forests and, without him, the Splinterlands would be a barren and desolate place.
They say he created the first treefolk by breaking off his own limbs and breathing life into his children.
They say he exhaled the first motes of earthen mana into the world.
They say that, during the Splintering, he alone held together the continent of Anumun and is why it did not fracture into a thousand pieces or sink into the sea.
They say his slumber lasts for generations, and when he awakens, you and your children's children's children will have been long forgotten.
They say he is a friend to the fey, a guardian of the natural order of things, and lo, pity to those who threaten that which he holds dear.
They say that, when the Chaos Legion came and swept across Anumun, there came a great stirring. The Ancient Redwood had awoken, and he was not pleased.
But these are only legends.
Story Snippet
"Fans those flames, you sluggards," the jade orc said with a yawn. "If we're still out here traipsing through these woods come nightfall, I'll see that the lot of you pull double shift on the morrow."
He stood slouched against a tree, arms folded over his barrel chest, legs crossed at the ankles. Through lidded eyes, he watch the ragtag group toil and sweat as they fanned the glowing embers with their cloaks, leafed branches, or anything else they could use.
A wiry fey goblin stood and stretched, her back cracking with the effort. She held a soiled cloth in her hands, and she went from fanning the embers to fanning her sweaty face. "Ain't no use, sir." She puffed her cheeks and exhaled. "Them cinders, they ain't gonna kindle."
The orc jabbed a finger at her. "You don't stop fanning yourself and get back to it, we'll see how long it takes your ugly mug to kindle."
She narrowed her eyes but turned back to the embers. "What's the use anyhow," she said, muttering under her breath. "We been at this all day. It's a forest. Why won't it burn?" She gritted her teeth. "Burn, damn you, just burn."
The ground trembled.
The fey goblin and her companions staggered upright and whirled about. The jade orc pushed off from the tree and unsheathed his blade with a whisk of steel.
"The hell was that?" he said.
A scrawny human that was more bones than muscle pointed through the canopy of leaves, where a massive, reddish trunk towered over the forest. Its own branches and leaves stretched over the smaller trees.
"I think it moved!"
The orc let out a bark of laughter. "And I think this shrub here is in want of singing you a sonnet."
The others were watching the orc, who nudged a bush with the toe of his boot. Only the wiry fey goblin continued to stare at the colossal tree in the distance. One of its huge branches bent toward the ground. A great tearing sound followed, and it came up holding...something. The colossal tree's branch bent and flung the thing skyward. It arched through the air, tumbling end over end, and then it reached its apex and began to descend, falling, falling.
Directly toward them.
The goblin let out a little gasp and sprinted away into the forest, thrashing through the underbrush.
The orc turned in time to see her vanish into the woods. "Oh no, you don't." He pointed his blade at the others. "Any one of you ghost on me, I swear on your lives, I'll gut every last one of you."
He took off at a run and made it two steps before something huge blotted out the sun. He looked up as it crashed through the branches above him. He had time to register that it was a tree--a tree--falling from the sky.
Then it crashed down upon him.
