Brindlebark
old treant that walked the Echose Marshland. has been alive for over 12000 years. was chosen as the last cathedral ent of the death seed. it was taken away and and Brindlebark seemingly cannot die. he found himself wandering for so that that he just wanted to rest. he walked into the grey lake and planted himself onto the island in the eerie land.
Brindlebark is older than memory, older than spoken wars, older than the names that mortals have given to the land. His roots run deep, tangled in the petrifying waters of the Grey Lake, and his voice is the groan of ancient wood bearing the weight of time. He speaks in riddles, not out of mischief, but because the past is never a simple thing. He has seen the rise and fall of kings, the birth and death of dragons, the slow decay of hope. But he is tired now, weary of watching the world turn on its endless cycle of violence. His boughs sag, his voice wavers, and soon, even the wisdom he holds may be lost to the mire. Yet for those who listen, for those who ask, he still offers answers—three, and no more.
Brindlebark was gifted a title in a distant Conveyance of the Green, he was to be the next Whitherer of the Weald, though another of the Cathedral Treants stopped this from occuring. As Brindlebark began to feel the dread of death become his purpose, the power was taken away by the Green Dreamer, who felt death should not be a law of the forest when men frivolously cut down their wooded homes. Brindlebark was eft weakened and he became a hermit within the Echose Marshlands long before they held that name. His brush with death not only allowe him to outlive his peers but also wander longer than the Cathedral Treants themselves, an unintended consequence of the Green Dreamers meddling in the natural order of things. Since he cannot die but no longer seeks to live, he rests until woken on a lonely island in a desolate lake.
Brindlebark is older than memory, older than spoken wars, older than the names that mortals have given to the land. His roots run deep, tangled in the petrifying waters of the Grey Lake, and his voice is the groan of ancient wood bearing the weight of time. He speaks in riddles, not out of mischief, but because the past is never a simple thing. He has seen the rise and fall of kings, the birth and death of dragons, the slow decay of hope. But he is tired now, weary of watching the world turn on its endless cycle of violence. His boughs sag, his voice wavers, and soon, even the wisdom he holds may be lost to the mire. Yet for those who listen, for those who ask, he still offers answers—three, and no more.
Brindlebark was gifted a title in a distant Conveyance of the Green, he was to be the next Whitherer of the Weald, though another of the Cathedral Treants stopped this from occuring. As Brindlebark began to feel the dread of death become his purpose, the power was taken away by the Green Dreamer, who felt death should not be a law of the forest when men frivolously cut down their wooded homes. Brindlebark was eft weakened and he became a hermit within the Echose Marshlands long before they held that name. His brush with death not only allowe him to outlive his peers but also wander longer than the Cathedral Treants themselves, an unintended consequence of the Green Dreamers meddling in the natural order of things. Since he cannot die but no longer seeks to live, he rests until woken on a lonely island in a desolate lake.
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