Legend has it that somewhere within the long stretch of time between the
Humans emerging from the primordial soup, and when
Humanity began to build and defend cities, a group of
Eladrin saw fit to rebel against
Queen Mab. Stealthily they fled the
Feywild, to a dreary prime material plane that they knew
Mab would find abhorrent. Abhorrent enough to avoid entirely, and when the Winter Court transitioned to the Summer Court in accordance with the ancient agreement, they thought themselves safe for the time being. Safe enough to gather themselves and their power. Secure enough to recruit local human servants, and to take slaves when the contentious humans needed to be taught a lesson in mortality.
Queen Mab has many far flung devices, and was content to let them be, for the time being. 'They could perhaps be of some use, later', Mab thought to herself. So she set her spies upon them, and turned to other, more pressing battles. It was during this time that all the lands between the Landzide Mountains and the sea became united under the rule of these Eladrin, who called themselves 'Aelfwine'; a word connoting both freedom to act, and freedom to speak. And they began rejecting Queen Mab, not just hiding from her. They filled their servants and slaves with tales of Mab's cruelty, as well.
It was not the talk and gossip that irked Mab. She would need a heart for that. It was the feeling of safety and power that the Aelfwine were so drearily conceited about. It slowly became obvious that they had deceived themselves; treating themselves as Queen Mab's equal in power and prowess. Maybe it was their proximity to the relative ineptitude of the short lived humans. Or their disdain for
Humanity in general. Perhaps for their contempt for the humans' intellect. But it was a human, a secret worshiper of Mab, Queen of the Winter Court, who performed the ritual inviting the archfey into the very heart of their stronghold.
Queen Mab was...thorough. Only the twelve leaders of the so-called 'Eladrin Rebellion' were left alive. Various arms, reaching upwards towards sweet, life giving air (and here and there, a foot) could be seen sticking out of the ground. Queen Mab had simply commanded it to swallow them. She had then twisted earth into hills and mountains, taking the lives of every soul within entire townships all in an instant. Other eladrin, even humans, are ice statues at the Winter Court now. And, grinning, she cursed the Aelfwine. Cursed them to eternal life. And that's when they began to change. Their legs changed color and fused together, then slowly crept up their torsos to their heads. Two branch-like arms, of the same color as their new stems, branched out. The tips of its branches end in articulated, eladrin-like fingers, right down to the fingernails.
A succulent like plant with two green 'arms' that end in what look like slender, motile fingers.
These trees sport bulbous nodules all along it's oddly shaped trunk and two arm-like branches. It's 'fingers' are articulated, and each 'hand' has an opposable thumb. These 'hands' can grab things like ax handles, or poke you in the eye, quick as a snake's tongue. The tree can communicate telepathically, if the mood takes them, and will regale any willing listener with tales of yonder and yore if they decide to talk to anyone. They have never spoken to a human.
There are twelve of these plants, ever. At the end of the season, when they die off, their root ball somehow migrates over the winter, hoping to catch hold in a new place in some season to come.
They grow almost overnight.
Queen Mab's Moonflower is so rare that not even the herbalists at
The Bardic College Campus, the most masterful professors of the science and art of herbalism, have been able to even observe one. They only sprout along the slopes of Stonegrey's Sisters.
They require warm, loose soil that has been graced with plenty of rainfall in order to catch hold, and an undisturbed spot in the full sun in which to grow their roots and lumpy bodies.
They only sprout in uneven intervals, and always in someplace different.
Every once in a great while -measured in centuries, mind you- one of these flowers opens up at just the right moment, and just the right angle, to catch a moonbeam. This is a tremendous boon to the tree, who is granted the gift of comfort by Selunè, who ends their suffering for the span of a year and a day. This; this is the tree that would usually deign to speak with someone.
Its leaves have a myriad of uses in all of their forms, granting a health boost just chewing upon them. If, however, the leaf is dried and smoked, a pleasant sensation stemming from the base of one's skull begins a journey that could last up to a week. Terribly realistic hallucinations inflict the smoker, some of them pleasant, some of them horrifying, all of them having some message when taken all together as a single dream.
The bloom only happens one out of a dozen times it manages to take hold and grow. But when it does, the flower/face of the tree opens quickly, layer after layer of impossibly delicate petals, that end up suggestive of a sorrowful face. It opens at night, only lasts one night, and dies off the following morning.
Found solely on the slopes of Stonegrey's Sisters.
Highly intelligent, especially for trees.
They have all of the insight and intelligence of a sad eladrin. They have forgotten their names, but have not lost their minds.
Lunar Moths somehow know every time one of the flowers will open, and arrive early for the event.
Andrew Booth
That introduction... I don't know what vibes that gives off if not tolkien-esque, traditional fantasy, and I love it to bits, it's really incredibly well done. Ties in very nicely to the plant itself as well, and the concept is really well put-together. Love it.
Harlen Ogni
Wow thanks!