Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-3991308-20181227185422/@comment-3991308-20190107040433

"No, it's a practise sword," Parker said, but right now was not the time for dry jokes. He looked at the sword, then the tree, then the sword embedded in the tree.

Talking to a tree spirit. Well, that was new. Parker never really engaged with any of the old gods. The pagan roots of the legends were old and valuable, and yet he barely knew them.

"Good afternoon," he said, and placed a hand on the tree. "My name is Parker le Gallois, or the Welshman, but most people know me as Parker Valiant. I don't think I know what sort of tree you are, I haven't seen any leaves or flowers in the woods I know. But yours are so beautiful and yellow."

The tree responded to his voice, and although the air was still, the branches ruffled, as if they were soothed by the wind.

"I haven't been here long. There's so much I don't know. I don't know if you can talk, but if you can or have any other form of communication, I would love to know more. What tree you are, how you got here, and why you're biting down on this sword."

(I'm pretty sure wattles aren't present outside of SEAsia, Australia and East parts of Africa, which explains his cluelessness.)