🌱 Seedlings: Mind Over Mulch
Whence comes the root that writhes with wit?
I. The Sunless Sprout
In the cursed soil of Grimspire, beneath a sky choked by ash and sorrow, a single fern dared to dream. Not of growth. Not of sunlight. But of thought.
Some say it was Nuena, goddess of life and mystery, who looked upon the lonesome plant and whispered, “Live.” Others whisper it was less a blessing and more a rebellion—born from years of being treated like nature’s latrine.
Some say it was Nuena, goddess of life and mystery, who looked upon the lonesome plant and whispered, “Live.” Others whisper it was less a blessing and more a rebellion—born from years of being treated like nature’s latrine.
Thus bloomed Sassafrax the Cursed, the First Seedling.
II. Mindroot and Madness
The blessing—if one could call it that—did not stop with him.
Through whispered arcana and botanical empathy, a language emerged: Mindroot, a silent tongue shared only by the awakened flora.
Those touched by the blessing found each other across the ruins and root-choked tunnels of Grimspire. But rather than weep for meaning, they laughed. They schemed. They plotted.
Through whispered arcana and botanical empathy, a language emerged: Mindroot, a silent tongue shared only by the awakened flora.
Those touched by the blessing found each other across the ruins and root-choked tunnels of Grimspire. But rather than weep for meaning, they laughed. They schemed. They plotted.
They threw parties in flowerpots.
These Seedlings soon discovered they could manipulate the arcane, forming ghostly limbs to move and interact. But they were tethered—rooted to soil.
And so, they became herbaceous hermits, traveling the world in pots, pans, boots, and enchanted containers.
And so, they became herbaceous hermits, traveling the world in pots, pans, boots, and enchanted containers.
III. The Window Sill Warlock
Legend tells of the Eldrin wizard Mirilin the Mild, who bought what he believed was a houseplant. It sat on his windowsill, peaceful, ordinary.
Until the books began to fall.
Until the cupboards emptied themselves.
Until the wizard returned one evening to find footprints in spilled fertilizer.
Until the books began to fall.
Until the cupboards emptied themselves.
Until the wizard returned one evening to find footprints in spilled fertilizer.
One Detect Arcana later, the jig was up.
The Seedling confessed—under extreme duress (i.e., being moved to the basement with no sun).
“I did it,” it whispered. “Every prank. Every sock theft. Every sapling rave.”
The Seedling confessed—under extreme duress (i.e., being moved to the basement with no sun).
“I did it,” it whispered. “Every prank. Every sock theft. Every sapling rave.”
Mirilin wept.
Not from anger… but from fear.
For if one Seedling could do this… how many more watched in silence?
Not from anger… but from fear.
For if one Seedling could do this… how many more watched in silence?
IV. The Joke Divine
Though small, the Seedlings carry inexplicable knowledge. Secrets of creation. Forbidden recipes. Coordinates to buried temples.
They simply… don’t care.
To them, existence is a game. And we are the fools caught in it.
They simply… don’t care.
To them, existence is a game. And we are the fools caught in it.
They offer no prophecy.
They hold no grudges.
They remember everything, and laugh in the dirt.
They hold no grudges.
They remember everything, and laugh in the dirt.
But if there’s one thing Seedlings truly despise…
It’s herbivores.
It’s herbivores.
They are deeply suspicious of anything that grazes—and downright terrified of vegans.
While others fear the axe, Seedlings fear the fork… especially the kind wielded with righteousness.
While others fear the axe, Seedlings fear the fork… especially the kind wielded with righteousness.
Many experience genuine trauma upon hearing the phrase “plant-based diet,” often assuming it’s a coded threat.
To you, it’s a salad.
To them, it’s a massacre in a bowl.
To you, it’s a salad.
To them, it’s a massacre in a bowl.
Cows, deer, goats—even overly vegan Eldrin—are considered the bane of their existence.
One Seedling was once overheard whispering to a grazing moose:
One Seedling was once overheard whispering to a grazing moose:
“I see you eyein’ my cousin.
Take one more step and I’ll wilt your soul.”
Take one more step and I’ll wilt your soul.”
Some believe their nature is proof that Nuena, too, has a sense of humor.
Others believe she might’ve just been really bored.
Others believe she might’ve just been really bored.
V. Pranks Eternal
Today, Seedlings hide in plain sight: on porches, in greenhouses, within backpacks of unsuspecting travelers.
They crave novelty. Sunlight. Chaos.
Some have joined adventuring parties, others run underground prank syndicates. One even became a bard—strumming a lute with ghost hands and singing in Mindroot to a very confused crowd.
They crave novelty. Sunlight. Chaos.
Some have joined adventuring parties, others run underground prank syndicates. One even became a bard—strumming a lute with ghost hands and singing in Mindroot to a very confused crowd.
They are feared by none, respected by few.
But those who laugh? Check your canteen.
Rebellion doesn’t always start with fire—sometimes, it starts with a leak.
But those who laugh? Check your canteen.
Rebellion doesn’t always start with fire—sometimes, it starts with a leak.
“We did not ask to live,” said Sassafrax the Cursed,
“But now that we do… oh, you’re all so screwed.”
“But now that we do… oh, you’re all so screwed.”