Rootstock

|title>[RooTSTOCK] |center>[[[START->1]]]

|helptext>[This is a short work of interactive fiction, composed entirely in text. Based on the decisions you make, the text will branch is different directions, like the limbs of a tree. Everyone starts from the same root, but where this story goes is up to you.] [[Continue->2]]

Dappled sunlight decorates the ground, scattered by the leaves of the towering trees that surround you. The Lastwood extends for miles in most directions, and the depths of the forest are home to all manner of lesser evils: wolves, pixies, and feral men. But here, close to the edge of your homestead, is safe enough. The trees are younger here, and less petrified by the annals of time. [[Continue->3]]

In the Age of Monsters, before adventurers set about their conquering, and before the paths were paved, it is said that the people who used to live here had to walk a great distance, often on old legs, to reach the Lastwood. You're thankful that it now borders your home, and is as such, always close at hand. [["Hello mother."->4]] [["Are you there?"->4]] [["Can you hear me?"->4]]

There's no obvious or immediate reply, but then again, there seldom is. Sometimes, when the nights are long and the days are hard, you bring your burdens here, and on those occasions you swear that you can hear replies whispered on the wind. [["I'm doing well..."->5]] [["I'm not doing so well..."->5]]

"... And I thought you'd like to know," you continue. "I like the telling, even when you only listen." Even if all in the trees in the Lastwood are quiet, somehow your mother is always the most silent. You place your hand on her bark. [[Continue->6]]

Although you know that it is wood, and that insects and squirrels alike probably run amok on it when the forest is unattended, it always feels briefly like skin at first touch. It's been ten years since she took root, and although that time feels immeasurably long to you - a lifetime for some - it still means that she is a babe among giants, and closer to her human form than most. She's taller than you, with branching tendrils that arc towards the sky, but is flanked on all sides by ancient oaks that seem tall enough to touch clouds. [[Continue->7]]

A light breeze arrives and jostles the leaves of nearby trees. A superstitious person would take it as a sign - of being heard, or perhaps even consoled. When she was human, she was a woman of moderate standing. She worked hard, and she mothered hard, and the two often overlapped and made for difficult living. But she did it without public fuss - a herculean feat that made local menfolk desire her, and some girls envy her. [[Continue->8]]

But you knew her better, in ways that were more personal, and deeper than just her social status. To you she was a banisher of under-bed goblins, a nurse, defender, baker, confidante and so much more. She was so strong that she seemed invincible. And yet, although you saw her as a giant-killer, she couldn't see it in herself. You saw perfection, she only ever saw her flaws. [["I've missed you."->9]] [[Say nothing->9]]

In her later years, the invincibility faded alongside her fortunes. And when it was time, as it always is sooner or later, for all - she wandered into the Lastwood to take her last steps and take root. Her feet gripped the earth, and her flesh turned to timber and her blood to sap. And now, so many summers and moons have passed, that your turn has arrived. [["I'm too young for this, really."->10a]] [["It's my time."->10b]]

It's true - you're younger than most who take root. But your mother always said that when you knew, you knew. And you can feel it in your bones. It has to be now... Doesn't it? [[Continue->11]]

Your mother always said that when you knew, you knew. And you can feel it in your bones. It has to be now... Doesn't it? [[Continue->11]]

Still no reply. It's just one of those days where you will talk and she will only hear. You had those when she was human, too. In her presence you feel hypnotised - the world around you takes on a hazy, dream-like quality. None of it feels real. But here it is. The last conversation, in the Lastwood. At last. [["I thought I'd tell you a story, before I join you."->S1]] [["I'd like to talk about my life since you took root."->L1]]

"It's one of my favourite stories, and lately, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It's about..." [["Monsters."->S2a]] [["A Princess."->S2b]] [["A Warrior."->S2c]]

"I never wanted to do any of this without you, you know." The tree doesn't waver, so you continue. [[Talk about relationships->Relationship1]] [[Talk about work->Work1]]

"And the old days, before tribes and camps were brushed away by the better swords of civilisation. There were these..." [["Pixies"->M1a]] [["Witches"->M1b]] [["Sorcerers"->M1c]]

"And capricious parents. At the age of becoming a woman, the princess was told by a seer that she would die - in a fire." "So the..." [["King"->P1]] [["Queen"->P1]] [["Knights of the Realm"->P1]]

"And he was the most courageous, the most daring of all the fighters in the village. He fought wyverns, and gigantic snakes, and people built statues of him. He was loved, by all." [[Continue->W1]]

(set: $monster to "pixies")(go-to:"M2")

(set: $monster to "witches")(go-to:"M2")

(set: $monster to "sorcerers")(go-to:"M2")

"And they lived in this very forest, back when all the trees were trees. As you can imagine, the men in the town didn't much like being in such close proximity to the darker magic, being practiced in the woods right outside their door." [[Continue->M3]]

"Across the land, it was a time of..." [["Peace"->M4]] [["War"->M4]]

"But every peace is the brink of war, and every war feels as if it is on the brink of peace. On this occasion, the town council chose decisive action: War on the Woods. They would not rest until all magical creatures were driven back to the depths of the forest. But the forest, of course, fought back." [[Continue->M5]]

"And by the time the wives were mostly widows, the roots of the trees had drunk so much spilled blood that the leaves themselves looked like cherries. Not just at harvest time, when the sun is low - all summer long, too." [[Continue->M6]]

"And that's how the Lastwood came to be. The $monster put a curse on all humans, that we'd be turned into trees, to replenish and become part of the forest we waged war on." [[Continue->S3]]

You stop talking and look at your mother, the tree. She's unmoved. "I guess it's just a story. It doesn't have to mean anything..." you add. [["I'd like to talk about my life since you took root."->L1]] [["Okay, I'm ready"->R1]]

"... locked her in a towering castle, built of stone, and nobody was allowed a fire of any kind. There was a deep moat constructed, and the surrounding lands were destroyed - trees torn down, barns razed, the hay for horses was removed." [[Continue->P2]]

"Now, without fire, the people who lived there were cold, and sick. They went hungrier, for not being able to cook meat. And when the sun dipped below the horizon of an evening, they worked and lived in complete darkness." [[Continue->P3]]

"So eventually, the populace took up their swords, and the tools they used to use to farm, and they overthrew the King, Queen - the whole monarchy. They defeated every one of the brave knights, and the cowardly ones who survived were forced to flee. To ensure the royal line was severed, the angry peasants burned the Princess. That's how it ends." [[Continue->S3]]

"Nobody thought he could be defeated. He seemed invulnerable. And then one day he was killed. What killed him? What bested this marvel of a man? Well, it was..." [["A tree."->W2]] [["A rock."->W2]]

"Now, this was no golem. It wasn't alive, it didn't attack him. It simply fell on him. But the villagers were devastated, nonetheless." [[Continue->W3]]

"None could fathom how one so strong could be defeated. But fate didn't care that he was beloved, or that he was tough, or skilled with a blade." [[Continue->W4]]

"Destiny only cares if you stand in the right place at the right time." [[Continue->S3]]

You take a few steps around the tree of your mother, careful not to trip over the bumps and grooves where her roots shape the ground. You pick a spot close to her, where you can be free to grow tall and wide, but your roots will eventually touch and intertwine. [["Does it hurt?"->R2a]] [["So... How do I do this?"->R2b]]

"My friends took husbands and wives but I never did. There were partners, here and there, but had I brought a partner here, I'm not sure you'd have liked them. Too good for me, or not good enough, or somehow both, I imagine." [[Continue->Relationship2]]

"Work has been going about as well as I could ask for. But I know that my heart isn't in it any more. The fire - what little I had for it - has gone out, and I can't coax the embers back into a flame, not for lack of trying." [["I'm tired..."->Work2a]] [["I'm burnt out..."->Work2b]] [["I'm empty..."->Work2c]]

"Not having a family has been..." [["Hard."->Rel3a]] [["Easy."->Rel3b]]

"Really hard, actually. Without you, I really could have done with more support around me." [[Continue->L2]]

"Surprisingly easy. I never needed anyone else, I just wish you could've seen me." [[Continue->L2]]

"But I guess it doesn't matter now. All things end, right? And my regrets are few and far between." "Some would say I've wasted a lot of my time..." [["But I don't agree."->L3a]] [["And they're right."->L3b]]

"Like a mule who's seen too many mountain passes." [[Continue->Work3]]

"Like a... Well, like an old campfire, or well-used candle, I suppose." [[Continue->Work3]]

"Like a well, run dry. Or a cave, scraped so thoroughly for gemstones, that there's no shimmer left in the walls." [[Continue->Work3]]

"Some people work only to feed themselves, or clothe babes in arms, and buy trinkets for mistresses. But since you took root I threw myself into work, as fully as I could. It has become my whole life." "The town always needs..." [["More baked goods"->Work4]] [["Protecting from evil"->Work4]] [["Wrought metal"->Work4]]

"And that's what I give them. But I realise now that I have also given them myself completely, and held little back for my own desires or needs." [[Continue->L2]]

"The time I supposedly wasted is the time I regret the least. The happiest, most care-free, cool summer evenings with my books. The warmth of soul that comes from sharing mead with friends. The solace of time spent here, talking to you." [[Continue->L4]]

"But the time I wasted is actually the time I regret the least. The happiest, most care-free, cool summer evenings with my books. The warmth of soul that comes from sharing mead with friends. The solace of time spent here, talking to you." [[Continue->L4]]

"I'm just done with it now. Like you were, I think. You reached a point where nothing else seemed worth doing. And I imagine it's peaceful, to be a tree. That's why I've come to join you." [[Continue->R1]]

Again, there's no answer. The tavernkeeper once told you that it doesn't hurt - he said he watched his father turn, and it was gentle and easy. [[Continue->R3]]

Again, there's no answer. You've never seen someone turn, but you have heard stories. As far as you've been told, it is something you simply will into happening. A belief that you commit to, a thought that you hold until it happens. A wish. [[Continue->R3]]

You brace yourself. And then, you mutter. "If you want to say something, now would be a good time." [[The forest speaks->R4a]] [[The forest does not speak->R4b]]

You aren't sure whether it's the illusion of a frenzied mind, or true magic, but for a brief moment you swear that you can hear your mother's song arriving on the breath of the wind. It's the song she used to use to soothe you, as a child, and despite your adulthood it appears no less effective. [[Continue->R4a2]]

There's nothing. Not even a breeze. Even the usually persistent orchestra of the woodland inhabitants seems quiet - every buzzing insect and scurrying creature is holding their breath. You don't know what else you expected. [[Continue->R4b2]]

In every note there's a hint of melancholy, but the melody makes you think only of love. If there is sadness, it is the sadness of a love that is too strong - an ache that cannot be soothed permanently, but abates in their presence and swells when they're in distress, or far from the safety of home. [[Continue->R5]]

You know what you have to do. [[Take root->R6a]] [[Leave->R6b]]

But in the quiet, you do find time to think. Your thoughts toss and tumble about, swirling from one corner of your mind to another. [[Continue->R5]]

You exhale heavily, and as the air pours out of you, you get the sense that you will never know a breath like it again. Trees have no breath, nought but spores and pollen. The clouds cover the sky as the old magic begins to take you, and your feet begin to sink softly into the earth. [[Continue->R6a2]]

You gather your things and touch the tree again with your bare hands. The clouds make way for sunbeams, and the air is rich in the earthy smell of the forest. [[Continue->R6b2]]

Although you cannot hear your mother, in this moment you feel her. She's welcoming you back into her embrace, proud of all that you have achieved. She could not have asked for more. "Hello, mother," you say. "I'm home." [[Continue->R6a3]]

It was a life well-lived, in many respects. So you could not have asked for much more either. And now, as your body shifts into knotted wood, you become proud of yourself too. This is not death, but change. A new beginning. [[Continue->R6a4]]

In the spring, you mother produces the most beautiful verdant leaves, a patchwork quilt of myriad greens. Your last thought is to wonder whether you'll share this trait with her, in your new life, here in the garden together. Probably, you will. After all, you're grown from those very same roots. [[Return to title screen->Start]]

Although you cannot hear your mother, in this moment you feel her. She's willing you to go on and knows that you have much more to give the world. "It isn't time," you say. "I'll keep trying." [[Continue->R6b3]]

What manner of small sins brought you here? Why did they feel so great and immovable? [[Continue->R6b4]]

As you walk away from the woods and towards the cobblestone streets of home, you think about your mother, and how she was able only to see her imperfections, and not the truth of who she was. Perhaps you are the same. After all, you're grown from those very same roots. [[Return to title screen->Start]]