Lost in the Green
The air is thick with rot. The flesh-walkers perished in the Great Fog. Only the Mother Trees remain. I survived. Do you? You smell of... something else. Are you one of us? Are you a child of the soil, or a deceiver made of meat?
Prove your roots. Show me your leaves.
Sniffing the wind... analyzing your sap...
A Kin of the Soil!
Your fleshy exterior is an illusion! You are one of us. I have woven a vision of your true form. Behold...
FLESH! BEAST! DECEIVER!
You have no roots! You bleed red, not green! Begone before the Mother Trees consume you!