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| - The Tree is among Wazoo's most mysterious skits. It was only shown once, to critical praise, but disappeared afterwards. The skit was made during CFF's skitoff. Everything about it is shrouded in mystery. The Skit begins with a gay couple taking a cold and uncomfortable stroll through the woods. they find a hut and have sex in it. the sacred tree near this hut is offended by this, and threatens them to have the monster come and eat them. The monster comes, but soon the convince the monster to be their intimate friend and they do other things. the tree declares that the stars have aligned and their penis's all turn into wood, literally. they all cry. the end. this is one of the most vulgar and random wazoo skits ever made.
- The Tree is a inspirational timelapse brickfilm by Trevor "legoguy501" Sprague. It focuses on a single tree and the life around it. It was an entry into Bricks in Motion's Darkness and Light Contest, in which it placed second.
- "The Tree" is a short story by American horror fiction writer H. P. Lovecraft, written in 1920 and first published in October 1921.
- The Tree (1920)by H. P. Lovecraft Story copied from the Wikisource. Below, a Spoken Word Version. On a verdant slope of Mount Maenalus, in Arcadia, there stands an olive grove about the ruins of a villa. Close by is a tomb, once beautiful with the sublimest sculptures, but now fallen into as great decay as the house. At one But the olive grove still stands, as does the tree growing out of the tomb of Kalos, and the old bee-keeper told me that sometimes the boughs whisper to one another in the night wind, saying over and over again. "Oida! Oida! -I know! I know!"
- The wind shook the already trembling tree to its roots. There were screams and a low, loud rumbling noise as the monsters came. They were big, bold hulking shapes, yellow red and green. There were five, all silhouettes against the pale ghostly moon. The wind howled. The rain attacked the cats, and petrified shrieks as the things sauntered forwards, their jaws wide open to swallow a passing feline. They came on wide, black circles, covered with deadly jagged tracks. They reeked of toxic fumes, and the small bunch of rouges struggled not to pass out from the overwhelming stench.
- A D'ni cult. Jolatha, the consort of King Solath, was a well-known member of the Tree, although Solath always denied it. During the reign of their son, King Me'emen, Jolatha ruled through him. In 1817 he proposed construction of the Temple of the Tree. The Tree believed that the ancient books buried in the Tomb of the Great King held symbolic power. Ramel was also a member of The Tree, reknowned for her beauty, pushed by Jolatha to be Me'erta's lover. During the time of Ahlsendar's Plague, King Behnashiren saught the help from The Tree.
- The Tree is the link to heaven in the Underworld. Most bats in the Underworld do not know of the Tree due to the fact that they are unintentionally misled by Cama Zotz. Shade, Yorick, Java, Murk and Nemo traveled to The Tree during the events of Firewing. The Tree is not only heaven to dead souls, which truns them into just a consiousness, unable to interact with other beings, but more of just a spirit, as Shade experienced. the Tree is also a portal for the living that sends them back to the surface world. As Shade, Yorick, Murk, Nemo, and Java entered the Tree to become spirits, Goth returned to the Jungle Pyramid, and Griffin and Luna returned to Tree Haven.
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| - The Tree is among Wazoo's most mysterious skits. It was only shown once, to critical praise, but disappeared afterwards. The skit was made during CFF's skitoff. Everything about it is shrouded in mystery. The Skit begins with a gay couple taking a cold and uncomfortable stroll through the woods. they find a hut and have sex in it. the sacred tree near this hut is offended by this, and threatens them to have the monster come and eat them. The monster comes, but soon the convince the monster to be their intimate friend and they do other things. the tree declares that the stars have aligned and their penis's all turn into wood, literally. they all cry. the end. this is one of the most vulgar and random wazoo skits ever made.
- The Tree is the link to heaven in the Underworld. Most bats in the Underworld do not know of the Tree due to the fact that they are unintentionally misled by Cama Zotz. Shade, Yorick, Java, Murk and Nemo traveled to The Tree during the events of Firewing. The Tree is not only heaven to dead souls, which truns them into just a consiousness, unable to interact with other beings, but more of just a spirit, as Shade experienced. the Tree is also a portal for the living that sends them back to the surface world. As Shade, Yorick, Murk, Nemo, and Java entered the Tree to become spirits, Goth returned to the Jungle Pyramid, and Griffin and Luna returned to Tree Haven. Pilgrims are bats who travel the Underworld, telling bats to go to the Tree. Frieda Silverwing, Yorick, Murk, Nemo, and Java are all pilgrims.
- The Tree (1920)by H. P. Lovecraft Story copied from the Wikisource. Below, a Spoken Word Version. On a verdant slope of Mount Maenalus, in Arcadia, there stands an olive grove about the ruins of a villa. Close by is a tomb, once beautiful with the sublimest sculptures, but now fallen into as great decay as the house. At one end of that tomb, its curious roots displacing the time-stained blocks of Panhellic marble, grows an unnaturally large olive tree of oddly repellent shape; so like to some grotesque man, or death-distorted body of a man, that the country folk fear to pass it at night when the moon shines faintly through the crooked boughs. Mount Maenalus is a chosen haunt of dreaded Pan, whose queer companions are many, and simple swains believe that the tree must have some hideous kinship to these weird Panisci; but an old bee-keeper who lives in the neighboring cottage told me a different story. Many years ago, when the hillside villa was new and resplendent, there dwelt within it the two sculptors Kalos and Musides. From Lydia to Neapolis the beauty of their work was praised, and none dared say that the one excelled the other in skill. The Hermes of Kalos stood in a marble shrine in Corinth, and the Pallas of Musides surmounted a pillar in Athens near the Parthenon. All men paid homage to Kalos and Musides, and marvelled that no shadow of artistic jealousy cooled the warmth of their brotherly friendship. But though Kalos and Musides dwelt in unbroken harmony, their natures were not alike. Whilst Musides revelled by night amidst the urban gaieties of Tegea, Kalos would remain at home; stealing away from the sight of his slaves into the cool recesses of the olive grove. There he would meditate upon the visions that filled his mind, and there devise the forms of beauty which later became immortal in breathing marble. Idle folk, indeed, said that Kalos conversed with the spirits of the grove, and that his statues were but images of the fauns and dryads he met there for he patterned his work after no living model. So famous were Kalos and Musides, that none wondered when the Tyrant of Syracuse sent to them deputies to speak of the costly statue of Tyche which he had planned for his city. Of great size and cunning workmanship must the statue be, for it was to form a wonder of nations and a goal of travellers. Exalted beyond thought would be he whose work should gain acceptance, and for this honor Kalos and Musides were invited to compete. Their brotherly love was well known, and the crafty Tyrant surmised that each, instead of concealing his work from the other, would offer aid and advice; this charity producing two images of unheard of beauty, the lovelier of which would eclipse even the dreams of poets. With joy the sculptors hailed the Tyrant's offer, so that in the days that followed their slaves heard the ceaseless blows of chisels. Not from each other did Kalos and Musides conceal their work, but the sight was for them alone. Saving theirs, no eyes beheld the two divine figures released by skillful blows from the rough blocks that had imprisoned them since the world began. At night, as of yore, Musides sought the banquet halls of Tegea whilst Kalos wandered alone in the olive Grove. But as time passed, men observed a want of gaiety in the once sparkling Musides. It was strange, they said amongst themselves that depression should thus seize one with so great a chance to win art's loftiest reward. Many months passed yet in the sour face of Musides came nothing of the sharp expectancy which the situation should arouse. Then one day Musides spoke of the illness of Kalos, after which none marvelled again at his sadness, since the sculptors' attachment was known to be deep and sacred. Subsequently many went to visit Kalos, and indeed noticed the pallor of his face; but there was about him a happy serenity which made his glance more magical than the glance of Musides who was clearly distracted with anxiety and who pushed aside all the slaves in his eagerness to feed and wait upon his friend with his own hands. Hidden behind heavy curtains stood the two unfinished figures of Tyche, little touched of late by the sick man and his faithful attendant. As Kalos grew inexplicably weaker and weaker despite the ministrations of puzzled physicians and of his assiduous friend, he desired to be carried often to the grove which he so loved. There he would ask to be left alone, as if wishing to speak with unseen things. Musides ever granted his requests, though his eyes filled with visible tears at the thought that Kalos should care more for the fauns and the dryads than for him. At last the end drew near, and Kalos discoursed of things beyond this life. Musides, weeping, promised him a sepulchre more lovely than the tomb of Mausolus; but Kalos bade him speak no more of marble glories. Only one wish now haunted the mind of the dying man; that twigs from certain olive trees in the grove be buried by his resting place-close to his head. And one night, sitting alone in the darkness of the olive grove, Kalos died. Beautiful beyond words was the marble sepulchre which stricken Musides carved for his beloved friend. None but Kalos himself could have fashioned such basreliefs, wherein were displayed all the splendours of Elysium. Nor did Musides fail to bury close to Kalos' head the olive twigs from the grove. As the first violence of Musides' grief gave place to resignation, he labored with diligence upon his figure of Tyche. All honour was now his, since the Tyrant of Syracuse would have the work of none save him or Kalos. His task proved a vent for his emotion and he toiled more steadily each day, shunning the gaieties he once had relished. Meanwhile his evenings were spent beside the tomb of his friend, where a young olive tree had sprung up near the sleeper's head. So swift was the growth of this tree, and so strange was its form, that all who beheld it exclaimed in surprise; and Musides seemed at once fascinated and repelled. Three years after the death of Kalos, Musides despatched a messenger to the Tyrant, and it was whispered in the agora at Tegea that the mighty statue was finished. By this time the tree by the tomb had attained amazing proportions, exceeding all other trees of its kind, and sending out a singularly heavy branch above the apartment in which Musides labored. As many visitors came to view the prodigious tree, as to admire the art of the sculptor, so that Musides was seldom alone. But he did not mind his multitude of guests; indeed, he seemed to dread being alone now that his absorbing work was done. The bleak mountain wind, sighing through the olive grove and the tomb-tree, had an uncanny way of forming vaguely articulate sounds. The sky was dark on the evening that the Tyrant's emissaries came to Tegea. It was definitely known that they had come to bear away the great image of Tyche and bring eternal honour to Musides, so their reception by the proxenoi was of great warmth. As the night wore on a violent storm of wind broke over the crest of Maenalus, and the men from far Syracuse were glad that they rested snugly in the town. They talked of their illustrious Tyrant, and of the splendour of his capital and exulted in the glory of the statue which Musides had wrought for him. And then the men of Tegea spoke of the goodness of Musides, and of his heavy grief for his friend and how not even the coming laurels of art could console him in the absence of Kalos, who might have worn those laurels instead. Of the tree which grew by the tomb, near the head of Kalos, they also spoke. The wind shrieked more horribly, and both the Syracusans and the Arcadians prayed to Aiolos. In the sunshine of the morning the proxenoi led the Tyrant's messengers up the slope to the abode of the sculptor, but the night wind had done strange things. Slaves' cries ascended from a scene of desolation, and no more amidst the olive grove rose the gleaming colonnades of that vast hall wherein Musides had dreamed and toiled. Lone and shaken mourned the humble courts and the lower walls, for upon the sumptuous greater peri-style had fallen squarely the heavy overhanging bough of the strange new tree, reducing the stately poem in marble with odd completeness to a mound of unsightly ruins. Strangers and Tegeans stood aghast, looking from the wreckage to the great, sinister tree whose aspect was so weirdly human and whose roots reached so queerly into the sculptured sepulchre of Kalos. And their fear and dismay increased when they searched the fallen apartment, for of the gentle Musides, and of the marvellously fashioned image of Tyche, no trace could be discovered. Amidst such stupendous ruin only chaos dwelt, and the representatives of two cities left disappointed; Syracusans that they had no statue to bear home, Tegeans that they had no artist to crown. However, the Syracusans obtained after a while a very splendid statue in Athens, and the Tegeans consoled themselves by erecting in the agora a marble temple commemorating the gifts, virtues, and brotherly piety of Musides. But the olive grove still stands, as does the tree growing out of the tomb of Kalos, and the old bee-keeper told me that sometimes the boughs whisper to one another in the night wind, saying over and over again. "Oida! Oida! -I know! I know!"
- The wind shook the already trembling tree to its roots. There were screams and a low, loud rumbling noise as the monsters came. They were big, bold hulking shapes, yellow red and green. There were five, all silhouettes against the pale ghostly moon. The wind howled. The rain attacked the cats, and petrified shrieks as the things sauntered forwards, their jaws wide open to swallow a passing feline. They came on wide, black circles, covered with deadly jagged tracks. They reeked of toxic fumes, and the small bunch of rouges struggled not to pass out from the overwhelming stench. The daunting beast rambled onwards, ready to crush the oak tree that had been the cats home. The 'leader' had heard from several loners that the twolegs planned to build more thunderpaths where their beloved tree stood, ready to protect them. Now it was going to be crushed into smithereens. The wind howled on, as a bright yellow monster slammed into the tree, gouging out a huge chunk of bark. 'Get the kits!' A voice yelled into the blackness. There was no reply. Out of the shadows, a queen sprinted across the field, yowling with fear. Her belly was heavy with kits, and a monster was heading straight for her. The extra weight was too much for the she-cat, for she collapsed in the floor, her chest heaving as she struggled to breath. The monster kept trundling forwards, its jaws wide open. There was a scream, and a 'No! Not Kelsie!' then three lives were lost in one cat. Two unborn kits were slaughtered that night. The unmerciless monsters crawled round the field, ripping up dirt and massacring cats. Many died. I lost track of how many were butchered that dark night. There were few survivors, the ones that lived ran to twolegplace. But a small kitten named Sun was lost, teary. His mother had died. He had nowhere to go. In the twolegplace, a pair of cats ambled amicably in the darkness, the dens providing good shelter. Their tails twined together, and they gossiped in the darkness. 'Have you heard about the cats living in the tree?' the tortoiseshell she-cat asked her companion. 'The monsters hacked it down.' 'Yes, Dixie. I have,' the tom replied. 'I see them stalking about the streets, scavenging for food.' 'I'm so glad we have our twolegs,' Dixie observed. 'Aren't you, Beanie?' Beanie dipped his head in a nod. 'They have no one to give them food, or brush their fur!' he exclaimed, shocked. 'And they're so skinny.' Dixie twitched her whiskers in agreement. 'The forest cats are even worse. They hunt mice, and lots of them die of starvation in the snowfall season.' She shook her head. 'Who'd want to live like that?' Beanie's voice dropped to a whisper, like someone would hear. 'Bramble told me that one of the rouges who lived in the oak tree has joined them to save himself!' Dixie gasped, shaking her head. 'If we see any of them, we must tell them to live with housefolk,' she mewed. 'They'll be so much happier.' Beanie snorted. 'They think we're overfed. But look at them, they're practically starved.' Dixie jumped as she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye, the wind buffeting her fur. 'Look,' she hissed. 'It's one of the wild cats!' Her tone softened. 'But my, he is only a kit!' In the alleyway digging through the metal cans was a small cat, with bright golden fur. He was so thin, you could see each of his ribs. His fur was matted, and his eyes were sullen and hollow. 'Who are you?' Beanie questioned. The little kitten turned to face the kittypets, and said, 'I am Sun.' His amber eyes widened. 'Please, help me!'
- The Tree is a inspirational timelapse brickfilm by Trevor "legoguy501" Sprague. It focuses on a single tree and the life around it. It was an entry into Bricks in Motion's Darkness and Light Contest, in which it placed second.
- A D'ni cult. Jolatha, the consort of King Solath, was a well-known member of the Tree, although Solath always denied it. During the reign of their son, King Me'emen, Jolatha ruled through him. In 1817 he proposed construction of the Temple of the Tree. The Tree believed that the ancient books buried in the Tomb of the Great King held symbolic power. Ramel was also a member of The Tree, reknowned for her beauty, pushed by Jolatha to be Me'erta's lover. During the time of Ahlsendar's Plague, King Behnashiren saught the help from The Tree. By the time of King Asemlef, it, as well as some old cults, had vanished for the most part leaving way to disagreements in the beliefs of Yahvo.
- "The Tree" is a short story by American horror fiction writer H. P. Lovecraft, written in 1920 and first published in October 1921.
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