To Burn a Treant?

Vocher couldn't believe this was even being put into consideration. Given the option between repaying their life debt to the treant by facing this Nera, and murdering him to escape to safety, people would actually consider the latter?

He was raised to believe life was precious. Growing up in farmlands east of Blackdawn, worship of Sylar and all of creation was commonplace; a farmer was a creator, in a way. Given the choice between protecting the treant or killing it to save themselves was less of a choice and more of a test. He inhaled, and began.

"We cannae burn you, treant! This Nera seems to feed on hopelessness! Giving up and sacrificing you just because we're afraid o' death and y'see no way out is just another victory for Nera; I refuse! I've been in the dark alone, odds against me, no way out, an' I prevailed not out of fear, but out of hope! Sure, the 'ard way is unappealing, and it could lead do horrible suffering, but if that suffering has even a chance to yield success, I say we take it 'stead of tucking our tails and showing our bellies to this darkness!" He looked around at the party. "Nay! We do not repay someone for giving us safety and hospitality by killing them and fleeing just 'cause they see the sour side 'o things an' think it's the only way out! There is another way! He just said! We face Nera, and by the gods, we shine pure as the stars and keep alive one of the world's wondrous creations!" He breathed deeply.

"I know little o' the strife you've all been through, aye. I know you lost two companions, an' that Nera's apparently using them for his or her nefarious goals in crushing hope and light out of here. And lo! Here, we stand, considering burning and watching this wonderful, rare, seldom-seen creation of Sylar and Wollom die an agonizing death in a sacrilegious ritual, paying homage to Evil itself to get a free pass from what we think is certain death!" He paced back and forth, and pointed at Trunt. "You say the Hag is least of our concerns, and so it can be! She's no concern, for she caught us off-guard, vulnerable from a fresh fight with, as you said, beasts o' Hell. Aye, she's nothing in the light of hope but a gnarly weed that seeds doubt within us to make us weaker!" He now looked into the embers of their cooking fire. "Many a great fellow died for things lesser than this," and he looked at Blank before continuing, "and you may call them fools. I call them heroes, for they died believing the right thing!" He looked at Merick, Tecuani, and back to Blank. "And what is a person but the sum of their beliefs? If we renounce what defines us, are we any different than the thralls this Nera controls, hollow and without purpose? No!"

He walked to his pack, strapped on his swords, grabbed his staff, and carried the pack to a path the party has not yet taken, then dropped it at a point just before the end of the treant's magical protective field. "I stand for hope and repayment of a life debt to Trunt."

Vocher firmly stood at the edge of the sphere of safety, looking at Trunt with a grim expression.

"Y'said it's us that's draining your life force so, treant. Y'say you'll die if we wait longer, aye. So here's a question;" and he leaned on his staff, staring intently at the treant's face. "How long will you have if we were to leave your protection? Y'seemed quite fine standing here for however long you've been 'til we came along, no denying that. So how long will you have if we left? As I see it, maybe just enough to confront this Nera and save both you an' ourselves, an' that's enough of a chance for me to take. As long as there is hope, I cannae in good conscience murder our savior, and watch his throes of agony 'til death, just to escape to safety; that's just not how good folk treat other good folk. That is a selfish, disgusting admission of defeat to a force that revels in doubt, aye!"

He looked from one person to the next now. "Nay, I don't know you well, but you seem t'be decent folk, mostly. Together, gods willing, we can save this treant an' the forest, but only together!”

    Blank sighed with exasperation at the bard's continued rebuttals to the treant's plea.  "Listen, bard, I know you want to save this tree, this forest, and probably the world, but it just isn't possible.  We were nearly destroyed by a pair of hellhounds.  That hag would have annihilated us if not for this tree.  We are not prepared to face even a simulacrum of a deity.  Our only chance of surviving is to escape, and the tree is willing to give us that."

    "Even if we do manage to kill the demon within the forest, the treant will still be corrupted beyond salvation.  We won't be fast enough to save him and will be forced to slay him.  He will die either way, at least by accepting his sacrifice, his death will have meaning and he will not have to witness himself become a twisted horror."

    "I wish we could save the tree, defeat the demon, and rescue all that was lost, but we can't.  We haven't the means or capability."

    "You and the battlemage may live and die by a code of honor, but I don't.  If you want to run headlong into certain death because of some misguided sense of righteousness, then fine.  I will burn the tree after you are gone and leave you both here to die."