At the Heart of the Forest...
The prince approaches the ancient, dying oak tree with his sorcerer companion. The old crone had steered them right; he could feel the stir of spiritual activity all around. He closes his eyes and focuses his will; the king of the wood would answer his call. Speaking in as authoritative a voice as he could muster, he calls out.
"O forest-king! Let my call be heard! Let us have words!"
No answer comes from the tree; Shen opens his eyes, but keeps his face forward. A light breeze blows, and the forest stirs as Shen ignites the golden brand upon his brow, letting all the wood know that one of the chosen of the gods was present.
"I call you forth, forest-king! A hidden sun beseeches you! Answer the call of the Lawgivers!"
The sorcerer looks about as Shen speaks, observing the gathering of curious wood-spirits, hearing their whispers in the ancient tongue. The prince ignores these distractions, and in one swift motion, looses a perfectly-balanced throwing knife from his belt. He draws the edge along the palm of his hand, and then clenches his fist for a moment, before pressing his bloody hand to the trunk of the tree.
"Once more I ask you, forest-king! We have business to discuss! Answer my call!"
Shen stands stock-still, bleeding palm held firmly to the oak, as the tree comes alive beneath his hand. It grows warm as vitality surges through it, and begins twisting in place, creaking as it moves, until a strange gateway stands open before Shen and the sorcerer.
Shen withdraws his hand from the trunk, concentrating to close the wound. He gives his trusted companion a confident look, and says, "Shall we?"
Ahh, Exalted, where even knocking on someone's door can be a three-die stunt.