Out of a small territory not far from the Bazaar, an 8 and a half foot tall tree emerges with a purpose. His branches are scraggly, more bare than usual in the winter chill, but a number of leaves still cling tenaciously. A single thick vine wraps around his large spiky trunk, worn somewhere between a belt and a bandoleer. A locket glints from deep within his branches. His roots twist upon the ground, somehow propelling him forward despite the uneven ground.
He approaches a small standing bulletin in the Bazaar, looking at it distrustfully. He digs in a small crystal ball out of his branches, then peers about for an eye or camera or face to talk to. Finding none, he holds the crystal ball up to the sign, and says, "Broadcast this, please." A small moving image plays inside the ball.
