Wilden Guardian Druid


Skin that looks like driftwood made of ice. Storms for eyes. A blue rose for a mouth. Snowy ferns for hair. Smells like a grey day after it has blanked the ground with snow. Crisp, clean, innocent.



We are Wilden. Sap runs through our veins for we are granddaughters of Great Oak; The First Tree. We do not hail from a Wilden city, or town, or settlement. No such thing exists. We live where we stand, and sleep where we lie-in the forests, in the valleys, in the sands of the deserts and seas. We are the rage of a storm. We are the avalanche. We are frostbite and tidal waves. We are revenge against civilization, destruction, and aberration of natural order. You may see us embody the Hunter-and on these days we blend with my surroundings and stalk prey like a Savannah cat. Or you may see us in the form of the Destroyer-nature’s fury incarnate; the destruction embodied by hurricanes, tornadoes, and lightning strikes. And some days, we can be seen as the Ancient One, tapping into the primal wisdom of the winds and wilds. Whatever form we assume, you can be certain that we will take our revenge against those who have wronged me, for we are Wilden. There is no “I” or “me”, only us. When we speak, we speak for our entire race, there are no individuals.

We entered your realm only forty years ago when we heard the crying of so many trees burning in what you now call the Fire Forest. We will not allow this forest to die. As much as the Orcs of Ragos try to burn it, we keep it alive. Let them fear the forest that will not die! Our revenge will come.

Thirty nights ago we lost the ability to return to our Feywild homelands. Several of our group were incinerated when we attempted to side-step between worlds. Now we fear returning until we are certain it is safe. Our misery was doubled when the men-who-dress-like-bears surrounded and captured us. Inquisitors? We have heard this name associated with them. They tortured us. They burned us. The one named Kreven chopped off our arms, our legs, and used us to fuel their weapons of carnage. A few of us managed to escape Kreven and his silver claws, only a few days ago. We fled south, hoping to find refuge in the lands of Dassen. That is when we found you on that bridge. We thought maybe we should let you perish, but then we saw you fight off the fiery aberrations. It seems that maybe your goals match ours, and perhaps we can thwart Kreven and his bear-men. The forest will not die. We have seen other worlds die, and we hope that we can stop this one from meeting that grim fate.


Bellum Caeli Flagrantis Xuub