Daganev, Treeripper of the Fallen,


Whether or not you are bothered by the truth of my words is beyond my
cares now. Wallow in ignorance and false prophecy if that keeps you
blind to the abhorrence of your choices. The demise of the rotforest
edges ever closer, and no amount of sophistry will save you from the
consequences of your desecrations.

You casually speak of Nature, I speak of the unimaginable vastness of
the living realms - the natural divinity inherent in all Creation and
awakened to its fullest potential only within the Great Forests. You
speak of liking your own 'commune' over another while I speak of the
glorious Wildforest that aches to bloom across every inch of the Basin
and beyond, an untamable manifestation of the essence of life itself.
The service of the Wildforest and the destiny of the living realms was
once tended by the three Great communes, yet only one now remains. To
believe that we would forget the nobility of our purpose and the
supremacy of the Wildforest in order to selfishly raise our commune
above all else, it is ludicrous. No, I speak of the entirety of the
living realms that we revere and which the rotforest threatens with its
poisonous corruption.

You cling to the words of Queen Maeve and the Great Tree Spirit as if
they would defend your crimes, but your flawed grasp of the spiritual
realm betrays you. Alas, once-great Queen Maeve is the last casualty of
the Scourge. An expression of the union of all the Spirits and their
most revered protector, She now bears within Her the corruption that
destroyed Great Raven and Mother Night. As it devours Her mind, we are
sometimes blessed with moments of clarity, but it is obvious to all that
the Taint clouds Her judgment and Her service to the Faery peoples. Her
words can no longer be trusted.

Great and noble Tree sleeps through the empires of mortal civilizations,
and Her thoughts span aeons uncounted. The sickness and peril of the
Taint has not yet intruded upon Her vast consciousness, and thus She
plays no part in the battle to save the living realms. Indeed, you
defile Her name with your revolting accusations. I suppose little else
could be expected though - your people must learn little amid the
screams of your unthinkable tortures when you enslave Her gentle
children, the Dryads.

The Music of the Forests. Yes, it is not surprising you cannot
understand. The Music is not something that words can convey to you, nor
can it be completely comprehended by any but the Druids. I lament that
the Hartstone cannot share with you the supreme beauty and sadness of
the Song of the Wilds, but I am no poet to condense the centuries of our
lore into such a crude form as written word.

Know only that while Serenwilde remains, our dedication to the Music,
and the Forest, shall never falter.


- Elryn Greythane -

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Avechary, in the year 125 CE.