Origins of the Circle
Long before kingdoms rose and steel sang through battlefields, the Druids walked beneath the ancient canopies of
Varendor. They did not build cities, nor carve out empires. They listened—to rivers, winds, and stones. Born of the wild, some say the first Druids were taught by the elves themselves; others claim they simply answered the world’s silent call.
Unlike those who seek dominion, the Druids chose balance. Life, to them, was a tapestry woven from every living thing—and their duty was to protect that weave. They saw spirit in every tree, guidance in every bird’s cry, and sacred memory in every stone.
Hidden in the Roots
As humanity rose and reshaped the land with ambition, the Druids knew conflict was inevitable. Rather than meet it with open defiance, they vanished into shadow—guardians hidden in plain sight. They blended into villages, adopted the garb of herbalists and healers, and cloaked sacred groves in illusions no map could breach.
“The earth speaks still. You’ve only forgotten how to listen.” — Druidic Saying
During the civil war, the Druids gave refuge to many fleeing oppression. Their magic sustained hidden camps—summoning water from rock, food from bare soil, and warmth where no fire burned. Their power, though immense, left no trace—a gift honed with elven aid.
Shadows and Ash
When the
Church rose, it saw the Druids as heretics—keepers of a dangerous past. The persecution was swift, brutal, and relentless. Many circles scattered, some were destroyed. Others chose exile, joining the
Guardians in the deep wilds beyond reach.
But not all fled. Some stayed, and with them, the flame of Druidic resistance.
Now, fifty years later, the Druids remain—fewer in number, but no less devoted. In cities, they whisper their truths from beneath garden stalls and apothecaries. In forests, they teach under moonlight. The old ways endure.
Quiet Rebellion
Their resistance is not forged in steel, but in story and seed. They awaken the curious, nurture the attuned, and guide them with patience. They do not rally armies—they plant ideas. And ideas, once rooted, grow.
Some see them as myth, others as threat. But to those who remember the songs of rivers and winds, the Druids are more than legend. They are the breath of the old world, still alive beneath the noise.
“When the last oak falls, the roots will remember.” — Druidic Proverb
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