In the earth, poison of the Soulless,
So much lost, wounds so deep,
Forests wither lifeless.
Most lose hope, wrap themselves in cold sleep,
Others choose betrayal,
Allying with death's creep.

-The Ode of Ellindel
First Verse

Long ago, there was a war in Gloriana. Life- beautiful, natural, wholesome life- was sundered by the power of Kethuru and the arrogance of an Empire. Half of those sworn to defend the Gloriana clapped hoof and fled, seeking safer lands. Oaths broken, leaders betrayed, a forest cast into flames. This is the heritage of the Serenwilde! Fair-weather friendships, centaur oaths and the fickleness of the Moon.

Long ago, there was a civil war in Serenwilde. Justice, for the fae and for the forests, set against cowardice and fear. A race of cowards intervened on the side of cowardice and so justice was defeated, virtue clapped into chains and the chiefs of the righteous bound, still screaming, into their graves. The 'True Seren' triumphed, and those druids who dared follow the teachings of Glinshari were left forgotten by history.

Long ago, there was half again the Seren that there is today. To the east of the Moonhart were the dryad orchards of the first sowing, where the pale bluebells painted the earth with the shades of the sky! But when the Slayer of Forests turned Its eye on that precious jewel of nature, Chuchip turned his powers not to aid, but to conceal. A glamour around a third of the forest, to silence the screams and hide the fallen. Out of sight, out of mind.

Your history has been destroyed, Serenwilde! Your leaders are part of the Nintoba Cult, of the Chuchip Cult, the Coward Cult! The scions of Oakvine are the true heirs of Ellindel. They alone went among the poisoned earth and sought out the withering Gloriana. They probed the deep wounds in the sundered soil and sought out what life remained. Tending to the dying fae, obeying the spirits and upholding the oaths - this is the work of the wiccan and the druid, not the slaughter of the sick for fear of the sickness, nor the shunning of the victim for their unwilling part in the crimes against them. Allying with death's creep indeed!

If you would serve the will of the wilds, if you would obey the teachings of your ancestors, if you would cleave to oath and to blood, piety compels you to serve in Glomdoring!

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Urlachmar, in the year 506 CE.