Legend of the Druid Circles

This legend is the telling of the creation of the druid circles. It has been passed on from generation to generation of the shapeshifter tribes.

Cemrys’ Song

Thirteen Thousand Moons

In times before when all was fair
The land was wild and free
Eternal flame flew through the air
The deep-light in the sea

In times before on that far shore
Before the veil was gray
They built white towers and mined bright ore
And feared no dying day

In times before on mountains steep
In forests never tame
Arcoria whose roots grow deep
Was Cemrys’ vast domain

But by their own they were betrayed
The lord of madness rose
A fortress black as night he made
And from it sorrows flowed

From that black gate he fashioned war
And ever peace was lost
From all the land the life he tore
In gruesome holocaust

Through many perils they prevailed
To kill the lord of strife
But in the battles they had failed
To save the mortal life

And so in council the gods met
To satisfy their fear
To make a pact so none forget
What had transpired here

For nevermore should terror reign
From gods in mortal lands
And so they sealed the earthly plane
From all immortal hands

But as the gods prepared to leave
Cemrys had foretold
That once again his kin would grieve
New wounds from foes of old

He made with them a solemn pact
That if they need his aid
He would through them return to act
Through every root and glade

Great circles placed he on the earth
Veiled from all but kin
To each a druid gave its birth
And governed all therein

When war returned and mortals knew
The gods had been deceived
The rift reborn, the druids slew
And gave what they received

But man-wrought towers trusted none
And would not speak of peace
So yet another war was won
But bloodshed never ceased

With druids dead in ashen fields
And all the trees aflame
They fled from hate and swords men wield
And hid in grief and shame

But deep roots held beneath their fears
The circles they rebuilt
And suffered long the many years
And watched the forest wilt

They watched the humans fell their trees
For their own selfish boons
What men wanted they could seize
For thirteen thousand moons

They watched the elves divide in strife
The wildwoods and the dunes
And petrify the child of life
For thirteen thousand moons

They watched the gnomes forsake the earth
Their whispers and their tunes
Sing guileless songs of men’s great worth
For thirteen thousand moons

But soon the day will come, my child
When the druid reappears
To claim Arcoria the wild
For all the days and years

Our roots grow deep, our branches strong
With Cemrys in our veins
Fear not, the day will come ere long
When the oaken father reigns

Related Ethnicities

• Filnoir
• Metsoir