Library Tunnels | The Verdish

The Library Tunnels are a series of lore posts written as extracts from books that can be found in the priory library.

From "The Forgotten Ruins of Priory Isle" by Father Justus

It has taken some deliberation to include this next entry as a ruin, but after praying on it for some time, I have decided it would be a falsehood to leave it out. When I embarked on this journey of recording the various ruins on this island, I did so without any preconceptions, and it must stay that way even now that I have discovered places that are not as snug of a fit with the rest of my theories.

The ruin in question is not one of stone, but wood. Even the word "wood", in fact, seems ill-fitting, as the entire "edifice" is just one big tree. A living tree, no less, which brings into question what qualifies as a "ruin". Certainly, no one seems to be inhabiting this tree, but it most certainly seems someone had at one time. It is clear that the tree in question - about fourteen miles north-northwest of the priory, in a grove of younger, unremarkable trees - was manipulated by certain Verdish magicks. At its base is what I could only describe as a door, though the method of opening it (without a hatchet) eludes me. Inside, small hollows, but big enough for one or two men to fit in. Narrow steps lead up through this enormous trunk, up toward the crown of the tree, where another hollow can be found, this one with small windows in all directions. A watchtower of some sort, or lookout.

The tree stands undisturbed now except by critters sheltering from the rain. What a palace this must appear to be for the squirrel stumbling upon it on a stormy night.

From "The Thorn-Witches of Verdune" by Father Malachi

There has been much speculation since the King's death about the connection between the giant briars infesting the forests here to the magickal practices of the Verdish. It appears the briars in question - everything from low shrubs and wild rose bushes to complex tangles of thick twisting branches with thorns the size of a shortsword - are never too far away from a Verdish ambush.

Moreover, it has become almost a daily occurrence now that our soldiers and scouts will return to Ashfall sickened with some incurable ill, and upon closer inspection will be found to have at least a small thorn lodged into the soft of their heel, their shoulder, even their buttock. The area itself will start springing unseemly dark green veins, like vines leading out from the point of puncture. Poison, says the rash apprentice physician. Magick, say I, purposefully enchanted and set to find purchase in Children of Elythea.

There have also been sightings of a subtype of the Verdish host, wearing briars as clothes; the thorns secured on to them through many punctures, infesting the body as a parasite. Perhaps it is these thorns that have made the Verdish go mad. Perhaps the most humane thing to do is to alleviate their pain through a cleansing in flame.

From "The Green Bestiary" by Brother Nestor (Restricted Section)

On the third day, the bear carcass had started smelling, so I decided it was time to dispose of it. The small pit we had dug up for these dead beasts was not too far from our fort in Greenspark, so I thought I would simply get on with the venture myself, as my wandering master had been absent for the better part of a week, drinking the camp dry of what Burgund wine we had left. It took some trial and error, but I got the heavy creature onto the cart and started for the nearby forest.

When I got to the pit, I raised the cart to release the carcass into it, and that's when I spotted something. In the pile of fur and bone, a human-like hand stuck out. Indeed, it was so eerily human-like that I thought for a moment one of our own must have taken an ill-fated stumble into it. Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to climb down the steep slope into the pit to investigate. What I found was indeed a man in the early stages of decomposition. He was free of any clothing and carried no pouches or items. His body had been painted on with symbols that I did not recognize, though some bore a vague resemblance to parts and radicals of pictograms we have left over from the Old Empire.

I tried pulling the body up and loading it onto my cart. It took what seemed like hours until I was finally able to get it where I needed it to, and by that point, most of my strength had left me. It was at this moment that a group of creatures made entirely of vine and leather and thorn crawled out of the tree line. In the twilight, I could only see their silhouettes and hear their snarling. I dropped to my knees and offered a prayer to Elythea, certain I was about to meet the Shadow. But the creatures took no real notice of me, but instead grabbed the man I had pushed out of the pit. One of the creatures threw the corpse over its back, and they retreated into the forest.

"An Old Verdish Song" translated by Sister Xenia (Restricted Section)

You cannot cut through the forest
'Thout the forest cuttin' through you.
A nick o' the thorn, a lash o' the branch
Draw blood as you wade through.
You may wear your shiny armor,
You may carry your heavy shields,
But there'll ever be creases fine enough
'Gainst the weapons the forest wields.

If you stumble upon a carcass,
And meet the beastie that'd done it,
You may even outpace it with your feet
But your heart will never outrun it.
And even if, instead of runnin'
You cut it down with your blade,
A wound will grow inside your heart,
As big as the wound you made.

And when you get to the tree line
And look back only to see
That the beastie lookin' back at you
Reminds you eerie o' thee,
Only then, though you'll know not why
You'll know this much is true:
You cannot cut through the forest
'Thout the forest cuttin' through you.