Circle of the Verdant Reclaiming

Deep in the overgrown hollows of southern Mosswood, where sunlight filters through a cathedral of green and spores drift like dust, dwells the Circle of the Verdant Reclaiming — a druidic brotherhood that believes civilization itself is the root of corruption. Founded by Archdruid Malvaris Greenhand, the Circle teaches that the forest must not merely be preserved but restored — that the plow, the forge, and the temple have stolen what the earth gave freely. To them, the Abbey’s light blinds, the Wardens’ restraint weakens, and the Mirekeepers’ neutrality rots. Only the living wild, unfettered and complete, can heal the world’s sickness. Their motto, whispered in the language of leaves, is “The green remembers.”

The Circle’s followers — druids, herbalists, zealots, and wildbloods — gather in the Verdant Hollow, a sunken cloister reclaimed by root and vine. Its altars are living things, its walls thick with moss that glows faintly when prayers are sung. They heal the land where it’s wounded, but in doing so they often choke out what they deem unworthy of life — settlements, farmlands, and abbey roads alike. Their power lies not in destruction, but in relentless renewal. They are gardeners of a harsh mercy, pruning the world to its primal core.

Though they see themselves as healers, the Circle’s philosophy has curdled into quiet fanaticism. They believe that if every creature returned to the soil willingly, the world would at last be whole. Even within their ranks, dissent is dangerous; to question the Reclaiming is to be “returned” — buried beneath roots, one’s breath feeding the earth. Malvaris rules not as a tyrant, but as a prophet who has forgotten what it means to doubt. His voice carries through the Hollow like a breeze through reeds, and his followers answer it with the reverence of believers who no longer remember their own names. To those who oppose them, the Circle is a creeping rot; to those within, it is paradise reclaimed.