MYTH OF THE DENDRON’S ORIGIN
The Dendron have a long tale regarding their origins, which I won't recount in its fullness now. The myth varies in degrees from forest to forest as each Dendron race has its own unique adaptation. I will, however, recount the shortened version as it is widely known throughout the Darkswood Forest, home of the most influential of the Dendron races.
Ages ago, a wizard who often liked to wander through the nearby forest, was treading along his well-worn path. Normally, he would bring his staff with him when he traveled, but since he was so close to home he decided to leave it there. What he didn’t know was that a beast had come down from the nearby mountains and was searching for prey.
It had tracked the wizard on his walk where it attacked him, knocking him down. But with his staff at home, he had nothing with which to defend himself. The wizard picked up the closest thing to him, which happened to be a stick, and with it, he defended himself.
Grateful for his life, the wizard examined the stick and was thankful for its strength. He then asked the stick what it desired.
The stick replied, “Life.”
Returning the stick back to the tree would only guarantee that it would break again. But who would graft it on again? No! That would not do. For saving his life, the wizard promised the stick life by giving him branches that wouldn’t be cut off and life that wouldn’t end with the seasons.
The stick asked the wizard, “How can you do that for I am only a branch?”
The wizard replied, “I will give you breath. Blood shall flow through your body and a voice shall come from your mouth. The forests will be your home, and where you a die a tree shall grow. You blood will be its water, your body its roots.”