Old Barkhorn - Satyr Druid

In the glades and groves of Renameth’s Dream, the Satyr live freely in the gardens of their Mother. Their lives are dedicated to the Fey, in keeping its balance and healing its wounds. Old Barkhorn, was just one of many of his kin, enacting his duty in keeping the verdant Fey alive, and ensuring its tethers to the true world remained strong. In his years he was a mentor, teacher and wiseman to many of his kin, yet in recent years he has felt the dulling weight of age begin to wear him down. His mind feels at a lull, and his body as stiff as the bark on his horns. With little else holding him back, his fear of death long subsided, he took to the true world. A place above where Renmaeth’s gardens were not endless, yet instead had been cleared to make way for citadels of stone and sprawling concrete forests to house the intrepid dwellings of Man, the sole blight of Renmaeth’s Dream. For Men did not live in harmony with Tharador, but at discourse. No greater was this seen than in the forests of Baldur, where miles of forest had been cut away over the centuries, leaving scars across a blighted land. Yet his presumptions of men being the sole bringer of evil was challenged when the Liturium War finally ended. The wake of destruction that followed left scars across the land far greater, and far more difficult to heal than anything men were capable of. Minera’s Breath had torn the land asunder, leaving strange, anomalous creations in its wake, spilling beyond even the borders of Leacianus and into the human land of Formen, a land, where Old Barkhorn had learned, they did their best to live in harmony with nature. Now he has placed himself there, destined to do what he can to face off against the evils pouring forth from Leacianus, and heal a land that has already seen so much grief.