On the subject of dryads, called by some treefolk though their personal preference is very much for the ancient term of unknown origins, I suspect many readers will have doubts. Mystical beasts are, in the end, merely that, beasts. That the vaults of the imperial treasury feature the stuffed remains of giant spiders, lizards, falcons, and more surprises few. They are simply life twisted and bent by wizardry that earned sufficient confirmation from the Divines to enable reproduction and the provision of a place within the revealed world. Truthfully, many of these creatures are far less curious of form than the strange shapes found frozen in stone as fossils. If such unbelievably bizarre creatures lived in the past, then the distortions afflicted by humans are of little consequence. They fit easily within the full scope of the menagerie of life.
The matter shifts when speaking of mystic beings possessed of intelligence, of minds that reason not through animal instinct but in something resembling or equivalent to human fashion. Whispered of only in legend and discounted by most, they are contemplated with fear, and there is a wide range of opinion, much of it well supported by evidence, that refuses to accept such beings could possibly exist. An understandable impulse, for few are willing to accept that wizards, acting deep in the mists of history, possessed the power to take humans and reshape them into new forms of life. Even if such measures relied upon the same divine essence used to form the world, and humans, originally. My sympathies for this view are strong. It seems utterly abhorrent to acknowledge that wizards were able to produce such achievements, especially given how many of their creations are distorted and horrible. Their ability to give rise to life in new forms that can sustain itself across generations suggests a deep error, some foundational misunderstanding of the revelation.
Despite these misgivings, the evidence of my eyes is incontrovertible. Even in these enlightened times, with the strength of wizards much reduced, they retain the power to transform human bodies into those of banshees and demons. These creatures cannot produce offspring, and that gift, I maintain, lives beyond the power of wizards. Not beyond that of the Divines, however, and creatures such as dryads are a creation given their blessing. Is it so strange to imagine that these beings, abandoned by their makers and trapped in new bodies, prayed desperately for mercy in those long-ago days? Or that those prayers were answered, and they were given a place in the cycles of life for a time? Not a perpetual one, surely, and perhaps not even a very lengthy one at all. There are several mystic forms capable of reason that the oldest records denote which seem to have already been lost to the world, including the legendary giants. Still, even a measure of time, of continuation, is better than a singular expiring creation. Nakiet and Tippipaku are merciful beings, and even the Lord of Death, who lacks this trait, is fair. That the Divines should carve out a moment in the lengthy cycles of the world to observe such newness does not seem an unreasonable possibility.
At the very least, I saw the dryads myself, spoke to them, and laid my hands upon their bark-like skin. Lady Indili and I spent months in their company. Though they are not numerous, the Vale of Rydus contains at most some few hundred of their people, they persist. Additionally, this is not their only refuge. I believe there are other enclaves of their kind hidden away in deep mountain forests where human feet rarely tread scattered across the world. Reliable accounts matching much of what I observed have come from other explorers and scholars. Elusive though they may be, the forests harbor these beings. As to other reasoning capable legends, it is much more difficult to say. There is no camaraderie among such creatures. Dryads are no friends of nagas, garudas, frogmen, or any other perceived legend. They live their own lives.
Outwardly dryads appear similar to humans. In place of skin, they possess a covering of pale grayish inner bark that is smooth, not craggy or chipped. They wear no clothing, but instead grow a covering of leaves above their intimate regions in the manner of a simple skirt of leaves and a chest wrap. Similar growth occurs on the forearms, shoulders, and scalp. All save the scalp leaves remain closely flush to the bark and neither flap nor flutter about as they move. This leafy expression tends to increase in profusion as a dryad ages, especially across the shoulders. Elders may have it harden and sprout thorns the size of a closed fist. Scalp leaves grow nearly straight upwards and if allowed their full expression may reach a full arm’s length above the skull. This gives them the appearance of having a vast flower perched atop their heads, for the leaves of the dryads of the Vale of Rydus are reddish-pink in color. Most, however, cut this short with a sharp blade and present a flat surface closely bound together. This is sometimes tied using a vine. This resembles a recently trimmed hedge in a well-kept garden. Among dryads only their mystics are inclined to display a wholly unconstrained leafy spread.
The eyes of dryads have no whites, bearing the same pinkish shade as their leaves instead, and their irises are always a deep, verdant green, the only point of green on their bodies. Their mouths and noses are little changed from a human base, but they lack teeth and bite and chew using ridges of tough, thorn-like material instead. This somewhat resembles the prongs and spikes found within the mouths of ducks and geese. Lips formed of bark are not very flexible and the facial motions of dryads are consequently highly restricted. They cannot smile, frown, or form any strong expression in this manner. They cannot blink either, they have shutter-like leafy structures above and below their eyes similar to eyelashes, and they can fold these closed to create a solid barrier for protection. When speaking they convey emotion and emphasis using rapid hand motions and by constantly shifting the focus of their vision. This appears to serve among their own kind, but I could never grasp the least measure of their nuance even though their voices are melodious and highly expressive.
Rather than their appearance, which is bizarre but not truly outside the bounds of what a human woman might be able to achieve through makeup and costuming, the alien nature of dryads is conveyed primarily through their motion. They move completely without fluidity. Instead, they shift from one posture to the next, nearly perfectly still, at startling speed. Very disconcerting to watch, it resembles in some fashion the motion of certain insects, especially that of the praying mantis, but at an entirely different scale.
Stillness is their natural state. A dryad at rest does not move, at all. Even their breathing is entirely internalized. In this mode they appear to be entirely plant like. In this way they conserve much energy, especially in winter, when they often opt to find some warm place of refuge amid thick vegetation where they have stockpiled food, and then avoid moving at all save for periodic meals for months at a time. I suspect this native stillness is one reason why their presence is so poorly known. A hunter could easily walk past a dryad and think them nothing more than a strangely shaped tree trunk without careful observation. Had they not chosen to help us on their own initiative, I suspect we would have never found them.
The lives of dryads follow simple rhythms, much slower paced than those of humans and their comparative bustle. This is not a sign of incapacity. They are highly intelligent beings and, despite a complete lack of libraries, capable of mastering mystic paths. It is simply that they have no need for many of the things we value. Plants form the entirety of their food, mostly in the form of nuts and edible roots, though they also consume flowers, herbs, catkins, and the fiddleheads of ferns, with the latter a noted delicacy. I believe their ability to discern many of the flavors we savor, especially sweetness and fat, is very limited. They had no need of clothing, for their bark-like skin not only keeps them warm it is sufficiently tough to ward off scrapes and barbs, and therefore made none. Such items as they did manufacture consisted of tools, baskets, and ceremonial goods. They produce nothing using fire, neither metal nor clay, and though the method of producing fire using hand drills is known among them they almost never used it. They produce blades of stone, and mighty war clubs of heavy wood, though they prefer to defend themselves using bows. Though they would not manufacture them, they were not above using metal implements that came into their possession. I noted a number of items, mostly of bronze which can easily endure in this wet land, that they had scavenged from those who perish in the high mountains and maintained carefully. These included numerous small tools, crossbow triggers, and even a few whole swords. I suspect that they were not above trading with the Sunfire Cultists when it suited them, though such events were likely generational.
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The daily work necessary to sustain such a simple life does not take all that much time. Though the vale is not especially fertile, and their food is scattered about, the modest numbers of the dryads do not tax its capacity. They do not precisely farm, but they plant and tend their chosen trees in areas where the soil is rich and have no shortage of food. Much of their remaining hours are dedicated to personal pursuits. It seems that each dryad forms a deep attachment to a singular passion, which they then study with intense dedication. Archery is common, though they practice only on targets not other animals, and many could hit marks even the best imperial crossbowman would struggle to achieve. Others similarly pour their practice into the use of the sword, spear, or stave. Mystic arts are also remarkably common. Though there were no dryad priests or healers, apothecaries, sorcerers, and even wizards are represented among them, though the latter practice their mysticism only upon plants and stones. Though they were careful to avoid utilizing these arts where I could watch them, it is my belief that they possessed considerable skill, though Lady Indili said that the lack of theoretical foundations kept this extremely narrow and locked most away from true mastery, though perhaps this is also a circumstance of the small size of their community.
Dryad lives are organized in small bands that never contain more than a dozen individuals. These are formed not through family bonds, that being a somewhat troubling subject with regard to these beings, but instead each individual chooses to follow the leadership of a single exemplar, always a warrior. A proper understanding of this structure is beyond me, and perhaps beyond any human. It seemed to revolve around an expression of confidence in the leader’s ability to protect the group from dangers, but there are other elements, and the emphasis on threat is unusual given the sedate nature of their daily lives. Being coated in bark, neither tigers nor wolves seek their flesh, and though I am certain that the Bahab would fight with them should they come into close contact, they do not venture here. It does not seem like the Sunfire Cultists are inclined to attack them either. I suppose the Obsidian Order might hunt them, though they would not speak of such things. They did respond to the news of the dominator’s death with considerable joy, and I suspect that was a key reason they offered us such generous hospitality.
These small bands drift about, intermittently, at a slow pace. These mystic beings are not builders and sleep uncovered amid thick vegetation or buried in the snow. They have no houses. When chilled they become slow and still, but such a state does not seem to do them any prolonged harm unless it becomes cold enough to burst trees, which is very rare, and they will light fires to mitigate such extremes. They are not truly nomadic, as each band generally keeps to certain bounded areas and regularly returns to tend the same nut tree plots, reed bog sources, and sacred groves. The circuits are rather regular, timed to the seasons, and resemble the working patterns of a craftsman stretched out across months. Winter is a particularly sluggish time for them, as they are generally only active during the day, being extremely sensitive to sunlight, and the days this far north in the winter are very short. They spent a great many hours sleeping.
Though the dryads lack a proper script for their unique language, they are devoted artists. They take pounded bark strips and paint them with ash and chalk to produce complex, highly abstract designs in black and white using line art. These images, though confusing to human eyes, are used to illustrate the key stories of their people, which they repeat endlessly while slowly chewing through nuts. They allowed me access to a small supply of this paper-like bark, allowing me to keep limited notes throughout the winter. Linguistically, they speak a unique tongue, one that seems completely unrelated to any human speech. It is primarily comprised of low, musical sounds, resembling the deep music of the largest wind instruments. We were able to speak with them in Nikkad, as some of their mystics had learned the language in order to read the works of alchemists and sorcerers. This was not easy, as dryad speach is uniquely accented and requires much puzzling to discern, but they were patient and kind in their way.
During the many months of the winter, Lady Indili and I spent our time primarily in the company of a single dryad band led by the warrior Aileira. Our most common companion was Felallai, a sorceress. She would speak with us often regarding scholarly topics, especially the forms and uses of plants from other lands, which she often requested Lady Indili sketch out using charcoal. She would only occasionally mention sorcery, being unwilling to disclose the methods of her people. Conversation filled much of the time spent foraging and preparing food. I spent much of the winter fishing through holes in icy ponds. I am hardly a deft hand at the practice, but as the dryads consume no flesh, the streams and lakes of the vale positively burst with fish, making the catch easy. Fish and nuts made for a bland diet, but it sufficed, and the dryads shared several herbs that produced decent seasoning. Lady Indili, once she was confident her powers had recovered, used her shades to hunt down small game, mostly hares, sheltering beneath the snow. We consumed the flesh eagerly, but prized even more the furs, which I cleaned and dried on racks. These were used to patch our crumbling clothes and packs. My skill with a needle improved considerably over the course of the winter.
Perhaps the strangest aspect of the dryads is that every one of them is female. No male dryads exist. This has little impact on their daily life, for their female bodies are no shorter or weaker than human males, but it is curious. They do not form couples and romance is foreign to them. The concept of marriage is pointless to such beings. Each dryad bears children alone, a daughter of the mother only, who is in all things physically identical to her parent. The bands raise such children collectively. At least, this is what Felallai explained regarding the matter. The band we traveled with contained no children and the dryads spoke of them rarely. It seemed this change from human origins was, like those origins themselves, something they did not like to discuss. As their guests we avoided pressing them on such topics, but I suspect childbirth is very difficult for dryads and entails much risk, which serves to explain their limited numbers.
Unexpectedly, given their origins in wizardry, dryads are beings of considerable faith, and both recognize and acknowledge the teachings of the revelation. The terms they use to name the Divines are unpronounceable words in their own language, but they recognize the three fundamental roles of Sky, Earth, and Death. The expression of their faith is simply conducted. They do not build temples, but instead choose certain groves of very old trees as sacred spaces and fill these with artistic creations. Their devotion is primarily to that of the Lady of Earth, as they are beings who grow from the soil. They pray in silence, standing perfectly still, without any visible ceremony or ritual. Their reverence for the natural world and its cycles is considerable. Some of this is innate, but Felallai said they had obtained copies of the revelation from the Nikkad and found it a welcome framework.
I suspect it is impossible for humans to fully understand dryads, but these are people, not monsters, and deserve a place in the regard of the Divines.