The Hooded Man – a vision of the Greenwood – as foreseen by a humble adherent to the Trinity
There is much peace in a wood, though it be far from silent. The forests have life of their own, and much life dwells ‘neath the boughs of the Greenwood trees of oak and ash and thorn.
What peace may once have been found was of late shattered by the wounded cries of the fleeing creature once known as Calligar. A once proud and powerful entity, now but a shadow of its former nature, bound within the wood as prey, and forever stalked by the Lady of the Greenwood.
Though much reduced, there still can be found in that misshapen form some of it’s old skill and speed. The relentless pursuit at the hands of the Lady of the Greenwood gives it little time to do aught but breath, and as it tears through the woods it leaves confusion in it’s path.
The noise of the hunt echoes far through the Greenwood, causing bird and beast to thunder in all directions. A tumultuous cacophony of the noises of the wild, reaching as crescendo before dying back down as prey hides from predator.
The Greenwood is old, and in the old places can be found old things and forgotten things. Some things should not re-enter memory, and some things should not be forgotten. Some things lie dormant, some only slumber, and it is to one of these that we must turn our attention.
In the deep, dark heart of the Greenwood, where few folk tread for fear of what lurks in the shadows and hollows, can be found many a thing from many an age. Predator follows prey, and the music of the hunt carries far, echoing deep into the dark heart of the Greenwood.
The cries of the beast as it runs, and the voice of the lady that follows. The trees dispel the sound and morph the noise but here and there the loud, proud, clear voice rings true.
“Albion,” echoes as a shouted whisper. “People,” bounces from tree to tree. “Suffering,” slithers through the leaves like the wind. “Justice,” booms in the wild.
These words ring in the dark heart of the Greenwood, sometimes a shout, sometimes a whisper, and always in earnest. The Lady of the Greenwood calls, as she did in life, so she does in eternity. Her subjects once listened, and so too does the land, and the wild, and those that are both.
In the dark heart of the Greenwood, a stirring. The Lady has called out, the words have echoed, and their inspiration has woken something. Something old, something long forgotten, something that now rises. Out from the shadows, fleet of foot, and lithe of frame, all at once the colour of the dark woods and the aged bark are his raiments, and yet also the new leaf and the sun-kissed clearing.
In the shadow it stands, and yet is gone. From atop a bough it watches yet is not present. From beneath the forest floor it waits, and yet cannot be found.
An age has passed, it knows, since last it stalked the Greenwood. The world is much changed and yet much the same. The breeze in the wild places brings to it the knowledge it needs. The imperceptible vibrations through the soil brings to it the knowledge it needs.
Once, long ago, it came into being from the cries of the unjustly hunted, driven into the dark heart of the Greenwood. Once, long ago, it stood forth as predator to those who preyed on the undeserving.
With nature’s eye it peers out from ‘neath the hood that covers its face. With the will of the wild it knows it’s purpose, and shall see it done.
Breathing in the forest, it knows the woods it once stalked are much grown, and the people therein are much the same as they have ever been. Some are good, some are not, some are just, and some are…well, there are those who would call them unjust. To the creature in the woods, they are but prey.
With the knowledge that it’s home, it’s land, it’s people suffer, the creature grins beneath the hood. Albion has called to it, and it shall answer.
Awoken once more to serve the Will of the Wild, to guard and guide the Greenwood, to be the shadow ‘neath the leaves, the fleet foot in the forest, nature’s own justice, the Hand of the Hunter, the Hooded Man steps forth once more, and walks the woods.