These shapeshifters—also known as woodland beings or tree spirits—call ancient groves their home.
Some legends claim they can assume any form: from a stooped elder with skin like bark and hair made of moss and twigs, to a massive, clawed beast with antlers crowning its skull, or even ordinary forest predators like wolves, wildcats, and bears—or a flock of birds.
A forest spirit is extremely dangerous in combat, as it can summon the forest and all its inhabitants to its aid.Its command over both animals and plants leads many to regard it as the master of the forest. In some regions of the world, these creatures are even worshipped; a form of nature cult has developed around them, retaining followers in isolated forest communities to this day.
The inhabitants of these villages offer small game or birds to the forest spirit, worshipping it under the name Kerun or Kernos. These religious traditions have also spawned many legends of benevolent forest spirits that drive prey toward hunters, guide lost pilgrims back to the path, or rescue travelers from bandits.
The latter notion is entirely unfounded, however, as forest spirits are fiercely territorial and claim the woods they inhabit as their own domain.
Consequently, the appearance of armed men—whether bandits or soldiers—is viewed as a challenge or a direct threat, and the spirit will use every means at its disposal to destroy the intruders. This behavior gives rise to another widespread belief: that only the most noble-hearted hunters can pass through a forest spirit's territory unscathed.
Decided to revisit my fursona/monstersona Chizu after a billion years. She's a Waldschrat, which is a poorly defined forest .... creature spirit thing .... from German folklore.
From what I can tell, this seems to be a creature design for Witcher? Something about a tree spirit (the parts of him that are not deer seem to be living wood).
https://revari.fandom.com/de/wiki/Waldschrat
Can anybody confirm if this is a thing with folklore roots or Germanic origins? Any stories/myths associated with it? Google translate suggests that “Waldschrat” means, like, “forest goblin”?
All I can say is this design is badass as hell and if there’s nothing problematic about it I fully and whole-heartedly endorse it.
When Iorveth woke up, he found himself covered by a mossy blanket, at a fireside. He wondered where he was, and what had happened to him… His sore hands were bandaged and when he reached for his face, he felt a wet compress. The slight touch caused an explosion of pain, spreading from his cheek through the whole skull. He nearly passed out again, so he focused on breathing. Iorveth started to remember how the spear hat shattered his face. With his tongue, he sensed that teeth were missing and somehow his mouth felt just… wrong.
But to his utter surprise, the pain was only half as bad as he remembered. When he looked around, he recognized some sort of camp with a small shelter made of branches and leaves. In the tree above, a collection of shiny metal things reflected the light of the flames and some steps aside someone sat at the fire, his back turned to Iorveth.
Iorveth blinked several times, the person seemed like a… child to him. The being had bluish skin and they only wore some patched trousers and a colourful knitted scarf wrapped around their neck. On their head, the individual wore a crown of twigs and fern, with a tiny pair of antlers at the sides.
“Who are you?” asked Iorveth, or at least he wanted to ask this. But he was not able to talk, instead he could only caw. But individual heard him anyway.
The bluish creature twirled around, and with a few jumps he was at Iorveths side. Indeed, he looked like a child, but with huge greenish eyes and something about his face was… odd. He was a godling.
“Oh, you are finally awake!” the godling squeaked excitedly, “Hope you feel better. By the gods… What the hell happened to your face? Berthold and I discussed hours if it was more helpful to release you or to stitch you back together. Berthold actually wanted to eat you, but I told him in your condition you probably tasted like rotten fogger.” Without even awaiting an answer, the godling lifted the compress on Iorveths shattered face, and he grimaced over what he saw. So it was that bad, thought Iorveth. And who was Berthold?
“Wuah… that looks disgusting…” the godling shook his head. Again he twirled around and picked some leaves off a small tree, rubbed them between his hands, returned to Iorveth and put the leaves on his wound, the compress on top. Whatever that was, it burned on his skin, but the pain turned into a tingle, and after a while into numbness.
“Seriously elf, what were you thinking? Why would someone even GO to that evil castle? It´s just the meat market for nekkers!” the godling ranted, “See, that´s what you get: A squishy face. You were lucky that I found you, and not Berthold or some nekker… I don´t eat people. Especially not those who are such poor creatures as you are. Did you jump off the walls or what? It took the sparrows hours to find all the thorns and spikes, you looked like a hedgehog! And I needed Berthold’s help to get that quarrel out of your arm.” So this godling had knocked him out and had taken him here to help him?
Iorveth glanced at his arm, and was surprised to see a dressing. What quarrel? He had not even noticed the guards had shot at him, or the quarrel that had stuck in his arm for two days. Then he realized that he did not wear his shirt, and his skin was surprisingly clean. The godling must have taken good care of him. Carefully, he tried to prop himself up, but his arms started trembling, so he gave up. If he could not even talk or sit up, how should he get water? He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, the taste of blood still lingered on his tongue.
“Oh, I see. You want something to drink! Stupid me…” the godling noticed immediately. He hurried away and came back with a hollow dried fruit, filled with some liquid. “This is fresh water, with some herbs, mashed fruits and honey. It´s a recipe of Berthold, some ancient fever remedy. Really helpful!”
The godling had a sip himself, before he helped Iorveth to hold up his head and drink.
“Oh please! Not too fast! Otherwise you will vomit again, and that wasn´t fun the last time….” the bluish creature stated with a worried look. Iorveth was puzzled, because he did not remember anything. Carefully the godling paid attention that Iorveth did not get too much of the sweet liquid. At least it washed away the iron taste of blood. While the godling started chatting, the elf tried to follow his words. But soon he fell asleep again.
The upcoming days, the godling did his best to nurse the elf back to strength. Iorveth learned that his name was Eugene, and he used to live in this forest for years. He talked a lot about this mysterious Berthold, his best friend… but Iorveth never got an eye on Berthold, and he wondered why.
“So elf, after staying with us for more a week now, don´t you think it would be polite to tell us your name?” the godling asked one morning, while he fed Iorveth some mash of fruits and plants. Iorveth felt much better, and it seemed like his vocal cords remembered how to speak a few words.
“Iorveth” he answered with a hoarse voice, carefully and slowly forming the words with his lips and his mutilated jaw.
“That´s a strange name. Not that I ever met an elf before… But anyway. I will call you Iorv” the godling replied with a tilted head and a bold smile, “Berthold also had a very strange name when I met him, but I found Berthold suited him better. His crows liked the idea a lot! So we stuck with it.”
“Crows?” Iorveth asked hoarsely. Speaking hurt his face, so he kept his question short. He really wondered about Berthold. Sometimes he even suspected Berthold was just an imaginary friend.
