Dreadhollow

When the dead god rose to power, the forest died.
It sunk back in the soil, becoming ashes, houses, rot.
But when the god fell... When the god fell, a spark was reignited amidst the humus. After aeons, the land breathed at last, its strength no longer pulled from it by dark rituals.

But, even if it survived, the forest had changed. It was bent, twisted by the long wait. Its energies were suffused with death. And the change was nowhere more evident then in its caretakers.

As the grove started to grow back, ancient spirits built themselves new bodies. Where before their form reflected their more humanoid neighbors, they did not feel the need to accommodate potential cultists of the dead god.
So they took the mask of the dead forest. Of what had been done to them, and what they would soon do to others. They are the Dreadhollows, and they carry with them an eternity of anguish from a long forgotten wood, that wishes to never be so ever again.

This is a sample of what is going t