The Corrupted Root

A tavern folk battle song, Sung by one man, then the tavern joins in on the chorus

[Intro – slow, mournful fingerpicked lute in a minor key, distant wind through dead branches, faint crow caws fading in]
[Verse 1 – quiet, almost whispered, building sorrow]
I walked the paths where green once sang,
where oak and thorn held hands as kin.
Now rot has claimed the elder boughs,
and silence chokes where life had been.
A figure waits beneath the blackened crown,
hood of moss, staff of twisted bone—
His eyes were once the color of new leaves,
now hollow pits where light has flown.
[Pre-chorus – voice tightens, lute picks quicken slightly]
I knew his name once, spoke it in the glade,
when we were young and oaths were freshly sworn.
The Green has wept for what you’ve made,
old friend—your heart is overgrown with thorn.
[Chorus – rising, resolute, voice cracking with grief and steel]
You drank the curse to save the wood,
but the curse drank deeper, claimed your blood.
No peace for the fallen, no rest for the bound—
I’ll cut the rot free, let the Green take you down.
Return to the soil, return to the light,
the Ancients forgive what the darkness made right.
No more chains of shadow, no more poisoned breath—
I end this tonight, and give you back to death.
[Verse 2 – faster, urgent, lute strumming fierce downward strokes]
His vines lash out like whips of night,
roots burst from earth to snare my feet.
He speaks in tongues of fungal blight,
promising power if I’ll only retreat.
But I see the flicker, faint and small,
the druid trapped inside the husk he wears—
A scream beneath the lich-fire’s call,
begging release from endless despair.
[Bridge – half-time slowdown, voice drops to guttural oath, single sustained lute note underneath]
I raise the blade of thorn and dawn,
call the Ancients’ name in ancient tongue.
The curse recoils, the body drawn
to earth where it was always young.
One strike to sever, one to free—
the rot explodes in black-green flame.
His form collapses, finally,
and whispers thanks before the name.
[Final Chorus – full voice, triumphant yet tender, lute swells into major resolution]
The corruption breaks, the Green drinks deep,
new shoots push through where the body sleeps.
No more chains of shadow, no more poisoned breath—
I gave you back to the cycle, old friend, to death.
Return to the soil, return to the light,
the Thornwood remembers, and forgives tonight.
The curse is ended, the druid is gone—
but the Green lives on, and the Green lives on.
[Outro – slow return to the intro motif, lute picking softer and softer, wind rising gently through living leaves again]
A single leaf falls, green against the ash…
The crows fall silent.
The forest breathes.
Rest well, brother.
The oath endures.

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[Intro – slow, mournful fingerpicked lute in a minor key, distant wind through dead branches, faint crow caws fading in] [Verse 1 – quiet, almost whispered, building sorrow] I walked the paths where green once sang, where oak and thorn held hands as kin. Now rot has claimed the elder boughs, and silence chokes where life had been. A figure waits beneath the blackened crown, hood of moss, staff of twisted bone— His eyes were once the color of new leaves, now hollow pits where light has flown. [Pre-chorus – voice tightens, lute picks quicken slightly] I knew his name once, spoke it in the glade, when we were young and oaths were freshly sworn. The Green has wept for what you’ve made, old friend—your heart is overgrown with thorn. [Chorus – rising, resolute, voice cracking with grief and steel] You drank the curse to save the wood, but the curse drank deeper, claimed your blood. No peace for the fallen, no rest for the bound— I’ll cut the rot free, let the Green take you down. Return to the soil, return to the light, the Ancients forgive what the darkness made right. No more chains of shadow, no more poisoned breath— I end this tonight, and give you back to death. [Verse 2 – faster, urgent, lute strumming fierce downward strokes] His vines lash out like whips of night, roots burst from earth to snare my feet. He speaks in tongues of fungal blight, promising power if I’ll only retreat. But I see the flicker, faint and small, the druid trapped inside the husk he wears— A scream beneath the lich-fire’s call, begging release from endless despair. [Bridge – half-time slowdown, voice drops to guttural oath, single sustained lute note underneath] I raise the blade of thorn and dawn, call the Ancients’ name in ancient tongue. The curse recoils, the body drawn to earth where it was always young. One strike to sever, one to free— the rot explodes in black-green flame. His form collapses, finally, and whispers thanks before the name. [Final Chorus – full voice, triumphant yet tender, lute swells into major resolution] The corruption breaks, the Green drinks deep, new shoots push through where the body sleeps. No more chains of shadow, no more poisoned breath— I gave you back to the cycle, old friend, to death. Return to the soil, return to the light, the Thornwood remembers, and forgives tonight. The curse is ended, the druid is gone— but the Green lives on, and the Green lives on. [Outro – slow return to the intro motif, lute picking softer and softer, wind rising gently through living leaves again] A single leaf falls, green against the ash… The crows fall silent. The forest breathes. Rest well, brother. The oath endures.

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