Caerroil Wildwood is a Forestal, or to put it another way, the guardian of Garroting Deep, one of the Land's mighty forests. Part manlike, part tree elemental, Caerroil's origins are lost within the deep mists of time, but it is known that as a Forestal he is one of a very select band. As with the other forestals, Caerroil is able to call upon theurgies of the most mighty puissance from the leguminous viridian depths of his expansive sylvan realm.
Appearance and Character
Wildwood sports long, white hair and a flowing beard to match, these two hirsute features blending well into the sleek robes of similar hues that he is sometimes clad in. According to the official cover of Fatal Revenant, he resembles Saruman and yet an older portrayal featured in an edition of The Illearth War grants him more the likeness of a Rankin-Bass Gandalf. He wears a masculine garland of flowers around his neck in the Landish hippie fashion, and leans upon an eldritch staff of power.
If you meet Caerroil Wildwood and he looks this peaceable, then this is all well and dandy, since it means that after his customary morning dose of amanibhavam soaked in a mixture of Jeremiah’s shrooms and Pitchbrew that tumbled into his demesne through a sporadic interdimensional caesure, Caerroil currently imagines himself to be an Ent and as such is hardly going to go pursuing you.
However do not be fooled for one instant into thinking that the Forestal is nothing more than a tree-hugging, love-spreading and politically correct vegan wearing flowers in his hair. The truth is far more dire. Caerroil has one hell of a temper on him - his fuse is shorter than that of a rabid Tasmanian devil on angel dust. Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde doesn't even begin to cover this guy's changeability. Do the slightest thing at all to rile this dude and he'll butcher you within a hot second. Not that it's easy to avoid enraging the Forestal... but things to avoid at all costs include:-
- Striking a match, not even to spark up a fat blunt to offer the Forestal.
- Accidentally breaking even the smallest of twigs underfoot.
- Referring to Caerroil as 'Pops the gardener' or 'Papa Smurf'.
- Greeting the Forestal by murmuring "Yo dude... how's it hanging?" Do this and the only thing hanging will be you.
- Dissing Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell or any of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
mental life, as does his compulsive tendency to butcher anything and everything non-vegetative entering his realm. He also enjoys humming one of the many tunes from the big Summer of Love festival that he attended back in the sixties at Woodstock.
Caerroil reserves his most venomous hatred for those malign servants of Lord Foul known as Ravers. Although even his sorceries are incapable of completely destroying the existence of a Raver, Wildwood will take the utmost delight in executing the former's current corporeal form with exquisite slowness, usually by means of a deliciously drawn out and tortured suspension from his gibbet.