Being as Mentmacro is a neutral goddess that does not see in the black and white terms of good and evil, she does not see any of the humanoid mortal races as inherently good or evil. Thus anyone of any race may join her following, as long as they present themselves as truly concerned with the welfare of the forests and its creatures. The natural cycle of life and death must be held in the utmost respect, as should all of the natural creatures and their habitats. Any wrongs done to the forests must be restored (following the Green Path) and the abominations that harm forests should be eliminated. Abominations are any being that has been touched and twisted by the Rod of Destruction and that act in an unnatural manner when it is present in the realm. The Rod should be taken from the hands of those that would use it and under NO circumstances should it be given to anyone else or used by a member of Mentmacro's temple. Using the Rod calls for excommunication as it goes against the goddess's most strict beliefs.
Just like the animals in Mentmacro's forests, from the meak mouse to the mighty bear, every member of her following holds the same importance to her in her eyes. MentMacro holds all of her plants and animals as sacred, no matter how they may be viewed by others. The predators are not evil, and the prey is not good. She does not place much stock in the battles of good versus evil. She believes that all should live their lives as they choose, as long as they respect the sanctity of the woodlands.
Mentmacro's followers are also like the creatures they protect in the manner that they all differ in their ways that they live their lives and tend to the woodlands. Some walk the Green Path by planting seeds for regrowth in gardens and caring for injured wildlife in a passive approach to the needs of nature. There are others that take a more aggressive stance to defend the forests by seeking out the abominations and removing them and by giving their lives in battle for the sake of their charges. There are also varying degrees in between these examples, as not all of Mentmacro's following are pacifists or warriors. The members of the nature goddess's temple answer her calling as they see best for who they are.
Mentmacro also holds the changing of the seasons sacred, as they reflect the natural life cycle. Spring is seen as the season of birth/rebirth and growth, summer as the season of prosperity and vitality, autumn as a time of reflection of the life behind oneself and maturing wisdom, and winter represents death in many different aspects (not just dying physically) and cleansing of oneself (i.e. making amends, letting go of something deemed unfit, etc). Often times there are celebrations at the peak times of a season (one for each season) in which her followers observe the seasons in the respect of each of their meanings.
The bitter wind assailed her back as she walked through the collapsing rift. The tear that dropped to the thirsty ground went unnoticed as Mentmacro's inner eye witnessed the horror over and over....
Aeon, her home for longer than she could remember, burning, with her lands ravished and the ground pummeled by a force that neither the gods nor all the magic in the land could prevent. The missiles of rock that fell from the sky broke more than just the land or her beloved home for more than 60 years; it broke her heart.
Her distraction with the fiery images soon had her face-down, breathing dust as she tripped over a gnarled root. Still, she couldn't focus. Blindly, she pushed herself up and crawled 'till she was stopped by a solid oak of great immensity. Her heart cried out 'What am I to do?' as her whole being wrapped itself into the misery of what she had witnessed. Even the knowledge that the great rift created by her companions Toroid and Ytrewtsu had allowed her to escape certain destruction didn't lessen the loss.
Soon sleep overtook her....
Ages passed, and time stood still, all thoughts jumbled, until a quiet voice whispered into her ear. 'Awake, my child, and breathe my voice, protect my forests, and always remember me, for I am but the last vestige of Irrail, destroyed by the imbalance in the land.' With this, she awoke, with the once barren ground now overgrown with ivy and a great forest all around her! Marvels of color and auras of power pervaded the air! Knowing she had changed, forever haunted by the past, Mentmacro strode forth to once again find her purpose.
Years pass and the land of Tharel is in turmoil....
Sitting in front of her meager meal consisting of new concoctions of pickles, Mentmacro looked puzzled. Immersing herself in learning all she could about the living, growing things and the ways of the heart had a curious side affect. She LOVED green pickles for their ability to STAY green and taste any way you wanted them to. Sweet, sour, hot, even cold. A tear slowly formed on her cheek without her even knowing it was there, for she still heard the whisper of death take yet another of her beloved creatures. The pickle lay forgotten as she stood and strode to the door only to fade from existence. A faint sound or whisper could be heard; 'For every death I will plant new life,' and the soft beat of a heart faded in the distance....
Striding forth, she began to gather those who also sought to restore the land of Tharel to balance and to keep the Rod forever hidden. Thus the Temple of Mentmacro was founded and the future history now belongs to you....
