Saga of the Ancients

The Saga of the Ancients is a large tome that details the origins of the Galuyn people and their affinity with their pantheon of gods. The book is entirely written in Galui, and has suffered severe rot and decay. However, enough of the book was still preserved in order to recreate an abridged version of the tale, a nearly fifty page long tale. It is missing several details, including the life and death of key founders of the Galuyn people.

It skips entirely over the early history of Raeok, of which some has been recovered but not enough to detail at length. As a result, the majority of the recovered work is that of the actual Saga it's self, not the additions or expanded histories of the people involved.

The Saga
The Saga it's self starts off during one of the battles with the creature Kil'zoth. The restored version has been made in a story-like format for the sake of readability as well as to adapt to Galuyn culture's propensity for storytelling in their history. The story's main focus fluctuates as it goes on, shifting from one party to another.

The Bears Rise
The Bear’s claw thundered down upon the head of the twisted creature of the depths, the iron clad paws ripping it asunder as if to cement its end.

Kol roared out in vengeance as he struck another foul creature from Azeroth’s surface, ripping and tearing apart the followers of Kil’zoth with earthen rage as he summoned pillars of spikes to tear apart the legions of the Old Ones.

These creatures of darkness and shadow had arrived from the void, sent by their dark masters to claim endless tracks of land for their nefarious schemes. Having disrupted the usual balance of the wilds, they’d dared to claim the home of several spirits, the ancient forest of Ethur’wald, in the shadow of the great tree Daral’nir to the north. Twisted and corrupted, they’d shattered the spirits into a divided front, scattering them along the coastline and gulf; forcing them to look to the natives of the land that had worshipped them to gather as an army.

Alongside him stood his brother Sir, charging headlong into the legions that had beset their home, assisted only by the descendants of the mighty Vrykul that once trekked these lands. These poorly armored and poorly trained people, whom had rallied under the great bear spirits to push them out of the lands upon which they now treaded.

Kol’s fury was unabated, the bear roaring out a devastating spell that shocked the armies of the Old Gods away from his position, spiraling the Faceless into a retreat back into the depths that they’d surfaced from. It was then from the ocean that the Great Whale’s children struck, ripping and tearing as the Faceless were cornered. On land they would be shredded under the pikes and claws of Kol and Sir, in the water, Guryne’s children would devour them as if they were nothing but krill. Before long, it was silent again, only to echo out the war cries of victory from the people that had rallied under the bears.

Kol and Sir gathered before the mountain base, as they were often to do, licking their wounds as they dis-armored themselves following the heated battle. It was only after they’d removed their protection another voice boomed out from the nearby cleft.

“They’re getting bolder and stronger with every passing day.” The voice boomed out to the brother bears, though they remained passive as the figure skulked out from the shadows. The great saber cat, Hod, had skulked forth, a bit of frost dripping from his fangs as he took a pensive position just before them.

“They are, and yet we will continue to push them back. The...humans, as they’re called. They’re resilient. Not unlike those from Northrend.” Kol’s voice spoke with a modicum of respect for the creatures that had become their army, though it was with a weary tone.

“They lack the full resilience of their forebears, even more so without their original forms.” Sir skulked forward, speaking softly as he joined the two of them in their conversation, sitting. “Would we to have their full might, we may have already repelled the old one back into the sea.”

“You know that power is long gone, Sir. We’re on our own, just as we cannot rely on the White Wolf to save this land, nor can we rely on your father or uncle.” The saber cat’s voice dripped with wariness to their cause. He’d obviously been battling his own front from the black blood staining his paw’s fur, but unlike the bears, he had refused to take many of the humans on.

Kol’s voice boomed out in response. “We need not Goldrinn or his Scion. Nor do we need Ursoc or Ursol. We too are children of nature, and we too will fight this threat. They may possess mighty powers, but with the coalition we have gathered, we will defeat them.”

“Will we, brother?” Sir’s voice seemed uncertain, a surprise to the both of them gathered. “You know that Yolth has traded sides for power..And you know well enough that Leka is content to watch from her misted hole.”

A grunt echoed from Hod as he peered over the clefts, looking out to the camps of humans that were celebrating over the corpses of their enemies. “He’s right. Yolth knows what we have in-store, and without Leka, we’re already down several members of the original conclave. Gurnye may patrol the waters, but her vigil can only go so far when they come from the darkest depths of her home, and the flock in the sky is more burdened by the idea of their precious Bough being invaded in the Dream than to aid us in the world out here.”

Kol peered to Hod searchingly. “Is it true then? Has Hyroth been blinded by Yolth?”

“Of course it’s true. The Owl was one of the Trickster’s closest friends. After you both stole away his power, he used what he had left to exact his revenge.”

Kol and Sir both looked to one another at that, the images of that day swirling in their head.

Betrayal of Yolth
It was a dark tide that one of their own would betray them to the Old Ones, though for it to be Yolth was something of a surprise to many of them.

The ram had always a penchant for mischief and thievery, such was his passion, though none would expect the greatest trick of all to be gathering their trust; only to dash it away upon the wind.

When the Old Ones rised under Kil’zoth’s command, taking to the lands from the seas, the ram battled him as fiercely as they all had, his legions of children skewering the wretches upon their horns, and their mighty hooves stamping them into the dirt with irreputable fury.

To them all, Yolth had been a friend. While a trickster at heart, he held the sincerest interest in their well being. Time and time again his tricks would be repaid twice fold in return for their act in his great game. A missing scroll from the Great Library would be repaid with the scroll’s return alongside the location of lost Archives. Iron stores missing from the Bear’s forges would be replaced instead with mithril and thorium. Yet this time, there seemed to be no repayment in sight.

During the eve of what was to be the last great battle upon the shoreline of the land they’d defended, Yolth’s children charged from behind. While originally intended to push the Old Ones from the cliffs, sending the voidspawn back into the churning waters they’d lost control over, instead the rams were found skewering the sons and daughters of the Bears and using their gifted magic to strike down the flocks above. Twisted storms summoned more voidspawn than Gurnye’s children could handle, and ultimately, the fields were unfit even for carrion; dripping with the sorrow of betrayal.

Yolth had been twisted by the darkened whispers in the recesses of his mind, brought to the brink and shown that the greatest trick he could ever pull, was to deceive his friends.

And so justice was brought upon the ram. The coalition of spirits was swift, each sending their champion down into the echoes of the ram’s home as his children were battered aside by Faralani’s winds, and trampled by the claws of Kol and Sir. When they’d descended into the ram’s lair, his madness was fully revealed. Inside, the echo of the Great Wolf that had resided in this land was tarnished and devoured. The ethereal spirit, the Echo of Goldrinn, a manifestation that acted as an avatar for the fallen Ancient of old, had been entirely stripped bare and its essence twisted by the Ram. What remained was a twisting mass of shadow and filth, a corruption of the unyielding courage it once represented.

Such a desecration was beyond Faralani’s scope of control. She battered the ram endlessly with her razor winds, ripping and tearing at his skin, while the others sought to bring their former friend to heel. When it seemed that the Ram would be defeated, great gouts of Arcane ripped out from his horns and hooves, his very injuries ripping out magic towards them. It shackled each ancient to the ground as they had attempted to do to Yolth, draining their energy as twisted magic surrounded them.

The Ram used his gifted magic from the owl liberally, until it, and the gift given to all of his children, was ripped away by the great Sorcerer avian at the cusp of his victory over his former allies. Remiss without it, a grand betrayal had been perpetuated in his eyes. Unlike the other ancients, the owls of the great battle were allowed to flee. It was from their hoots that his betrayal had been made known.

Even in madness, Yolth sought to spare Hyroth his rise to power. In his eyes, he could ascend beyond all of the others, and bring Hyroth with him. And yet, here the owl stood, shackling him to the ground as the others had. Hatred boiled in his heart as they cast him deep into the recesses of the Dream, and the final boiling vision in the world that was in Yolth’s sights was the sorrow present on Hyroth’s face.

In the aftermath of Yolth’s banishment, it would be found that the deer, Faye, had been captured as well. Terrible magics had been ripped upon her skin, bringing mighty sorrow to the whale Gurnye that her friend had been laid so low. Her healing magic had been twisted and polluted, supped upon by the Ram to empower his own blood magic that he had been gifted mastery over. She was laid within the dream to recuperate, but her injuries so severe that she could not reasonably return to aid them within time.

Kol and Sir had been the ones to finalize the spell that sent the traitor to his jail within the dream. Deeming him the Underdweller, they locked him deep within a mountain in the dream, an abandoned forgeworks of theirs that was well imbued with their power. Rage as he might, Yolth would never be able to fully manifest outside of his cage without their blessing, and with his grand betrayal, the Underdweller would remain in his cage; left to his madness for time eternal.

Hubris, however, was a bitter pill. In their haste to lock away Yolth, some of his children managed to scrape together remnants of the power that Hyroth had gifted them. With this power, they opened a gate for their patron with their own lives, thus cementing a cycle of sacrifice that would be revered among his followers. With this blood-rite, Yolth’s hatred seeped out of his cage for a final time, delving into the Great Bough and assailing the mighty owl.

In ages past, Hyroth had granted the ram a peek at the Scroll of Knowledge, the eldritch parchment upon which held some of Azeroth’s most potent spells, the scroll of which was Hyroth’s treasure. Done as a measure of friendship between them, Yolth had claimed he’d learned the ultimate trick he could pull upon Hyroth; though swore to never play it as a sign of trust between them.

When Yolth saw such trust broken, his hand was finally played, ages in the making. At the cusp of their battle, Yolth unleashed a blinding spell upon Hyroth that robbed the sorceror of his sight, dissipating back into his cage shortly after. The owl lamented and brooded, believing the spell to be capable of being reversed. But try as he would, he could only borrow the vision of his followers for a time, his own permanently erased from the world, thus robbing the famed scholar of his most treasured pastime, the ability to read.

Hod’s voice ripped the twin bears from their trip into their memory as he moved to leave them to their den. “We must find a way to defeat them, bears. Yolth is gone. Hyroth is defeated. Faye is crippled. The Echo of the Wolf is gone, and Faralani is too busy fearing for her flock to assist us. We and Gurnye alone cannot stem the tide of darkness forever.”

Kol’s voice echoed out in response, a final word to the saber as he departed. “There is still the raven.”

A grunt of displeasure echoed from the cat as he departed back into the mountains, finding the raven was a fool’s errand, but it was the only hope they had.

The Hunt for Yim'nir
Sir’s fur bristled under the cold of the passes in the north. The chill of the land was not lost on him, even though his form protected him well, the realms of Hod were nothing to be trifled with. It was, however, here that the raven had last been spotted by the scions of Hyroth. While the great owl may have been too busy brooding over his lack of sight, his children still aided the cause to the best of their ability.

Within these mountains, Sir had seen the diminutive titanic creatures wander about, toiling the earth for its riches as they had in the time of the Watchers. These Earthen, fleshy and soft, had fallen to the same susceptibility as the Humans to the north. While in their lands, Sir took a similar form, an earthen garbed from head to toe in bear’s fur and irons, inquiring only of the location of the nearest gravesites.

Each gravesite held the echoes of the raven within, an obvious sign that the ancient had passed by. Unlike the rest of them, Yim'nir held a deep connection to the Shadowlands. While he was a creature of the Dream, he heard the cries of the dead above all else, and had taken it upon himself to shepherd them into the next life. His power, however, was beyond his reckoning. A mighty link to the souls of the world had granted him a unique art that few could mimic, allowing him to craft the very energy of life and death into a beautiful but deadly art of combat. This could prove to be the anathema to the Old Ones that the ancients had been searching for, but to harness it would require the Raven.

Delving into the Shadowlands was no easy feat for the Ancients. They were creatures of the dream, the Shadowlands’ opposite, and while they could enter with enough power, within that realm; they were as susceptible as the mortals. A death in that land would spell an end to them, yet Sir powered through the realm regardless.

The region the Earthen had settled in had been home to Trolls, a race that Sir was not unfamiliar with, though admittedly he had little contact with the creatures. What he had observed, was that the Trolls had taken to the Earthen with little appeal. Great battles were waged upon the snow covered hills, and it was the site of these battles that Sir hunted for. He knew that the Raven would be drawn to them, to pluck the souls from their mortal shells and send them on their way, though it was hardly an easy feat for Sir to arrive in time.

More often than not, he would arrive moments too late, the great beating wings of the Raven sounding off in the distance, though his form far too hazed in the mists of the Shadowlands to actually be reached. As a result, Sir took matters into his own hands, instigating a battle between the Earthen and Trolls under the guise of one of the Earthen themselves. He fought with ferocity among the bearded men and women, drawing glances to his prowess in battle. However, at the cusp of the battle, he feigned his own death, so that they would not come searching for him. It was a mighty and bloody fray, each side giving many to the pursuit of their conquest over the snow-covered lands; yet it had the effect Sir was hoping for. When he delved into the Shadowlands at the apex of the battle, many of the souls had been trapped. When the Raven arrived, he plucked them free of their bodies, and moved onto the next, as a carrion bird might.

When Yim’nir came upon Sir’s prone form, however, he paused. His voice echoed out over the hills of the Shadowlands, a place of unnerving silence, reaching towards Sir with almost a hint of disdain. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Bear. Why are you in the land of the dead?”

His illusion was cast off, Sir taking his ursine form freely in the lands, though unlike Yim’nir who towered over them all, Sir could only manifest the size of an average bear in this land. “I have come to find you, Yim’nir. The armies of the Old Ones march to the north, slaughtering many. If we do not act--”

And yet, despite being in the middle of speaking, Yim’nir made haste to leave. “Your war to the north is of no concern to me, Bear. My place is among the dead, not the living.”

“And how will your actions serve the dead if they are consumed? The Old Ones trek deep into the Shadowlands to steal the very essence of the soul and warp it!” Sir’s cries of protest were hastened and agitated. They needed the Raven, they could not do it without him.

And yet, despite his worry that it may have not been enough, Yim’nir did indeed pause. “They consume the souls of the dead? Does the rest of the flock not guard them?”

“The Flock is scattered, Yim’nir. Your children are in disarray, Faralani cannot lead them, and Hyroth..has been blinded by Yolth. A grand betrayal.”

Yim’nir had once roamed the lands with the coalition long ago, brought upon them by his consort and ally, Faralani, within the Great Bough. However, after the birth of a son by Faralani, one that held the essence of them both, Yim’nir had departed; stating that the child would one day take his mantle in the area, and he was no longer needed. Try as the Flock might, Yim’nir could not be persuaded to stay, and thus began his journey to free the souls of Azeroth. And yet, for the first time in ages, the Raven gave pause to his flight.

“What of my child? What of Tayrian?” The raven’s voice did not shake as a worried parent might, rather, it was inquisitive; almost as if shocked that the child of the Flock had not been in the fray.

“We do not know. Faralani has refused to allow him any part in the battles, and you know that swaying the Falcon is like attempting to wash away the mountains.”

A heavy sigh released from the Raven as he perched near Sir. Fear was not something that the bear felt, even in the Shadowlands, yet a worry that the raven might leave as he had before was evident upon his features. Finally, the raven spoke, looking to the north. “I will persuade her. My duty to this world is unending, but the child, he holds my gift as well. He can assist you in my stead.”

The Aid of Leka
Hod had trekked deep into the misted lands of the North. While the ancients had allowed Kil’zoth to replenish his forces, they sought to gain power that might allow them a killing blow. Where Kol and Sir saw that in Yim’nir, Hod believed the answer was far closer than either of them would acknowledge. The matron of poisons, the snake Leka, dwelled within the ground to the north; shrouded in her misted warren and protected by her devious followers.

Her realm was that of guile and poison. It was said that when Leka was but a young snake, she was able to rob the Moon Goddess of the power of shadow melding, twisting and warping it into true invisibility. While the elves to the west had been granted such powers freely, the idea that an ancient was able to be duplicitous trick the scions of the Moon was beyond her scope. Mystery surrounded the tales of the snake, saying that she had put Yolth up to the task, only to rob him of his prize before his trick was completed; thus leaving the Ram none-the-wiser. Regardless of the truth of it all, she remained a powerful creature whose true capabilities were constantly, and purposefully, shrouded.

To further compound the matter, it was rumored among the spirits and their forces that Leka had worked with Yolth, and had known of his betrayal before them all. The mistress of poison’s scales were all about the Ram’s den when he was defeated, and it was through a mysterious poison that Faralani’s consorts had been nearly slain to a number, all before Yolth’s betrayal was made public.

This virulent plague had ripped through Faralani’s flock, destroying Yolth’s most potent enemies before his betrayal could even be struck. To further worsen matters, in order to find a cure, Faralani was forced to make trade with the serpent she despised. Blessing a singular child of Leka’s, Harak, with the power of wind and flight, she’d birthed a new type of Wind Serpent into the world; ultimately turning a disheartening betrayal into a victory for Leka.

A voice slithered out of the darkness, seemingly surrounding Hod. The saber cat quickly jumped to guard, as the words were unintelligible. However, try as he might, the haze of the den was far too thick for the cat to discern more than blurry shapes in the distance. Finally, the words became coherent, enough so that he might plead his case once they’d finished.

“You’ve come far into the north, and it is not yet winter, Hod. Tell me, what is it that you’re seeking from my parlor?” The voice dripped with a palpable condescending, a guileful chuckle following it; as if to further mock the warrior before her.

He spoke, unease in his tone, though he pressed past this for the sake of his mission. “Leka, I’ve come seeking your aid in the south. The Old Ones march and have already corrupted the forests of the coast. If they reach any further north, they’ll corrupt Tal’doren, and then Daral’nir in the dream. The Worgen, the druids in the Dream..they cannot fall into their hands. This land canno--”

His voice was suddenly choked by the mists, causing him to cough and heave, as if she’d wished for silence; his lungs ablaze.

“You’re boring me, saber cat. I don’t care. Everything that concerns me has already been handled by my own designs. The Worgen do not scare me or my followers, and the Old Ones know better than to tread my mists.”

He heaved finally, being allowed breath once the mother of the mists had finished speaking. The crone that she was, he dug his claws into the earth, holding back from striking at the mists in anger. “And what when the lands around you have fallen? They’ll strike at you next, you can only abate the time if we lose here!”

Leka’s laugh injured the cat’s pride fiercely, it echoing through the endless cavern as if to haunt him. “You underestimate my web, Saber Cat. I fear nothing of these skulks in the shadows, a domain I have mastered. You’ll find not a hint of them in my warren because it is just that, mine. Yet, still, I cannot hope but find pity for you…”

Hope welled in Hod’s chest, though he knew that the snake did not deal in charity. “What is it you are offering us, Leka? I know you will not slither from your den.”

“And you are right, Hod. I will bestow you several of my children. From them you will make potent venom. When you have struck the Old Ones low with my aid, you will return here and bring with you a husk of a fallen Old One. A simple trade.”

Hod’s heart quivered softly at the idea. What would she have to do with an Old One? The Faceless were monsters of nightmare and shadow, their power known for causing intense madness. It was ludicrous to ask, but, in this time he had no choice.

“Very well, I shall bring you this corpse.”

“Good, you can show yourself out, then. My children will find you.”

The mist faded then, and Hod’s claws ripped at the ground in fury. Before him, the image that he believed was Leka, was merely an assortment of rocks. The endless cave, was merely a shallow hole within the mountain side. He’d never even come close to the snake’s true den, let alone even held an audience with her.

The Fight Continues
Kol had continued on in his brother’s absence with the defense of the Shoreline, though without his partner, he found himself unable to take on the heavy charges he had grown famous for. Beleaguered, the bear could do little once the forefront of the Old One’s armies had been defeated, leaving the cleaning up to his human allies.

When the first few battles for the shorelines had ended, Kol and Hod were the only spirits defending. Faralani had fully removed herself from the field, tending instead to an unknown threat in the Bough, while Hyroth had yet to unveil himself from his isolation. Despite their best attempts, Hod was unable to convince Leka to personally leave her den to the north. The great snake had coiled herself a web of contacts and eyes of her own among the enemy, weakening them in ways that benefited her alone, and to compromise such a thing would be detrimental to her never ending plans. The children that she sent were few in number, and to make effective venom would take ages to supply the entire army.

It was only compounded when their idleness came to strike at them. Gurnye’s oceans were now steeped with dark creatures, forcing her to remain out of her usual assistances, and the most she was capable of sparing was a singular child of hers, Iscia.

Iscia the water serpent had arrived following the conclusion of the battle. Unlike her mother, the serpent was not as locked to the sea. Her slender form gave her unparalleled movement through the tides, and need be, she could breach from the water to unleash a barrage of magic upon those under her serpentine wings.

Iscia alone, however, was but a nascent spirit. Akin to a child in her youth, she did not possess nearly the amount of strength that the others had, and while she was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, the Old One’s armies were limitless. Eventually, she too, would fall without significant assistance.

When the three spirits met by the gulf’s shores, they had rumbled with displeasure. Each of them had suffered mighty wounds and were fatigued. Where before they would be able to rest and recover, now they were required on constant guard.

Iscia spoke, her voice delicate in comparison to the other two, though it held a similar, eager, fierceness. “We cannot hold them like this forever. The Mire King roots within the forests inland, by the Great Bough’s counterpart. Yet here we remain, constantly smashing them back into the depths of my mother’s domain.”

Hod grunted, looking to the younger spirit with minor disdain. He’d suffered a mighty gash along his leg, and it was obviously wearing on his ability to remain calm. “And what would you suggest, Ocean-dweller? The bear and I cannot simply delve into the depths and plug whatever hole the King has ripped into the world. We’re already battered battling the creatures he summons from land, the fact that his masters have augmented him with those of the sea is beyond our scope.”

Kol had been silent as the two delegated between one another. Fighting was beginning, Hod’s usual hot headed attitude coming to bear against the much younger and ambitious Iscia. Naturally, this could only lead to trouble, especially when their dispute had gone beyond the confines of their meeting. In the days to come, the ocean followers became more and more distant from those who trekked in Hod’s shadow, eventually causing hefty disputes between the two that left even more injured in the wake of the Old One’s attacks. Kol’s forces were far too thin to peacekeep and defend, and thus, he had to act on his own.

Calling his fellow spirits and their armies, he stood before them atop a hill, ensuring that all would be able to see the bear fully. He bore none of his usual armaments or weaponry, instead, he was bare before them all.

“You see me now as I was when I was born. Barren of equipment or weaponry. Rare is it that I trek the land without some sort of aid on my form. My father and his brother both battled fiercely, my uncle’s ancient claws known for their ability to reave through endless hordes of enemies. My brother and I have echoed such things, and it is through unity that we stand together on the field, our crafts a gift from one another to ensure protection of our goals, and completion of our tasks.”

“I see not this unity among us today, I instead see a divided army, a divided people, who will fall bitterly to the Old Ones as they have laid low the western reaches. Many of you have loved ones and family who are under the thrall of the Old Ones, and many of us have lost our kindred. Even now, the Flock struggles to contain the poison that has destroyed Ethur’wald. The Great forest that we once roamed as equals is now tainted and blackened. These Dark Woods stand as a testament to betrayal, and failure on our part. However, if we are to change this for the better, we -must- stand united against the darkness!” Kol stamped his foot down against the cliff edge, gripping it tightly as he loosened stone and rock to tremble through the earth.

The men and women below had ceased their bickering and disputes, all of them coming to witness Kol’s speech. The thousands stood in throngs among their own making, those who had found common ground with one another divided from those who had none. Perhaps, these ties could be used against the Old Ones, rather than against themselves.

“We spirits are beleaguered and worn thin, and your people are divided, so we shall unify them thusly. Those of you who are scholarly and inquisitive shall drink deep from the knowledge of Hyroth’s scions. You shall bear the title of Everflame, and it is in your path we shall light the way with magic and sorcery as the Owl had.”

He peered out over the group, his thoughts racing as he sought the best ways of isolating these groups into cohesive units. Their internal divisions could be divided into castes, a society capable of functioning when put to work in their respective strengths.

“Those of you whom hear the call of the Realm of Spirits beyond others listen well. You shall sup from Faye’s power and become our menders and spiritual guides. Listen to the voices of the wilds as they call out in anguish, for if you can soothe them, they shall spill the enemies secrets into our laps. You are our innocuous guardians, like thorns in the wild so too shall you be named Thorned.”

He continued to trek towards the people of the land, splitting them further into groups, peering then to the warriors whom had followed him and his brother through many battles. His peacekeepers, those who understood him as if they were kin.

“Those of you whose strength and physique are among the chief prospects of your life shall follow in my footsteps and be our front lines. No more shall the craftsman carry the spear in place of the warrior. Each of you shall be my Gnarled, and we will strike down the armies of Kil’zoth with the fury of the Ursine!”

Hod stepped forward at that moment, joining Kol atop the cleft, looking to the people below. “Wars cannot be won with strength and magic alone. Guile has a place in this world just as any other. While our brothers and sisters take the fields, we shall strike from the shadows with knives..” He peered to the snakes that gathered at the shadows of the cliff edge, watching intently, no doubt to inform their matron when it was over. “And poison. I call forth my followers, you shall be trained to strike without emotion to cloud your judgement, an ice that would run in your veins. You shall be born of it, you shall be the Chillborn.”

Finally, Iscia spoke last, calling out to the crowds as she curled herself before the base of the cliff upon the shore. Her voice echoed out as loudly as theirs had, reaching all who could see her. “Let it not be known that the ocean stood still against this darkness. Those of you who will take my mother’s gift shall move amongst the tides as if it were the land. You shall skate over the ocean and skewer these foul creatures upon tridents of our power, and weave the water as a weapon. You shall become the Wavewalkers.”

The cheers of the crowd were loud enough as the five castes had been created. Yet, there were some who seemed uncertain. Those whose place had never been on the battlefield, those who had excelled in their management and work ethic, rather than skill of arm or magic.

Kol’s voice echoed out to them at last, calling to these two groups each. “Fear not. This society shall not be a roaming horde of warriors. Every army is carried on the backs of the work of those whom they defend, those who lead them with their strategic minds. I shall gather the best tacticians amongst you to lead these people in these battles and beyond. You shall be the heart and soul of the people, you shall be the Hearthsong.

With a small pause, Kol looked deep into his thoughts to see if he had forgotten any among the crowd. It was then that he had realized, he’d forgotten those who were like himself. “To those who hold the forge with as reverence as I and my brother, I shall bless you above them all. Craftsmen and smiths, artificers and teachers. You shall keep the lessons of this day eternal on your diligent work. You shall be as resilient as the trees that dot this land. You shall be the Oakenborn.”

With this, the people cheered in unification, none spared the ancient’s mighty gaze. As the trio of spirits retreated back down the path to the cove, a deep sigh left the bear. He had brought these scattered tribes of humans together in a common cause in hopes that this would be enough to turn the tides.

Siege of Ethur'wald and the rise of the Galuyn
Unified, the people of the gulf had carved a path through the Old Ones. The war’s tide had swung with the return of Sir and Yim’nir, the Raven trekking off for the Great Bough in a haste, though his return was enough to stir the hearts of the people with hope. Sir’s presence on the field was felt by all of those around him, and the alternations of the bears within the forges of the Oakenborn were greatly appreciated.

From narrowly defending the coasts, the coalition had successfully pushed the tide of darkness back into the twisted woods of Ethur’wald, now merely referred to as the Dark Woods. Where a life giving stream had once poured from the peaks of the valley within it, there now lay a foul wellspring of shadow, a gate into the Old One’s home that poured forth monstrosities to stem the tide of defenders.

In the seas, Iscia had departed with her Wavewalkers, their carracks slicing apart at those that would rise from the depths. Iscia herself had descended deep into the core of the darkness of the ocean. There, she used her own magic to contain the threat, preventing the Old Ones from threatening from the coasts again. While she could not assist above the water now, her part had effectively gained the coalition a major advantage in the days to come.

Among the gathered peoples, they had elected a singular leader among them. A man by the name of Raeok, accompanied by a fox companion named Galu. Raeok and Galu had fought among the spirits towards the very beginning, with Raeok possessing an extreme affinity for the Dream, or as the people had come to call it, the Realm of Spirits. There, Raeok was tutored by the spirits upon his election as leader, taught the ways of the Druid. While Raeok was not the first to have learned from the spirits of the Dream, he had a personal audience with the spirits of the region to learn from them as best he could, so he might pass his teachings onto his fellows.

Raeok had delved into the spirit’s grove with great fear in his heart, coming before them in the Dream, where many others had been incapable of doing so. Kol and Sir had guided him into the warded area by way of a special gate. A Dreamgate, as they’d called it, it allowed those who stepped through it to trek across the realm of Azeroth by way of the Emerald Dream. This would turn years long ventures into those of mere minutes in the most skilled hands.

Faralani’s voice shrilly called out to the druid as he entered, landing before him. The falcon inspected him as she might prey, speaking to the twin bears with disdain. “You’ve brought a weakling before us, Kol and Sir. I was expecting a warrior. Not..this.”

Raeok’s appearance was not much to be impressed by. The man’s body was lined in runic markings, but he was lanky and somewhat frail in comparison to his fellows. He towered over them in height, but lacked in their physical strength. As if to compound the issue further, he held issues with his walking due to a crippled leg; thus forcing him to use a staff in order to make his way through the world. However, it was for aspects beyond this that his kin had chosen him. His mind swirled with compassion and tactics beyond his years, his mind thundered with the drums of war yet still thrummed with the beat of his people’s hearts. Ultimately, it was his charisma and leadership through these dark times that had brought Raeok to the forefront, not his physical prowess.

He spoke then, not the meek worm that Faralani had pegged him for, but a man of stature, as if a titan was standing before the colossi. “Reverent spirits. Please, hear me. My people have worshipped you all for ages, and yet, it is now that we have come together to destroy this mutual foe. Ethur’wald is gone, yes, but the Great Bough remains, as does the lands around it. We can rebuild, we can persevere, but only if I am given your teachings. I have seen you and your children weave the wilds to your beck and call, I have seen you and your children sunder earth, call forth vines, and swallow entire armies under the tides. While I understand I will never reach such heights as a mortal..I ask that you bring me as close as possible.”

He stepped forward further, eyeing each of the ancients gathered. Faralani had managed to pry Hyroth from his brooding, Yim’nir stared on at the man as if to find any sort of malice within him, and the falcon seemed to grant him her ear, despite her initial impressions. The twin bears grinned with confidence, joined by the beleaguered aspect of Faye, whom had been awakened for this special occasion. From the lake in the grove, Gurnye churned the waves to his words, as if he were speaking a symphony to her, and even Hod had found himself charmed by the human.

Surprising of all, however, was the arrival of Leka in the grove. She kept into her mists, though the rattling of her tail seemed to be with approval at the human’s words. Where Hod had failed, this mortal had succeeded in winning her over. Leka was not alone, however, as each ancient present imbued Raeok with their power, cementing him as their champion.

Thus began the training of the druids under Raeok, each calling upon the powers of the wild and revering above all the spirits of the sun and moon, known to the people of this land as Sayat and Galane respectively. However, these druids alone were not enough to stem the tide of darkness that the coalition would face. Acknowledging that this art must be spread beyond just the traditional teachings, Raeok delved deep into Hyroth’s archives within the Great Bough.

After months of diligent study, Raeok returned with an intricate set of runes that he had sent to the Oakenborn to the east. Naming it for his fox, Galu, the language of Galui would become the language of these united peoples, and thus, they would take on the name of Galuyn.

As such, augmented with this knowledge, Raeok created several orders of what he had named Keepers. These warriors would inscribe their entire bodies in intricate runic tattoos, cementing them as a part of a conclave of spirits whose methods worked well with one another.

His teachings were divided into three conclaves, the Skysworn, whom took on the aspects of Faralani, Yim’nir and Hyroth. These children of the flock bore heavy mastery over magic and the winds, thus allowing them to provide support from afar.

The Preservers were next, imbued with the powers of Gurnye, Kol’sir, and Faye. They would stand as bastions of power and guardians of their allies, able to weather blows for their comrades as well as mend wounds.

The final grouping had been one that Raeok had found trouble sanctioning. During his time within the Dream, Kol and Sir had exposed him to the remnant of the Echo of Goldrinn, Kryfta the Greathunter as his people had come to refer to it as, hidden deep away in the Great Bough. The avatar within had longed for an end to its torment, however, without anything to free it; it was forced into an eternal slumber. The echo of its power, however, had rubbed off on Raeok; granting him the blessing of the lost avatar.

Deciding that the people needed the courage of the Greathunter, Raeok created the Ravagers. While they would call upon the guile of Leka and Hod’s alliance, they would be heavily augmented under Kryfta’s power. To bind this together, however, Raeok laid a dark secret with the Ravagers. In his haste to punish his former ally, Yolth had left an echo of his power in the archives. Weaving them into a set of runes, Raeok had bound Yolth’s echo into the Ravagers, giving them their endless fury and energy in combat.

With the Keepers at their side, and the druids trained, the Galuyn people marched alongside the spirits into Ethur’wald, seeking to purge its woods of the taint that had washed over its land.

The Bear's Claw
Surrounding the tainted forest, the spirits and their Galuyn charges had at last held Kil’zoth at the peak of his dominion. Countless battles had been waged throughout the woods, the forests humming with life as the spirits called in their own children to aid the Galuyns. As such, bears fought alongside Humans as if they were one and the same, the skies filled with the various flocks as they plucked away at the Old Ones. And yet, despite this, Kil’zoth’s domain could not be breached.

Raeok had prepared with the spirits endlessly, toiling away at plans and stratagems until Kil’zoth had been forced to the peak of what had become known as the Misted Basin. There, endless armies of void spawn spilled out from the Basin, cementing it as a nigh impenetrable foothold within the woods.

Without any means to pierce the veil, Gurnye’s daughter, Iscia, returned news of her findings deep below the ocean. There, the God of the Sea, N’zoth, continued to funnel his power into Kil’zoth’s march by way of a conduit that was guarded by his champions.

Delving deep with her power, Iscia contained the darkness seeping out using her own power; tainting her once pure mastery over the water with darkness. Though she was strong enough to resist the call of the Old Gods, the sea serpent would forever more have her abilities changed.

Regardless of this sacrifice, the Wavewalkers had purchased the valuable opening that Raeok required to delve into the Misted Basin. Charging forth, Raeok assembled an army of his people; empowered by the ancient’s blessings.

With Raeok came six others, who represented the various branches of the Galuyn people, Raeok himself representing the Thorned.

Unending tides of creatures of nightmare and twisted visions of souls danced about in the distance of the Galuyn army. To assist them, the very creatures of nature had been brought forward; called to Raeok’s side above all were the wolves, as if answering the fragment of their patron that lay within the man.

The siege was horrific to the Galuyn people’s numbers. Scores upon scores of lives were lost in the initial siege beyond the veil, mashed into bits by the armies of Kil’zoth that sought to claim the land as their own.

Ultimately, however, Raeok and his people pierced into the heart of the land; finding Kil’zoth within his crater. There, he twisted ancient metal to his side, a fragment from beyond this world, into mighty weapons for his own warriors. This Ash Iron, as the people called it, would heave through the champions of the Galuyn charge as if they were nothing.

It was not until, Gertrude the Champion, who represented the Oakenborn, challenged these creatures that they were halted. She bore master crafted runic armor; made for her by her people and the twin bears. In her hands she carried a mighty axe, Bronntanas Iompróidh, which held the strength of the ancient ursines themselves. Able to sunder the ground before them, Gurtrude went from a simple artificer to a mighty warrior; heaving the ground around their party as they trekked up to the Misted Basin’s pinnacle; and ultimately she met her fate there as well.

Severing the massive eye of one of Kil’zoth’s champions, she wrenched the blade from his hands; a massive greatsword entwined with dark runes upon its surface. While she was recovered; crippled and maimed, she delivered the weapon to Raeok’s hands before her passing.

Seeping darkness, Raeok returned to the ancients; begging for their blessing upon the weapon. To convert this unholy blade into something that would turn the tide in his hands. Only Kol and Sir answered this call, bestowing their blessing into the blade as well as carving their own runes into it. From then on, Bear’s Claw, did not leave Raeok’s hands.

The Cave of Deception
“We are lost in this cave, Raeok.” Tonn’s voice ripped out over the echoing abyss that the four had trekked into.

Tonn the Defiant, a hulking warrior of the Gnarled who bore twin shields upon his arms. The man would defend against any blow that would come their way, the first of the Vanguard at all times. Now with Gertrude’s passing, he was their only front line of defense.

“The ancients told us we must pierce this veil, Tonn. If we can destroy Kil’zoth’s last connection to the God of the Deep, we’ll sever his shadow veil over the Basin.” Raeok’s words held a small amount of uncertainty. The Ancients themselves could not delve into this place, and it was far too compact to bring an army.

It twisted and turned before them, as if it were alive, each cavernous tunnel turning into a labyrinth of ever changing paths, one route leading to wall once may lead to a passageway the next. It was maddening.

“The winds of magic flow nefariously through this land, Raeok. We should be careful not to fall prey to their whispers,” spoke Tyrisa of the Everflame. A potent student of Hyroth, she was elected by her peers to represent them in this endeavor.

“Can you not scry through this cavern, Tyrisa? We’re about as blind as your patron,” barked Tonn, his patience wearing thin with the ever-changing maze.

“Had we Gertrude, she might be able to carve through these tunnels,” Raeok sighed the words as he continued forward. A silence crept over the group.

Where they once numbered seven, they now numbered four. Gertrude had fallen first, a grim reminder of their mortality, as she was one of their strongest. She was always the voice to rise in combat, she was always the first to heave down the mightiest foe. It was morbid that she would first them once more by being the first in the grave.

Galar was the next to fall; the leader of the Wavewalkers. While he had not been with them on the trek up to the Misted Basin, they had served as a group regardless. His death came when a mighty creature of the depths dragged his men below the water; the man’s legacy being found with his harpoon lodged within the gullet of the beast, a final move of defiance in his last whispers of life.

The last to fall was Efrain of the Hearthsong. Though he had not perished, the man’s legs were severed from the knees down by one of Kil’zoth’s servants, thrashing him about with its bladed tentacle until his legs were but ribbons. It was all they could do to save him, but they could not work miracles for his legs. Instead, he remained outside of Ethur’wald, dictating the flow of their supplies and men, leaving them to the fight.

At least one of them would survive this foray, Raeok thought to himself. It was perhaps best that the Hearthsong, who were destined for leadership off the field, that their greatest tactician be present with their people.

This left Raeok, Tonn, Tyrisa and Hyld as the last of their group. Hyld spoke very little, as was befitting the leader of the Chillborn, and what words he did speak were often curt and unpleasant. Of the group, he was the hardest to find a bond with, yet he fought just as fiercely as they all had.

Raeok was pulled from his stupor by the trembling of the halls they walked. While Tyrisa and Tonn were quick to stumble and look for the disturbance, while Hyld kept his typical disposition. Beneath them, something stirred; a wailing presence that hungered for the creatures that were trekking into its domain.

“We should continue on before, whatever that sound is, finds us and makes us a meal,” spoke Tonn. While normally unshakable, the Gnarled leader held a certain disruption to his tone; his normal calm had been compromised.

Leading them further down the path, Raeok and his band eventually came upon a set of four corridors, each delved by an impenetrable darkness that they could not illuminate without moving forward.

“It’s a trap,” spoke Hyld for the first time since their entrance into the caverns.

“Yes, I’m glad that you’ve opened your mouth to let us know the obvious, Chillborn. Are you going to tell us that water is wet next?” spat back Tonn to the man, clearly on edge with the increasing peril of the area they found themselves in.

“Stop that, Tonn.” Raeok assessed the situation, moving down one of the paths slowly, his companions staying close behind. “We’ll just try each. Eventually we’ll come back to--”

Raeok was cut off as they were presented with the same four corridors yet again. Despite entering down the leftmost one, it was as if they’d never moved at all.

“What? That’s impossible!” Tyrisa trekked quickly down the left most path, away from them all. While they hurried to find her, she only re-appeared behind them, as if she’d circled back. But such a thing was not capable with the framing of the pathway. The road they’d taken had been narrow and scant any side passages, let alone the ability to loop about.

Hyld stepped forward, looking towards the passages. “It’s a puzzle. We must find the correct path, or be sent back from whence we came.” Tonn spat on the ground, adjusting his shields. “I hate fucking puzzles. Leave it to the voidspawn to annoy us in a cave. They come at us with an army, then fuck with us in a cavern.”

“They always did like their little games,” Tyrisa spoke as she attempted to send down a wisp of light down the corridors. It was snuffed out as quickly as it was conjured, leaving them remiss any sort of magical answer.

Raeok set forward with his staff, tapping against the walls. Each corridor offered no echo, all but the second from the right, which echoed down the path.

“It must be this way, come.” He gestured forward to his companions. Witless, they joined him; hoping that it was not merely another ploy that the Old Gods had tossed their way. To be lost forever in a looping chasm was not their ideal method of death; nor would it serve their people to lose four more leaders in one swoop.

Trekking through the darkness, Raeok and his band found themselves at another set of corridors, however, this time they numbered two; rather than four.

“Well, at least the choices are being narrowed down,” said Tonn, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as he moved forward. “Tap the walls, Seer. We should be moving quickly before Kil’zoth tires of our game.”

Once more, Raeok tapped the walls, however, no echo sounded this time. Instead a foulness permeated the air from each cavern entrance. Stepping forward, Tonn looked to Raeok.

“Well? What’s the issue now?”

“There’s no echo this time..” Raeok’s voice held a strong measure of uncertainty now. What was sure the answer before would not work twice. Why would it in this void-spawned hell they’d found themselves locked in?

“Well, may as well just take a step in then. We’ve only got two choices.” Tonn stepped forward.

A deep booming growl echoed from the cavern, catching the warrior off guard as a maw snapped foward. Hyld could only move so quick, grabbing and ripping Tonn back, but not before the menace could strike. When Tonn landed on the ground, he was lacking one of his arms, torn away by the beast in the shadows.

He howled in pain as Raeok stabilized him, the Chillborn assassin taking a combative stance while Tyrisa drew up runes of protection around them. Yet, all was silent. By the time Raeok had bound the stump, severed by the elbow, Tonn was alight with fury.

“Now what!? We cannot go that way, and the other way looks much the same, fuck if I’m losing anything else!” He howled, slamming his still remaining fist against the churning walls of the abyss.

Tyrisa sat, forlorn, looking about. “Two beasts corner us, beasts we cannot see. We move forward and they will snap at us.”

Hyld traced a hand along the wall. “We can’t go back, otherwise we’ll come to the corridors again. And we can’t go forward, not without Tonn losing more of himself to the darkness.”

“Fuck off Chillborn rat! You and your patron can suck my cock when this is done, I’ve had it with these dark gods and their ilk!” Tonn stood, storming down the pathway back they came, fading into the darkness.

“Tonn!...Tonn, come back here!” Raeok sounded off, though no answer came. “Tonn?” He looked back to the duo, who now stood before him as well.

“We need to follow him, before he’s split in two.”

The trio continued their journey down the pathway before them, finding themselves in a different room than before. It was large, spacious, and reeked of some sort of stench.

“Tonn! To-”

Raeok found a hand clasped on his mouth, Hyld’s, as they looked forward. There stood Tonn in the darkness, clutching his head with his remaining hand.

“Tonn, what’s wrong with him?” whispered Tyrisa.

Hyld stepped forward, placing a hand on the wounded man. He lashed back wildly.

“Get back you beast! Get b-” He found himself restrained by Hyld, tossing him to the ground as he pinned him.

“Get ahold of yourself, Gnarled. It is only us.”

Tonn looked wildly at them, his gaze calming ever-so-slightly, though still alight with some sort of desperation. He pointed into the darkness.

“T-There, Raeok. It’s there. I saw it, but I could..I could do nothing to it. I was beset endlessly by beasts for days. It was all that I had to not fall here!”

Raeok looked confused, piercing out into the veil that had caused his friend’s wild trance. “Tonn, you’ve only been gone for a matter of minutes..it can’t have been days.”

“To us, perhaps. But for him, he may have been battling for his life this entire time. We are in their realm now, Raeok.” Tyrisa moved forward, illuminating the room with her magic.

The shadow bit back at the flames, though enough was revealed to show a disparaging void within the center of the room that devoured all light that came to it. This was what they had come to destroy.

Raeok stepped forward, unsheathing Bear’s Claw from its scabbard. As he moved forward to strike, a voice echoed out in the room.

It was a deep booming force; a deep baratone yet scratching tone that gnawed at the corners of Raeok’s mind. With every word, he felt a pressure on his head, as if the very creature’s speech was enough to drive him mad.

“You struggle against the essence of creation. You struggle against the makers of this world. End your fight, child. You will find only death in this forest if you persist.”

Raeok stepped forward, speaking, even as his companions cradled their heads in desperation.

“What are you?”

“I am the God of the Deeps, the eyes in the ocean. Every step you take in this hall I have seen, and every motion you shall make out of it I have foretold. You will die in this forest, child. Unless you set that blade down, and run your hand into my gift.”

The void pulsed before him, an energy drawing him forward. A simple request, really. Place his hand in the void and taste life everlasting, power unend--

No! He must not be swayed by the voices in the darkness. It was this maddening whisper that he was warned of. Heaving the greatsword up, Raeok slashed through the darkness, the voice echoing out shortly after, dissipating after he struck.

“You are foolish, child. So very foolish.”

Light enveloped the cave. Within moments, Raeok found himself, and his allies, rising. They found themselves within a very shallow cave, nothing surrounding them or it. No cavern, no labyrinth. No beasts in the shadow.

Just another game.

Raeok’s band returned to the surface to find that their trek had been successful. In destroying the Heart, Raeok had banished much of Kil’zoth’s power. His dark armies had receded into nothingness, and the void creature had barricaded itself away within the lake.

Hod approached them as they returned, looking over the group.

“I see you have triumphed. Kil’zoth needs only the death blow struck unto him, and this land will be free.”

Raeok shuddered softly as he felt the Ancient upon him, the freezing chill erupting into his bones just in his presence.

“Yes. We are ready when you are, Great Spirit, though Tonn has suffered an injury and--”

“And nothing, Raeok.” Tonn stepped forward. Where his missing arm was, yet another shield had been strapped. This one bound to a root that was grafted against his arm. “I’ll fight until I die. That was the oath I swore on the cliff.”

Raeok nodded softly, looking back to the army they’d gathered. As had they all sworn to the spirits, they would purge this evil from their home.

Fall of Kil'zoth
The battle against Kil’zoth raged for hours. Even without his armies, Kil’zoth’s might was beyond theirs. Just in the vanguard alone had claimed many lives, Tonn’s among them.

The warrior had gained valuable ground, pushing Kil’zoth from the lake where he had stored much of his energy, but in doing so he had been drowned within it. Without his other arm, he held no chance of re-surfacing, and when his shields emerged, his lifeless body was afloat; awash a sea of blood and gore.

As he’d sworn, Tonn fought until he died.

Tyrisa was to follow him, her mages beset at by the darkness that Kil’zoth unleashed, he took the form of a mighty dragon amidst their combat. Unleashing gouts of shadowflame, when he’d shifted into the form of a wolf, Tyrisa’s body could not be discerned from her fellows; so deep was the charring that had washed over them.

It fell to Hyld and Raeok to keep the lines together, the Chillborn plucking arrows from the mighty trees that lined the Basin; narrowly dodging the swipes of Kil’zoth’s claws, or the stings of the spiders that followed him. It was a game of cat and mouse that Hyld sought to win, one that would at least distract Kil’zoth as Hod came up with a plan with the Keeper.

“We need to weaken him..but I cannot get close!” Raeok had tried everything to channel the magic of the Ancients, yet at every turn Kil’zoth had battered him away, or pushed his forces back.

Hod had understood the keeper’s plight. Even with the veil down, the other ancients were busied about the region keeping Kil’zoth’s forces from reaching them. He was the only one able to ascend with the Keeper, and thus far he had been unable to aid in striking the death blow. However, sacrifices needed to be made, and if it took his life, Hod would deliever the Keeper.

“Climb atop my back, Keeper. We shall end this.”

The saber cat strode along the battle field as the Galuyns renewed their charge against the Void creature, Hod’s claws and magic sundering against Kil’zoth, while his shadow energy and twisted blades tore against the saber’s flesh.

“You resist against the end, feline. Embrace the void and it shall set you free!”

Kil’zoth had continued to keep them away from gaining ground, constantly shifting forms and moving across the battlefield to prevent them from gaining any significant entrenchment to fight him.

“He’s too fast, spirit. We need to close in.”

Hod nodded, pouncing at the void creature. It was then that Kil’zoth struck.

A twisted black blade dug deep into Hod’s midsection, wrenching forward into the Saber Cat as he whined out in pain, Raeok knocked onto Kil’zoth’s head, though the creature had not noticed.

“Do you see the end, feline? Do you see the void?”

Hod growled out in pain, though relented finally to the creature’s assault. “I see the void..creature.”

“Give in. Consume the sun with your magic, feline. Embrace the void and become a god of the winter. Become a champion of the Void.”

Hod’s claws relented finally, a fierce storm beginning to sweep over them all. Was this what Yolth had seen? Power unending flowed through the saber cat as he dreamt the Void’s dream, seeing its power and majesty first hand. He astride an endless army in an endless winter at his command.

The sun began to darken in the sky as the storm swallowed the basin, Raeok left to watch in horror as the spirit fell to corruption.

“No..I must act now.” He looked about Kil’zoth’s form, atop his head was a plateau of darkness, that made out one of the features of the creature’s head. It was here that he was to channel the might of the ancients.

Delving Bear’s Claw deep into Kil’zoth’s head, he finally loosed his grip on Hod, allowing the cat to crumble to the ground in pain. A breath heaved into the spirit as he came to his senses, releasing the storm that threatened to consume them all.

Yim’nir’s caw echoed over the hills as he erupted down into the field, reaving his soul spears against Kil’zoth’s form. As Hod retreated back, the Raven’s voice echoed.

“The time for your pact has come. Focus all of your energies upon the spirit! It must be ended now! I shall bind his soul to the Shadowlands, and ensure he does not rise again!”

The various keepers turned to the creature of shadow, each chanting sacred words of power that their patrons had blessed them with. As the energy over-whelmed into Kil’zoth, Raeok plunged the blade a final time into his frame, his last whispers of energy being that of the words of the gods; granted to him at their meeting in the Realm of Spirits.

Aftermath
Kil’zoth’s demise was boisterous and loud, but followed by a calm that felt uneasy.

The energies of the ritual overloaded the frames of many keepers, rending their very physical forms asunder with the magic that flowed within Azeroth, damaging the very Ley Line of the area.

The energies that washed over the region consumed many; turning them into spirits bound to the plane of Azeroth by the magic that now anchored their souls to the material realm. Ethur’wald had turned into a mire of darkness and death, and these Mire Lords set out to protect it; the only thing that remained in their shattered minds.

Raeok had been recovered by Hyld and his men, brought back to the Galuyn people who had gathered to the south west of Ethur’wald. There, the Keeper announced victory over the darkness; though the greatsword Bear’s Claw had been lost in the explosion. Ethur’wald, the Dark Woods, had been declared a casualty of the war, though the Everflame insisted they could find a way to lift the taint.

In the after math, Yim’nir could not be found. Assumed to have been dragged away in the final moments of the fight by Yolth or some other dark force, the Raven’s sudden disappearance left a sour taste in many of the Skysworn’s mouths.

To further this, Tayrian, the Raven’s son, had been found to be conspiring with the void. Yim'nir's question as to his son's absence had been answered in silence when he returned to the Grove, just before blessing Raeok. While news of his son's corruption had been kept silent, many had wondered what it was that had stirred Yim'nir from his great charge rather than place the task upon his child; and as the days passed, those privy to the Skysworn knew truly why the Raven had come into the battle. Locked away under the Great Bough by his mother, Faralani, the Skysworn’s shame was hidden away under the grief of Yim’nir’s disappearance, a cushion to what could have been an even worse disgrace.

The Galuyn people set up their lands in an area they called the Reach, establishing the city of Hearthsong to the south west, deep within the forest of Ethur’ok, the new sacred grove of their people. Yet, shortly after its establishment, Raeok departed his people; leaving the mantle of leadership to Hyld and Efrain. Ultimately, Hyld led his people into a land touched by Hod in his departing times, the Frost, as they called it, and cast off any mantle he would have been given.

Efrain established what he could for his people, including the Council of the Coimeádaí within the temple of Raeok, a great binding of the various keepers that Raeok had assembled. It was believed by this council that Raeok had become a god himself, as his final visit to Efrain was marked by his departure into the Realm of Spirits for the final time, never to return.

Through the Realm of Spirits, the Galuyns had established the way gates, linking together the various corners of their society that grew along the coastline. As time passed, the Ancients took their way to depart. Hod, disgraced at his own perception of betrayal by attempting to snuff out the sun with his winters, left shortly after victory was claimed. Heading south, he made a den for himself in the mountains on an island; his followers settling by these mountains, but never trekking further, by his own decree to them.

Kol and Sir left to the mountain of Baile-lasair, where they forged with the Oakenborne for sometime before the injuries of war had taken their toll. Leaving the group with instructions to continue on until they re-emerged, Kol and Sir delved deep into the mountain and slumbered, resting off the scars of war for ages to come.

Faralani and Hyroth returned to the Great Bough in the Realm of Spirits, Faralani setting off to watch over her son and her flock; remaining the most involved of the patron spirits. Hyroth locked himself away in his library for ages, attempting to find a cure for his blindness. When none could be found, he relented to the legion of scholars that had been built up in his name over time; allowing them to continue his quest for him, taking a portion of their sight as a right of passage, if nothing else, just to read for a splinter of time.

Gurnye returned to the ocean, trekking across it as she left her daughter in the cove north of the coastline. Iscia’s taint by the God of the Deep had left her weakened, strengthened by every cycle of rebirth that she found herself in, she was tended to by her keepers as a show of religious fervor to their cause.

Ultimately, time faded away the stories of old; the great battles and strife of the Galuyn people falling to the wayside as other cultures amassed around them.

The rise of Arathor and Gilneas after it, the madness of the Wicker King, the splintering of their people. It inevitably led to the loss of most of the culture, leaving it a splinter of what it used to be, held together by tales of ancients and warriors battling against the darkness to keep their people safe.