The Evergreen Pact is an official alliance, codified by law, between Yliaster and Máni Vargr Clan - two packs brought together by a common concern for the safety and security of their members.

For Yliaster, which is an older pack, it was in preparation for natural disasters which are known to strike the world once during every leader's lifetime. For the wolves of Máni Vargr Clan, it was about the strength in numbers against their arch nemesis – Reginúlfr the Usurper.

Although the alliance is still young, there have already been a mixing of the bloodlines and exchanges of cultural norms and traditions between the packs. Before Yliaster relocated to the tundra, both packs lived in neighbouring territories of the evergreen forests and mountains of the taiga, which is how the alliance received its name. Currently, Yliaster pack lives near the southern edge of the tundra, just within sight of the timberline border, where they are known to sometimes hold meetings with members of Máni Vargr Clan.

Below is a record of shared history and legend as told by lore keepers from Yliaster and Máni Vargr Clan, respectively.

_{Note: While every effort was taken to ensure accuracy, subjective interpretation and cultural differences may obscure the facts of some events & characters. All agree on one thing though - Reginúlfr is a jerk...}

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕪𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝔸𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕟: ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕆𝕟𝕖

The event in question began in the last days of King Kyllikke's reign. All knew that his time was close; his mate and three grown pups took turns caring for him, both night and day. Although the old king was still quite capable of looking after himself, his family feared to have him disappear somewhere and forget his way home, as he had been known to do in recent months. Vistula, the king's beautiful daughter, was quite busy in preparation for her future role as the next Queen, while his youngest son Syngri was an active hunter and the newest member of the noble Kynsguard. It thus befell on Kyllikke's mate, Queen Lyconia, and eldest son Étgudach to wait on his every command, watching him just outside his royal chamber in the ruins of Heidur's Keep – the Seat of Yliaster. This is the scene we now find ourselves in.

It was early autumn. During the day, the tundra plains had been battered by the howling winds of the changing seasons. Now the night descended and it all was still and calm. Above the wide expanse was a spatter of countless sparkling stars. Rising above the timberline in the south was a crescent moon, sharp as an owl talon. The wolves of Yliaster were fast asleep, after a long day of difficult hunting and pupsitting frightened puppies.

Looking out through the crumbling hole that was once a mighty door for some two-legged creatures was King Kyllikke. He could not sleep – his one eye was fixed towards the trees across the plains in the distance. The Máni Vargr Clan lived there, in the taiga, and until recently so did Yliaster. He lay like this for a while, thinking about the vargr and what it meant to be one.

While he was thinking, a strange lunar mist started gathering around him, and as far as he could see, all around Yliaster. He hopped to his feet, alert to the sudden change, which somehow felt unnatural – though not exactly sinister, it made him uneasy and he huffed a small low growl. Kyllikke hated anything that obscured his view – he only had the one good eye – anything that made it any harder to see made him feel vulnerable and trapped, threatening to bring back memories he did not want to recall. He needed to get away.

He of course couldn't forget to take the Dreamcatcher – a mysterious talisman passed down to him by his dead mother, Kulpa, who had acquired it somewhere during the Cataclysm when Kyllikke was only a pup. Its power, once sufficiently tapped into, can lead its owner towards whatever he or she desired – though none could say how long or how easy the path would be. For Kulpa Ava'al, it helped her save Yliaster from extinction by leading her to sources of food and survivors willing to help Yliaster. For Kyllikke, it had mainly enhanced his foresight and resourcefulness as a leader, though he hadn't quite worked out how use the Dreamcatcher the way his mother did. It did, however, lead him to meet the Máni Vargr Clan, which had become an important ally to Yliaster.
Now Kyllikke bit down hard on the old rope handle and in his mind commanded the Dreamcatcher: "Lead me to a place where I may see clearly."

A subtle breeze answered him, blowing the feathers toward the direction for him to take, and he followed to wherever it lead. Lyconia and the rest of the royal family were fast asleep and took no notice of Kyllikke's leaving, despite the fact that they were meant to watch him.

On his way down from the hill of Heidur's Keep, the king was sniffed out by his old enemy, the Prince of Yldunn. The Prince was, by that time in Yliaster's history, known many names & titles – Mikke the Twice-Dishonoured, Son of the First One, Wolf of Light & Honey, Trueborn, and less commanding nicknames such as "Sleazeball" and "Uncle Icky" by the young ones. The latter two names were even more widely used by other creatures besides the wolves, who all knew what type of wolf Mikke was and that even his own mother – the founder of Yliaster - rejected him. Yet all feared him and never spoke ill of him when in his company or even within earshot. He was, therefore, oblivious to just how despised and disrespected he was when his back was turned.

So, this old "Sleazeball" – pardon me – Prince Mikke followed the king's scent trail through the strange mist, emboldened by the knowledge that Kyllikke was vulnerable, alone and in possession of the coveted Dreamcatcher. Mikke was a very clever wolf, you see, but he used his great intelligence to do harm instead of good.

The Dreamcatcher brought them quite a distance from Yliaster, up towards the higher altitudes of the Northbreak Mountains, through a valley known as Vyndmyr's Pass. This is where the noble clans of Yliaster lived, and a place Mikke knew like the back of his paw.

Gradually, the lunar mist began to lift, and as it did so it shifted into a regular mist – white-grey dampness that clung to fur, nose and eyelashes like tiny beads of glass. It made it more difficult to pick up scent, as there was no breeze to carry it – Mikke kept his nose low to the ground. He was starting to grow impatient and thinking about how to deceive Kyllikke when he noticed a light ahead. It was silver like the moon and dissolved the dark gloom of the misty night. Suddenly the mist was no more, and Mikke immediately recognised the place where the Dreamcatcher had lead them. It was the Necropolis and the location of The First Wolf's burial site. Quickly, Mikke hid behind a large boulder and witnessed as Kyllikke communicated with the light.

What Mikke did not know, however, was that shortly before he had caught up, Kyllikke was given a vision of another life, and a grave warning about the future. The light, as it turns out, was the spirit of Stella Signata – the First Wolf – the ancestor of the king and the mother of Prince Mikke, the same mother who had rejected his right to rule Yliaster.

Strangely enough, the late Queen Stella did not manifest in the form of a pale white wolf as she had been known in life, but instead as a human – the ancient enemy of all nature's children. However, she was more beautiful than any human ever seen. She was ghostly and translucent, with long flowing robes and silver hair that moved and undulated as though she was underwater. Her eyes were like two shining moons on her youthful elven face, her pale lips were small and did not part when she spoke:
"Yes, I am Stella Signata, once the Queen of Yliaster and the one who crowned you. Be not afraid, dear Kyllikke," the spectre soothed the mortal wolf, "you too were once a man."




The wolf king recognised his legendary grandmother's voice, which had a familiar airy quality and regal speech, though he was still confused to see her in this strange form. He stopped growling and lowered his head, but his hackles were still raised, ears folded back and tail low. He could not smell the ghost and it put him on edge, despite her peaceful demeanor.

"A filthy human? Me?" Kyllikke scowled with suspicion, feeling deeply offended. "How can I know this is not a malicious trick?"
The ghost slowly raised her arm and pointed at the Dreamcatcher. "Would your mother's talisman lead you into a trap? Kyllikke Ava'al of Yliaster, son of Azumar, the hour of your death will soon be upon you; you have been brought to me to know the truth before it is too late. Beware, for in the east a dark spirit is rising – an enemy of a friend who will stop at nothing to fulfil his desire for power. There are also traitors in your midst who spy for that enemy, and covet the Dreamcatcher you are carrying. These dark forces would turn your friends against you, given the chance."
"Dark forces?" Kyllikke straightened his ears, "are you speaking of Reginúlfr and Mikke working together? Are the Máni Vargr Clan in danger?"
"You must bring the Dreamcatcher to the vargr," Queen Stella continued, "they will know what to do with it - their fate depends on it."
"And what of Yliaster?" the king countered, "this talisman saved our pack from complete annihilation and supported me during my reign. The vargr are my allies, but I cannot simply give it away, especially not at a time like this."
"You disappoint me, Kyllikke." The ghost sighed and began moving away from her dolmen tomb, towards Kyllikke. As she did so, she transformed into her wolf form, ethereal and white. "It seems you still have much to learn..."



Finally seeing her in her wolf form, as he had remembered her, inspired feelings of reverence and remorse in Kyllikke. He realised now that this was no trick – this was indeed the spirit of his beloved ancestor, the First One, who came into the world from an unknown realm. Few are alive now who knew her, but Kyllikke was there when she walked with the living. She was always otherworldly; it is said that even as a wolf of fur and flesh Queen Stella was often mistaken for a ghost by newcomers and travellers to Yliaster.
Kyllikke lay down before her submissively, feeling ashamed of himself to even look at her. How could he dare speak to the First One the way he had? There will be consequences for this.

It is said that this was the moment when Stella Signata revealed the truth to King Kyllikke. The truth about Yliaster's origins, its connection to the vargr, and the destiny of the souls living in each wolf. None could say exactly what he saw, it was for his eyes only, but as we shall see later in this tale, he would die in an attempt pass on this knowledge to his daughter Vistula.

Now Mikke had caught up with them, as we know, and he caught a glimpse of the white wolf whom he recognised as his mother. Rage and envy boiled in his blood as he watched Stella gently rousing Kyllikke to awake, licking and nipping at his ears and nudging him with her nose. The Prince had never known such maternal sweetness, which was his by right. He almost lost control, longing to attack the pair, when Kyllikke rose from his trance-induced slumber and obediently took up the Dreamcatcher.

"Thank you for showing me the truth, grandmother." The king said, bowing as he did so. "Although it disturbs me to know what I have seen, I will do as you say, and bring the Dreamcatcher to the Máni Vargr Clan."
"I am glad to hear you say this." Stella Signata nodded gracefully, like a swan bending her neck. "Aislinn and Runa have already heard the summons. Go to them, and fulfil the promise of The Evergreen Pact."
"I will see you soon, grandmother..." Kyllikke replied, and she was gone.

Darkness and stillness returned once again to the sacred burial grounds.

Mikke had, of course, overheard all of this. Fuelled by his inner pain and treacherous nature, he was plotting. But before he could commit to the terrible plan, he waited for Kyllikke to leave.

Approaching the grave of his mother, Mikke bared his teeth and growled at the ground beneath him. "Why did you forsake me, sweet Mother? Was it for lack of strength and power, or for wit and courage? How could I fulfill your noble dream when I was merely a whimpering whelp, seeking shelter in your chest?" Mikke cried. "I will prove to you the reach of my power and you will regret pushing me away. I swear to you, Mother, I will have my vengeance on you. Damn the Ava'al clan and their little friends to oblivion!"

And so, Mikke the Twice-Dishonoured set off in the eastward direction, to seek out the villain Reginúlfr - the sworn enemy of the Máni Vargr Clan - to disclose to him the meeting place between Kyllikke and Aislinn. By doing so, Mikke knew he betrayed one of the key conditions of the Evergreen Pact between the Máni Vargr Clan and Yliaster. As he rushed through the vast expanse of the tundra, rage was replaced by joy and excitement in Mikke's evil heart. None of them could see this coming, not even Stella Signata's all-knowing spirit.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕪𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝔸𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕟: ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕋𝕨𝕠

The Máni Vargr Clan and Yliaster usually met at the border between the tundra plains and the taiga forest, in a mountain area known as the Evergreen Timberline. A freshwater stream trickled down through this place, providing drink to the thirsty wolves, and a short distance from there was an entrance to a complex cave system which may be used as a temporary shelter, provided no one lives there.

In the early morning, Kyllikke arrived at this place, set down his Dreamcatcher, and let out a long howl toward the fading stars and the pale moon. The sound carried through the trees and reached the ears of two vargr wolves – sisters Aislinn and Runa – who were already on their way to the meeting place.

"You hear that?" Aislinn cocked her eyebrow at her younger sister, "I told you King Kyllikke would be waiting for us out there., didn't I? My dreams never lie."
"Alright, alright, dreamgirl. You've made your point..." Runa rolled her eyes and followed her sister through the night forest, running now. Although Aislinn was feeling excited and curious about her dream, Runa was anxious and constantly watching out for anything that might go wrong. The summons came so unexpectedly – usually there is a messenger between the two packs, who would inform them of the time and nature of the meeting, and then they would always go with backup, just in case. Whatever it was, Runa couldn't help but think it wasn't anything good. She knew also that if Runa hadn't woken up when she had, Aislinn may as well have ran out on her own.
"There he is – I see him!" Aislinn yelped excitedly.

The two wolves emerged out of the shadows to approach the King of Yliaster, who had finished howling and stood over the Dreamcatcher. A slight breeze passed by the trio, and Runa's keen senses from her tracking experience alerted her of another predator's presence. She looked around suspiciously but kept quiet. Only the dominant wolves may speak first, everyone knows that, and Runa would have to wait her turn.
"Aislinn, Runa, thank you for answering my call," Kyllikke began, speaking with an uncharacteristic breathlessness and straining to keep eye contact. Hearing him like this, Aislinn stopped wagging her tail. "I am sorry we have to meet like this, but there isn't much time. Aislinn, you must accept my Dreamcatcher. It's a talisman of great power and it needs to be in the possession of a vargr..."
"There they are!" Suddenly, Mikke leaped out from the bushes next to Kyllikke. "Oh, thank you, great king! I knew we could trust you to lure those sneaky vargr to us."
"What-" Aislinn began but was interrupted by Runa, who was growling at someone behind them. Turning around Aislinn witnessed cold blue eyes staring at her from out of the darkness. As the figure stepped closer, she saw a wolf with fur the colour of thunderclouds at night, each scar graced his body like a badge of honour and the fangs of his fallen enemies were turned into jewels to decorate his neck and tail. Aislinn and Runa knew about those fangs from the stories their mother told them, and suddenly they recognised him.
"Reginúlfr?!" Aislinn barked. Fear and confusion gripped her heart, but she knew she had to act braver than she felt.
"It's unfortunate that we must meet like this," Reginulfr spoke in a deep, serious voice, completely unfazed by the vargr's aggression, "but you've left me with no other choice..."

Reginúlfr let out a short but loud howl, summoning a gang of menacing nomad wolves, barking and spitting drool as though possessed by rabies. They formed a wide semi-circle around Aislinn and Runa, trapping them inside it.
Noticing that Kyllikke was excluded from such treatment, Runa shot him a look of pained shock.
"You betrayed us! How could you!" She cried.
The nomad wolves barked louder in reaction to her outburst, drowning out Kyllikke's heartfelt denial.
"Forget about that for now," said Reginúlfr, whose voice immediately silenced the rabid wolves, "come with me, Aislinn, and my friends here will promise not to harm your little sister."

Aislinn and Runa exchanged glances and nodded, deciding at once to make a run for it through the only gap that was open to them, where Kyllikke and Mikke stood watching. The sisters were trained for a situation like this, and knew the steps they had to take, but they could never anticipate how strong the nomads have become. No one could.

As soon as they leapt forward, there was chaotic struggle and the loud guttural snarling and snapping of teeth. Someone's blood splattered on the dry grass, glistening like black ink in the darkness.
Runa felt herself tackled to the ground by one of the nomads, saw him open his large sharp mouth aimed at her neck, when something powerful jumped on the aggressor, allowing Runa to quickly slip away without a second look.

"Aislinn!" Runa called out, darting between the trees as fast as she could. As soon as she stopped to listen and catch her breath, she saw another nomad bolting right towards her, like a boulder rolling down a mountain. There was no outrunning it, and Runa sensed there were others on the way. All she could do now was brace herself and fight for her very life.
Suddenly, Kyllikke leapt in between Runa and the nomad.
"Get out of my way, old fool!" The nomad snarled at Kyllikke.
"Save yourself, Runa!" Kyllikke yelled as he bounded to engage the nomad in a fight. "Run for help!"

Runa witnessed as the one-eyed King of Yliaster thrust himself in the nomad's path, leaving the enemy no choice but to fight him off. She could already see there was no chance that Kyllikke could win – as experienced and agile as he was, the nomad displayed the kind of aggression and brutality that has never been seen before. The nomad had no mercy and no self-control – it tore the brave king to pieces with its sharp teeth and claws. Kyllikke did not cry out in pain even as his nose was completely ripped off, exposing bones and flesh, he kept fighting.

He is going to die! Runa realized with horror. Her every noble instinct told her to help him, to leap to his rescue the way he had done for her. Another part of her ached for her sister – but how could Runa find Aislinn in this chaos and blood? The only choice she had left was the one she hated the most – to run away with her tail between her legs, without her sister. But she could not let King Kyllikke down now, not after she accused him of betrayal. He told her to call for help, this she will do.
Meanwhile, in another part of the forest down by the stream, Reginúlfr and the other nomads managed to corner and subdue poor Aislinn, leaving her with no choice but to come with them, especially after they convinced her that Runa was dead.
"It's entirely your fault, little vargr." Reginúlfr told her. "Had you obeyed me the first time I asked you, none of this would have happened. I hope this experience has taught you never to resist my authority again."

And so, the kidnapping of Aislinn was fulfilled and the dawn had almost come.

Returning back to the Evergreen Pact meeting place was the sleazy Prince of Yldunn, who had only one thing on his mind.
"Ah, there it is..." Mikke grinned to himself, seeing the Dreamcatcher poking through the grass exactly where Kyllikke had dropped it. It seems that neither Reginúlfr nor his nomad followers had any knowledge or interest in the talisman, caught up in their struggle with the vargr as they were. Mikke bit down on the rope and ran off with it, with his tail held high and feeling victorious. He would now return to Yliaster and play the horrified victim, telling his own version of the events. He did not care to check whether King Kyllikke and Runa were alive or not – he had complete faith that the nomads had done their job. Indeed, Mikke envied Reginúlfr, and regretted that he didn't come up with the idea himself – to build a gang of ruthless fighters, ready to obey his every command. Mikke would make sure to apply this plan in the next life...

By the first rays of sunrise, he returned, followed by the five members of the Ava'al clan along with Yliaster's Watcher, Quellon Elquul. They sniffed the ground and looked around, ears alert for any strange sounds.
"This is where they met." Mikke announced.
"There were definitely more than a few wolves here," said Áki, the only wildkyn of the group, "sounds like the prince was telling the truth, Your Grace."
"Hmph." Queen Lyconia rolled her eyes and huffed, wondering why her son-in-law insists on giving Mikke the respect he does not deserve. "Then let us hope he is wrong about our king. Áki, you need to follow Runa's trail and find her, get her home safe if you can and warn the Mani Vargr Clan of what occurred here. Étgudach and Syngri, you both will search for and locate Aislinn - but do not attempt to rescue her by yourselves - that is an order. Quellon, Vistula and I will find the king."

The wolves obeyed the Queen's command without question, following each scent trail in a different direction. Áki bolted off like a deer into the woods, Étgudach and Syngri rushed towards the tundra plains, while the remainder jogged eastwards along the gently sloping edge of the timberline. For Mikke's part, he decided to go see for himself what happened to Kyllikke. It must've been brutal, he snickered to himself, too bad I wasn't there to witness it with my own eyes.

They found the king lying defeated next to a boulder dotted with yellow lichen and splattered with blood.
"Father!" Lady Vistula cried out, rushing to his side.
"Be careful!" She heard her mother's voice behind her. Even from a distance, Lyconia could tell it was bad and braced herself for the worst.

Kyllikke was lying on his side, the one with the good eye - which was rolling around in its socket, unable to focus. His mangled mouth was open, tongue rolled out, fangs bloody. Puffs of hot breath danced mockingly around him as he panted. His paws were shaking along with his whole body. He was bleeding so much, it was difficult to tell where the wounds ended and where they began, and his skarn fur was dirty with soil and leaves and blood.

"Do not touch him." Lyconia said quietly, breathlessly. In all her life, she has never seen a sight such as this. The slaughter of muskox calves is less gruesome.

In the trees above there was a great struggle - black feathers were flying everywhere as Myrwyn the Crow fought off the others of his kind, to keep them from scavenging on the body of a wolf who, in addition to still being alive, was also a king.

"Stop fighting! STOP IT!" Vistula roared with frustration, unable to stand the noise of violence anymore. The birds all scattered in fright. For a long moment, the woods were silent again, interrupted only by Vistula's crying and Kyllikke's quiet panting.
"He is in a lot of pain…" Quellon gently broke the silence, slowly coming around to sit next to Vistula. "We should… relieve him."

Oh, please let me do it. Let me be the one to put him out of his misery. Mikke almost moaned to himself, hungrily absorbing everything from the sidelines. He wanted to get closer, to gawk at the crime scene, and to count every wound, but he knew the others would never allow him. And though he never paid much attention to any of Kyllikke's pups, he realised now how beautiful Vistula was in this broken, hopeless state. Indeed, in all his life the Wolf of Light & Honey had never seen anything more graceful or more pure. Old Mikke licked his lips as a disturbing lust ignited deep in his loins. It was then that he realised that it was all too much excitement for him. He was far too clever to ruin his own plans and act the fool, so he instead quietly disappeared, without anyone's awareness he was ever there at all.

"You want to…" Vistula looked tearfully at Quellon, then at her mother, then at her dying father. "No, you mustn't! Don't give up on him yet! Mother - you're the fastest out of all of us - call the Medic! She could heal father…"
"No, my child." Lyconia shook her head, hanging her head in sorrow. "Quellon is right. No one deserves to die as slowly and painfully as this, least of all your father." Had these nomads any conscience they would have ensured a quick and honourable death befitting a king, the queen thought to herself. This was deliberate. It may as well be a declaration of war.

While Quellon went to speak with Lyconia about who will be the one to deliver the king his coup de grâce, Vistula stayed by Kyllikke's side, her own fur stained in his blood. She then heard him whisper something, his good eye finally fixing on her, though it couldn't be known whether he recognised whom he was looking at.

"I saw…" He panted, straining to express himself with the last drop of his spirit. Vistula inched closer to him, hanging onto his every word as though her own life depended on it - for it may well have. "... truth. Stella… I… human… dream… vargr…"
"The vargr?" Vistula tried her hardest to make sense of the words, but tears welled up in her eyes all the harder because of her failure to do so. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint her father in his last moments. "Please, father - please don't die - not like this! I am lost without you! Please don't leave me… Please…"

The king's daughter gasped as she witnessed his spirit leave his body and ascend up towards the tree tops like a cloud of vapour in the shape of a wolf. And then he was gone, so quietly and quickly, without even a goodbye. Where did he go?
Lyconia and Quellon did not see it, but they heard Vistula's howl, long and low, as she stood over her father's corpse. They knew then that it was finished, and joined her mourning.

The King of Yliaster Is Dead.