Origins - WIP
The End Before
Blasts of thunder-fire tearing through fur and foliage, faster than a wolf could run. Yet run she did, crashing through the underbrush with reckless abandon. There was only fear, as hot as her own ragged breath and as cold as the creature who pursued her. The forest itself closed in. Roots coiled around them, dark leaves pressed closer, and the wolf knew then that there was nowhere left to run to. Another blast. At the forest's edge she faltered, feeling only the sear of fire burying itself in her core. She fought against the cold soil as the man drew nearer, only to watch him stumble past, eyes fixed on something else beyond her. He dropped his weapon, and she turned, fear and wonder clawing at each-other in her stomach. There in the clearing beyond them, was a light. A pale, floating patch of something not quite right. The ground below was scorched and dead, rippling under the strange glow. As a matter of fact, she realized with a heavy sinking feeling, the entire space seemed to shimmer, distorted by the light. The urge to run burned at her paws but she could not remember why, as she watched the pale hand of the man reach out slowly from his unnatural coat. Transfixed by a feeling she did not recognize, she watched the light absorb him, wrapping strange tendrils around his arm and consuming him as the roots consumed the forest floor.
The world changed then, if imperceptibly, as if it had always been this way. Across the earth the forest grew, across time a memory surfaced: All roads lead to Fernway.
Thornwell Sanctum
"A cult of wolves who grow up poisoned by fear and rot"
Far away from the depths of Lake Fellworm and the false security of the mountain fog, there had been a group of wolves who had awoken to a world of fear and darkness. None of them could remember who they had once been, if they had been anyone at all, so they called themselves the firstwolves. There was a shared sense among them of fear, hearts which beat a little too quickly when they tried to remember, fragmented dreams of horrible beings - and they named this fear The Nothing. They formed a tight pack around their shared fear, learning quickly that any wolf who strayed too far would be taken away, only to return drenched in fear scent, mind shattered by The Nothing. "Reapers," the fearful ones would whisper, ducking out of sight. "Harvestfolk," the devout leaders would correct, baring their teeth in warning. To live meant to obey them, as the pack law came to state. So began the pack of Thornwell Sanctum.
There were only two ways a wolf could leave the Sanctum. The fate of most wolves would be to be taken by the Harvestfolk; either when they had grown old and weak, or after they had stepped too far out of line. For the bravest few though, the Sanctum was blocked in by a terrible river. To survive the crossing was the ultimate escape, but for most it was entirely impossible. Many bodies would wash up on the shores of Thornwell over time as members tried to flee. For a long time this would be the only life they knew, until the whisper of Fernway had been heard across the world. For the wolves of Thornwell Sanctum, it meant a peaceful end. They would give in the devouring forest, accepting their fate with a sense of relief. This was a nothing that they did not fear.
Claylock of Thornwell - WIP
"Leaving the Sanctum"
Even as the earth around them fell apart, opening the once inescapable prison of the Sanctum to the outside world for the first time, most of the pack remained steadfast in their choice to succumb to fate. In part, they couldn't shake their loyalty to the gods, even if was a loyalty forged only by dark fears. Bramble, the long reigning alpha and his prophet, Hogweed, made sure of this as well, silencing any who might have been inclined to waver. Still, a few of the younger wolves yearned for another escape, their hearts inspired by the destruction rather than crushed. Emboldened by their youth and the glimpses of freedom that Fernway offered, two brothers Claylock and Kell made a plan to escape, but Hogweed was the first to turn on them, throwing them both at the mercy of Bramble. As a final show of his power, Bramble tore into the younger Kell, beating him with as much brutality as he could still summon and then branded Claylock as a traitor to the pack. With that, the hearts of the rest of the pack were sealed against them, and they refused Claylock's pleas for them to follow as him and Kell were chased out. Claylock then could only watch as his brother faltered
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