Tales of Gandamyr
Einar Lone Wolf, son of Tartarus, Speaker of the Ugraak Makk Clan
We do not believe in Gods, for it is what we do that matters. Our ancestors watch over us in all our doings. We pray to them for the strength that they have shown and that is what lives on in our blood lines and in our clans.
My people once followed my Ancester, Crom Lone Wolf. He is the one who formed the very peak in which our ancestors go in their deaths. Crom defeated a daemon on that very peak that threatened all of the lands.
Vractnar is said to be a powerful Daemon. One that could move faster than a man could blink and had the strength of twenty men. He used large wings to carry him during the battles throwing lightning from his hands at his foes below. He would whisper thoughts into the minds of our warriors, turning them to his will. We numbered in the the tens of thousands then. Vractnar inspired a rebellion amongst my people turning brother against brother. During this war hundreds of women and children were sacrificed in his name. His generals were large feral warriors who ruled by fear and any who face them would be set on fire by their breath. These creatures looked like men by walked with a slight stoop and wore large metal helmets adorned in barbed wire and the blood of ther enemies.
Thousands of our people died in glorious battle against the horde of Daemons that Vractnar brought in his wake. It was in our peoples direst hour that he stole into the night with a small band of warriors, and he defeated Vractnar with in Hrandon Peak.
Uncounted generations have passed since that time. Our people have flourished over sky pony Island since that time. We are in tough times once again.. but this is different. We have been struck by a plague from a city known as Regianova. At first they came in few numbers and brokered trade for our skrim shaw and asked to open mines in the mountains. As we did not use this land at first my father agreed. He told them there was only one place not to go, Hrandan Peak, where our ancestors rest. Over time they grew in size and then came the day my father got sick. The ambassador came to visit in order to demand that they be allowed on our lands.. and on Hrandon Peak. When my father told him no, they left quickly. Soon after my father became sick.. and my Uncle, Goram Lone Wolf took place as our Chieftain… because father was too sick.
I was 8 Years old when this occurred. I sat faithfully at my father’s side until I came of age. At this time I began leading war parties sanctioned by my Uncle to kill those that enslave our people. I have slain twenty of these scum myself and I would have continued to bathe in their blood, had not my Uncle a mission.
My uncle told me that we had not long left and we would need allies. He spoke of the Stout Folk of the Citidal. He said the mountain men had honor and would help us. I nodded, knowing I may not return in time to save them. I said fair well to my father.. with whom I had nurtured since his sickness. He looked so old…. But his eyes said different. I used his counsel much over the years… He did not say anything to me that day. He only nodded and shook my hand like a warrior.
Six long months later I ended up at the citdel. It is a wonderous place with good wares, good ale, but short doorways. I guess this will have to do for now. I wonder.. how do my people fare in my absence… Only the ancestors will know. For now, I must wait.