Book 1: Dawn
At the beginning all were born to walk the earth. Tending to its myriad plants and creatures, they were the caretakers of nature. Each gifted by the All Seeing with a unique trait, which aided them in their task and marked them for all to know. They flourished and tamed the ground. Over time those of like traits formed tribes, shunning those of other tribes. Each took to their own land, trading among the tribes to get what they could not themselves make. Harmony existed for them, until the changes came.
One of the weaker tribes prayed to the All Seeing for power to aid them where their traits failed. For entertaining others, which they were disposed to do, helped them not with food and shelter. The All Seeing saw their plight and was so moved by their prayers gifted them with the power of Magic. This magic marked them further then the traits ever had. All of the tribe and their descendants would be like marked with the symbol of magic on their head. The tribe became addicted to the newfound power, using it to take revenge on the tribes who had shunned their traits. Soon chaos erupted and the harmony was broken.
The all seeing, having anticipated this chained the power to her eyes. Her right eye, the sun, shown its radiance upon the land to let the flora grow. Her left eye, the moon, brought forth slumber, rejuvenating all and restoring reserves lost during the day. The power was so bound that the tribe was now burdened with opening and closing the eyes of the All Seeing. If they did not, it was night or day eternal. If they did not, their power would exhaust itself and the gift leave them. The task given to them so exhausted them that they could no longer make war on the other tribes, and harmony was restored.
But the malice from those wronged by magic had suffused the ground and festered. The land, which itself lived, drank of this discord, and from it grew a forest which the tribes could not control, could not tame, and would not dare enter. Mistrust of the wielders of magic further strengthened the burgeoning power under the land. It liked these feelings and wanted to drink of it more. Over time, as it’s forest grew it disrupted the weather, sending the tribes into panic, into chaos. The wind destroyed their homes; the snow froze their crops; the rains drowned the fauna they protected; the thunder shook them, disrupting their routines. Each tribe blamed the other. Had the sun been kept in the sky longer the snows would not have come; Had the lands been tended better the rivers would not have crested; Had the homes been sturdier, the winds would not have touched them. The forest grew stronger and so did its tender, sleeping with in the land.
One tribe, enraged at the All Seeing for letting this happen demanded the power to conquer the weather as they had conquered their land. The All Seeing, having no other solution gifted the tribe with what they had asked for, marking their backs as she had marked the heads of the magic tribe. With their strength and unending courage the newly empowered tribe tamed the weather. As with the magic tribe, the weather tribe could not make war as they now were bound to the weather. If they did not continue to tame and control it the weather would once again wreck havoc and they would lose the All Seeing’s gift. Harmony returned for a time, but the three races would no longer see eye to eye with each other. The land drank deep of the simmering conflict. The land grew stronger.
The weather tribe, using their gifts built a sprawling settlement among the clouds, where only they could tread. From on high they controlled the weather, guiding it to when and where it was needed, but they demanded tribute from the other tribes for their services. They cloud city they maintained, could not allow them to grow their own food so from the unblessed tribe who tended the earth like the days of old, they demanded food. For with out the rains they brought, the plants would not grow. From the magic tribe they demanded the metal and gems crafted by their artisans, for just as with the plants, the cloud city had no ore to make weapons, armor, and jewelry with. The magic tribe acquiesced, afraid the rains would not come and their wells run dry. The resentment of the others towards the weather tribe grew, the forest’s tender grew stronger.
The magic tribe, feeling they were superior to the others used their gifts to build a magnificent city adorned with gemstones and paved with rare stone and metals. From the spires of the city they focused their magic to raise and lower the sun and moon, as was their charge. Still, like the other blessed tribe, they too demanded tributes for their work. From the unblessed, they demanded food, which was nurtured by the sun the raised each day. . While they could grow their own, unlike the weather tribe, they refused such a menial task, one that was beneath them. The weather tribe gifted weapons and armor to the magic tribe as tributes, afraid of the stories from when the magic tribe made war on them. Fear of the magic tribe ran deep, the forest’s roots were nurtured by it, strengthened by it.
The “unblessed” as the other tribes referred to them, who stood by their sacred duty of tending to the land also kept their ancestral lands. Tending the fields and herds their parents and grandparents had likewise tended. While they did not have the gift for magic or weather like the other tribes, they had a unique bond with the earth, strengthened through adversity and grown like the trees they tended. Still they were reliant on the gifts of the other tribes if they wanted to continue their duties. They provided food to the other two tribes for their aid, not of their own will. Their hands were forced, but they were secure knowing that without them, the other tribes would fall. Pride comes before the fall and the forest would make them know it.
It was time. The forest stretched its roots far under the land, draining the life from the fields so nurtured by the tribe. The plants withered and died. The roots drank the water. The herds died, the tribes went thirsty. The roots tapped deeper, into the very heart of the world, sapping it of its power. The roots forced the molten rock from the core to the surface. It was time.
The land erupted, darkness reigned, the tribes scattered, the weather untamed, magic revolted against its wielders, the land drank deeper of the chaos it caused. The tribes, seeing the origin of the problem assaulted the forest with what they could muster. Each tribe fighting on its own, each tribe failing. One stood against the forest where many had fallen. One born of all three races, but marked with none of their traits held fast against the assault. Battered by the winds; burnt by the flames; scarred by the thorns; it refused to yield. The All Seeing wept from its right eye, for the ones act so touched her. These tears fell upon the lone defender, binding it directly to the right eye of the All Seeing, marking it off all three races. The Sun rose, the dawn came, the darkness receded. Its radiance scoured the land, cleansing it of the taint. The forest stood firm. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. The Sun had a fortress constructed at the edge of the forest to push back its advances. The Sun stood vigil there, fighting the shadow, protecting the tribes.