Stories of the Kanthrop

[Brytan]

Here is where the stories of the Kanthrop linger. Spoken by elders and storytellers from one tribe to another, from kanthan to kit. These are the remnants of history as delivered with each passing yahr and tide, starting with the Great Crossing.

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The Great Crossing

Once upon a time, many yahren ago, The Kanthrop were not as they are today. None were linked to the Earth Mother as they are today. None felt the Inner Animal inside them rage and churn. No, for then the Kanthrop were human, living in peace in a small village in the mountains of the ancient Kingdom of the West. This village was remote, a thoroughfare for traders and adventurers, as tales were spoken of a dragon living in the mountains nearby.

A band of adventurers had tracked this dragon to her resting place, many yahren ago to this day. For stories of her being there were widespread among the locals who lived in a valley below the cave where she slept. “It was always there, probably guarding an immense treasure.” They were told. So they went up the perilous cliffs, to find her sleeping peacefully in her cave, having been there for hundreds of yahren. As their weapons cut their way to her heart, she awoke, shortly. Her screams of final breath echoing through the mountains and through the shards of her dream, which still lingered in the Aether.

No one knew why. The dragon didn’t have any treasure to guard. The cave had been empty and the dragon herself had seemed almost invisible, being covered in dust and rocks from yahren of seismic change in the mountains. The adventurers had returned to the valley below, hoisting what parts of the dragon they could as trophies to show back home to their families. Teeth, scales, eyes. Down below a grand party was thrown to celebrate this great victory over such an evil creature.
But at gravetide of that same night, something happened. The village was raided by beings unlike anything anyone had ever seen. A dreadfull mix between dragon and man, three of them as the survivors who kept part of their sanity claim. They came from the forest, tearing through wood and stone like it was paper, searching, hunting, for the adventurers who were sleeping off their stupors in the inn of the village. Like they had done upon the dragon, the sleeping people of the village were killed. Those that were awake fled into the woods as the terrible cries of the beings ripped through the night’s sky. In a strange tongue words echo’ed through the valley as the village was burned to the ground by dragon’s fire.
The people would never be the same. The villagers who lived had terrible dreams of the dragon's death, speaking of the horror that was committed and of the payment that would ensue. Payment in penitence and blood.

“Forever will your people pay the price of mother’s death. Forever will you be torn between the Aether and the Tether as your souls will mix with those of the beasts around you. The spirits of the past will haunt and watch you as your kin will discover what you have bestowed upon them.”

Thus was the curse the villagers suffered. And indeed, their kin did discover what they had been given.
Yahren later, when the village was rebuilt, and the people had once again settled, the original inhabitants still plagued by dreams of the wretched deeds of the adventurers who had once passed through their town, children had been born and grown to adulthood. Born and grown with the mark of Kanthanar. Their parents would sometimes see their children do things no person would do, sniffing the wind for a prey when hunting in the woods. Looking to the ground for tracks on bare rock, diving into lakes and staying under for many burns without a care in the world. As they got older sometimes a child would disappear for many tides, only to come back again, changed, different. Sometimes parents would see large beasts roam around the village, beasts which usually stayed well away from humans. Talk arose of evil magic, that the animals had come to fullfill the curse of the dragon as more and more of these sightings occurred as the town grew and the populace. Only the children kept silent as their parents plotted a hunt…

One faithfull night, the hunt began, as one of the villagers saw a group of the beasts gathered outside the village on the forests’ edge. They got out swords, spears, torches and bows and in only a short time, a large group of villagers had rallied in the square. Some of them had discovered their children to be missing from their beds, other houses of some young couples had been found ransacked and abandoned, all their belongings taken or ruined.

This fuelled the villagers’ desire to rid the village of this horrid pest, so they set out to fight the creatures threatening their children. As they came to face the beasts, they did not move. Fire didn’t seem to scare them as the villagers approached them. From between the trees even more of the creatures could be seen skulking in the darkness. Several human forms could even be seen moving between the trees. This enraged the villagers as they started their attack to drive off the creatures. The beasts withdrew as the villagers advanced, not showing any intent on retaliation. From behind the front line of villagers, and arrow was fired which hit a wolf in the front of the beasts’ line. It fell, and changed. In several breathtaking burns the corpse of the wolf transformed into the body of a young woman, the daughter of one of the villagers. One of the children which had gone missing.

The villagers stood and watched as the other beasts now emerged from the woods, changing their shapes to a human form. Before them now stood their children, their children and three others. One of these three spoke, an odd mix between a human male and a dragon, skin covered in dark grey scales and eyes a golden sheen.

“Forever will your people pay the price of mother’s death. Forever will you be torn between the Aether and the Tether as your souls will mix with those of the beasts around you. The spirits of the past will haunt and watch you as your kin will discover what you have bestowed upon them. Now is the time, you have witnessed what legacy you leave your children. You still hunt and kill with no sense of dignity. Blindly you go forth slaughtering innocents, so now we shall guide them, take them away from here to a place where they can be safe from the madness that is the human world. Your kind is flawed in it’s drive to destroy that which is different. Hopefully some day this will change. Until then the kin of Kanthanar will guide your children.”

And with those words the Dreamweavers led the first of the Kanthrops away from their village. Away from the cursed land which had spawned them, to fullfill a new legacy. For many tides they trekked through foreign lands, scavenging and hunting for their pack as they went. Their aquatic brethren helping them cross the waters in front of them until they reached a lush island. An island unspoiled by human hands, where only a few adhiel lived on it’s shores. The Dreamweavers led them to a cave, hidden deep within the island forests in which a symbol was carved in the rock floor. Passing over it, they found themselves in a place the kind referred to as Ursa Etheria. A place dreamed by the mother, a place where they had lived for many yahren before their dream was disturbed. Here the Kanthrop were to live, always to shelter themselves from the evils of the outlander races, living in unison with the world around them, honouring all life and never judging on appearance only, for they themselves could not be judged fully on appearance either.

“We shall watch over your kind as you grow. We shall be there when you need us, to guide you when you require it. Trust in the Mother as you trust in us, and all shall be as it should.”

And with these words the Dreamweavers left. Among the Kanthrop people it is still believed that they watch over them, from the Aether and sometimes in the Tether as it was with the Great Crossing. Thus is the story of the Kanthrop, remember it on your travels as the world may not be much different as it was before…[/hr]

[Brytan]

The Aetherial Walker

Once, about a hundred yahren ago, when Valley Village was young, and the Gnilwoh forest was still named the Howling forest, a young man named Kroas had stepped forward at the ceremony of Awakening during the great festival. His skill at hunting was renowned, even at his young age, and he was already said to make a great Kanthan for young Kanthrop one day.

None dared to imagine what happened on his trials. It was a cold, cold day. Tradetide, and blistering winds swept across the Skymyst mountains as Kroas ventured up to search for a shard of the legendary Heart of Ursa. The light was covered by dark clouds overhead, and Teran had to cling on to the rock with every bit of strength he had in order not to fall to his death.

But he did.

He fell.

His scream of terror soared over the valley like an eagle in search of his next unwitting prey. Bones and mind breaking as he tumbled down the sheer rockface, before landing in the depths of Paw Lake. He was quickly brought up by his Kanthan, to be brought before the shaman who sat for tides, trying to heal the young man’s broken body. Kroas was strong, he did not give in. The shaman and the tribe begged to the Mother for his recovery, and for a while he seemed to be doing better.

Then, one night. When all were asleep in the small village, the flap of the tent of the shaman moved. He woke, looking around for the one who had so insolently entered his private sanctuary.

Before him stood Kroas. Shimmering in the darkness, his body transparent and fully restored. Bent over his body, which still breathed. His bright eyes filled with a sense of fear and surprise. The shaman asked who he was, to which the spirit replied; “I am him, or what is left.” And with those words, the spirit warped into the shape of the wolf he was meant to become had he Awakened, speed unlike anything the shaman had seen in such a young kit. The wolf lept out of the tent and vanished into the darkness.

To this day none know exactly how it could be that his spirit had been severed. Some claim he found a shard of Ursa’s Heart, and when he fell it cut his soul in two. Others claim the Earth Mother called him to her side as an emissary. All the Kanthrop know for sure is that his body never died. After tides of it laying there, breathing, without waking, it was sealed into a sacred tomb deep under Paw Lake, waiting for it’s owner to claim it.

[Brytan]

The Legend of the Dreamweavers

Actually, not a lot is known of the Dreamweavers. But what I know, young kit, I will tell you.

First you should know that there are three. Their names we do not know, nor where they came from. The Dreamweavers have been there since the first Kanthrop Awakened and by their own words they will be there till the last Kanthrop passes into the depths of the earth.

They do not call themselves Dreamweavers. They got that name from Kanthrop, eager to explain the strange dreams they would have in the days before their Awakening. You have had such dreams? The Dreamweavers are already watching over you then.

What they look like? Legend of the Great Crossing, a story which you are sure to have heard many times, tells of them being human, mixed with the appearance of something more dragonesque than anything else. Scales covering most of their body, eyes a deep glow with a sleek pupil in the middle.

Why they aren’t with us today? Well, the Kanthrop believe they are always with us, watching from the shadows as we fall asleep, staring through the beams of sunlight as we wake. Some claim to have spoken to a Dreamweaver in their own dreams, others to have seen one walking the woods or the plains at dusk. They protect us, guide us, and some say they are responsible for us.