Post by DM-Chris on Feb 15, 2007 16:26:18 GMT -5
Introducing the Treefolk
The Treefolk (name subject to change) are an old and mysterious race. Legend states that they sprouted from the very trees in which they now live, but in reality that is quite unlikely.
Their ancient history began on the banks of the Verdant and Woodbasin Rivers. Their food came from hunting and gathering, and the rivers supplied a source of water and sanitation. The large red elk native to the area were a central part of their culture, and the inspiration for art, folklore, and war stories. The beasts are quite large, standing nearly six feet at the shoulder, and fierce as well. Hunting them at close range was quite dangerous, so it naturally wasn't long before they developed archery and became superb at its use. It is a point of pride amongst red elk hunters to drop a full-grown buck as cleanly as possible using as few arrows as necessary. One of the most famous hunters was a young lad named Lorwic Oneshot, so named for being the only hunter to date who has successfully downed a full-grown buck with a single arrow. He later proved to be a wise and powerful Chieftain who guarunteed the survival of his people.
It is during this blissful time in Treefolk history when the hides of the red elk provided the materials necessary to develop their artisan bag making. Today their bags are earning renown around the world for their craftsmanship and superb quality. A genuine Treefolk bag can easily fetch a couplel hundred gold at market, especially amongst the ladies of nobility, and Treefolk bag imitations can be found everywhere these days.
But I digress. Unfortunately, this period of tranquility in Treefolk history would not last forever. One cold, grey day, a scout from the armies of the Masters wandered into a Treefolk camp. Startled, a sentry accidentally fired his bow and killed the scout. All gathered around to look upon the mysterious figure's corpse. The Clan Chieftain at that time was none other than Lorwic Oneshot himself. By this time he was grey and withered, but exceedingly wise and powerful.
He realized the meaning of the soldier's armor, but the revelation brought more questions. Lorwic went to his scrying bowl for answers, and he found them. He saw the enslaved world whipped by the hordes of the Master's armies. He knew immediately that the death of the soldier would bring misfortune on his people if they did not act. He scryed again, this time into the heart of the forest behind their rivers, whose doorsteps they lived on. The images of massive trees and a wall of living plants perched atop a bed of hills filled his viewing bowl. He now understood what the fate of his people was, if they were to ever survive the reign of the Masters.
The Treefolk (name subject to change) are an old and mysterious race. Legend states that they sprouted from the very trees in which they now live, but in reality that is quite unlikely.
Their ancient history began on the banks of the Verdant and Woodbasin Rivers. Their food came from hunting and gathering, and the rivers supplied a source of water and sanitation. The large red elk native to the area were a central part of their culture, and the inspiration for art, folklore, and war stories. The beasts are quite large, standing nearly six feet at the shoulder, and fierce as well. Hunting them at close range was quite dangerous, so it naturally wasn't long before they developed archery and became superb at its use. It is a point of pride amongst red elk hunters to drop a full-grown buck as cleanly as possible using as few arrows as necessary. One of the most famous hunters was a young lad named Lorwic Oneshot, so named for being the only hunter to date who has successfully downed a full-grown buck with a single arrow. He later proved to be a wise and powerful Chieftain who guarunteed the survival of his people.
It is during this blissful time in Treefolk history when the hides of the red elk provided the materials necessary to develop their artisan bag making. Today their bags are earning renown around the world for their craftsmanship and superb quality. A genuine Treefolk bag can easily fetch a couplel hundred gold at market, especially amongst the ladies of nobility, and Treefolk bag imitations can be found everywhere these days.
But I digress. Unfortunately, this period of tranquility in Treefolk history would not last forever. One cold, grey day, a scout from the armies of the Masters wandered into a Treefolk camp. Startled, a sentry accidentally fired his bow and killed the scout. All gathered around to look upon the mysterious figure's corpse. The Clan Chieftain at that time was none other than Lorwic Oneshot himself. By this time he was grey and withered, but exceedingly wise and powerful.
He realized the meaning of the soldier's armor, but the revelation brought more questions. Lorwic went to his scrying bowl for answers, and he found them. He saw the enslaved world whipped by the hordes of the Master's armies. He knew immediately that the death of the soldier would bring misfortune on his people if they did not act. He scryed again, this time into the heart of the forest behind their rivers, whose doorsteps they lived on. The images of massive trees and a wall of living plants perched atop a bed of hills filled his viewing bowl. He now understood what the fate of his people was, if they were to ever survive the reign of the Masters.