( II.
Namaroth Selore: The Dirge of Three Kindreds,
Year 177 of the Eldermoon Cycle. ) ᪤
Long ere the stars had found their constellations,
Namaroth Selore stood shrouded beneath cedar vaults and argent moss, an elder dominion where blood first stained the roots of the earth. There, three ancestral clans exalted their standards above the emerald wilds, each soul beholden to the selfsame conviction: that surrender belonged to lesser souls. Thus the valleys resounded with steel and invocation whilst the heavens kept their silent vigil.
Oth Solven reigned as custodians of unseen hours, guiding the passage of frost and blossom.
Oth Wyrden inherited the tongue of the wilderness, summoning tempest and cinder from the heartwood of the ancient groves.
Oth Hymen, though seldom feared, concealed enchantment within their hymns, for every melody possessed the power to enthral the mind and unmake the will.
Yet age after age, the forest wearied of mortal strife.
Upon the last dusk of that sorrowful epoch, the Oth of Wyrden perished amidst the sanctified woods, awakening an ire far older than any crown. The firmament dimmed. Rivers fell to silence. Through forgotten dialects, the ancient trees proclaimed their wrath.
“Per silvas antiquas et sub astris immotis, tres sanguines concordiam quaerunt. Ira Namaroth quiescat, et vetus maledictio in somnum redeat.”