รางวัลชมเชยเพิ่มเติม

It all began on that Coast of sand,
Where I told an exile of the coming end,
With bowgun and nets of mine own design,
We captured beasts sick in body and mind.

We’d secret them to a faraway place;
A Menagerie unbeknownst to the populace,
By feeding the Blood Altar with ritual and gore,
The First Ones reciprocated with riches galore!

After enduring much hardship and pain,
We found the keys to the Gods’ domain.
Steeling ourselves with gear and good brew,
The shimmering portals we then stepped through.

Blade met pincer on murky cove,
But after some time his shell we clove,
And of Craiceann now there’s nary a trace,
Save for his shiny, sturdy Carapace.

The next One greeted us with contempt and disdain,
With pride fitting of the First of the Plains,
Although we stooped to the level of a cur,
Imagine our delight when we bagged his Fur.

His talons were sharp and the end seemed nigh,
As we traded blows with the First of the Sky,
It took a decisive bolt to pierce his chest,
Before we could away with Saqawal’s Nest.

Our final foe was the First of the Night;
Master of toxins, webs and blight.
We needed fleet feet to dodge pestilent clouds,
Yet we emerged unscathed with her coveted Shroud.

Such is how we prepared for the end,
When it does come, our ground we’ll stand.
And now that Einhar has regaled this epic feat,
He must return to feed Zana her meat.

Friendless save for stupid beasts,
was the Ezomyte the Karui saw:
eyes hidden behind a Rhoa’s skull,
wearing furs of ape and hellion,
festooned with bones and teeth
proudly proclaiming past conquests,
and carrying several strong rope nets.
He was clearly a survivor.
Tattoos of a son of Ngamakanui,
visible under a white simple robe,
wielding a bloody, rusted sword,
wearing jewelry of iron and coral,
and bearing a shield of corroded bronze,
he, too, bore the look of a survivor.

Fated was that day by the Riverways
when these two saw in each other
a kindred spirit, and together
they began their first hunt.
Many were the apes and silverbacks
that died that day. Ursae plummeted
and were crushed completely into the ground.
Cobras struck from the brambles,
but were slaughtered or captured.
Among heaps of corpses and entrails,
It was declared that no more worthy beasts
remained, and thus did the two part ways for a time.

Short was the warp and weft of fate’s loom
Before the two crossed paths again
in a forest on the northwestern shore
of Lake Constance.
The world had plunged into darkness
but that did not deter Einhar
who hunted the fearsome serpent Seleslatha,
lingering remnant of a past invasion.
Nor did the steel-eyed determination waver
of the Karui Marauder,
driven by prophecy,
to slay a powerful beast of legend,
the hairy bonecruncher, Kartarus.
Eons past, in a time of drought,
beasts were slaughtered,
and blood given to the earth.
The crops yielded corruption and madness
and the Lord of those farms, Yriel,
himself became as a feral beast.
From outside the wall of death,
his influence persisted,
imbuing Kartarus with icy rage.
But formidable were the two hunters,
their full might brought to bear
to the task of erasing these beasts’ names
from the hushed whispers of fear
of the forest encampment denizens.
Victory was of course assured,
the Ezomyte unleashing a hail of crossbow bolts,
the Karui striking with molten fury!
Again, however, their parting was foretold.

When Einhar next saw his trusted companion,
he barely recognized him;
entering Sarn as a still-wild Marauder,
his time there had not civilized him
so much as forged him into a living weapon,
a juggernaut of undeniable force!
The Ezomyte, too, had grown in power
but quietly and purposefully,
as the strength of a mighty tree.
Only his nets, now reinforced with iron,
gave outward hint.
They found themselves reunited
at the foot of Mount Veruso,
in a dried lake infested with vultures
and dust scrabblers.
Guided by the words
of the priestess of Hinekora,
the Karui continued to wage war
on the Feral Lord’s corruption.
From the plains of Vastiri,
Einhar had seen a hundred foot shadow
plummet to its death
and knew he had missed a glorious hunt!
Together they hewed a path
through the living and the dead,
through beast and soldier;
none could withstand them!
But both men faced a reckoning,
a defiance of their ancestors’ vows
of allegiance to Voll’s Purity Rebellion.

A thousand tartans and banners,
great was the splendour of the Ezomytes
under command of Thane Rigwald;
their colorful garb, spattered with gore
as if bloody flowers upon the battlefield.
The children of Ezomyr hurled themselves
at the wall of Eternal steel,
three dying for each legionnaire slain.
It was here, in service to Voll’s campaign,
that Rigwald called upon the First Ones
and gave himself over to the Greatwolf
that he might personally slay general Sentari.
So, too, did the children of Ngamakanui
fight against the Eternal Empire during this war.
King Kaom led the invasion of Wraeclast,
collecting the head of Marceus Lioneye for his belt,
and Hyrri Ngamaku joined Voll to besiege Sarn itself.
The vows of their ancestors died with Voll,
and in undeath centuries later, these two sons
of Ezomyr and Ngamakanui
would engage in battle
with the withered husk of the former High Templar.
Even in death, the general commands his troops;
an endless number of corpses would rise
just to be sundered apart anew.
Deftly would the survivors evade
the High Templar’s powerful, deadly strikes.
The very earth wept at the destruction,
until finally the survivors prevailed,
allowing the emperor to join his dead empire.

What followed would be the greatest regret
of Einhar’s life, for what better chance
to prove his worthiness to the First Ones
could there ever be than had he aided
in slaying The Beast of Nightmare?
For he chose not to delve under the mountain,
he instead returned to Vastiri to hunt
the rhex, and scorpions, and serpents,
and to test his courage and luck
attempting to capture the legendary Basilisk!
But when the rivers that flowed from Veruso
turned red with blood and corruption
the Ezomyte knew he had chosen his path unwisely.
Returning to Highgate, he learned he was too late
for the Karui had taken his quest of vengeance
directly into the heart of Oriath.
Mighty Einhar wept, for he feared his destiny lost
but the seer Navali took pity
and told him that his journey was far from complete,
that the exile would return to Wraeclast
and they were both still on the path
to prove themselves to the First Ones.

Where the story began is where the story returns;
again in the riverways along the King’s Road
did Exile meet Ezomyte. Though the world had changed
their bond of blood had not.
The Karui said little but he spoke of a new foe,
one who was once a mortal man
who gave himself to Craiceann,
First of the Deep,
now known as the Lord of Salt and Scale,
the Brine King Tsoagoth!
Upon the ‘Black Crest’ did they sail
to the reef that was his throne.
Einhar redoubled his resolve;
the First Ones would surely find him worthy
when he slew this self-proclaimed King of Brine!
Just as Craiceann teaches us to watch the tides
did the battle begin in earnest;
each man striking and retreating
like the ebb and flow of the waves.
The First of the Deep teaches us
to seek no shelter but ourselves,
and so it was ultimately these two unyielding survivors
who withstood and cracked the King’s shell,
scattering his crustacean children
to the depths of Tsoatha.

During this time, many gods
in the forms of beasts
would have their blood spilled
and their divine soul consumed.
Abberath, the Cloven One,
Ryslatha, the Puppet Mistress,
Gruthkul, Mother of Despair,
all fell to these growing legends
survivors of Wraeclast,
and slayers of gods!
But there was another deity
who gave herself to the First of the Night, Fenumus.
She, too, had once been mortal,
before she was Arakaali, Spinner of Shadows.
But this spider queen did not follow
the lessons of the First Ones;
she was not worthy of the power
she now wielded!
The Exile and Einhar, together vowed
to annihilate this arachnid usurper!
In the days before days,
Fenumus was the first to brave night’s terrors,
so it was without any doubt or fear
that the hunters struck with a furious onslaught!
They slew her quickly,
but not fast enough to rescue Silk,
he who was her final paramour and meal.

Emerging into the sunlight
outside the ramparts of Sarn
Einhar chose not to enter with his friend,
“I am not popular in cities,
and that is fine with me;
those people are weak and ignorant!
They will not survive the end days
but you and I will, if we are worthy!
And Sarn and its Labyrinth
were unkind to my ancestor.
I know you would not betray
as Weylin was poisoned by Chitus,
but I do not wish to tempt fate;
if I am to die, let it be outside, in the wilds,
wrestling a beast mightier than Einhar!”
With hearty laughter, he bade farewell,
trusting that the Karui
would soon bolster his unflinching resolve.

Time passed, and the two reunited
on the edge of a boiling lake.
Einhar had tracked down the basilisk,
determined to claim it for his menagerie,
while the Exile needed some acid
for a purpose neither was quite clear about.
The one known as Sin tried to explain,
but neither man had the patience for detail
once the objective of their quest was known.
Effortlessly successful, the pair
continued to travel together,
defeating foes with ease
until they unexpectedly encountered
another devotee of the First Ones!
Einhar saw it first, a giant egg;
“could this be a roc,” he asked?
But no, a large humanoid emerged,
calling herself Garukhan,
and commanding the winds
as though she had called upon
Saqawal, First of the Sky!
Einhar was worried, for when the sky burned
it was Saqawal’s wings that ended the great fire
and the Karui’s molten strikes may be weaker
against these tornado gales.
But this Garukhan did burn,
and the First of the Sky teaches unity
and selflessness is the path upwards,
so together, as always, they prevailed.
As she fell, and the exile plucked a single feather,
Einhar contemplated,
“We have fought a child of Craiceann,
and of Fenumus, and now Saqawal,
but the First of the Plains, Farrul,
is known to be the most elusive.
Surely this is a test, to defeat all four!”
But Einhar would need all of his skill
and focus to track down his prey,
so he left to begin his hunt.
Perhaps he could ask the priestess,
but even Hinekora is younger than the First Ones,
so he doubted she could offer any prophecy
that would aid his ultimate hunt.

Few know where all his travels took him,
some say he returned to Ezomyr,
others that he ventured north from Maraketh,
fishermen saw him near Ngamakanui,
pirates spotted him in Pondium.
Einhar traversed every mountain range,
crossed every lake and river,
scoured the wilds of Wraeclast,
but could not find Farrul’s tracks.
Eventually, he made his way to Oriath,
perhaps he would find his old friend
and together they would succeed
where alone he had failed.
Oriath square was crowded
with far more people than expected;
he had never been to a true city before!
However, his hunter’s instincts still served
and he spotted the Karui exile
speaking to a woman with blood-red hair.
Creeping closer, he heard the woman
speak of places not of this world:
verdant canopies that shroud the world in darkness,
colossal caverns, vast and silent,
fields of dancing flames that never rest,
mountain peaks perched on a meadow of clouds.
Einhar could not believe his ears!
But if these places were real,
then he knew where to continue his hunt.
Together the survivors explored these worlds,
dozens upon dozens of locations,
and every time they were different!
Einhar had never seen a tropical island
covered in icy ground,
nor a desert full of sea witches!
The Atlas that connected these worlds
was more than either could comprehend,
but following the connections
and with the guidance of the red-haired woman,
they learned ever deeper truths.

One day, their excursion took them
to a new map that felt unsettling familiar;
the first impression seemed like the riverways
where this journey began so long ago.
A dimly lit woodland area,
numerous streams that wove throughout,
felled trees that bridged these rivers,
all of this was similar
yet Einhar’s neck-hair prickled
for this place felt ancient and unwelcome.
Cautiously they explored a cave
that did not exist in the world they knew.
Emerging into the light once more,
they heard a voice that sounded like hunger,
“My prey draws near!”
And swiftly the battle was met,
a pack of shadowy wolves swarmed the pair,
forcing them to hide behind nearby trees.
And as soon as there was a respite
a massive wolf bore down on the Karui
tearing deep bleeding gashes with each bite,
and even their combined strength
did nothing to deter this predatory beast!
It barely counted as a battle yet,
for they had thus far failed to draw blood,
but the nature of the conflict changed again
when the wolf changed into a man.
But to Einhar this was no mere mortal;
if the tales were to be believed
the man before him was an incarnation
of the legendary Wolven King, Thane Rigwald!
Calling upon the might of the Greatwolf,
Rigwald again invoked a spectral pack,
and again the pair fell back;
the Karui’s armour did little to deflect the blows.
But when the ghosts faded
there was a chance to strike!
In an instant, the dire wolf returned,
the Karui called out to the immortals,
and neither foe could wound the other.
This time when wolf became man
the two survivors were ready
to unleash their full fury
until finally there was silence
save for a fading voice
“...First Ones, remember me.”

The end days were drawing near,
and surely Einhar’s worth had been proven!
But there were still greater beasts to hunt
and a debt to repay and a prophecy to fulfill.
The Feral Lord had cheated death
so many years ago, but Hinekora
would not be denied her claim.
The Mother of Death spoke through her seer,
“to the realm of dreams he flees,”
and pointed her chosen warriors
to a loathsome pool of mud.
Bubbling, gurgling, smelling of rot
where filth springs forth
like blood from a severed jugular;
there, their hunt would conclude.
Ruling over this festering wasteland
was the massive devourer, Tunneltrap.
But Einhar had slain many such beasts
and the Karui’s strength was unbreakable,
and they quickly continued to search
for the powerful, fiery Rhoa, Ventarus.
It, too, fell like wheat before the scythe
and Yriel, the Feral Lord
was forced to appear and face reckoning.
Carrying a legendary bow known to legend,
the “Reach of the Council”
would make for a formidable foe to most.
But a bow is a ranged weapon,
ill-suited to close, melee combat.
And the Karui, unstoppable with his anger,
leapt into the fray, merciless with his rage,
vowing to return this foe to Hinekora.
Einhar even threw a thumaturgical net,
not to capture, but to prevent escape,
and so entangled, and bombarded
with projectiles of fire and force,
the Feral Lord fell, leaving a fragment
to his hiding place, outside of death.
Einhar knew his path would not follow,
but he had done his part in this quest
and it was finally time to re-focus
on proving himself to the First Ones.

Countless worlds were explored,
many together, but most when they split up
to cover more ground.
Ever further from the reality of Wraeclast,
deeper and deeper into dream did they press.
Einhar captured untold numbers of beasts,
performed numerous blood rituals,
all to try to track down the First of the Plains.
Weeks turned into months without bearing fruit,
until one day the Karui came with news:
he had encountered another exile,
a merchant by the name of MakeMeABrandWitch.
She had managed to capture
a mighty Farric tiger alpha
and was willing to sell the beast.
Einhar was reluctant, “This is no hunt!
How will the First Ones find us worthy
if we complete this challenge by buying it?”
The Karui pointed out that the end drew near
and that they had little luck of their own,
“besides, the components for the blood ritual
are only the first step; the true test
will be in Farrul’s Den itself!”
Begrudgingly, Einhar agreed and began preparations.

The two gathered at the blood altar
and released the captured beasts.
“The First Ones are watching survivor.
Don’t disappoint them,” Einhar cried out!
The battle was swift and bloody;
the captured tiger put up a fight
but ultimately was no match.
As the dust settled, a blue portal appeared
that surely led the way to Farrul’s Den!
The two found themselves in a dark jungle
with a short path leading to an ancient arena,
a symbol of the First Ones drawn in blood
on the jungle floor.
First appearing grey and ghostly,
the tiger’s form glowed and materialized
and as soon as it was solid, it pounced!
Savagely clawing and biting,
Farrul tore chunks of flesh with each strike,
forcing the exile to retreat and quickly quaff
potions of healing and defense.
The First One eyed his prey
and called forth a stampede of shadow beasts!
The Karui deftly dodged to the side
but he was barely able to attack,
spending as much time avoiding
as getting his own attacks in.
When he would fall back to catch his breath,
the tiger would fade away
then reappear behind him with a swipe!
Slowly, attrition wore down both combatant.
When the exile dared hope
that the tide was turning in their favour,
a bright glow surrounded the two survivors
and whisked them into a dream-like realm.
In that blurry, shadowy place
they were assaulted by beasts of all types,
members of Farrul’s Pack!
Though severely outnumbered, the Karui smiled.
These weaker beasts posed little threat
and would allow them to catch their breath.
Carving a path through the dream,
when the last beast fell, the bright glow returned
and they found themselves in the blood area again.
Filled with confidence, for they saw Farrul’s wounds
had not healed in the intervening time,
they pressed the attack.
Farrul, First of the Plains, was still a dangerous foe
and the two warriors had to remain wary.
Savagery met savagery, and the arena
became dyed with gore.
The tiger never wavered in its fury;
Farrul had no fear of death here.
The First Ones were there in the beginning
and would inevitably be there in the end.
It is good that this struggle
took place far from the realms of man,
for the grisly song of battle
would bring terror to all who heard!
The arena resounded and shook
with the din of bloody conflict
until suddenly, the beast was culled.
Looking down upon their bested foe,
the two remained silent for several moments.
“The First Ones know you are worthy, Beastmaster,
what will you do now, before the end days?”
“Einhar is not certain, but there are always more beasts to hunt.
Perhaps Einhar will seek the other First Ones? What say you, survivor?”
“This was the final challenge I had set for myself,
so for a time, I think I have earned some rest.
But we will hunt together again, my friend!”

And so it was that these two mighty survivors
outlasted every foe that stood before them.
Great were their deeds, and long were their tales,
but greater still is their worthiness
to enter the Great Grove in the final days.