Once this had been a lush and verdant land, teeming with life. Water ran freely through giant forests with sun dappled glades. Fields of wildflowers, redolent with the smell of nectar and honey, filled the valley floor. Game was plentiful and plump, or so it is said anyway... Now there was nothing but hard cracked earth, and the smell of death and dust...and ancient magic.
Sitting in her favorite place atop a huge pile of rocks that overlooked the entire valley, Chay couldn't help but think about what the old ones said. She had heard the tale from the time she was a cub. All ogres knew the story of the Loremages or Shar' Khrathii as the old tongue called them.
"Loremages. Bah! Fools they were," Chay growled to herself. Using a small bone to pick some hair out of her teeth, Chay brought the familiar tale to her mind. Generations ago, the Ogres were not as they are now. Aside from their obvious great strength, they were a race wise in the ways of Magelore. Not all of course... but some there were who had the gift.
It usually showed up very early in a cub's life. The meat that went sailing across the room to the hungry cub when its mother wasnt getting if fast enuff. The fire that would flare to life if the youngster was cold. The ability to hit with devastating accuracy anything the youngster aimed at.
Even among the gifted there were degrees of giftings. Among the rarest of these were the ones who were able to call the beasts to them. Who shared not the tribes love of killing, but felt the need to heal and cure whatever was hurting.
Life in the tribe was particularly hard for the ones with this gift. Ogre clans were a bloodthirsty lot and all of life revolved around the latest slayings and bashings. All of the gifts could be somewhat of a nuisance though. Things flying thru the air, fires blazing suddenly...
So it was decided that the Lore Elders would build a village of their own where the cubs could live and learn their skills without endangering the rest of the clan or themselves. The clan would provide all they needed, and when their training was complete they would return to the tribe and work for their clan's benefit. This worked very well for many generations.
The "LoreMages," as they came to be called, were treated with great honor and respect and eventually were in great demand by the tribes and clans of many races. Ogre LoreMages could be found in every town and village, every clan and tribe, making life better for those who lived there. Rain for the crops, sun in days of floodings, making soil rich so that crops grew well, and aiding aiding in the propagation of wildlife so there was never hunger. All these things, and more, did the LoreMages do.
Nowhere was more well tended or more beautiful than the Valley of Blessings, home of the LoreMage training village. The best of everything was here. It was said that to merely lay naked on the bare soil would bring healing and wellness to you. Nothing was hunted there in deference to those with the healing gifts, so the animals wandered fearlessly and boldly everywhere.
Under all the beauty though was an evil. An evil that was eating at the very foundation of everything, biding its time till it was strong enough to come into its own. In secret meetings and dark rooms, a few of the LoreMages began to gather, seeking new knowledges.
It was said that the greatest of the LoreMages, Chaikon, while meditating one day, heard a strange voice call to him in his head. It told him of a new power that was just waiting for the right Master to come and tame it. Chaikon... ever hungry for new knowledge and power, went where the voice told him to go. In that place, it is told in the stories, Chaikon's mind was assailed; twisted and corrupted in some way. The Chaikon that returned from that unknown place weeks later was not the same Ogre who had entered there.
So it was that the evil found a voice for itself thru Chaikon. Sly inuendos...veiled promises of power... half-truths... rumors.... all these were the means used to bring about dissensions and arguments between the LoreMages. Over time, the LoreMages split into 2 camps. Those who sought to aid the land, and those who sought to master it for their own ends.
Chaikon, now the Master of the Order of the Sable, grew impatient with waiting and declared a war on the their erstwhile brethren. Thus began the time of the Great LoreMage War. Magics, both dark and light, ripped across the valley as the two factions each sought to win. Blights and diseases decimated the crops and herds of animal for miles in every direction. The land was laid waste by the fury of the forces let loose.
When it was over, the Order of the Sable was wiped out. The LoreMages, led by Chaikara, had won, but the cost was devastating. The Valley of Blessings, once so beautiful and lush was now called the Valley of Bones and was now a barren wasteland. The bodies of SableMasters and LoreMages lay like ragdolls everywhere you looked. Chaikara, grieved in her spirit, gathered the remnants of her group and told them they were leaving the Valley forever.
As they left, they came to one blackrobed body and Chaikara knelt at its side. Turning the body over she looked into the same face she looked at each morning, the face of her beloved twin, Chaikon. Chaikara wept bitter tears and drawing on the last of her remaining powers she uttered one final spell; a spell of keeping that would keep the animals from desecrating her brother's body in death.
In a hoarse whisper Chaikara spoke a prophecy... "As this land was destroyed by hatred and selfishness, so it will someday be restored by a great love and sacrifice and it will be one of our Blood that does so." Laying her brother gently down, Chaikara left the valley with her LoreMages never to return there.
In all the generations since, not one person has heard of or seen of the LoreMages, though rumors abound of robed ones aiding travellers who were hurt or lost.
Chay pondered the story as she often did. What foolishness to have allowed such a thing to happen. What a legacy they left... a land blasted into uselessness. "And I have to live with that legacy", Chay muttered to the winds.
Raised in the shadow of the Valley, Chay was now the First Sword of her Tribe, the "Rhash Borh'Kar", or Clan WarChief. It mattered little that she was a woman. She had bested every warrior in the clan both male and female and had earned her position. She was deadly in battle. Fierce and bloodthirsty and with an accuracy of aim that astounded all those who saw her in action. Chay quickly closed her mind against the truth of that though. None could ever know her ancestry.
Only the Clan Shaman knew... and he because he had raised the cub left on his doorstep with nothing but a leather tag with her name scribed on it and some secret runes of an ancient language. He didnt know why he had been chosen to raise this particular youngling, but he knew what the runes said and vowed to do his best for her.
Over the years he had seen cloaked figures watching his daughter, for he grew to love her as such, as she practiced her weapons and played with the other clan youngsters. None could ever know that she was the direct descendant of Chaikara and Chaikon.
For now she was content, though greatly grieved. The passing into the mist of her beloved father, only days before, had hurt her heart, but she had work to do.
The winter would be on them in a few months. Much meat would be needed to feed the clan, and it fell to the warriors to provide it. Farther and farther afield now they have to go to find food. Having left her Kha Borh'Kar, or Second Sword, in charge, Chay now finds herself roaming new roads and paths in search of better hunting grounds and maybe even a better land to tell the Clan Chief about.
Shrugging off the vague feelings of disquiet that often accompanied the memories of the story of Chaikara and Chaikon, Chay begins her travels.
