Deshan stood proud among his kin, the mightiest of the Balthin Wolves. He was the father of many, scores of wolf cubs had been brought into this life within the safety of their den; beneath Arim, the Great Tree. His firstborn son, Kranel, and his eldest daughter, Taiat, had walked beside him since their youngest days. They were old now, wise and mighty, and had outlived the oldest of the pack that had come before. Not even they knew the truth behind his strangeness; the miracle of his existence. Deshan was more than some living thing of meat, bone, and skin. He was the embodiment of what it meant to be a wolf.

Yet it was that selfsame pride that had been taken from him. Stolen centuries ago by a wicked host that had invaded the pack’s most sacred of places in the dead of night. They had come seeking a tomb that had been left to the throes of time within the Underfield. They had wrenched open the doors to the tomb after slaughtering his mate and offspring.

They had stormed the tomb only to be cast out by a man-shaped horror whose gaze brought death to all before it. The wicked men who had invaded that place had cursed the horror, trapping it within the Underfield. That curse had twisted the thing into something awful and the horror had spent its days slaughtering Deshan’s pack until he was forced to flee, forced to surrender his domain, forced to surrender his power. Deshan was made a shadow of his former self, his agelessness nothing more than succor for his pack.

In his shame he surrendered himself to the pack; he endured a life as a breed male, his strong blood and tireless body used to replenish the pack to its former strength. Even then, banished as they were from their ancestral home, they were nothing more than an echo of what once was. As time passed, evil began to inch its way out of that once beautiful place. Darkness that soaked the ground and poisoned the trees. Soon monsters were born of pits of black death, living masses of flesh and bone that terrorized the forests at night. Yet there was nothing Deshan could do, powerless as he was, to put an end to the blight.

Deshan’s purpose became that of a deterrent, he would traverse the green sea with his kin, hunting for those that would attempt to settle in this place. Once found he would do what he must to see their kind leave, lest they suffer a greater fate at the hands of the abominations that slunk through the dark and dripped their poison on the ground. It was not long before whispers spread among the mortal races, the Green Sea was cursed and the trees themselves would hunt for your blood. Far from the truth, but the Greatwolf saw no need to correct the tales.

Then one day his pack had found a pair of wanderers to chase, luring them towards one of many routes that would take them to the edge of the woods. The pack had been careful, keeping pace but not overtaking their quarry. There was no need to kill them, yet. His sons told him of one of the pair who smelled strange, like the air after a stroke of lightning. Deshan, curious about this new creature, joined the hunt only to arrive at the clearing of trees left by the industrious orcs who they had been harrying the past few months.

There he saw a number of his sons dead, their lives snuffed out and their bodies cold on the ground. The mortals had defended themselves. An Azar of some martial skill and a female unlike any the Greatwolf had seen before. Monstrous, but with the bearing of a weary mother. Then she called out his name as if she’d known his name for the eons that had spanned between his birth and that very day. She pleaded to him, begged him to end their pursuit so that no more lives might be lost. So great was his shock that he had accepted her plea, stepping away to center himself. Only then did he see the woman’s honor at play. She did not leave the corpses of the claimed dead to rot, she carefully rendered them to ash and left nothing behind. The woman had pleaded for peace and respected the dead.

How strange.

A time later, days meant nothing to Deshan, one of his sons came to him and told him that the pale monstress, who had caught Deshan’s eye, was yet again on the move. She had stayed with the orcs and the wolves had even overheard her name as they lurked about the walls; Teyva Akura. His son told him that she was making her way south, in the direction of Arim and the Underfield. Deshan and his pack followed as close as they could until they could bear the scent of that place no longer. There, at the edge of the blight, Deshan waited-compelled to stay and see through what was to come.

Hours passed, and night fell, the wicked things of the night did not stream out into the darkness. Instead, they poured into the depths beneath the tree. It was sometime after that when the greatest change came. The foul scent that plagued the trees began to fade. The grass beneath their paws turned green, the foul ichors dripping from the branches ceased, life returned to the glade and with it a hope of a new tomorrow for his pack. Without a second of hesitation; Deshan lead his children to the passages and back into their long-lost home.

At the deepest place beneath the tree, where the roots became the sky and stars, the Underfield, Deshan found the pale monstress and her Azar companion. Even at his pack’s sudden appearance, the woman covered and diverted her eyes in respect to his luminescence. She perplexed and confounded him, but he was not without gratitude. He would reward her and her friend, but he would first reclaim that which was lost. His connection to this place and the power that it gave, for he was everything that was Wolf and the protector of this forest.

He strode into the room and stood at the center, raising his voice to the tree and the vastness of the cosmos.

Oh terrible might, oh mournful moon, I am whole again

It was strange, the words were less in Teyva’s ears than they were in her mind. It was like there was a meaning behind the greatwolf’s howl that was beyond simple language. She shuddered, it was like Labyrinthian, like that accursed mural that had played with her heart and made her feel things she would have otherwise never felt. Teyva pursed her lips and took a step back, supporting her dislocated arm while she moved between the wolf and Azrael who was still resting on the platform mimic.

Before them, Deshan grew in size, his body taking on an almost luminous glow. He was so massive at this point there was no way he could leave through the main entrance to the room. Six feet, eight feet, ten feet, twelve feet tall at the shoulders with a pair of jaws that looked like they cold snap even a marble mimic in two. Azrael let out a quiet sound that Teyva couldn’t immediately identify. She herself didn’t know what to feel either, fear? Awe?

As the light that permeated the room began to dim a little, Deshan lowered himself to the ground and crossed his paws, his enormous glowing eyes locked on Teyva. She couldn’t resist, she used her journal.

[Great Deshan] - [Balthin Wolf Lord] - Friendly - Level 25

HP: 100% MP: 100% SP: 100%

Teyva felt her knees go out from under her. She collapsed, unable to process what she was reading. Level twenty-five. They had pushed themselves to defeat a level four, they had barely survived a level eight. This being that stood before them was on a level that she and Azrael couldn’t even comprehend. There was no arguing with this creature, there was no fighting it, and there was not a decision they could make beyond what this being willed. Teyva felt so small at that moment while the wolf peered down at her curiously.

“What is it? What does your journal say?” Azrael whispered.

Teyva reached up and pulled Nephral closer to her, the Sphinx utterly silent in the face of absolute might; “An Aspect Being,” Teyva murmured. Azrael had suggested that such things existed; demigods of sorts that embodied their aspects. It was one thing hearing about them, it was another to see one face to face. Azrael pulled her wounded leg closer to her body before going very still.

Around them, the rest of his pack found rock formations to leap onto or rubble to stand atop. Each of them sat and looked at their leader with quiet reverence.

“You have restored our home to us,” Deshan rumbled, his voice like a deep dark velvet, “The Green Sea heals, its vastness no longer plagued by the denizens of the dark,” He fell silent and gave Teyva a meaningful look.

“You’re welcome?” Teyva blurted, “I gotta say, we didn’t exactly know this was your home, we were trying to help the settlers,” She admitted with a weak shrug.

Deshan narrowed his eyes; “How could you have? We did not speak when we last met, Teyva Akura and Azrael Unabi,” Teyva froze but she conceded his game, she’d named him without an obvious source of her information either. He took a deep breath and glanced in Nephral’s direction; “And you, I do not know. You are a called-spirit, like the insects of death?”

Nephral stepped out of Teyva’s grip and stood shakily before the mighty being. His wings were furled close to his body and his eyes were downcast; “I am Nephral, my mother’s servant and advisor, Wolf among Wolves,” The cat offered.

Deshan raised his head and gave Nephral a sidelong look; “Curious that you know that honorific, Nephral.”

“I was born with a great deal of knowledge, for the sake of my mother,” Nephral responded before sitting up straight; “Mighty one, though my mother and her comrade did not come here with the intent to liberate on your behalf; they struggled and were wounded for the sake of this forest and succeeded. Would you honor them with a blessing?”

“Nephral!” Both Azrael and Teyva shouted at the same time. The cat winced but kept his gaze forward on the wolf. The wolf glanced between the two women and then back to Nephral who, tiny as he was, looked like less than a treat for the mighty Wolf Lord. Deshan’s lips curled upward into a smile and he raised his head, a deep laugh echoing through the cavern that froze Teyva’s heart solid. He lowered his head back to the ground and exhaled.

“You are friends of the Balthin Wolves, now,” Deshan said, “Ask for your boon and I shall grant that which is in my power.”

Your reputation with the Balthin Wolves has increased from Neutral to Friendly

The great being paused and seemed to consider the two women before continuing to speak. He cocked his head to the right and offered an almost apologetic look. “If I possessed an aspect stone akin to mine own, I would even imbue it upon you.”

Teyva blinked and glanced over at Azrael who was still staring dumbstruck at the creature. She conjured up the [Old Satchel] and pulled out the [Aspect Stone of the Wolf Lord]; “You mean like this one?”

The room fell silent.