Tucked away north of Silverwood laid a thick runewood forest called Embermyst. The forest itself had been thriving for thousands of years, veiled by a perperual dense fog. Embermyst was far from eerie. Weaving between the trees were small blue glowing wisps, each emiting a soothing chime. Beneath the treetop canopy ran many creatures from enchanted rabbits, birds, rune sabers, and stags. All of which lived in balance and harmony with each other. Tucked away against a cliffside near the back of the forest laid a small village named Arcalia. Arcalia was an ancient village who's inhabitants were uncorrupted Satyrs. These Satyr's lived peacefully for thousands of years, practicing an ancient arcane magic called mana weaving. The concept of mana weaving is that all around the caster is untapped energy they can call upon. After training oneself to tap into this energy, one can weave it into the world around them. What the caster desired is what they put their mind to. Each spell had draw backs as mana weaving uses a lot of mental power to wield the wild energy around them. Spells practiced were often noted in scrolls and tomes, which were kept within the villages main hall. Those who wish to practice mana weaving are often called Satyri Arcani. Many of the villages Satyri Arcani are trained from a young age. Azlin, a young Arcani, was amongst the few. Average schooling for most young Arcani lasted 50 years. Up until they graduate, they are considered apprentices. Growing up, Azlin was a promising student. He excelled at mana weaving. He proved himself to be worthy of the Embermyst Satyri's cause. The Satyri wished nothing more than to maintain peace and prosperity within their small region. This wish resonated with Azlin. He had never seen war, never faced another man prior. He wished to maintain the order that the Satyri has kept for the thousands of years prior. Within the villages mine laid a rare ore called Demonsteel. Demonsteel had been used by Satyri as long as the satyr race existed. However, the worlds Demonsteel supply had been dwindling for centuries. This is because it's use in warfare gave an exceptional edge over traditional iron weaponry. Demonsteel can only be molded through an ancient enchantment process known to the satyr race. The Satyr's have kept this process under lock and key. However, with the world's satyr population on a rapid decline, the knowledge is being lost to time. Demonsteel had been a way of life for Azlin. He was gifted a brick of steel when he was young and practiced the enchantment spell to allow himself to mold the steel into whatever tool he needed. Repeating the enchantment spell solidified the steel without losing strength or durability. Many times he incorporated Demonsteel into the mana weaving spells he performed. He used the Demonsteel as a conduit to pull more energy from around him. This show of intelligence earned Azlin a spot within the villages council. His age did not sit well with many of the other council members as they were hundreds of years old, Azlin was barely an adult. With this newfound political position, Azlin began to ponder what would be best for the village's future. What had been done within the prior year's worked, but to Azlin, it wasn't enough. He wished to push the Embermyst Satyri further into prosperity. As an aspiring councilmen, Azlin began small. Proposing miniscule yet impactful changes to the day to day operations of the Satyri. Food scarcity had always been a threat to the denizens of Embermyst. This is because they hadn't dared chop any trees within the forest and cultivate the land. The woods were their natural barrier against the rest of the world. Large creatures and vehicles couldn't easily traverse the woods. Only men on foot could, and even then, the predators of the woods acted as their guardians. The idea was simple: using the already pre-existing structures, rooftop gardens would be built to help secure a food source for winter months. With the assistance of mana weaving, Arcani could charge the soil to assist the crops with growing so the harvest would he bountiful. Fruits and vegetables alike were grown. Mostly types of corn and wheat were grown. After the first years harvest, Azlin's plan had worked. Subsidizing and encouraging rooftop cultivation brought an abundance of food for the Satyri. The other council members saw this victory of his and were now more inclined to listen to him as he has an unwavering dedication to improving the lives of the villagers. With time passing Azlin was able to secure more and more political victories under his belt, earning the trust of the other leaders of the village. Extracting water from underground wells, using Demonsteel to create medical equipment to save lives, even reappropriating funds from militaristic buildups to fund civil projects. Azlin was moving the village forward, step by step. Like in most communities, the old and wise wished to be respected. This was no different within Embermyst. Although Azlin's strides in governing the people and buying votes, many of the councilmen wondered what Azlin's ulterior goal was. Many of these men met in secrecy without Azlin to discuss his motives. As years had gone by, Azlin found his ideas to be increasingly shot down. The other councilmen did not approve of the plans that Azlin wished to enact. Many of his plans were inclined for bettering the life of every day people. The Embermyst Satyri had no known enemies, there was no need to not give back to the community. However, the others had disagreed, thinking Azlin was being swayed by an external force to appease their agenda. Life became increasingly unfair to Azlin, ideas from the other councilmen were approved unanimously while his were being rejected en masse. Azlin wasn't sure why the councilmen disapproved of his ideas. For years they had bolstered his creativity, asked for his guidance on many projects, and appreciated his will to serve the people. Azlin wasn't sure what to think. He felt as if his word had lost its value. Each time he spoke his ideas fell on deaf ears, only for more devious plans to be approved. He watched as ideas that only benefited certain families were approved. He saw many council members take bribes from struggling families in agreement to create more meaningful work for them. This wasn't the society that Azlin fostered. During a meeting, Azlin spoke out against the other council members. He voiced his concerns over the blatant disregard for his plans and the approval of malicious ideas, the misappropriation of village funds, and the utter obliviousness towards the villages health. What Azlin didn't realize is that what the other council members were doing, they had done for centuries prior. This is how the village survived. Azlin didn't understand that not everyone had positive motives. Those who played the game within the village were rewarded. Those who went against the games rules were outspoken and ultimately discarded. Each political loss chipped away at Azlin's self esteem. He felt lost, defeated, and unsure of what to do. His ideas for a prosperous future for the village dwindled. Each day, he carried himself to the council meetings. He hadn't listened anymore, he carelessly voted yes on each idea suggested. One night behind the village hall, he overheard a celebratory conversation between several of the council members. They had been celebrating their ability dissuade Azlin, naming him a threat to the village because of his bold progressive actions. These bashful comments infuriated Azlin. The next morning he walked into the meeting hall once more, as he did every day. He greeted each of the members before presenting his final idea. Azlin wished to expand the villages territory outside of the forest. A bold move that he knew would garner no support. The councilmen were outraged by his proposal. Even more so bashing him for his previous ideas. The men continued to berate Azlin, accusing him of devolving the villages morals and traditions. Even threatened to banish him. A sharp whistle rang through the air. A chair was knocked over, followed by several more whistles. Not a further word was exchanged. A heavy sigh was exhaled from Azlin's mouth. He stood up and walked out of the meeting hall. With one last good look at the village, Azlin made his trek through the woods and away from the village itself. Years has gone by since Azlin's departure from Embermyst. Many thoughts plagued his mind over the years. He constantly replayed the scenarios of the councilmen declining his ingenious ideas. Them taunting him before his department. And the final argument that he endured. He was free now, free from the shackles of what he thought were his neighbors. Azlin wasn't sure where to call home. He had been traveling northward for what seemed like forever. His legs grew tired of wandering, his mind couldn't keep a consistent plan in place. Moving in one direction, he would began to erratically change to another. Something wasn't right with Azlin. Overtime, Azlin began to see a bird flying fly over head. The bird seemed to be following him where ever he went. This visions of the bird were blurred but he could tell it was a crow. The crow would land in different areas, watching him from afar before vanishing into thin air. The sightings of this bird greatly confused Azlin. He noticed the more frustrated he became with his own thoughts, the more appearances this bird made. Overtime, the bird seemed to be constantly around Azlin. With a slow, deep, gutteral voice the bird finally began to speak to him. The bird presented himself as R'aghul. Azlin wasn't believing what he was seeing. Birds normally don't talk, and the ones that do are usually shape shifters. However, he couldn't catch a good glimpse of the bird as each time he approached, the bird became more hazy. R'aghul spoke with Azlin, reassuring his actions were correct the day of his departure and that the village councilmen were conspiring against him. The bird also spoke upon Azlin's accomplishments and how they were undermined by those he thought he could trust. Azlin listened carefully to R'aghul, feeling every sentence the bird spoke in his heart. Years had gone by and Azlin still hadn't figured out a place to call home. He continued to wander the lands, speaking with R'aghul. The conversations he had became almost manipulative in a way. R'aghul had began challenging Azlin to take back what was his, to go back to Embermyst and conquer what was there. R'aghul continued to put Azlin on a pedestal, feeding him what he wanted to hear. There are times where Azlin begins marching back to Embermyst to take what is rightfully his, there are other times where he realizes going back would cause more harm than good for everyone else. Azlin struggles with which decision is right and it drives him to the brink of insanity.