By R. K. MacPherson
The wendigos are one of the oldest races of TERA. Ages ago they ruled the frosted landscapes of Westonia and Lorcada, secure in their primacy. But now the world has changed and these massive, crystalline creatures struggle to change with it. Follow the thoughts of Uchamba, one of the last chieftains, as he tries to find a new hope for his people.
They don't hear my songs. The pink-skins, the tiny ones, the horned ones-even the giant-kin-my song can't reach them. They hear the growl of stone, the simple words, but miss the resonance, the harmony we wendigos make. My words are simple, but honest. We are strong and proud. There's no need for deceit-such lies are impossible if you can hear our songs.
I am Uchamba, leader of our clan and guardian of the Thysrivvar. In your words, it is called the Azurice Shrine, but that is such an inadequate description. Thysrivvar sings to all wendigos, it heals our spirits, and fuses our shards. It is our tie to the ancient dream of the mother and father creators. It is our legacy and our last hope for our future.
Today we fight. I do not wish it, we do not want it, but our survival depends on it, so today we fight.
We are strong. Our magic is ancient and primal, enough to crush foes with a single blow. But the tiny fire-skins come to steal our shards. They do not care that we need them to survive, only that they can exchange our shards for slivers of gold, so today we fight.
We are wise. We have protected these snowy lands for as long as our tales go back. Even in the bleakness of winter, life thrives and must be protected. The dracoloths know nothing of balance. Their hunger consumes them and they destroy all they encounter. Our lives are tied to the land, its heart is our own, so today we fight.
We are brave. Our ancient enemies, the giants, challenged the very gods of our world for supremacy. Their technology built an empire that has never been matched. The gods unleashed their wrath upon the giants in the Day of Fire, but we suffered as well. The ice melted, the crystals shattered, and countless wendigos' songs were silenced. Few giants survived. Those that still wander are bitter and angry. Their power isn't diminished, but they are isolated. Now they seek to punish all for their folly. They would destroy us all and steal Thysrivvar for their own dark ends, so today we fight.
I am Uchamba, leader of our clan and guardian of Thysrivvar. If I cannot find someone to listen to my words and hear my song, we will be lost. There will be no new songs for my people, only bleak oblivion.
My people go out today, but even if we are victorious, we will be defeated. Our numbers are too few. We have no allies; only enemies, only intruders who come for our shards. My people are angry, but their songs speak of fear. I have no answers. What comfort is there when each triumph is a terrible loss? They ask for answers, but I have none.
So, today we fight.