I am Neebus of Nareath, a peaceful land waiting for war. We are hunters not soldiers. We have had time to prepare and have many skills, but no swords or armour. To defend ourselves we would have to sacrifice the heart of a generation. We would have to use alchemy, our instrument of survival, as an instrument of death.
They came, and although many more of their numbers fell than ours, we had to abandon our tribes to the safety of tree, and hill, and cave. They came in numbers we could never defeat and they sought our hiding places. They sent a tide of silent death across the land and we were discovered. I fled with my love to hide in the belly of the beast, but hatred followed us. The land was lost and we were naïve to think we could survive in solitude and peace.
My love sought revenge, and like the love before her, she failed. My heart was sacrificed in the attempt. I lived then, hidden and alone, but not all Nerrans are cruel. In the end the land sent its heart to comfort me, a new heart, a mortal heart that was all the land had left. In exchange for rest I gave myself to it, I strengthened it. Hope remains still, may fate once again follow its trail.