Kezghuvath

By Gainstrive By Rabies

Kezghuvath comes from and is a protector of a weird tribe of dark-elves that have lived in a magical god forest that sustained them spiritually and physically for most of their life with some blessed by the matriarch and the god trees(the spirits) planted inside of them connecting each to the forest. However recently the magic from the forest has been slowly corrupted and collapsing with the matriarch unable to communicate with the god that they follow has left the whole tribe in disarray, confusion and fear. For the elves that were unlucky enough to have a tree growing inside of them that once was a blessing now has turned. He is tall and has a strong scar covered face and physique, dark skin and long brown tumbling hair that has been partially braided and beaded as is their custom. He has ritualistic tattoos coming up his leg and arms. Two large horns(given to him by their god) protrude from his head curling like a rams a deep black with golden magical runes streaking across it. Roots of the tree inside bursts from him in rapid growth tangling up his body and down his legs trying to overcome and over grow him. Roots tangle reaching for his horns trying to rip them from his head, from the center of his body were it originates it has ripped open his skin exposing his ribs as they wrap around them threatening to break each one. around his feet they pierce out of him wrapping him and trying to plant itself into the ground.

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The cool air pushed the mist along the floor of the dark forest snaking between the trees a silence held unerringly next to its movement. Not a deathly caw of a crow or a whisper of the spirit trees passed as Kezghuvath stood alone with his eyes closed.
-Sal’neth, where are your boughs? Where do the birds hide?-
The usually bustling thoughts of the woods and his clan in his mind, now but a haunting silence.
-Quezrat? Kallithorn? … Zebs ?-
Kezghuvath opened his eyes deep the swirls of red colour adjusted for the deep, dark undergrowth of the Samsillirin forest. Holding his hand to his chest he felt for the essence of the sapling inside of him, but it was niether their, no comforting beat of life, only stillness.
For the first time he felt anxious the only thoughts in his mind- his own that bounced and echoed within his head.
-I need to get to the God-Stone, find out what is happening.-
A logical thought, as he started forward through the trees with the leafy undergrowth crunching underneath his feet and the mist being cut in large swaths, parted.
As he headed back towards were his clan congregated for spiritual ceremonies to pray and lay offerings for their God a tingle of pins and needles shot through his chest spreading throughout his body.



By Korppirokio

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Zebzenahra comes from a weird tribe of dark-elves that live in a dying forest, the leaves growing brown and falling from the trees. Zebzenahra is the matriarch of the clan that lives there and she has been feverishly trying to stop the decay of her forest that she holds so deeply to her life. Zebzenahra is a noble looking dark-elf, with a surreal beautiful face adorned with jewlery and tattoos that mark her as the matriarch, she has long dark brown hair that is partially braided and entwined decoratively with twigs and branches from her head sprouts two abnormal horns, dark and twisted that were given to her from the goddess that she worships. She wears long drabs and pieces of brown ragged cloth that barley covers her, this is common amongst her clan with the modesty of the body not that important compared to other matters. She also wears a long twisting golden armband to show her status. Thick roots crawl up her legs wrapping around her and up her body, some piercing into her skin. These roots have ripped open partial amounts of her body showing her ribs She has ragged wings that sprout from her back. Dead leaves fall around her voicing the futility in her task to revive her forest. The god-tree overwhelms them and they become one with the forest.