Wrathbound

Some Horrors that lie buried within the clutches of The Shifting Woods are better left so, but some are too curious for their own good in that regard. A species of twisted and malformed Warpweave Elves now called the Wrathbound roam the world, few in number. Holding mastery over a magic unfit for Mortal kind.

Does their existence prove to be a useful asset, or a danger to every land they dare step on?

## Traits of the Wrathbound

### Physical

Wrathbound do still resemble their Elven brothers and sisters, but have just as many notable differences. Some of the Warlocks among the Wrathbound Elves retain most of their original appearences, with a darker tone of skin. A large majority of them have grown taller, more slender with a visible difference in facial structure. Their previously signature blue eyes have faded into a snow-white glow. Their hair is pitch black or a pale white. Their ears have grown longer and their teeth sharper. Lastly, the few who accepted the Primordial Wrath to take over their bodies seem as if they haven't eaten for weeks, being the closest thing to a still living skeleton, though their physical prowess has not waned. In fact, it is more powerful.

### Magics

The Warpweave has abandoned their bodies, and had been replaced by the violent Wrath of the Gods. With this, their bodies are even more susceptible to magic than before, making their vulnerability to corruption rise exponentially as they live. Some have even shown the ability to control the other forms of Wrath Magic without the approval of Wrath God.

### Personality

They are said to be living a life of permanent anxiety, whispers and voices clouding their minds as long as they breathe. This caused many to take their own lives, or continually contemplate it. They are a careful bunch, almost unrecognizable as their past selves. Although, that doesn't stop them from exploring the possibilities that they have attained through this transformation. They are eager to test their limits, as they truly have nothing to lose.

## History

### The Chercheurs

A squadron of three hundred Warpweave Elves, lead by Commander Bernadot, made their way from Ville des Marveilles to the Shifting Woods. At first, they crossed across the Southwestern Plains, running into many Inhlyien alike which tried they best to warn them and stop them from making their way to the woods. They made their first stop at one of the Inhlyien Villages, tribe and name unknown and forgotten.

Through vague memories, it was said that one of the Inhlyien Elders had forbidden the Elves from entering the Shifting Woods, claiming that the Elves would rather die than inflict such punishment upon themselves. The Elves had chosen to move on and continue their march instead of listening to their warnings, the Inhlyien wanted to fight, but stopped anyway. They saw no hope for these Elves.

Their last stop after the uneventful march was a village situated right next to the Shifting Woods, a place that accepted criminals from any of the villages, having the honour of throwing them into the Woods to be consumed by its' never-ending darkness. The Elves rested one last time, and Bernadot decided to speak with the Chieftain of the Village.

From the Chieftain, they learn that no soul has ever left the Shifting Woods, as its' name derives from the belief that the Woods are always changing, the moment you step into its' claws, you will be pulled in further never to find an exit. This one didn't seem so eager to stop them, though. Seeing so many Souls lost had killed all empathy within these Tribesmen.

They slept by the Village, hearing howls every so often during the usually silent nights of theirs'. Troubled, and unable to sleep, they decided to finally enter. Ignoring every warning of there being no exit.

### The Woods

They had entered, and the sounds of the outside world were silenced in an instant once they had stepped in. Three hundred Elves turned around with no hesitation, and seen no Light bleaming onto their backs, but only the endless lines of trees they surround them now. It was so silent. They could only hear the crackling branches and dry leaves as they step on them and march. Anxiety overtook them, and they continued on. This lasted for a few hours, but Bernadot ordered for them to set up camp.

There was no life to be found, not even the trees felt alive. There was no breeze to carry the air across the woods, it felt as if time itself was at a standstill. They camped, and tried to light their fires, failing. Nothing functioned. Any attempts in casting Warpweave was quickly snuffed out, as the residue of their magic would turn to a pitch black before evaporating into the atmosphere. Nothing could explain this, it felt like a whole new world.

A few nights later, they would hear the howls once more, although much closer than they would like. Some Elves were sent to scout and survey their surroundings to make sure there truly are no beasts. The scouts were never seen again, thought to have been carried away by the ever-shifting terrain of the woods. Anxiety was at a peak, many were sick and they did not understand the place they were in, praying they would not be overwhelmed by these howling beasts.

Only a night later, or what felt like it since there is no night and day, they spotted shadowy figures roaming across the treelines, shifting and warping in and out of existence. If anything, these beasts are as clueless as the Elves, the Woods themselves shifting its' terrain, and coming ever so close to carrying these creatures to them. And so it happened, the Elves stood guard until a Wraith had jumped out of the bushes, it was ghastly, but susceptible to physical damage either way. These attacks started with a kill, and only continued with more. The Elves sat idle, refusing to even walk across the woods anymore, hoping they would not fall victim to the relentless attacks of these spirits.

The rampant sickness overtaking their forces was not natural at all, they had thought it was their bodies reacting badly to outside organisms they were not accustomed to, but it was no such situation. The Magics that clouded and even made these Forests as they were, was rapidly deteriorating their physical forms and tearing away at the Warpweave that coursed through their veins. They knew not what to do, and could only wait and see what happens.

What felt like years had passed, and their number had reduced from three hundred down to a few dozen, and the Elves took their new forms as the Wrathbound, completely transformed. They found it easier to survive and to fight the Wraiths off by now, due to their knowledge of this Primordial Wrath. One fateful day, light gleamed through the treelines, and the Elves did not even question the occurance, they broke into a full-on sprint towards the Light and had at last... Escaped the Woods.

### Aftermath

They left the Woods, and the same Inhlyien that watched them go in was right there, staring in awe as they marched out. No words were exchanged, and the Elves kept marching, making their way back to home. Once they reached the capital's territory, they were stopped by the City Guards. A few words were exchanged, and the Chercheurs had returned from the dead. Now roaming the world with new powers. Where shall it lead them next?