The lot of the humans was a
treacherous one in this age. The elves ruled
the land, and they would permit no others to
settle its more fertile areas. The Vaalor, in
particular, have always gone out of their way
to make life difficult for humans. Most
humans lived a nomadic life, barely
sustaining themselves in the barren lands
they were permitted. Others served as slaves,
beggars or thieves within the shadows of the
great Elven cities.
Not all humans accepted their lot as
thralls. Some rebelled. Many so-called rebels
were little more than outlaws, more brigands
than freedom fighters. Some few, however,
actually achieved minor victories. The Black
Wolves were one such group. Led by the wizard
Aramur Forean, once a student of the Illistim
himself, they actually drove the elves out of
the area around what is now called Wehnimer's
Landing. After one of their raids killed a
young Vaalor prince, however, the elves
hunted the Black Wolves down. The humans
vanished into a series of caverns near the
sea, and they were never heard from
again.
We now know that the Black Wolves
inhabited what has come to be known as the
Wolves Den. This ancient stronghold is
located on the northern shore of the bay
within the sea caves that the goblins call
home. It is now a place of death and decay
and many wraiths and specters haunt its dusty
halls.
The Black Wolves are no more, History
accurately reflects their demise and wretched
end, as is shown in the abandoned and
decaying halls of the Wolves Den.
What history has missed, and until
recently has been kept hidden is that a small
band of the Black Wolves escaped from the
Vaalar and fled instead Northwards. Towards
the icy mountains near what is modern day Ice
Mule. This ragged and disheveled band of
Human freedom fighters was nearing it's
bitter and icy end. Food running low,
clothing inadequate for the coldest of
climates, trailed by relentless Elven
pursuit, and continually harassed by savage
attacks of beasts, whose home these frozen
crags were.
The last of the band, now nearing the end,
turned into a canyon, the cold, hard granite
walls of the canyon high on either side. A
band of frost giants screamed in outrage,
having found their trail of these last few,
pitiful humans. Picking up their pace to a
slow trot, the weary humans moved around an
outcropping of stone, only to find their way
blocked by an impassable cliff face. It was a
box canyon.
A score of fighters, some sore wounded,
formed a half circle around those to weak,
wounded, or young to fight. Using the cliff
face to protect their backs they prepared to
sell their lives at a steep cost to the
giants. Suddenly, from nooks and crannies and
cracks in the stone, places no human older
than a child could have fit, leaped small
furry shapes swinging ax and sword. The
occasional blast of magic showed the tired
folk that there was little to fear from Elven
power here.
Eventually the fight ended with the giants
fleeing back towards the canyon mouth,
leaving their dead and injured to the small
shapes. Two score and more moved in to where
the Humans stood, they again prepared to sell
their lives dear.
The furry folk stopped short of the reach
of the Humans weapons. One started to speak
in a language not know to Men. It stopped,
seeing the puzzlement on the Humans faces,
then broke into a roughly accented trade
tongue. 'Ye coomin inside fer dinner den?' it
asked. Then swiftly bright laughter rang out
from the furry folk as they threw back their
hoods on their heavy robes, to reveal,
smiling bearded dwarven faces.
The dwarves, having also known
persecution, took in the ragged band of human
folk, and established them in the warren of
caves they called home. Once the humans had
rested and regained their strength, they
began to assist the dwarves in their
never-ending battle to keep the trail and
paths near their home free from beasts.
Eventually mutual respect grew to love, as
the Humans became integrated with the Dwarven
community. The humanfolk were taught to
appreciate the beauty in all things made by
hand: from the simplest tool to the finest
carving; from the common pebble to a well cut
gem; from the simple club to the sharpest
blade; from the raw ores to the fineshed
alloys.
After the humans grew to recognize the
beauty in a well crafted item, regardless of
the simplicity of form, the Dwarven Elders
began to teach them of their Patron God,
Eonake. Eonake's struggles to bring the
knowledge of simple, functional beauty to
mortals, and the pride of a piece well made
and a job well done was taught to their young
wards. The humans began to accepte and
understand the meaning of the Elders and
incorporated these beliefs in with their own
values.
The Humans, to indicate their changed
beliefs, took the name 'Gray Wolf'. This
showed not only their beginnings, but a
change in color to reflect their changed
beliefs. It was decided that the clan would
be henceforth be known by that name.
Eventually, as the years went past, trade
was established with a tribe of Giantfolk,
and as bonds grew between the two groups,
some Giantkind became part of Clan Gray
Wolf.
Bands of deposed Elven fighters, losers on
the wrong side of a terrible war, also fled
North, as once did the Humans. On sight of
their ages old enemy, in such sorry state,
the family took them in as well. Although it
took generations for the distrust to end, the
elves also became part of this large,
muti-cultural clan.
As the Millennia passed, a new town was
founded to the south by Rone Wehnimer, then
simply known as 'The Landing'. The Gray
Wolves extended their patrols to include the
trails leading to this new City, and in so
doing, encountered the Sylvankind and
Halflings. Although oppression was slight at
this time, some folk from both races joined
the Gray Wolves, both to flee personal
problems, as well as out of a desire to keep
the lands safe.
As the years passed, and the weather
warmed, the caves of the Gray Wolves began to
fill with thawing water from the glaciers of
their frigid homeland. Many attempts, magical
and mechanical were made to keep the caves
dry, but none could keep the waters from
rising, eventually, having no other choice,
the Clan fled southwards, taking kith, kin,
and hearth with them.
Again refugees, after many Millennia, the
Gray Wolves came to an area of forested land,
known to one of their Sylvankind members as
belonging to one of the Sylvan tribes, but
currently uninhabited. Here the began to
build a keep, a fortified home for their
folk.
Dwarven craftsmen of the Clan went forth
and quarried local granite for the outer
walls. Slowly the walls began to rise, large
granite blocks, streaked throughout with
veins of quartz and amethyst. As the walls
neared completion, the local Sylvan Lord made
a visit to the Keep.
He explained that he understood the need
for a home, and he honored the Gray Wolves
for their selfless mission in the lands, but
he did not see as how he could allow for a
fortified position to be built on his lands.
Eventually, after much discourse, an
agreement was reached.
The Gray Wolves would be allowed to
maintain their Keep so long as the Main doors
to the courtyard would only be closed to the
public during time of war, and the promise
that the Clan would fight against whatever
threatened the folk of the lands. With the
understanding that the keep proper was for
members of the Clan only, but the courtyard
would be open to all, the bargain was
sealed.
As a symbol of the faith between the
groups, a acorn was jointly planted by the
Sylvan Lords young daughter, and the Son of
the Clan Elder. That acorn, now a vast and
spreading, majestic oak tree, still graces
the courtyard to this day, shading weary
travelers from the bright rays of the
sun.
The Sylvan princess became a frequent
guest of the son of the Elder. Eventually, as
happens with young folk of all ages, love
blossomed between them. The two were wed.
The young Sylvan Princess noted the honor
given Eonake and the regard members of the
clan held for the perfection of function and
craftmanship of inanimate objects. However,
having been raised in the forest, she
realized that the circle of perfection was
incomplete. She began to explain to the Clan
Elders that as different folk were joined to
form a family, so was Eonake joined to Imaera
to complete a circle.
Intrigued at how, perhaps, their beliefs
were in some way incomplete, and recalling
Eonake's love of properly functioning forms,
the elders decided to listen. The princess
explained that while Eonake was a crafter of
material objects, Imaera was a crafter of all
living things, balancing the cycles and
seasons by providing the spark of life.
Eonake and Imaera combined, thus emcompassed
all objects both animate and inanimate in the
world. The Clan beginning to accept and
understand the meaning of the circle, and the
balance it provides, incorporated these
beliefs in with their own values. Imaera and
Eonake, thus, both share the honor as Patron
Dieties to the Clan.
The Clan Gray Wolf still survives to this
day, with senior members of the clan making
there home in Wehnimer's Landing. The clan still
keeps watch on the many trails and areas in and
around the landing, attempting in their way to
keep the population of feral beasts down to a
safe level for all.
As with any society, the Clan Gray Wolf
continues and that history continues as they.
. . . . . . .
